I'll have you know, Alec and I didn't start out this way. No. In fact, had just one thing not happened, I'm pretty sure we would have been long, long dead. Or maybe not. Not that I would trade my immortality for humanity. Not at all. It's just a way to illustrate what brought us to today.

It was difficult enough growing up in our village. Truly, since our birth, we had been feared. No the way we are feared now. No, just more silly human superstitions. Our village had never had a set of twins born who both survived infancy. So, rather ridiculously, the villagers would look askance when we would cross paths. It didn't help that our mother was looked down upon as well. Our mother was a beautiful woman…and that, too, was an issue. For, you see, I've mentioned no father.

From the time we were young, Alec and I understood just what it was that kept our stomachs from growling too much, what it was that kept the rain mostly off our heads and that there was just enough for us to have poor, but serviceable clothes. Mama's clothes, naturally, were much more decadent than ours…but still it bore the mark of the village whore.

Most of the village women ignored Mama when we would go out in public, which was not all that often. The women all knew who Mama was…and they ignored her, snubbed her publicly. But in private? Late at night, they would knock timidly on the framework of our hovel, asking for love spell, potions, talismans, that kind of drivel. Mama didn't actually practice any sort of witchcraft. Village whore she may have been, but she was not involved in witchcraft. Mostly, she offered common sense advice, alternative ideas and methods, and the occasional placebo for the overly concerned who would not leave without something physical.

However, as is usually the case, someone…some self-righteous, vindictive, malicious, vile wretch of a person whipped the village into a veritable frenzy over some alleged nocturnal activities of our mother…and that's when things really went wrong for us. One word. One simple little word. It slipped so easily off the tongue of that villager. Rolled smoothly past her pinched up lips like blood dribbling out of a dying man's mouth.

Witch.

A mockery of a trial was held. She was sentenced to die immediately. Just three days before our 14th birthday, our mother, pleading her innocence, begging for her life, for the sake of her watching children, crying out to every villager she had ever known, burned. As she looked into their eyes, she saw only burning hate in theirs. And Alec and I stood there, helpless. Unable to save our mother.

As she burned, she shrieked in agony, cursing the villagers…and her own fate.

Alec and I watched until her pyre was nothing more than smoldering ash. Our hearts bled as we comforted each other as only we could.

We stood; our only connection was our linked fingers. This simple gesture between us, unnoticed by the others, was our only comfort for each other. I felt my pain fading, numbed, deadened. I looked to Alec; his stiff body conveyed his own horror. It was then that I vowed, if I were ever able, I would make every villager feel the pain I had felt today. If I could, I would make them burn. From the inside out.

Left to our own devices in our poor village, for no family would take us together and we would not be separated, Alec and I struggled for another year to put scraps of food in our hungry stomachs and to keep our tatty roof from disintegrating. Despite our mother not being there to protect us, we managed well enough as we could.

Late at night, I would creep through the outskirts of the village circle, searching for scraps of food and clothing, slightly damaged, but fixable items to barter for a few coins. That could have been classified as a mistake, but I choose to look at it as my….or rather, our salvation.

The night before everything changed, I was out, as usual. But for once, I was not alone. Within moments, several men from the village surrounded me. I looked quickly for an escape…any escape. However, one wasn't to be found. I knew it would do no good to scream. Only one person in the village would come to my aid, if he heard. But I would NOT scream for him. Because I knew, if I did, they would kill him…before or after following through with whatever foul plans they had for me.

"Hey there, little Jane…" one of the men leered.

I glowered, saying nothing. My chin notched up a bit.

The men chuckled; a couple of them wavered drunkenly. They licked their fat lips and their eyes roamed over me.

Another man spoke, "Oh, come on, Janie…" Ugh, Janie. I hate that name. I scowled at him.

The first man stepped closer and I felt my panic soar. I did my best not to show it. I knew if I showed fear, it would only encourage them more.

"You know, Janie," ugh, again. "You're growing up rather pretty." I rolled my eyes, but his next words froze me. "You're looking a lot like your mother."

And in that last word, I knew exactly what these beasts planned to do to me. My chin bumped up another notch as I looked coldly, directly into his eyes. Unflinching. As I stared, I imagined him burning. Burning as my mother had.

Suddenly, the man before me dropped to the ground, moaning and gripping his head. What had just happened? A garbled gasp from behind me made me turn my head, distracting me. The groaning man stopped clutching his head and I look around at all of them. They all wore the same expression as they stared at me. One of horror. A noise from outside the circle of men had all of us jumping, some more than others, and looking toward the noise.

My brother, Alec, stood just beyond the circle. The look on his face was murderous.

"Just what is going on here?" he whispered in his soft, yet menacing voice.

Normally, Alec's words would have been overlooked, even laughed at as he was barely past childhood, and thus considered less than a man. But there was no doubt that the men surrounding me were already on guard. They stepped back from me, looking bewildered. As if they had not made the movement of their own volition.

"Jane," he said. Not a question, just my name.

"Alec," I answered, in the same tone.

"Would you mind heading home now?" he asked and I knew it wasn't truly a question.

I turned and walked slowly back to our little hut, hoping Alec would catch up with me. I wasn't scared anymore. I was angry, furiously so. I could feel the blood as it boiled beneath the surface. But he didn't meet up with me before I made it home. I wasn't home alone long, though. Within minutes, Alec joined me. He said nothing, but he pulled me into his thin arms and held me as I contemplated all the ways I could think of to kill those men for what they'd dared to try.

Arms still wrapped around me, I barely noticed when Alec guided me to bed. I just curled up with him, as I did many nights, letting his natural talent for soothing me help me to fall asleep.

It was only a few hours later, just before dawn when the door to our home burst open, and people were shouting at us. Disoriented and caught off-guard, Alec and I were dragged to the center of the village. The noise was deafening as more people joined the forming mob. We tried to cling to each other, frightened by the shouting that had no discernible words, save a few.

We were wrenched apart. And for the first time in years, I showed weakness as I cried out for my brother, reaching for him. And therein lay my mistake. The lashed ropes about my arms and within moments, I was tied to a crude stake. Alec, too, was summarily bound.

And from the crowd, I only made out one word. Witchcraft.

And in that one moment, that that one word…we were doomed to die.

I saw as one man bent forward, and with his torch, lit the brush that covered our funeral pyre.

I felt the heat rush toward me, toward Alec. I did not weep. I would not give them that satisfaction of breaking me.

Just as the fire began to lick at our feet, I saw some movement at the back of the crowd. But it meant little to me. I had consigned myself to the burning…

I didn't hear it when someone whispered, "Jane, dear one," just before the blackness swirled over me.