Chapter Willan
WILLAN
The day has arrived.
Five months since Nikolo moved into my apartment.
Nine months since the night I told him I love him and want to turn.
One year since we agreed to be friends at that horrible diner.
Tonight, it all changes again.
It’s been months of planning, paperwork, counselling sessions, medical appointments, but tonight is the night Nikolo will turn me, and I’ll begin my new life with him, as a vampire.
It hasn’t been a smooth road. But as I soak in the bath, watching the sun through the bathroom window and waiting for the doctor to come for my final health check, I don’t regret a second of it.
Well, not entirely. Right now, I kind of regret not taking a nap at some point in the last thirty-six hours.
I’ve still got a long night ahead of me.
Usually, I’d make myself a tea to knock myself out or give me a bit of oompf to keep going, but everything I’ve read about turning says it’s best not to take anything before you start the process.
It might be cautionary overkill, but I’m not taking any risks.
Nikolo is already terrified enough that something’s going to go wrong.
Not that I really blame him. Turning someone is a big deal.
He will literally hold my life in his hands during the ritual, and as my maker, he’ll need to care for me in those first few weeks until I get my bearings.
And even when I do, he’s still legally responsible for all of my actions for the first twelve months.
He won’t be alone. Neither of us will. There’s a great big colour-coded chart on the whiteboard in classroom two to see to that—organised by Jesminda, Lusce, and Egbert.
Between the three of them, they’ve pored over all the glossy brochures we’ve brought back from appointments and assigned tasks and ‘on call’ duties around the clock for the next two weeks so we’ll always have someone on hand.
Finn, who was turned under less than ideal—or legal—circumstances has also been offering advice. Especially on what not to do.
It’s definitely helped ease some of Nikolo’s worries.
The bath water’s getting cold, and the time on my phone shows that the doctor is going to be here soon. It’s time to get ready.
I prepare myself like a sacrifice to the Gods. Cleansed, scrubbed, and freshly oiled, I brush my hair out in the bathroom, but move to my ritual room to re-braid my hair for the last time.
Magic fills the room, tingling against my bare skin. I chose not to get dressed for this—I want to feel it. The pungent scent of the incense fills my lungs and I savour it as I close my eyes, focusing on becoming a conduit for the chaotic energy around me, wrangling it to my submission.
My meditation isn’t focused on clearing my mind.
Actually, it's very much the opposite. I think about everything.
My hopes, my fears, my memories—I let my mind fetch everything, hauling it into the blank space of my consciousness.
Once they are all there, stacked together, I open my eyes.
My vision is blurry—caught between reality and my internal landscape—but I can see enough to perform the ritual I have planned.
With my physical eyes on my altar, I prepare the candle in front of me, binding the small candle with a thread of astal spider thread. In my mind I pick through the boxes visualised, separating some from the rest.
When the candle lights, a final, blissful act of elemental magic, I release all the things that no longer serve me, watching the quarantined boxes burn with the candle.
As they blacken and eventually disappear, I can feel myself growing lighter—the energetic weight of a lifetime of baggage finally free.
It’s not a perfect ritual; it doesn’t erase everything, not forever, but it’s enough to make me feel cleansed spiritually. Prepared and ready to embrace my new life.
With the fear gone, I focus on the remaining boxes, channelling the happy memories, the love of my friends, the knowledge that I get to spend the rest of my days with Nikolo, and braid them into my hair.
One last time, I weave my protection into the strands, my prayers to the Gods until the last knot is secured.
I close the ritual, lingering in my ritual room, soaking in the remnants of the magic until a knock on the door rouses me.
Slipping into my black silk pyjama bottoms, I wrap my robe around myself and go out to meet the doctor.
“So, Willan, are you ready?” The doctor—our doctor, Dr. Kelly—asks kindly, hugging her binder full of months of our paperwork to her chest when I open the door.
“More than I’ve ever been in my life.” I laugh, bordering on giddy with excitement. Stepping aside, I wave Dr. Kelly—a pretty, middle-aged, human woman with long blonde hair, perpetually pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail—and her nurse assistant, Paul, into my apartment.
Paul, a fae with dark blue-grey skin and fluorescent green, spikey hair aged somewhere between me and Dr. Kelly—whistles low. “Nice place you got here.” His neck cranes every which way. “Where should I set up?”
I point him towards the dining table and after setting everyone up with a tea, I go through my last battery of tests.
Dr. Kelly and Paul both make it easy, though.
They’ve been with us the entire step of the way.
We got incredibly lucky getting referred to her as our Vampire Transition Specialist. Not only is she and Paul really friendly and caring, but they are both highly experienced in home transitions—which means we didn’t have to go through the hospital, or one of the specialised vampire turning facilities.
Laurence invited us to his villa for the ritual, but after all the planning and discussions, doing it at home was the most important thing for us.
“Sorry about that.” Paul apologises, wincing. I wave him off with a smile. I’m about to get much worse. “So, how was your last day in the sun? Everything you hoped?”
We’ve talked a lot during our appointments about my plans.
Paul had some really amazing suggestions, too, from things he’s picked up along the way—like making sure we have bottle warmers in the bedroom, and making sure they work before we need them.
Not all vamps are fussy over having blood straight from the fridge, but he’s had patients in the past where it made them feel sick in those first few days.
“Everything and more.”
“Well, don’t leave me hanging. What did you do?” Paul rips the cuff off me and quickly notes down my results.
Sighing contentedly, I offer my other arm for the just as eager Dr. Kelly to withdraw my blood.
“Well, last night Egbert and I climbed up to the roof to watch the sunset. Then Nikolo and I went to Hearts Gate to hang out with Kai and Finn for a bit.” They’ve both heard me talk about my friends enough over the past couple of months that by now, I don’t have to clarify who everyone is.
“Then we came back so I could nap for a bit. Nikolo woke me up in time to hang out before sunrise.” I skip over exactly how he woke me up.
They don’t need to know every detail. “Lusce, Jax, Bedeer, and Jes came and picked me up. They surprised me with a sunrise picnic on the beach. It was freezing, but definitely worth it. Then we ate and just hung out until I had to come back to start getting ready.”
“What was the best thing?” Dr. Kelly asks—as a hobby baker she’s deeply invested in my answer. I take a beat to think about it.
“The spiced chocolate lava cake for flavour. But, honestly? The chips and salsa Jes made. Simple, but the crunch was… I feel like I’m going to miss the crunch.”
Paul does a strange cough-snort-laugh hybrid, almost knocking over the bag of equipment he’s packing up. Dr. Kelly and I shoot him matching concerned looks.
“Sorry!” He splutters, getting his stuff together. “I just—you sounded so earnest.”
“But it’s true! That crunchy mouth feel—it’s not like I’m going to be digging into a bag of crackers anytime soon, right?” My answer sets off another round of snickering from Paul.
Done with her blood samples, Dr. Kelly rolls her eyes, unclipping the tourniquet from my arm.
“Don’t worry about this one. Food’s not his thing.
He’d live on kibble if he could. Missing the crunch is a thing.
So is missing chewing. Just don’t—no matter how tempting—try to eat. You’ll only make the mistake once.”
I’ve read as much in the many, many pamphlets I’ve collected. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be good.”
Dr. Kelly pulls out her stethoscope next to check my heart rate, so we’re all quiet while I breathe deeply, in and out.
“Well. That’s it. We’re all done.” Dr. Kelly announces, putting away her stethoscope, the tray of blood samples rattling when she accidentally knocks it.
“You’re perfectly healthy. All you need is your wonderful young man to wake up and you’re good to go.
Do you have any questions for me? And you’re one hundred percent certain about your status for your new registration? ”
Without a moment's hesitation, I nod. “Yes. I’m certain. And I don’t think so. No questions, I mean.”
Paul and Dr. Kelly share a look, then Dr. Kelly pats my knee, squeezing it. The weight of the situation settles on my shoulders, but it doesn’t feel heavy.
During all the paperwork, I learnt that after turning, vampires have a choice to add their former being status to their new registration. And for clans and groups that allow it, you can still register as being aligned to that clan.
Thanks to Aleksi, the Mazheri now allows dual registration. However, I’ve declined the option. For now, at least.
I’d love nothing more than for everything between my family and the clan and me and Nikolo to be tied up in a neat little bow, but that’s not how life works.
Too many of the clan—including my parents—still see Nikolo as the wild child, hellion he was all those years ago, and despite my brother's sincere apologies, nothing can undo what was done.