The Girl in the Tower

Goody Gothel looked up from her needlework as her crow began to flutter around the room agitatedly. The tapestry was a lifelong project infused with magic. It depicted a tower covered in beautiful flowers. Every stitch reinforced the spell of protection. She sighed and stood to peer outside when Crowley’s cawing became more insistent.

As she scanned her walled garden from the window, movement in the darkness caught her attention. A man stooped over the bed of sorrel, grabbing handfuls of it. How had he entered the garden? The gate was magically locked, and the walls were too high for anyone to scale.

Goody Gothel strode outside angrily. “How dare you intrude here?” she growled, startling the man. She appeared almost menacing with Crowley on her shoulder.

“Forgive me, Goody Gothel. My wife has just given birth. There is something wrong. The midwife suggested sorrel as a remedy.”

Her hand slid to the crystal hanging from her neck as she took in his appearance. Neither the look of worry on his face nor the tears streaming down his face was the cause of his red eyes and sickly pallor. This man was a vampire.

She recognized him as Goodman Hunter, her neighbor who had left to trade his wares two years ago and never returned. Goody Gothel had ignored the whispers of the people in the nearby town when his wife became pregnant long after his disappearance. Most of the gossip she overheard about herself being a witch was not entirely correct. It was none of her business if Goody Hunter had taken up with some man.

Now it became clear the Goodman Hunter had suffered a vampire attack but returned to his wife in secret. There was no telling what sort of monster their union had created. Goody Gother had heard tales of nearly boneless bodies or creatures possessing tails and enlarged facial features.

“Please, Goody Gothel. Don't let Fiona die.” His words broke through her thoughts.

She considered sending him away with his purloined rampion, but the Hunters had always been kind during their rare encounters. She gently shoved Crowley, who flew away with an indignant caw. “I will see what I can do for your wife. I make no promises. She may be beyond my help.”

Goody Gothel and the midwife did their best for Goody Hunter, but it was too late. The sun was near to rising when she broke the news to the heartbroken vampire. She considered telling him the baby had not survived either, but a thin wail sounded from inside. He made her promise to care for his daughter until he returned before disappearing into the woods.

The midwife held the baby in her arms as Goody Gothel returned. “Mistress Campbell’s housemaid recently gave birth. I can take the bairn to her. When she is old enough, she can serve the household.”

“That won't be necessary,” Goody Gothel replied. “I will take her myself. It’s about time I had an apprentice.”

The midwife handed the baby over with a nod and left with a promise to send the grave digger to collect the body.

Goody Gothel inspected the bundle in her arms. The infant looked normal and healthy. “Well, little one, let’s see what Crowley makes of you.”

Much to her surprise, the crow took to the girl right away. He and his family watched over her as she grew up.

The child not only survived her first year but thrived. There was nothing outwardly odd about her besides an abundance of hair as dark as Crowley’s feathers.

It came as a surprise when Goody Gothel realized she felt affection toward the rambunctious and intelligent girl. As she watched the child setting a simple spell, she suddenly felt an overwhelming fear of losing the girl. Goodman Hunter could return at any time to take his daughter away.

She sensed his presence at night, but he had yet to make contact. Even so, her trepidation grew with every passing day. She certainly had her defenses, but was she strong enough to fight off a vampire to keep the child she had come to think of as her own?

Her eyes fell on the now-finished tapestry hanging on the wall. Crowley cawed as he seemed to sense her thoughts. The girl watched curiously as Goody Gothel jumped up to gather her tools. She set everything just right and carefully uttered the words.

A rumbling sound came from deep within the earth. She held the girl close as stone walls erupted from the ground, surrounding them and carrying them upward. They looked around after the movement stopped and the dust began to settle. The candles she had set for the spell had burned down to pools of wax, yet small flames still flickered feebly.

They were in a room with circular walls. A window faced each of the cardinal directions. As they had on the tapestry, flowering vines trailed up the outside walls.

A staircase wound downward, revealing a cozy kitchen and bed chamber. The tapestry she had spent so much time sewing was nowhere to be found, which didn't surprise her. It had served its purpose.

A spring burbling up from the ground on the lowest level provided them with fresh water. She could harvest food from the garden or purchase it in town.

Upon further inspection, Goody Gothel realized that there were no windows or doors close enough to the ground to allow anyone to enter, but it also meant they couldn't easily leave.

“No matter,” she said to herself, “I still have my broom.”

She knew the tower's height and lack of a door wouldn't keep Goodman Hunter out. She could only hope he would leave them alone. She had no intention of inviting him in, so they should be safe.

No one approached their tower for years. Life was idyllic, for Goody Gothel, at least.

*************************************

Sorrel sighed as she gazed out the window. She couldn't remember what it felt like to have the earth under her feet. The monotony of her daily life was becoming unbearable. There were only so many times she could read the same books or practice her spells or cook or clean or sew.

And while her ridiculously long hair required far too much grooming, she didn't have the patience to deal with it. Her mother swore she had not bespelled her tresses. She said it was a part of Sorrel’s nature, never giving any further explanation. But there was something utterly unnatural about her dark locks. She had tried cutting it, but it grew back overnight. Now, in her eighteenth year, Primrose’s braid trailed behind her like a heavy, black anaconda.

Jubilee fluttered over to land beside her. The young crow was one of Crowley’s children. She had become Primrose’s lifelong friend, only leaving her side to search for food. Her siblings often joined them but were currently basking in the sun on the tower roof.

“I wish I could be out there with you, Jubilee. Sometimes I feel like that maiden in the poem. The one in the tower who can only view the world through her mirror.” She indicated the ribbon of water glittering in the distance. “If I can't leave, how will I see the world? I might as well float down the river to my doom.”

Jubilee cawed in alarm.

“Oh, don't worry, Jubilee. I’m not going to do anything rash.” Sorrel smiled. “Well, nothing so rash as languishing after finally gaining my freedom.”

She sat up a little straighter as she saw a figure moving slowly toward the tower. As they neared, Sorrel saw the person waving their arm at a black speck flying above them. Crowley’s cries, sounding all too much like laughter, reached her ears. She sighed again. It was only her mother then.

Sorrel made to jump down from the windowsill to return to the tapestry she should be working on, but curiosity kept her there. Her mother usually flew home. Why was she walking?

“Hush, Crowley.” Mother said as she entered the garden around the tower. She turned her attention to Sorrel. “Well, don’t just sit there, girl. My broom isn't working. I can’t get up there on my own.”

“I’m not the one who designed this tower without a door,” Sorrel replied with a smirk.

“Don’t sass me, Sorrel,” she snapped.

“What exactly do you expect me to do, Mother?”

The perturbed witch swatted at her amused crow as she responded. “Toss that hair of yours out the window. I can use it like a rope and climb up.”

“What?! Do you know how much that would hurt?” Sorrel squeaked. “Why don't you climb up the vines?”

“They won't hold my weight. Hurry now. I can't recharge my broom without my supplies.” her mother said.

Sorrel hopped down from the window sill, muttering, “Yes, climbing up my hair is a much better solution than sending the supplies down to her.” She scanned the room for some other solution. A heavy iron hook hung above the fireplace. She removed the cauldron hanging from it and wrapped a length of her braid around the hook. That should take some weight off her head and neck as her mother climbed up.

“What is taking so long?” she heard through the window.

Sorrel rolled her eyes and began to yank as much of her hair into her arms as possible. She pushed the pile out the window and continued to pull on it until she found the end and tossed it out as well. Sorrel braced herself as her mother slowly climbed upward.

Sorrwl watched quietly as her mother worked on repairing her faulty broom. Later they worked on washing and brushing out her long locks before the crackling fire.

“Mother, could you teach me how to spell a broom to fly?” she eventually asked.

“Why ever would you need that?” her mother replied.

“So I can go somewhere other than this tower,” she said.

Her mother’s expression looked hurt. “Do you want to leave me that badly?”

Sorrel shook her head. “Of course not, but I would like to see the world. I could go with you to town and help you sell your wares…”

“That’s not possible.”

“Why not?” she asked with an exasperated whine.

“Sorrel, I built this tower to protect you from the world. You are different. People wouldn't understand. Besides, you’d never be able to fly with that hair. It's far too heavy.” her mother said gently.

“So, I am a prisoner here? I can never leave?”

“It would not be in your best interest to leave.” Her mother went down to her bed chamber shortly afterward.

Sorrel’s frustration grew as she lay in bed. Unable to sleep, she got up with a huff and paced the room, causing Jubilee and her brothers, Coal and Midnight, to stir. Sorrel stopped before the mirror and scanned her reflection in the moonlight.

What was so abnormal about her? Aside from her eyes being rather large and nearly grey, she didn't look that different from her mother. Of course, her hair was completely out of control, but it certainly wasn't odd enough that anyone would seek to hurt her, was it?

Sorrel walked over to the window and peered out longingly. She could see that man in the tiny cemetery on the hill just past the garden walls. Near as she could tell, he was there every night. Sometimes it seemed like he was looking back at her. It was strange that she never saw him in the daylight.

Her eyes fell on the hook above the fire again as she turned. A crazy idea hatched in her head. Sorrel slipped quietly down to the kitchen and threw some bread, cheese, and an apple into a bag she slung across her body. She grabbed a sharp knife and returned to the upper room.

This time she secured the end of her braid to the hook. Jubilee cawed as she stood on the windowsill.

“Hush. You’ll wake Mother.” Sorrel begged. “I can't stay here. I love Mother, but I just can't stay. Besides, she’ll send Crowley after me. It's not like I could ever truly run away.”

She yanked on her hair to make sure it would hold and took a deep breath before stepping out of the window. Sorrel was shaking from trying to control her descent when her feet touched the earth. It was somehow solid but still much softer than the stone floors she had spent the last thirteen years treading. The grass tickled the soles of her feet. It felt good.

Sorrel grinned and slid the knife through her braid. Her loose hair surrounded her like the darkest of storm clouds. She relished how light it felt, knowing that it wouldn't last.

Jubilee landed on her shoulder as she let herself out of the rusty gate. Midnight and Coal flew overhead. Soon they were joined by the rest of their siblings.

Something drew her toward the cemetery. The man looked up as she approached.

“I see you come with your own murder of crows,” he said with a toothy grin.

Sorrel looked up. “I suppose so. They are Crowley’s brood.”

She began to feel a little uncomfortable as he looked intently at her. There was something about his pale complexion and the redness of his eyes that seemed odd. It finally dawned on her why she had never seen him in the daylight.

Sorrel held the knife before her in a defensive stance and hissed, “You are a vampire.”

“I am indeed.”

“Just my luck. I finally escape that tower and run right into the undead. Maybe Mother was right. I was safer at home.”

“You are safe now. I would never hurt you, Sorrel,” he replied.

His familiarity surprised her. “How is it you know my name?”

“My name is Jacob Hunter. I’ve known you since birth, but you wouldn’t remember me. You are every bit as beautiful as your mother.”

“You know Mother then,” she replied.

He gave her a curt nod. “I am familiar with Goody Gothel, but I was referring to your real mother.” The man indicated the headstone he stood in front of. The inscription read Fiona Hunter. “She died giving birth. Goody Gothel agreed to raise you until I could care for you myself.”

“What?”

“I am your father.”

Sorrel stared at him, trying to wrap her head around everything he had revealed. “Why didn't you come for me?”

He held a hand out to her. “Walk with me. I will explain as best I can.”

She lowered the knife and stepped closer but didn't take his hand. She walked next to him as he turned and strode slowly away.

“I never truly left, but I knew I couldn't care for an infant. I was in mourning and afraid I wouldn't be able to control myself around you.” Jacob said.

Sorrel could see his point but wasn't quite ready to trust him. “How did you become a vampire?”

“I was away on business and rushing to return to Fiona. We didn't like to be apart for long. I should have stopped at an inn for the night but kept riding.” He explained.

“My route took me through a forest known to be a hunting ground for vampires and werewolves.” Jacob shrugged. “I returned home. I loved Fiona too much to leave her. I would have turned her so we could spend eternity together, but we had tried to have children for so many years. She wasn't willing to give up hope. We were overjoyed when she became pregnant with you.”

Sorrel looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry. If it weren't for me, you’d still have her.”

“No!” He stopped and lifted her chin with a cold hand. “Her death was not your fault. Fiona was no longer a young woman. She knew what she was risking to bring you into this world.”

They walked on in silence until he turned to her again. “The way you brandished that knife shows great potential. How would you like to join my band of slayers?”

“I’ve been locked up in that tower for ages. What skills could I possibly have?” Sorrel replied with a laugh.

“You’re a dhampir. Slaying is in your nature.”

“A what?”

He smiled. “A dhampir is the offspring of a vampire and a mortal. Their vampiric blood brings heightened senses and an innate ability to fight. Their mortal blood allows them to inhabit the world of the living.”

Sorrel let his words sink in. That must have been what her mother had meant by her being different. Another thought struck her. “Wait. You’re a vampire, and you have a band of slayers?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “It sounds counterintuitive, but it works. I was angry after Fiona died. I briefly thought of letting the sun end my misery but felt like I would be abandoning you if I did so. Then I blamed my maker for turning me in the first place.”

“So you are a vampire who hates vampires.”

“There are many monsters who seek to cause harm to mortals. Those are the ones we hunt,” he said. “If we encounter someone who wishes to keep to themselves, we leave them be. Occasionally one of the undead will come to us begging for release.”

“How did you recruit your slayers?” Sorrel asked.

“I happened upon an adolescent dhampir hiding in a barn. Thomas’ mother abandoned him at birth, and then he ran away from his abusive orphanage.”

“So you took him under your wing?”

Jacob nodded. “I knew you were safe and happy. You didn't need me, but Thomas did. Over the years, we found other abandoned dhampir and created a family.”

Sorrel stroked Jubilee’s feathers as she thought about her options. As much as she loved her mother, she couldn’t live locked up in that tower. “You’ll teach me to fight?”

“Of course.”

“Then I will join you,” she said decisively.

“Wonderful!” Sharp fangs shone in the moonlight as he beamed at her. “They will be so happy to meet you. They’ve been wanting to break you out of that tower for years. There’s something we need to do first.”

Sorrel realized they were standing in front of the garden gate. She hadn't been paying attention to their meandering route.

Crowley cawed loudly at his children from the wall. Mother was landing in the garden. She carried a bundle in her arms. Her face showed both anger and worry.

“So you’ve finally come for her,” Mother announced.

“She came to me. I have invited Sorrel to join me, but she is free to return here whenever she chooses.” Jacob replied. “I have seen how you care for her as if she were your own child. I wanted you two to be able to say your farewells.”

Sorrel felt her heart constrict. It was easy enough to walk away from the tower on a lark. Saying goodbye to the woman who raised her was much more difficult, even if it wasn’t forever. She looked back at the vampire as she walked through the gate. “Would you like to...”

Jacob held up his hand. “While I would never hurt Goody Gothel, I think she would prefer you not invite me in.”

“Oh. Right.” She turned to her mother. “I’m sorry. I need to do something different. I need to be free.”

“I understand,” her mother said. “I should have never trapped you in there. I was frightened to lose you.”

Sorrel looked up at the window she had escaped through. Her discarded hair was still hanging from it. “How will you get in and out if your broom stops working again?”

“I will manage. That tapestry we’ve been working on is nearly complete. I remembered to include a door on the tower this time.” She said with a laugh.

“Sorrel, we should go now. The sun will rise soon, and you can’t move as quickly as I can.” Jacob said gently.

Sorrel nodded and embraced her mother, then took a cloak and basket from her. She gave the tower one last glance before turning to join the vampire.

They strode past the cemetery again and into the nearby woods. After nearly an hour of walking, Sorrel could make out the murmur of distant voices, occasionally broken by brash laughter. The conversation ceased as they stepped into a clearing.

“Jacob, you’ve cut it close today. You should get inside,” a young man with unruly brown hair said. Large, pointed ears poking through the curls were the only feature that appeared inhuman.

“I will turn in shortly, Thomas. This is Sorrel Hunter, my daughter. Please acquaint her with our clan.” he replied.

“Of course. Welcome Sorrel. We have heard much about you.” Thomas held up a stick from the fire before him. It held a small fowl. “Would you join us for breakfast?”

“Yes, please,” she said as the smell of the cooked flesh dripping with juices made her realize how ravenous she was.

Jacob laid a hand on her shoulder. “I wish I could stay and introduce you to our family, but I must sleep. I will see you tonight.”

Sorrel smiled and bade him good day. She watched him slip into a cave behind two large rocks in the hillside. A cough brought her attention back to her surroundings.

A roughly built hut sat back near the tree line. Sorrel’s crows settled onto the thatch roof to rest. Weak sunlight filtering through the trees revealed a roughly defined garden.

Thomas cleared his throat and handed her a plate with the meat and herbed potatoes. The meal was simple but flavorful. He introduced the others while she ate.

The boy with a rather large nose was called Fergus. His cropped hair stuck out at odd angles. Thomas said that he was able to sniff out the undead easily.

A girl who looked to be around twelve was Elspeth. She wore dark curls around her face, likely to cover her distinct features. Despite them being more pronounced, she was quite pretty. Sorrel saw no reason why she should hide them. Elspeth was most deadly with a bow and arrow.

“I’ll introduce you to Angus later. He likes to sleep in.” Thomas said. “Try not to stare when you meet him. His body lacks some bones. It allows him to slip into the smallest of cracks. Quite useful when we need to enter a crypt. He can usually hold his form but begins to flop about when he’s overly tired.”

“Honestly, I’ve seen so few people in my lifetime that I wouldn't know that any of us were different,” Sorrel replied. She held up the plate. “This is delicious, by the way.”

“Ah, yes. Cooking is my superpower. Aside from the enhanced hearing, that is.” He tapped his ears as he spoke. “Being the eldest, it fell on me to feed the others. I find I enjoy cooking - that and sword fighting.

“Oh, my mother taught me how to prepare soups and stews. I can also bake bread. I can help with the meals.”

“Perfect.” Thomas smiled. “It sounds like you will fit in well here. I will give you a few days to settle before we begin training you to fight.”

Elspeth sat next to Sorrel to eat. “I see you’ve been cursed with the crazy hair too.”

Sorrel glanced down to see her dark locks pooling on the ground around her. It had been waist-length when she cut it a few hours earlier. “I don’t know what to do about it. I can’t imagine it will be easy to walk through these woods, let alone fight, with ten feet of hair trailing behind me. It just grows so fast.”

“That’s why we cut our hair nearly daily,” Elspeth said. “Well, the boys’ hair doesn’t grow as fast as yours. At least Angus has been spared that part. He doesn’t have any hair.”

Fergus looked up from the blade he was sharpening. “If we cut your hair to your chin, we could weave a vest or a bag from it. We use the clippings to make what we need and burn the rest. No sense leaving it around for a witch to use against us. The blankets and clothing can be a bit itchy, but it’s not so bad if you have a layer of cloth underneath.”

Sorrel grinned at him. “I wouldn’t curse you.”

“You’re a witch?” Fergus appeared nervous.

“I was raised by a witch and trained to use spells, so I suppose I am.” She turned to Thomas. “Has anyone placed any protective spells around the house or clearing?”

“We don't know how to do that,” he replied.

Sorrel jumped up. “I don’t know how to curse anyone, but I can provide protection. At least that’s something I can do to help our family while I am learning to fight.” She checked the basket her mother had given her, then sent the others to collect the items she needed.

Elspeth and Fergus seemed a little wary of her. Thomas was less concerned and willingly helped her set the boundaries of her spell. By the time Sorrel was ready to speak the words of power, Angus had awoken and watched curiously.

With the wards set, the clearing felt more secure. It was similar to the safety of the tower but without the sense of imprisonment.

Sorrel eagerly explored her new home. The inside of the hut was rustic and cozy. Clothing and cloaks hung from pegs on the walls. Three beds consisting of stuffed woven sacks and hairy blankets took up most of the floor space. Elspeth offered to share a fourth bed tucked into a nook until they could make one for Sorrel. There wasn’t much other furniture. A fireplace provided warmth and light, but they usually used the fire outside for cooking.

Jacob returned as the sun set and expressed joy at how quickly Sorrel fit in with the others. He spent some time getting to know her but sent her to bed when her lack of sleep from the previous night left her nodding off.

As Sorrel curled up next to Elspeth, she contemplated how much her life had changed in such a short amount of time. She was looking forward to learning to fight.

Little did she know how exhausting the combat lessons would be. Her muscles nearly screamed as she crawled into bed each night. But every day, she became a little stronger and more skilled. Although it required closer combat, Sorrel found she preferred fighting with a variety of knives.

Once he deemed her ready, Jacob began teaching Sorrel how to use her newly acquired skills to kill a vampire. She was nervous when he insisted she not hold back when attacking the man she was beginning to accept as her father.

“Don’t be afraid to cut me, Sorrel,” he said. “Your knives are more suited to hunting werewolves. Any wounds meted out to a vampire will only slow them down. It will give you time to sever their heads or plunge a stake into their hearts.”

“I know, but I don’t like the thought of causing you pain.”

“I need to know that you can kill me if I lose control. It is something I require of all of my children.” Jacob insisted.

Sorrel’s heart ached at the thought. “You’ve maintained control for the last twenty years, have you not?”

“I have, but that is a relatively short time for a vampire. I don’t know what could happen in the future.”

Sorrel was going to continue the argument but was distracted by Thomas rushing up to them. “We have visitors, and I don’t think they want to be friends.”

The others quickly followed. Before they could retreat to the safety of the clearing, two ancient vampires emerged from the trees. Sorrel’s heart was beating so loudly she couldn’t hear the hissed conversation between Jacob and their adversaries.

Whatever was said seemed to enrage them. The fight was fierce and more confusing than she expected. Still, Sorrel was proud of her efforts. Her ever-present crows aided them by swooping around using their talons to tear at the enemy.

She looked at Thomas in time to see him staking the final foe. The other was pinned to a tree by one of Elspeth’s arrows through the heart.

The cheer that began to form in Sorrel died when she saw Jacob slumped on the ground, his throat ripped open by their enemy.

She fell to her knees and gathered him to her chest. Jubilee landed on her shoulder with a quiet caw. Sorrel makeshift family stood around them.

Hot tears rolled down Sorrel’s face falling onto her father’s head. She didn’t notice as sallow skin took on a healthy color. He drew her attention with a cough. Eyes no longer red but as grey as her own peered up at her. His fingers were warm as they wiped the wetness from her cheeks.

“Father?” Sorrel gasped. Her fellow hunters echoed her expression of shock.

“I can’t say I expected this,” Jacob laughed. “Your tears have cured me. They’ve reversed the vampire’s curse.”

Sorrel hugged Jacob in relief. He raised his face to the sun with a smile as brilliant as the orb’s rays. The remains of their adversaries turned to ash in the daylight.

Thomas looped an arm over Sorrel’s shoulders as they walked home. “We might have to bottle those tears. We wouldn’t have to kill the vampires. What if we could cure them with Elspeth’s arrows dipped in the liquid?”

“How could I possibly cry enough to produce that many tears?”

“Oh, I can make you cry. I’ll just have to train you harder.” Thomas grinned.

Sorrel swatted at him in mock indignation, then joined in as her family laughed. The cheerful cawing of crows followed them home.