The Devil's Daughter by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 6

Nights in the Carpathian Mountains were notoriously cold, and early summer nights were no exception. It was late and the fires of the village had died down to dusty, crimson coals. Woken by the cold, Alina's mother, Anca, got up to rekindle the fire. Blowing the coals back to life, she sustaining it with small twigs and finally, larger pieces of wood. On her way back to bed, she stopped to look in on Alina and was terrified by what she saw. Standing on tip-toes against the window sill with her eyes looking out into the darkness, Alina stood quietly whispering, as though speaking to something unseen. Her whispers were far from understandable but Anca now realized that her adopted child could, in fact, speak. Rushing into the bedroom, she took Alina by the shoulders and spoke with tears in her eyes.

“Alina,” she said. “You 'can' speak! I always knew that God would hear our prayers! Please, talk to me!” Alina met her mothers' request with glaring anger and from somewhere within her mind came a silent roar of disdain. It forced its way into Anca's mind a series of images whose horrific nature could never be described. Stricken by panic, Anca quickly backed up toward the doorway as Alina continued glaring at her. She would not realize until later that the thoughts Alina had projected into her mind were a prophecy, a portent of the future of Gura Haith.

Mustering her courage, Anca crept forward and running a fingertip through Alina's soft blonde curls, spoke to her with a mothers' tenderness. She chose to believe that her daughter was simply having a nightmare and that what had entered her mind was nothing more than imagination, tainted with fear and superstition.

“Alina, it's time for sleep. I fed the fire, and it will be warm soon. Go back to bed. Please.”

Acting on her mothers' request, Alina returned to bed without uttering a word. Raising to her feet, Anca backed toward the doorway. As any mother would be, she had become terrified for her daughters' safety amongst a village of highly superstitious people, people who might consider acting out of paranoia more than the will of God.

She left the door of Alina's room open to the warmth of the fire and went back to bed. As she slipped under the covers, Nelu was roused from sleep.

“What is it?” he asked.

Anca paused as she tried to make sense of what she'd seen. “It's Alina,” she replied.

“Is the child sick?” Nelu asked.

“I'm not sure,” Anca answered. “I saw her at the window. She was whispering.”

This immediately caught Nelu's attention and rolling over towards her inquired with obvious concern. “But if she can speak, who was she whispering to?”

“Nothing,” Anca replied. “There was nothing there.” Nelu took a moment to process the conversation. “What was she saying?” he asked. “I don't know,” Anca replied. “I couldn't hear her.” Still unable to understand what was happening to their daughter, Anca began quietly crying. “Our daughter is cursed,” she said. Putting his arms around her, Nelu tried to reassure his wife, telling her that they would, again, take Alina to see Father James and hopefully, find an answer to her strange behavior.