Found by Ashley Stoyanoff, now you can read online.
Salem, Massachusetts, 1692
Racing through the dense woodland, a heavy cloud of smoke billowed upwards, cresting above the herbaceous border and confirming his soundless fears. Still miles away, he could already smell the pungent curdling of her blood as it began to boil, and the vile stench of searing flesh. Undeniably, the firestorm was spreading, and he struggled to drive out the image of the flames reaching up her body.
He cursed his heightened senses, wishing he could block out the ruthless chanting, “Burn the Witch!” The unyielding voices only helped his psyche run wild, and the graphic image of her tied to a post and set ablaze etched itself in his vision.
Her fear consumed him, rupturing their bond like a sudden cloudburst, and his body threatened to surrender to the inevitable fate marked for his soul. Regardless, the chain around his heart yanked him forwards. You need to save her, he told himself over and over, battling his body’s attempts to give up and abandon the rescue. He pushed on, raw adrenaline propelling him forward. But even with the unparalleled velocity and power of a vampire, his limbs would not move fast enough.
The smoke cloud rose mercilessly, thick and black and punctuated by the sparks of glowing embers as he broke into the clearing at Salem Commons. A mob of several hundred onlookers cheered for her execution. He watched in horror as they tossed books, chairs, and brush onto the fire that was licking up her dress.
Their eyes met, and the look of pure hatred that contorted her face was agonizing. His knees buckled, and he plunged to the ground. He focused all of his energy on pulling her spirit to him but it was futile: no matter what he tried, she would not let him ease her pain.
The congregation’s savage chanting became deafening. The flames licked at her cheeks, and her long, curly locks were set ablaze, melting and sparking, but she did not howl from the pain. Silently, her gray-blue eyes remained fixed on his, and flared with accusation. At that moment, he knew without a doubt that she blamed him, solely and entirely, for her cold-blooded death sentence.
His tortured wails were scarcely heard over the fevered roars of the mob. He watched, powerless, as one of the very few things that could kill him—the blazing inferno—devoured her body and his soul, turning her into nothing more than ash.
The Greyhound bus pulled into the Willowberg station with a sucking pneumatic hiss. Amelia Caldwell shuddered as the driver announced the arrival and wondered if she could just stay on the bus. She hated moving. And she really hated change. It seemed as if that was all she had ever done.
On the ten-hour ride, she had almost convinced herself that this time would be different. This time she would make friends. She would not be the sad girl who lost her parents or the girl that no one wanted. No one would know her story; she could just start over. A clean slate. But now that the doors clicked open and she was actually here, her resolve was fading fast.
Amelia wrapped her arms around herself and looked down at her lap, hugging tightly and trying to stop the trembles that vibrated through her. She could feel the other passengers staring at her as they retrieved their belongings and made their way off the bus. People always seemed to stare.
She never really understood why she couldn’t just blend into the crowd. At five foot four, she wasn’t tall. With a slim figure, curly brown hair and blue-gray eyes, she felt average. Definitely not eye-catching. But there was just something about her, something she did not understand that made people notice her. It was like they just couldn’t help but stare.
Amelia kept her head down, waiting for the other passengers to leave. It’s not fair, a voice in her head bellowed. It was supposed to be different this time, better somehow. Her eyes burned, she was shaking, and she knew she was going to cry.
Willowberg was supposed to be her new start at life. Despite all her fears of moving, she had been so sure that she was making the right decision. It had seemed like a dream come true. A full scholarship, housing arranged and paid for, and the University of Willowberg was even providing a basic living allowance so that she wouldn’t have to work.
Amelia sighed, scrubbing furiously at her puffy, pink eyes. Gulping down a few breaths, she wondered why she had accepted the scholarship. Especially after she found out she would be living off campus, in a house with roommates. If they didn’t like her, just as she knew they wouldn’t, she would be alone. Completely alone. There would not be dorm advisors that would have to be nice to her or other nerdy girls to study with. It would just be her and the roommates who thought she was a freak.
You can do this, Amelia told herself sternly, swallowing the prickly lump in her throat and stretching her cheeks into a forced—and she hoped—realistic smile. She picked up her backpack and padded her way off the bus.
Amelia had just stepped onto the platform, into the bright sun, when a clear, musical voice called her name.
“Amelia? Amelia Caldwell?”
She looked up to see a stunningly beautiful girl walking towards her. Nearly six feet tall, with silky auburn hair and big brown eyes, highlighted with a touch of liner and mascara. She looked a bit older, maybe twenty, Amelia guessed. And she was all legs, eyes and pouty lips: the perfect supermodel body.
Completely dumbfounded, Amelia just stood and stared at this gorgeous girl, who was smiling at her, talking to her. She looked friendly and, though Amelia could not be sure, almost appeared as if she was genuinely happy to see her.
“I was getting worried you didn’t catch the bus on time,” the girl said, her big childlike brown eyes wide with concern. She rushed over, throwing her arms around Amelia, crushing her in a big bear hug. “I’m so glad you’re finally here.”
Amelia dropped her bag, landing with a thud on the ground and stood stiff and rigid, not returning the embrace. Affection was foreign to her. People didn’t usually touch her, not like this. It took her a moment, but once the initial shock passed, she wiggled her way out of the girl’s arms and took a step back.
“My, where are my manners. You must think I’m crazy!” the musical voice sang out and the girl extended her hand to Amelia. “I’m Angelle O’Connor, your new roommate.”
With a shaky, unsure hand, Amelia accepted the shake, pumping it twice in a quick, fluid motion, cleared her throat and said, “Um... Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Oh honey, you look as scared as a deer caught in headlights. Are you okay?” Angelle asked, giving Amelia a concerned look.
Amelia had not noticed how scared she truly was until Angelle said it. She could feel her body shaking and the all too familiar prickly feeling in her eyes warned her she was about to cry again. She sucked in a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and attempted to smile, trying to conceal how much she wanted to run away and hide, and then she lied, “I’m okay. I’m just tired. It was a really long trip.”
“Well then, let’s get you home,” Angelle said. Her big brown eyes glanced around, settling on Amelia’s backpack. Surprised, she asked, “Is this all you brought?”
Amelia bit her lip for a scared second and a nervous knot emerged deep in her gut. She remembered the last time she had moved and the reaction from the other kids. They had teased her and called her names, treating her like a bum, an outcast. And for some reason, which she just did not understand, Amelia knew she would just die if Angelle treated her the same way. She dropped her head, shuffling her feet, because she really could not stand it if the girl looked at her the way others had. Kids could be just so… mean. Hesitantly, she nodded.