White Scarlet

Prologue

1831 Boston, Massachusetts

There is a storm looming over Boston. Rain falls on the earth constantly, as if God himself weeps for the city. Men strut about with jackets slipped over their faces and ladies huddle under umbrellas, all moving with a purpose. All minding their own.

Over the crashing of thunder and the trotting of horses, faint can be heard of the screams of a woman in a three story house.

She bursts out of her study, her pale skin drenched in sweat. Her hair flies around her face, so blonde it's almost white. She looks behind her for her pursuer. As if sensing her fear, a man pushes the doors open and they fly off of their hinges against either wall. The shadows at his feet seem to dance as if they were smoke. He rushes after her.

The woman drops the hem of her white corseted dress and turns to face her attacker. The man moves with inhuman speed. His mouth a deep red and his eyes blacker than coal. His nails stick out from his fingers like claws, bared at the ready. Within seconds he shall hit his mark.

The woman begins to utter words in another language. The man stops dead in his tracks as the words roll like silk off of her tongue. He grabs his throat as if some unseen person is choking him. Retching, he falls to his knees.

"Mercy," he manages to choke out. Then he begins coughing up a tar like substance and his skin turns purple.

"Mercy?" The woman screams. "There shall be no mercy tonight." She slowly walks toward him and continues in the other language. Her left hand begins to clench closer with each step.

The man howls and scratches his skin as if he is being burned alive. His shrieks so evil and turning that it gives the woman a slight chill. He wriggles and writhes against the floor, each screech louder than the last.

"There is no use calling out for help. I will end you all!" She shouts and slams her fist against the wall.

The man jumps to his knees and let's out one final screech, so loud and blood-curling that it breaks every window in the house. A stiff wind blows through the hallway and all the candles are robbed of their light. Then the man falls on his face as rain begins to pour onto the floor. He is dead.

The woman steps over the man and draws a tiny golden crucifix from the bosom of her dress. She reaches down and shoves it in the man's mouth. When she is back on her feet, she kicks the man in the face and breaks his nose.

Pleased with her handiwork, she nods and begins to walk back to her study, holding her hand against the wall for support. She clicks her fingers and the candles flicker with light once again. Glass shards lift off of the floor and fly throughout the house, molding together like puzzle pieces as they return to their original positions.

The woman's breath is rough now, she has used too much of her strength. She stops beside a picture of an angel helping men whose carriage has been pillaged on the side of the road.

"Johanna!" She calls for her servant, and friend. There us no answer. "Johanna!"

There is suddenly a sharp pain in the woman's back. It feels like lightning has hit her heart. A wet substance trickles down her back. She looks down and sees a shard of metal bursting through her dress.

Her breath is idled and she no longer has strength to stand. She falls to the floor on her back, but then she uses her remaining strength to lay herself against the wall.

She looks up to see a man, or she guesses it is a man as she can only see outlines of everything. Light begins to leave her eyes, and she whispers to the man standing above her. She is able to see the outline's head nod.

Everything goes dark. A strange freezing fire travels from her fingertips and fills her while body until she suddenly can feel no more.

The last thing she hears is, "It has begun."