PART 1
PROLOGUE - A DEAL
EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND
EARLY VICTORIAN ERA
They arrive without a murmur of a warning.
At first they are only shadows of forever changing intricate swirls. Sweeping through the town like night itself they creep into more solid forms until the mist they once were is tumbling at the heels of their boots. The screams of many still echo in their ears. In their ashen hands they hold debts long owed to them, all of which bare promises of bloodshed.
The men of this group wear suits woven from a starless midnight and shirts from eerily glowing moonbeams. Women, clothed in dresses of cascading dark silk and labyrinths of lace.
The presence of such immense cruelty and promise has separated the people of the town. Some are simply too terrified to be curious. While others are too curious for their own good, yearning to witness what legends from the mouths of travellers portrayed through many a song or tale. Then there are the few who gaze at the mysterious men and women in desperation, seeing them as a bleak hope.
A young wife of middle class standing grasps at the feathered edge of one of the mysterious woman's skirt who then turns her head in a manner that would appear kindly. Both women are startled by each other.
The quivering Juliana looks upon the bewitching lady in awe. She baffles at her black hair and how it contrasts with her skin and eyes which are white as the wispy clouds that frame the moon. Like the the feathers on her skirts hem, the plumage that decorates her hair clasp are from a raven.
This beautiful enchantress looks into the poor woman's despairing deep blue eyes that are glazed over with tears making them look like bottomless pools of sadness. She pulls her gaze from the woman and to the tiny baby bundled into a blanket she is holding to her chest.
A single soft brown curl much like her mother's escapes the sleeping child's bonnet. Her cherub like face is many a shade to pale to be healthy, the only colour present being the bright pink at the tip of her nose and the tops of her cheeks. In her slumber she cries and sniffles but in a way that sounds as if she has no energy to do so much longer.
“Please, help her... She used to scream all night but the quiet coughs and exhausted grumbles are worse than a thousand screams. My husband has searched far and wide but no Doctor of any charge has been able to cure her; a brave and honest few have even told us there is no hope. We've never allowed a nanny to go near her since she was born, tiny little thing. We were afraid she'd catch something. Though as it turns out she needn't catch a thing more than the vunerablity she was born with. She's so frail...” Juliana begs in a whisper though the woman persists in examining the child with her milky stare, her head tilted slightly to one side.
One of the smartly clothed men approaches them. His hair is a shade of white more brilliant than the miller's wife has ever seen has ever seen. Juliana almost gasps as his eyes which may have before been identical to the woman's but they have yellowed slightly, like pages of an ancient book. His fleeting looks and hooking nose reminds Juliana of a hawk hunting a rabbit. “What do we have here, Nevara?”
“A child in need of aid and a mother who is unable to give her it,” Nevara's words pierced Juliana's already aching heart. “Let me help her, Faulker, this is a field that requires a feminine, motherly care after all.”
“My dear, you are neither caring nor motherly. One of the many things I am found of about you.” Faulker pauses then gives a cold blooded chuckle. He continues while his laughter still echoes, “However, I do suppose it would be appropriate.”
As though there was no one there before Faulker is blown away in a black smoke.
“What is her name?” Nevara asks, still fascinated by the innocence the child radiates.
“Erica. Erica Faith Miller,” Juliana replies helplessly.
“Do you know the price for what you ask of me?”
She nods. That's all it takes. A single and simple gesture of confirmation. That's all it takes to bind a deal. To bind a deal with a Shadowcastor.
