Page 1 of White Raven
PROLOGUE
As a young boy, sneaking out in the middle of the night to catch a glimpse of the way adults spent their money, and their shameless lives under the cover of moonlight, and dodgy pubs, seemed innocent enough. After all, he was only curious. He was also very,veryfar from home. A lonely little boy. Misunderstood. Cast out. A little boy with such a mind for dark, brilliant things. He craved happiness. Whatever these adults drank from their glasses in these pubs certainly seemed to make them happy. It certainly seemed as if it attracted others to them—especially the more they consumed it. Perhaps, this was his salvation.
No one paid him much heed as he snuck through freezing mud across the dark street and into the bustling nightlife. Grown men cursed happily at tables throughout the room. Grownwomenseemed to choose those men’s laps, rather than available chairs that scattered about. The establishment was loud with boisterous laughter, and music. Some of the women led men into darkened hallways near the back, and he followed, eager to feed his inquisitive mind. His small, childlike frame made it easy to keep to the shadows undetected, while he watched a couple disappear into a dimly lit room, leaving the door slightly cracked.
A strange place, England.
The young boy crept closer, muffled sounds becoming a bit louder as he peeked through the narrow opening. The man stumbled about inside the shabby bedchamber, amber liquidsloshing over the rim of his glass. The woman began undressing herself and he felt heat on his cheeks at the sight of too much skin. Her slender, painted fingers grazed the man’s lapel, peeling his tailcoat from his shoulders until it hit the dirty wooden floor. He didn’t seem very distraught about it, instead finishing off the last of the happy drink. She backed him towards the bed—which looked extremely uncomfortable—and laid him back as she resumed her earlier position in his lap. The boy thought he should look away but was captivated by the act. The stark line of light cut his face into halves as he continued to watch them.
He never saw people behave this way where he was from. Back across the ocean, where the world seemed…so very different. For a moment, he considered never going back. But it was never his choice. All thought eddied from his mind as a horrid gurgling sound came from the man’s mouth, his face frozen in shock and pain. The woman was still enjoying the sinful activity—but her mouth—blood trickled down the side of the man’s neck and dripped onto her pitiful bed. The boy’s eyes widened. He stifled a gasp, covering his mouth and the woman’s face darted towards the door. Blood covered her mouth and chin, and…her teeth…her teeth looked like—
“What do you think you’re doing here, boy?” A voice like gravel startled him and he was abruptly turned around, face to face with the man who had been pouring those silly drinks. His ginger-colored hair stood out against a floppy cap. “This is no place for a young lad such as yourself. Out with ‘ya.” He pushed the boy back down the hallway, gripping the back of his collar and practically dragging him out the front door. He stumbled as he was thrown back into the muddy street. “I don’t wanna see the likes of you around here again, understand?”
“That—that man,” the boy stuttered, shaking. “That man was bleeding!” He eagerly pointed back towards the pub, hisdark hair toppling over his brow. The pub owner stormed forward, jerking him up by his shirt and leaning into his face.
“I’ll thank ‘ya to keep your voice down, and that kind of information to yourself, lad. Don’t ever come back here. ‘Ya hear?”
“B-but…I don’t think he’s alright! Someone should—”
“Oh, he’s more than alright, lad. Go back where you came from. Forget that you ever set foot in this place. I’ll not assist you another time.” The man dropped his hand away and glared at the boy for a moment before turning back and slamming the heavy wooden door in his face.
He should warn someone. He should go get help.
His young mind battled with his curiosity and good sense. Who would even believe him? He had no friends to confide in. He wouldn’t be in this place much longer. Surely, someone should go help the man in the pub. He looked around him, seeing no one. The snap from a branch on a nearby tree startled him, an icy wind picking up and howling past. He ran. Past darkened buildings, and homes that were unwelcoming to any foolish young thing stupid enough to be out at this hour. Terrified, and heart racing, he raised his fist to knock on the nearest door. Before he could land a knuckle to it, he was forced away and moved with incredible strength and speed by his neck against a wall in a narrow alley. He fought helplessly, finding no purchase as he kicked his legs, and finally accepted his fate. The young boy slowly raised his pleading eyes to his attacker.
“A curious little beast.”
Her voice was as smooth as the finest silk. As was her moon-white skin, and almost silver hair that seemed to match her unusual eyes. Blood still stained the lower parts of her face, and her elongated teeth shone in the bitterly cold moonlight. No, he hadn’t imagined it. She had fangs. Fangs like a viper that seemed ready to rip his small head clean off. She stared at him,holding him off the ground by his neck. Her grip loosened just enough for him to take in the tiniest bit of precious oxygen.
“Such a young thing. I’m intrigued. Did you enjoy what you saw, pet?”
“I—I didn’t see—”
“Now, now…telling stories will do you no good. And theyarestories. Aren’t they precious?”
He understood what she meant. Even being as young as he was, he understood that she was granting him his life for the price of his silence. He managed a jerking nod. Her smile was as intoxicating as it was petrifying. She had a strange way about her that could ease you, and give you nightmares, simultaneously. She lowered him to stand on his trembling legs.
“What is your name, boy?”
He wasn’t sure what to tell her. Wasn’t sure aboutanything. Panicked, he blurted out— “John…John Allan.”
“Your tongue,” she drew her slender, exquisite brows together. “It’s very different than most. Where are you from?”
He backed away from her, pressing himself against the wall. “From the New World. Across the sea. I—I have schooling here.”
“Hmm,” she pressed her lips into a thin line, the smirk still deadly as it curled her lovely mouth. “Stories…perhaps I have use of you, after all.”
“Are you gonna kill me?”
Her whisper of a laugh sent a lingering chill down his spine. “Not tonight. I’ll allow you to live this time, little storyteller. When you go back to your world, and you find your curiosity leading you into the darkness again…tell your stories. Let the others know that the Black Bird coven will arrive soon. Tell them that when we do, they will bow. There is only room for one true leader in our kingdom of night.”
“Who are you, Miss?” he asked, his small bones rattling.
She truly smiled then. A chilling, terrifying thing.
“Dahlia Van Hausen.”
CHAPTER 1
