A New Wili
Alex
For years, I’d searched for bloody Johnny Riley and found rumours and lies.
After having beaten me within an inch of my life and left me for dead, he’d vanished. No one knew where he was. He might have left the country for all I knew.
But I could wait to catch him. Time was one thing I had plenty of. Monsters always crawled out of their hiding places sooner or later. I knew that because I was one of them.
What I didn’t have was time for trivialities. But ruling the Dark Court meant dealing with them.
After Darius and I had gone to the Dark Court, a disagreement between the duke and us had arisen.
The duke had coldly agreed to take me in but had firmly rejected Darius, claiming he’d been too weak and insignificant.
I’d stood up for my best friend. A fight between the duke and me had ensued, and I’d won.
I was Ravenhill, the new Duke of the Dark Court.
The position came with some perks—a mansion, minions at my disposal, money, and power. The downside was having to deal with the fairies, werewolves, and complaints from everyone.
I walked down the sweeping stairs of Raven Hall, tailed by Graves, an annoying werewolf, who lacked the qualities of a big dog but possessed all the annoying faults of a yapping Yorkshire terrier throwing a tantrum.
On top of that, I needed to feed, and an empty stomach always made me grumpy.
Graves stomped behind me, screeching his boots on the marble steps. “Ravenhill, you can’t walk away like that.”
“I’ve just proved you wrong.”
The maids cleaning the stairs bowed at my passage, and I nodded back. Between the marble present everywhere and the high-vaulted ceiling, the place was never properly warm. Even I found it cold.
“I’m serious!” Graves’s voice rose. “You must listen to me.”
I pivoted, clenching a gloved hand. “Don’t tell me what I must or mustn’t do. Whitechapel is Knight’s territory. I won’t start a war with the Moon Court.”
He glowered. “Whitechapel was mine.”
“Was is the important word. There was a war, and you lost it. The winner takes the land. It’s been like that since the dawn of time. Get over it!”
Besides, Knight, the Duke of the Moon Court, belonged to the werewolf clan of the Molossians. They were big, strong warriors, born to fight. Only a fool would cross them.
Graves, instead, belonged to the clan of the Argos, who were born to form large packs and work hard for them. The Argos hadn’t stood a chance against the extraordinary Molossians.
I resumed going down, past the stern portraits of former dukes I couldn’t care less about.
Graves grabbed my arm. Instant, deep pain burst through me, not because Graves’s grip was particularly strong. My body had never recovered from Riley’s beating, the transformation, and the fever hospital. A light touch hurt as much as a stab and was as disgusting as a parasite infestation.
My inner demons, disguised as memories of those days, overwhelmed me.
But I’d improved through the years. If someone had touched me before, I would have fled in a panic, found a dark corner, and shivered until the pain and disgust had passed.
Now rage was the immediate reaction, and I welcomed it. It was better than fear.
“Don’t touch me. Ever. No one touches the duke.” I bared my fangs. “You’ve just arrived, but you’d better learn the rules because if you disrespect me again, there will be consequences.”
I’d also learnt to channel the pain and disgust into anger, and it worked.
His amber eyes filled with hatred. I was sure it was mirrored in mine.
I adjusted my waistcoat and jacket and strode towards the front door.
A footman helped Logan, the only other vampire in Raven Hall, don his coat.
“Where are you going?” I eyed his elegant outfit.
In a tailored suit, top hat, and fine coat, he passed for a gentleman. A century-old gentleman who looked no older than thirty.
He tugged at his leather gloves. “Out to feed, like you.”
“Not like me. I don’t kill.”
“It was an accident.” He pronounced ‘accident’ with three hissing Cs. “The man had a heart condition and didn’t survive the feeding.”
My arse. But I couldn’t prove Logan had intentionally killed that man. Hence, he was still breathing.
“Your Grace.” The butler had barely handed me my coat when Darius came running down the stairs.
“Alex!”
I gnashed my teeth. He was the only one in the court who called me Alex, but when he used that grave tone, a problem was about to bloody annoy me.
Graves headed for the opposite side, muscles swelling under his clothes. Poor sport.
“What?” Thirst scratched my throat. I had plenty of providers, but tonight I wanted something new.
Darius crossed the hall, floating. “It’s Myrtha. She brought another one.”
Rage flared again. What was the damn point of being Ravenhill, Duke of the Dark Court, if the courtiers defied me?
“Where is she?”
“Upstairs. West wing. She hasn’t completed the transformation yet.”
I strode upstairs, muttering curses. The servants stepped aside to let me pass. The mansion was big enough that it took me a few minutes to reach the west wing, even at my speed.
Darius followed me. After years of eating and sleeping well, he’d grown muscles and turned from lanky to well built.
His powers had also burst. He could perform many spells—not sure how many—show incredible strength, and conjure protective shields that not even bullets could penetrate. He was a constant surprise.
If there was one person in the Dark Court who could kill me, it was him.
Myrtha’s white glow gave her away from a distance.
“Myrtha!” The pounding of my boots thundered in the wide hallway.
An odd tug pulled at my chest, but I ignored it.
She jutted out her chin, standing in front of a door. “There’s no need to shout, Ravenhill. Or to be here for that matter.”
“You brought another girl here against my specific orders!”
“I didn’t ignore you. I haven’t brought any girls since you so kindly ordered me not to.” Her voice quivered. “But you must understand. This case is special.”
“I was clear.”
“You were. But…this is what I do. I make wilis.”
“Your wilis are weak, dropping like flies.”
“This time is different. I feel stronger. My energy is growing.” She was flustered. I’d struck a nerve.
Myrtha, mighty queen of the wilis, was losing her power. As of late, her new wilis had died in a matter of weeks in agony. Just a few of them, the oldest ones, endured.
But she was a stubborn woman. “Her betrothed attacked her, beat her, and killed her father, leaving her for dead. He also stole her family’s money, killed the servants, and set her house on fire.”
“Tragic, but not our problem.”
Darius frowned at me in disapproval. “Myrtha, please—”
“Don’t you use that tone with me.” She jabbed a finger at Darius.
“I wasn’t using any tone.” Darius scowled.
She shifted her weight from one foot to another. “Well, yes, what do you want to say?”
He held up a hand. “We’re worried about this young woman. Just that.”
Her dark eyes flashed white. “Her anger summoned me, so intense it was. She essentially begged me. She wants revenge, and I must grant it to her.”
“And she has all my sympathy, but we can’t have another dying wili.” I glanced at the door as a delicious smell wafted through. It couldn’t be… “Let her go.”
“No!” White light glowed around her. “I do not kill women. Never.”
“The poor woman is half dead already.” Darius lifted a shoulder. “All you have to do is let her die in peace. It’ll be more merciful than prolonging her agony, only to see her die in pain in a few weeks.”
“I’ll be more careful. She’ll be stronger. She won’t die like the others.” Myrtha’s shoulders shook.
“Like hell she will.” Guided by the damn tug in my chest, I brushed past her and flung the door open.
She chased me. Her power worked exclusively on living men. Even if she attacked me, she wouldn’t cause as much as my nose to bleed. Besides, she and her wilis killed men who had betrayed a woman. I hadn’t fallen that low yet.
She scowled. “You’re a brute!”
“A brute? Is that the best you can do? I’ve been called worse—” I skidded to a stop close to the bed.
My heart jumped to my throat and then dipped to my stomach.
In the bed lay Irene, dressed in a blue silk gown soaked in blood. Her heart was barely beating, only a few thumps per minute. Bruises and cuts covered her neck and arms. My blood stirred as her blood called to it like a siren.
Lovely Irene.
Rage pushed out my fangs. My senses sharpened as I wished to kill whoever had hurt her. I hadn’t sought her out to keep her safe because I didn’t trust myself and because I had no right to involve her in a world of danger and magic.
A wave of guilt overwhelmed me. If I’d stayed with her, if I’d made sure she was fine, this wouldn’t have happened.
I didn’t have her ability to experience other people’s feelings, but her suffering became mine.
“Who’s the bastard who did this?” I gritted out.
“I gathered only a few bits of information. His name is Mr. Sean Lewis.” Myrtha unsheathed the silver blade she used for the ritual of creating a new wili.
The woman had to be on the threshold of death, and Myrtha would offer her blood to the dying woman to form a bond of life.
“Tall, broad, dark hair, pale blue eyes. It’s a miracle he didn’t force himself on her. ”
The information wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Darius made a noise at Irene’s sight but didn’t say a word.
“Let me transform her.” Myrtha swept into my field of vision, blocking my view of Irene. “Please. She deserves justice. I can’t deny her that. I’m sorry that I disobeyed your order, but her pain was too intense to be ignored.”
I was ashamed that the smell of Irene’s blood made me want to drink it. She was the first one I’d fed from. The taste of her blood was unforgettable. After all, her blood had transformed me. But above all, wrath filled my mind and heart.
“Ravenhill?” Myrtha raised a hand, maybe to touch me, but thought better of it.
“Save her.” Because Irene’s other option was to become a vampire, and I’d rather be hugged than do that to her. “But I have a condition.”
Her surprise turned into a frown. “What condition?”
“She’s mine. I’ll give her my blood.”
Fury exploded out of her in a white glow so blinding I had to look away. “This is blasphemy. A wili will never serve a man.”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Darius leant over Irene. “Her pulse is slowing quickly.”
Myrtha’s light flickered. “She will never be your blood slave.”
“I don’t have blood slaves.” I clenched my teeth. “But she’ll belong to me. Not you.”
She breathed heavily as the light dimmed. “This is an affront.”
“Make your decision.”
Under Myrtha’s control, Irene’s strength would never grow, and she would soon become weak and eventually fade without me being able to do anything. I’d ordered Myrtha not to create new wilis until we understood what was wrong with her power.
She’d lost dozens of wilis in the past months, and their deaths hadn’t been painless. There was a limit to the number of women I could watch die in agony. Some wilis had suffered for days before fading. I wouldn’t allow that to happen to Irene.
“Myrtha.” Darius checked Irene’s pulse. “There’s a chance the duke’s blood will make her stronger. She’ll have more time to develop her power and survive.”
Myrtha stared at me with hatred. Great. First Graves, now her.
“If you mistreat her, I’ll leave the Dark Court.” She didn’t blink. “And take her with me, even if you’re her master.”
She would never leave the Dark Court, not because she cared about me, but because she didn’t have anywhere else to go, and with her power dwindling, she didn’t have another option but to stay here.
I turned around. I loved blood, but seeing Irene like that caused a knot to swell in my throat.
Myrtha raised her silver dagger. “If she has to be yours, you must make your offer now. Stretch your arm over her mouth.”
I pulled up my sleeve but left the glove on. When Myrtha stepped closer, I stiffened, but she didn’t touch me. She made a quick slash with the silver blade, and I hissed as smoke rose from the cut. Cursed silver.
Drops of my blood fell into Irene’s mouth. The urge to stroke her face sent a jolt through me. For years, the thought of touching someone had been repulsive to me. But one glance at Irene, and I wanted to touch her, hold her, and promise her she would be fine. She was turning my world upside down.
Crimson coloured her lips, covering the cuts. If she didn’t want to kill the bastard, I would. Gladly.
I stared at Irene. “When she wakes up, ask her to write down everything she remembers about Sean.”
“I will. Now leave. Both of you.” Myrtha shook her head. “This is madness.”
White light burst out, and I walked out.
After I shut the door behind Darius and me, I slouched and leant against the wall.
Darius looked worried. “Irene might not be happy to be yours.”
“Better mine than dead.”
“Wait and see how she reacts when she learns you can control her.”
Irene shouldn’t be here. Not like that. She was supposed to live a long, happy life without darkness.
But if she sought revenge, I would fight with her.