“I should have been more careful with my power.” She sounded dejected. “I abused it, and that’s the result. Esmeralda exaggerated the situation, making it a problem for the whole Dark Court, but she isn’t wrong.”
“Maybe it’s me.” I moved closer to Irene, needing to feel her warmth. “Your power started to diminish when I became the duke. It might be a coincidence, but you’ve used your power for over two hundred years. Why should it start to dwindle now?”
We stared at Darius who was busy eating a brandy ball.
He swallowed. “I don’t have an answer to everything. Yet. I need to consult my?—”
“Book,” we said together.
He straightened. “Is my book amusing to you? Are you making fun of me? Yet you always ask me to solve a problem.”
Irene squeezed his hand. “You’re wonderful, and we all appreciate you very much.”
He brightened, but Myrtha frowned at Irene and Darius’s joined hands, and I could relate to her sentiment.
39
WHITECHAPEL
Alex
When Darius, Graves, Irene, and I rode to Whitechapel at dusk, Graves was as excited as a border collie herding a flock. The tips of his fangs appeared and disappeared from underneath his upper lip, and his hair stood on end. I almost expected him to stick his head out of the carriage window and howl at the wind. Darius was eating brandy balls, and Irene was careful not to touch me, which saddened and pleased me at the same time. She should relax next to me, but her attention meant she cared for me.
I angled towards her, trying not to scoot further away. “Study Knight’s aura. If he’s rotten to the core, stand next to me. If he’s a decent fella, stand behind me.”
She nodded.
“Let me do the talking,” I said to Graves.
“As long as Knight returns what is mine, I’m happy to stay silent.”
Not what I wanted to hear.
We stopped at the edge of Whitechapel in a small square surrounded by low buildings. The smell of blood wafted from a butchery and that of flowers from the flower shop. A decrepit building leant against its neighbour as if tired. Another stood tall and shiny with fresh paint. That was Whitechapel—gore and beauty entwined.
Graves growled when Knight walked over to us, flanked by two werewolves. I wasn’t small by any means, but a fleeting sense of danger went through me. In a fight against him, I wasn’t sure I would win, and if Knight unleashed his inner wolf, he would grow even bigger and stronger.
Graves shifted his weight, his fangs making an appearance.
“Stop it.” I shot him a glare. “You aren’t helping.”
“Ravenhill.” Knight surveyed us with a keen look but didn’t linger on Graves. “You asked me to see you, and here I am.”
Irene stood behind me. At least Knight wasn’t a thug.
“After today’s meeting, I have a proposal. A collaboration with the Dark Court.”
Knight’s smile was all teeth and no joy and twisted the scar, making it more evident. “The Moon Court doesn’t need the Dark Court.”
“Is that so? You haven’t listened to my proposal. My mage Darius will help you control the spread of the rabies that has already killed a few members of your pack.”
Graves whipped towards me, his shock palpable. The men behind Knight muttered, losing their confident stances.
I continued, “After what Esmeralda told us, I suppose you’re eager to solve the situation as quickly and as discreetly as possible.”
Knight’s smirk died. “How do you know about the outbreak?”
I held up an impatient hand. “We help you, and Graves and his werewolves will get back their homes, and Esmeralda will be none the wiser.”
