White Silk
Irene
The pink rays of dawn lit the bedroom. A bedroom I’d never seen. A glossy mahogany dresser, a thick damask carpet, and a large cast-iron stove took up the space.
The large, soft bed smelt of lilies, and the cherrywood nightstand and dresser were spotless. Not a speck of dust in sight.
I didn’t know how long I’d been like that, staring around, following the dance of the rays of the sun and not thinking of anything.
My body didn’t hurt, my lips were whole, and my face wasn’t swollen although fatigue weighed me down. Someone had taken care of me and carried me here. The possibility Sean was close made me sick to my stomach.
Sean. Confused memories flooded me mercilessly. The dinner, the thugs, the fire. Papa. My papa was dead.
I pressed my face to the pillow and cried until I drifted to sleep.
When I woke up, the long shadows of dusk were lengthening on the polished floor.
Someone must have kept the fire burning, and a tray with a pot of tea, sandwiches, and grapes sat next to me. A large bunch of white myrtle flowers brightened the room.
The door inched inwards, and I drew in a breath. If it was Sean, I would fight him.
A dark-haired woman slid inside. I remembered having seen her at my house. “You’re awake. I’ve kept checking on you.”
“Where am I? Who are you?” I craned my neck to see past her and caught a glimpse of a well-lit corridor.
“I’m Myrtha, and you’re in Raven Hall, a mansion on the outskirts of London.”
That didn’t mean much. “I thought I was dying.”
I tried to release my power, but it flickered weakly in my chest, too exhausted to work. I pushed harder, and it leapt out of me. Myrtha’s aura was a pure silver light with blue tendrils floating around her.
She moved with ethereal grace, her feet barely touching the floor.
Her beautiful white silk gown seemed made of water, so nicely it flowed over her curves.
The gown was simple with a fitted bodice adorned with pearls and white velvet roses, and a flared skirt with flounces and a white underskirt.
The whole effect was light and fluffy as if the skirt weighed nothing.
“You were dying, but I gave you a new life,” she said in an excited tone.
“Am I dead?”
“No. To make a wili, the woman needs to be between life and death.” She held up her palms, and white light spread out of them.
I bolted up. “What is that?”
“I have the power to save women from the brink of death. Women who were betrayed by a man they trusted and who want revenge.” Myrtha sat on the edge of the bed in a swish of silk. “You’re a wili, a wraith of vengeance with incredible powers and an immortal life.”
That wasn’t possible…but I should be dead; the white light coming out of Myrtha was supernatural, and I’d always possessed a supernatural ability, too.
I swallowed. “I won’t die?”
“I’m almost two hundred and fifty years old.” She blushed, which made her look more human. Something dark shot through her aura.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I waved around her head. “I can detect your feelings and see your aura. It changed.” I saw no reason not to tell her about my ability.
Her lips parted. “You’re a soul searcher! How fascinating. I suppose that is the reason why I sensed your desperation so intensely. Because you possess a supernatural ability.”
Soul searcher sounded more sophisticated than what people had called me.
“I’ve always been cursed.” My throat tightened as thoughts of Papa made my heart ache.
“That’s a gift.”
I stared at her, not sure what to say to an immortal spirit of vengeance.
She cleared her throat and pointed at the escritoire.
“You’ll find papers and pens over there.
I need you to write down everything you remember about Mr. Lewis.
Your memories of recent events prior to your transformation will be confused for a while, so it’s important that you take note of everything you remember each day.
” Her aura was in turmoil. She was avoiding answering me on purpose.
“Tell me the truth about my immortality.”
She lowered her gaze. “To keep your immortality and your powers, you must kill at least one man every year, or you’ll fade and die.”
A breath rushed out of me. “I don’t want to kill anyone.”
“Not even Mr. Lewis?” Her halo became more solid. “He deserves to die. And once you exact your revenge, your powers will grow further.”
I stared at my hands. Aside from the surprising lack of pain, I didn’t feel different, but my skin had a translucent quality it hadn’t had before.
The tiny scar I had on my hand from burning myself with a candle had disappeared along with sunspots, areas of uneven texture, and other small imperfections.
The price of my immortality was a man’s life. More than one. What would Papa or Mama have said?
“I can’t do this.” I shook my head. “I can’t kill.”
“I’m not asking to kill good men.” She tilted her head right and left. “There are so few anyway, you would have better luck spotting a dragon.”
“Are dragons real?” I cut her off.
She lifted a shoulder. “I think so. But I’ve never seen one, which is a shame.”
I was about to ask her more questions about the dragons, but she continued.
“You’ll kill men like Mr. Lewis, men who beat, cheat, and force themselves on women. The world won’t miss them.”
“I’m not an executioner.”
“You’ll be one with practice.”
No, no, no. The whole situation was an absurd dream.
I shoved the covers aside and jumped out of the bed. A white silk gown similar to Myrtha’s flowed down my body in soft waves. The fabric glowed and sparkled like fireflies. Chained to my wrist was Mama’s gold cross, the only normal and familiar thing in this situation. A new sob tore out of me.
“I should wear black and mourn.”
The colour of my gown was a trivial thing compared to what had happened, but my papa deserved respect.
“You’re a wili, Irene. Mourning is for the living. I asked you if you wanted revenge before bringing you here, and you said yes.”
“I was angry, in pain, and dying!” My voice cracked with anger and horror for what Sean had done to me.
She rose. Compassion filled her aura with tea-rose pink.
“I understand this is shocking, but think carefully. This is your second chance at life.” She gave me time to ponder her words before continuing.
“You’ll need to work to develop your power.
Wilis can use their minds to move objects.
” She angled towards the pitcher; it rose and poured a glass of water on its own.
“My goodness.” I touched the pitcher and blinked. “Impressive.”
“With enough strength, we can use this power to kill. But you need energy first. Eat something and sleep. We’ll talk later when you’re stronger.” She squeezed my hand. “I understand how you feel, but you’ll be happy here. There are other wilis and other supernatural beings.”
“Like what?”
“Witches, werewolves. Not many of them, thank goodness. They’re loud and messy. And then there’s…” She sighed. “A wizard.”
My head spun.
“But never mind.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Rest for now. You need it.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to calm myself. The food didn’t appeal to me, but I drank a cup of tea.
A vision of Papa smiling at me in our dining room flashed across my mind. He deserved to be avenged, but I wasn’t sure I was the right person to do that. And too many emotions crammed my heart.
After yet another long sleep, energy was back in my body.
Not a sound came from the other side of the door, and the portion of the garden visible from my window was empty. Tall oak trees, a large sycamore, and thick hedgerows formed an intricate pattern I wouldn’t mind exploring.
A lake sparkled behind the trees, so peaceful and stunning.
I pulled the door open and stepped outside.
The corridor was wide enough to allow six people to walk side by side.
Through the large diamond-paned windows, the moonlight shone off the marble floor that had been scrubbed to star-brightness.
On both sides, the corridor stretched on, seemingly without end.
The view was both haunting and beautiful.
“Look what we have here. Another one,” a deep voice said from behind me.
As I turned around, my elbow hit a tall, broad man with blond hair. I grimaced. He didn’t flinch though.
His eyes didn’t show any white. They were as glossy and black as obsidian. The pointed white tips of his canines appeared from underneath his upper lip, sharp and…inhuman.
“What’s your name?” He towered over me.
Terror seized me, and I screamed. Being immortal didn’t diminish my fear at all. My legs seemed to have turned into timber. He opened his mouth to show a row of sharp teeth. Also, he had no aura. Nothing.
I tripped on the hem of the skirt and fell backwards. Pain burst in my buttocks when I hit the floor hard.
The man leant over me and let out a vicious hiss that caused my skin to prickle. He recoiled as if I’d struck him, but I didn’t understand what I’d done to provoke such a reaction.
The tendons in his neck stood out in sharp relief, and his nostrils flared. Whatever I’d done, I’d angered him.
He came closer, and I crawled back, expecting to feel a punch or a kick.
There was a soft swish, and a gust of air blew past me before another massive figure stood in front of me.
“Leave her alone, Logan.” A dark-haired man had blocked my attacker. He had no aura either.
“She’s a wili.”
“She’s mine.”
“Myrtha wouldn’t—”
“Myrtha does what I ask, so should you.”
They stared at each other without moving, not even their chests lifted, until Logan turned around slowly and walked away.
I didn’t relax though. Far from it.
The dark-haired one loomed over me. He gave me a long glance, and his throat muscles worked. “Did Logan hurt you?”
I staggered to my feet and leant against the wall.
His black shirt and waistcoat fit snugly across his shoulders. One of his fists was big enough to break my head in two. Yet an odd pull tugged at my chest, and a sense of safety suffused me. I wasn’t going to trust it though. He might be a wizard, capable of charming me.
He didn’t come close, but his eyes changed from obsidian to a striking silver-grey colour, his build became a little smaller, and his teeth shortened.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
I moved towards my bedroom, even though the tug in my chest drew me to him.
Footsteps approached, and Myrtha arrived in a flutter of white silk and glowing light.
“You’re frightening her, Ravenhill.” She shielded me.
He looked hurt. “I want to talk to her alone.”
The air was thick with Myrtha’s energy. It pressed against my skin like a heavy blanket, but if it bothered him, he didn’t show it.
He ignored the glow. “Irene, it’s me, Alex. Alexander Hart.”
A shock of stillness went through me. Once more, the words not possible echoed in my mind.
“You know her.” Myrtha’s radiance brightened to the point I had to gaze away from it. “That’s why you wanted her to be yours.”
I straightened. “You aren’t Alex. Alex is dead, and you’re taller than he was.”
Alex’s lines had been fine and smooth. This man’s face was all rough angles.
“I can explain.” He stretched out an arm towards the other side of the corridor. “Myrtha, leave.”
She didn’t move although her attitude lacked confidence.
“Would you like to talk to me, Irene?” He put a gloved hand on his chest. “I promise I won’t hurt you, and it won’t take long.”
I checked his aura. None. “You don’t have an aura.”
“I’m not…alive.” He paused. “The right term is undead, not dead, nor alive.”
The world tilted. I put a hand on my forehead as the floor lifted. There was a limit to the oddities I could deal with in a day.
Myrtha helped me stay up and led me to the bed. “You don’t have to talk to anyone.”
But he claimed to be Alex, and aside from his eyes, I didn’t find his features familiar. “I want to talk to him.”
He followed at a distance. “Thank you, Irene.”
“I’ll be close by.” Myrtha shot him a concerned gaze before walking out.