Carlisle's Secret: Demon Child

A/N – This is a companion fic to my story Carlisle's Secret: The Lost Cullen. I wrote this due to a request. I hope you will enjoy it.

Please Note – This is a dark story with tragic ending. Read at your own risk.

…

Richmond, London – England – 1661

"There is another way"

Carlisle quickly spun around, clutching Harrison firmly to his chest, to see a woman standing on the opposite side of the room, leaning on the bookcase.

She was dressed in fancy scarlet robes and black boots. Her black hair was long and reached down to her mid-back. Her brown eyes glimmered in amusement as she observed the now growling vampire.

Carlisle shuffled Harrison around so he was almost out of sight of the stranger and growled, "Who are you? How did you get in here?"

"I am a witch Dr Cullen", she replied smoothly.

Carlisle's eyes widened in horror before he stepped back, tightening his hold on Harrison. "Stay away from my son!"

The witch smiled softly, stepping away from the bookshelf. "I do not wish to cause either you or your child any harm Dr Cullen. You really love your son, don't you? An unusual emotion to see in a vampire, particularly a newborn."

Carlisle frowned in confusion. "I'm not a doctor."

Although he had being studying medicine in secret he had never had the chance to properly practice it.

"Well, not yet but that's hardly the point."

"What do you want?" Carlisle asked, feeling quite uncomfortable by the current conversation. Harrison whimpered slightly, unhappy with the tension in the room.

"I'm here to offer you a proposition that will give us both what we want." She replied, walking closer before stopping in the centre of the room.

"What do you mean?" Carlisle inquired, suspicion evident in his voice.

"I wish to take your son to another place and time where he will be safe" she answered in a voice so casual she could have been discussing the weather.

Carlisle growled. "You want to take my son?" He moved Harrison so he was completely out of view of the witch and moved back even further.

The witch blinked, not even slightly fazed by the snarling vampire. "Yes, if he remains here he will have a terrible life until he is wrongfully accused of witchcraft by your father and sentenced to burning at the stake at the age of 7."

Carlisle's eyes went wide in horror as he frantically glanced down at his son, as if he might disappear any second. He had to admit, that thought terrified him. It was one of the reasons he hated having to leave Harrison here. His father's paranoia with the supernatural saw to many people being burned, hung, drowned, shot and subjected to various other medieval methods of execution. He didn't want his son growing up round all of that.

Still, something else confused him.

"What's in this for you? What do you want?" he repeated.

"Your son will have a great destiny ahead of him if you allow him to come with me. The lives of my people depend on him" she answered truthfully.

Carlisle narrowed his eyes in anger. "My son is not a weapon!"

She shook her head. "While some may see him that way, I assure you I am not one of them. This will benefit you both just as much as me or I would not be here."

"Oh, and how's that?"

"He will be given to a wonderful family that will treat him like a son. More importantly, however, you will get to see him again someday."

For the first time in weeks, Carlisle felt hope. "When?" he breathed.

"I cannot say but be assured that if you give him to me now, one day he will be returned to you and you will not have to fear harming him"

Carlisle closed his eyes as his thoughts tumbled inside his head. Witches. They were everything he had been raised to hate. Satanic, evil, and yet, here was one promising him something so precious that she knew he simply couldn't refuse. She was promising his son a good life and that they would one day be reunited. What if it was a trap? What if it wasn't? Could he truly afford to say no?

What if she was speaking the truth and he left his son here to be burned at the stake? He had to trust her.….

And yet he couldn't. It had to be a lie. Nothing good ever really happened to him without a price. Seven months ago, the day his son had been born, had been the happiest time of his life and now look where he was. His long time friend and wife Aurora was dead, he was a vampire and his son was going to have to grow up without his parents.

He wanted to believe the witch but everything he had been taught screamed at him to take Harrison and run. Carlisle hadn't believed that any of the people his father had condemned to the stake had been evil. In his mind, there had been no solid proof that they were followers of Satan. However, there was proof here. This woman had just appeared out of nowhere and now she wanted his son to supposedly save him? More likely for some satanic ritual! How could he give his child to a worshiper of evil?

Carlisle did hate Kenneth for the way he was raised and he didn't want his son to suffer the same way but he didn't have any other choices. There weren't many options for parentless children in this time. A lot of people struggled to feed themselves as it was. No one would take in a child that wasn't their own to feed as well. He couldn't give Harrison to the witch. He was sure that if he did, Harrison would be dead by morning. No, his father was his only option.

Carlisle opened his eyes and gently lifted Harrison so that the baby was cradled against his chest. Harrison blinked owlish green eyes up at his father. A cute, baby smile spread across his face as he cooed happily. He reached up with tiny hands to grip onto his father's shirt.

Carlisle was sure if he were human he would be sobbing uncontrollably at that moment. He gently reached over and placed a soft kiss to the baby's head with a whispered 'Daddy loves you, Harrison".

He turned to the woman, burgundy eyes blazing.

The witch narrowed her eyes, reading the vampires response in his expression. "You're making the wrong decision, Carlisle." She stated firmly.

Carlisle growled. "I will not leave my son with a supporter of evil. I can't. Now, leave!"

The witch sighed in defeat as she turned her gaze to the baby. "I tried." With that said, she was gone.

Carlisle stood frozen for a few minutes before he gently placed Harrison back in the bassinet. He moved back into the lounge room, grabbing a piece of paper and scribbling a note to his father, explaining that he had to go and that Harrison was left in his care. As he reached the end of the letter he stopped, wondering if he was making the right choice. To hand his son over to a witch went against everything he had been taught, everything he believed in. Yes, he had made the correct choice.

After a few minutes of contemplation, he ran back to Harrison's room, grabbing a powder blue, hand made blanket with his son's name on it and a white plush dog he had gotten for his child the day he was born. He took one last look at Harrison, who had fallen asleep again clutching a green baby blanket in his tiny hands, before disappearing into the night.

…

Richmond, London – England – 1667

Harrison Cullen whimpered as he hid in a dark, dusty broom cupboard. Sneezing, he brushed the dust from his messy black hair and observed his surroundings through emerald eyes hidden behind round, wire-rimmed glasses. It was July 31st, today, his 7th birthday. However, he was far from celebrating. How could he be when it had happened again?

For as long as Harrison could remember, weird things always happened around him. When he was four, his grandfather Kenneth Cullen had taken his teddy bear from him as punishment for interrupting his sermon that evening. Somehow the young child had levitated the bear off the bookshelf to him.

When he was five, he had been in trouble for running away from church. He had been sick that night and didn't want to sit through two hours of his grandfather ranting about demons walking among us and cheerfully announcing the next round of executions. He knew he was in for a thrashing for embarrassing Kenneth so when he had heard his grandfather approaching his room, he magically teleported himself outside much to his own shock.

Several other weird incidents like those had happened over the years but luckily not once had Kenneth Cullen caught him in the act. Harrison wasn't sure how he could do magic. He was not a demon-worshiper. He wasn't evil. So, how could he do such unholy and sacrilegious things?

Harrison wasn't stupid by any means. He had known what would happen to him if he were caught committing such a blasphemous act, as the church would call it. He had been forced from the age of five to watch the public executions of those condemned of witchcraft. He had seen the drowning's, the shootings and the hangings; however, the worst where the burnings. No matter what he did, the tortured screams of those innocent people as the flames consumed their bodies would forever haunt him.

Harrison might have only been a child but he knew those people had performed no evil. Some of them seemed so fragile and frightened, some of them where just children younger then him. What were the charges against them that 'warranted' such an awful punishment? Illness cast upon them by God as punishment for their sins. Witchcraft in the form of 'unrealistic' fortune and luck. Homosexuality, which was a crime against the Lord according to the town parish. Granted, Harrison wasn't sure what the last one was but it couldn't be that bad, surely? Those were just some of the allegations held against the people that had been killed. They were all just innocents in the wrong place at the wrong time. And for that, they burned.

Now, those pleading cries and agonised screeches were ringing in his ears worse then ever. He could picture his own wails for mercy amongst them. Today, he had been outed and he knew that there was only one future ahead of him.

Earlier that day Harrison had been arguing with his friend Brandon. Brandon's father was good friends with Kenneth so the two boys had been forced to play together since as long as either of them could remember. However, neither boy saw eye to eye on anything. Both were as different as could be.

Brandon loved to tease Harrison about everything. The worst part was Harrison couldn't really blame him much. While most kids his age received toys for their birthdays, he had received things like a cross, children's bible and a rosary. While the other children were busy playing in the streets, he was memorising bible verses. While the other boys and girls were safe asleep at home, he was watching innocent people die in the most horrific ways imaginable.

Harrison had been willing to ignore the arrogant boy until Brandon had taken things to far by bringing his father into the argument. Harrison had never known what to think of his father, Carlisle Cullen. Many in town had said that he was a great man but had been tainted by evil in the end. That was why he left. Others said that he was a disgrace to the proud Cullen name that could never live up to his father's noble reputation. His grandfather had told him that his father had been an adequate son, which was about as good a compliment as you could get from the man, until he had strayed from the light of God.

Harrison was torn in his beliefs. As far as he was concerned his grandfather was the evil one. What he condemned those people to was surely the true crime against the Lord. After all, wasn't one of the Ten Commandments "Thou shall not murder"?

If his grandfather was the evil one then surely that meant that what he said about his father was incorrect? Either way, what choice did Harrison have anyway? One of the other Commandments was "Honour your father and your mother".

It was due to that reason that his anger had gotten the better of him that day. One minute Brandon's hair had been brown, the next, it was bright red.

Unfortunately for Harrison, Kenneth Cullen and Alfred Sperring, Brandon's father, had walked around the corner when that occurred. Harrison hadn't hesitated when he saw the disgusted, murderous looks on the mens' faces. He ran.

Now the young boy was hiding, quite literally, for his life in a broom cupboard in an abandoned house on the outskirts of town. He wished he could say that he was surprised that his grandfather had turned his back on him. However, he wasn't.

It was silent outside, not so much as the soft whistle of the wind amongst the trees greeted his ears. It was now that he was safe for the meantime that he allowed the tears to fall.

As violent sobs of fear racked his small body his mind ran rampant with thoughts. Why had his father left him here? Had he been chased from the town? Had Kenneth sent him away? Had he not been able to look after him any more? Granted, he was sure his dad had left without taking any money with him but Harrison was happy to go a few days without food. It was better then hearing the screams and smelling the gut-wrenching odour of burning flesh.

As the first signs of sunset began to show, Harrison found himself thinking back to all the times he had sat back and did nothing as the dammed were sentenced to death, and now his own impending fate. One particular memory made itself known.

It had been the first execution he had ever bore witness to. He had been 4 and a half years old when a woman and her infant daughter had been sentenced to the stake. He remembered asking his grandfather what they had done. Kenneth, dark brown eyes reflecting the flames, had replied with "They are children of the devil Harrison. For that, they must burn here before they burn forever more in the fiery pits of hell."

Harrison had never been able to understand why the baby had to be killed. Kenneth had said that the child's mother was a demon dealer and therefore her child was born evil. It was a foolish concept to Harrison. How could a baby be evil? They were pure. They weren't capable of hate or malevolence. It made no sense to him but apparently that wasn't the case for everyone else.

He had tried to argue with his grandfather but that hadn't gotten him anywhere. It was after that night that the nightmares had started.

His dreams would always be of himself being executed. The dreams would start with him doing something magical, levitating an object or something of the like. His grandfather would see him and immediately drag him off to the church for judgement. He would kneel in front of the parish, sobbing in terror as they observed him with hateful glares. His grandfather would sneer in disgust as he declared him guilty of witchcraft.

The dreams always started that way but how they ended? That was a different story.

Sometimes he would be sentenced to drowning. They would drag him to the river and tie him to a dunking stool. The crowd would cheer as he was plunged into the unforgiving water, never to surface.

Other times he would be condemned to a public shooting. He would be marched to the town square. The townspeople would laugh and point as he shivered, staring down the barrel of the rifle in his grandfather's hands. The old man would smirk coldly as he pulled the trigger.

However, the most common dream was the burning. The parish would drag him from the church out to the stake. He would thrash and scream as they tied him up but everyone's faces were stony, devoid of any sympathy for the terrified child. His grandfather would approach the stake with a flaming torch in hand. He would beg but the pastor's expression was unforgiving. Harrison would screech as the torch was thrown and as he awoke in a sweat, the screams of 'Witch!" would still be ringing in his ears.

The worst part of that dream was that it now seemed like it would become reality. It was only a matter of time before he was found. True to his thoughts, the sounds of marching and raised voices steadily filled the air. Harrison whined in terror, scrambling to his feet and racing from the abandoned building.

He ran down Cobblestone Street past the baker's store and the cobbler's hut. However, he didn't make it far before a pair of strong arms viciously wrapped around his middle. With a scream, he glanced up to see the furious face of Alfred Sperring. Harrison lowered his head in defeat, a single tear sliding from his eyes. It was over.

…

Harrison knelt down in front of the parish as they harshly whispered amongst themselves. The 7 year old glanced around the room, taking in the many people watching him with varying emotions. It seemed like the entire town had arrived to hear the fate of the pastor's grandson.

The judgement had lasted over an hour now and the sun had finally set. My last sunset Harrison thought solemnly. Normally one would take the arguing as a hopeful sign but the kid new better. They were most likely arguing over what form of execution he should be given, not whether the crime was worthy of said execution.

Harrison felt that he should be doing something right now; crying, screaming, trying to escape, begging. However, he felt too numb at that moment. Maybe it was because he was the pastor's grandson and had seen this scene played out so many times before that he didn't try to fight. Maybe he was just too exhausted from trying to flee before. It didn't matter either way. There was no escape. He was doomed, plain and simple.

His mind wondered to the many families that he seen crouched in the spot he was now. He remembered how the parents would cuddle the children and tell them that everything would be all right. He wondered if his parents would have done the same for him. Or would they have tried to fight like some others had? He guessed he would never know.

Finally Pastor Kenneth Cullen stepped forward. Harrison stared at his grandfather, eyes blank as he awaited his sentence. "This child has been caught committing one of the most sacrilegious crime's of our time, witchcraft! For this he, like all the other sinners before him, will be sentenced to death. Tonight, this child shall be burned at the stake!"

Harrison blinked in shock, the disconnectedness from moments before evaporating into sheer panic. Not the stake! Please no! Anything but that! Please God, don't let them burn me! Please!

He didn't hear what was spoken after Kenneth had announced his fate. The same thoughts were circling in his mind. He couldn't believe that he had just been sentenced to burning. Of all the horrific methods of execution, why that one? Why? What had he done that deserved such a thing? He wasn't evil! He was good! He hadn't done anything to harm anybody! He had always believed in God. He went to church. He read the bible. He prayed every night. He wasn't a devil worshiper. He wasn't a demon child!

Movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. Two of the men from the parish were walking his way, rope in hand and wicked grins in place. Harrison didn't even stop to consider the consequences nor did he remember his earlier deduction of there being no escape now; the moment he saw them he lunged to his feet and bolted for the doors.

Nearly there! Nearly there! He thought desperately. The doors were just an arms length away. The black-haired boy reached out with a trembling hand for the carved doors when a body slammed into him from behind.

The youngest Cullen lost all composure then. With a blood-chilling scream he lashed out, kicking and punching at anything that was near him. Tears flooded from his eyes in streams and he shook harder then a leaf in a storm. However, it was no use. The people watched on with heartless indifference as the two men tied the child up and dragged him outside into the warm night air.

…

He had dreamt this moment so many times before, each more traumatising and detailed then the last. However, no grotesque images of the resting mind could ever do justice to the real thing.

Rope cut harshly into the still soft, youthful skin of his wrists; leaving behind raw, red, bleeding wounds. He had made it worse by desperately trying to pull himself free, despite knowing that he didn't stand a chance. Men much stronger them himself had stood where he did now and they hadn't even come close to escaping the hellfire, why would he?

People surrounded him on all sides. Men, women and children of all ages stood silent as shadows. No words were needed; their eyes spoke for them. The former pastor in training flinched at looks he was receiving from people who had once been his friends, his townspeople. Hate, disgust and excitement shone as clear as day for all to see.

A little girl stood next to her mother and father right in front of him. Her golden hair was tied back in a braid and she wore a light blue summer dress with a white ribbon tied in a bow around her middle. Harrison remembered her from church. Her name was Audrey. She was 5 years old.

"Mommy?" Audrey whispered.

"Yes dear?" her mother, a strict woman who worked in the town school, replied.

"Mommy, why is that boy tied up? What are they going to do to him?"

Harrison blinked back more tears when he heard the girl's innocent question. Why did they make children her age, his age even, witness such gruesome things? It wasn't right! It almost hurt more to think that Audrey and the other children her age he could see amongst the crowd would be robbed of their innocence tonight then it did to think of his own impending end.

Harrison thought back to that day 3 years ago when he had summoned that plush bear off the bookshelf. It had seemed like such a harmless act at the time and yet even then he had known deep down that it was that event that would forever seal his fate. How many of these children before him suffered as he was about to? How many of these people would also be given the death sentence? How many of them would burn as well?

His grandfather stepped forward and began to speak. However, the boy couldn't process the words. It was the same meaningless garbage he spewed each time someone was to be killed in the name of the church. He would explain the charges against the soon-to-be-deceased and then they would pray. Harrison couldn't remember the prayer. The only line that he could recall was 'we condemn this sinner in the name of the Lord'. It had never seemed right to him before and neither did it now. How could any god condone such horrendous acts?

Harrison's eyes were drawn to the full moon as the speech continued. It seemed fitting in a way when he thought about it. Execute a 'witch' on the night of the month when witches supposedly performed the majority of their satanic rituals and sacrifices.

The young Cullen had never given much attention to the sky before. It hadn't really seemed important till now. It was always there after all. You could have a look anytime. Now, however, was his last chance to observe the black expanse of sky, dotted with glittering stars and cast aglow by the illuminating, entrancing moon. The night sky truly was a beautiful, peaceful sight Harrison thought.

What he would give to have the chance to just lay back and watch the stars for a while. Maybe if he were, he would even see a shooting star.

The town square had dissolved into silence now. Hundreds of eyes were trained on the child bound to the wooden stake. Harrison blinked. Had he been asked a question? Did they want him to beg? He wanted too, desperately, but it was pointless wasn't it? He knew better then anyone in this town that you could not argue with Kenneth Cullen. The man had made his choice. There was no going back now.

Suddenly the crowd parted and standing just a few feet from him was Kenneth, a flaming torch in hand. Harrison closed his eyes as his breath started to become more laboured. It was time.

As if someone had switched the sound on, shouts and cries of rage and excitement spilled into the air.

"Burn him!"

"Demon!"

"Witch!"

"Kill the evil child!"

Each remark was like a stab in the gut. How could such cruelty be bestowed upon a child? How could these people actually think this was what the Lord would want?

The screams got louder with every step the pastor took. Harrison closed his eyes, not able to watch any longer as the flames taunted him. He hadn't thought it was possible for more tears to come, not after his breakdown as they hauled him out here, and yet he could feel the salty liquid once again slipping from his eyes. He didn't want to die, especially not like this. He had planned on leaving one day to find his father and then he would maybe try and get a job on a farm. It would be a tough life but it was better then staying here. Now though, it was apparent that he would never leave Richmond.

The crowd crept forward like moths drawn to the single pillar of fire held by Kenneth. The man was right in front of him now. Harrison opened his eyes, trying one last time to find a single ounce of sympathy in the brunette's eyes for the child he had raised for the last 7 years. There was none.

The screaming was deafening now. The young raven-haired child couldn't even make out any distinguishable speech

The torch was raised and the town fell silent once more. Harrison lowered his head, a whimper escaping his throat. "Please…."

The torch hit the woodpile at the base of the stake with a crack. The heat was already unbearable and it hadn't even reached halfway up the stack of logs and twigs yet. The fire licked and swiped at him viciously, causing the boy to flinch vigorously with each teasing movement. Harrison gasped as smoke billowed around him, sucking the precious air from his lungs and stinging his eyes.

His glasses slipped from his face, tumbling down and exploding in the flames. Harrison screamed in fright as the wood beneath his feet collapsed, bringing him closer to his agonising demise. It had only been a mere 20 seconds since the stack had been lit but it felt like hours.

The flames were now just a few painful centimetres from his shoes. Harrison sobbed as he made one final prayer. His final thoughts as the fire reached his legs was I'm sorry mum, dad. I tried.

The last thing Harrison saw as the deadly flames engulfed his body was a blond-haired man crouching at the end of the road, screaming in anguish as the demon child burned.