Walter de Ville's Advocate

Chapter One

Flipping through the pages that Oliver Alexander had procured, I smiled with each little detail that Miss Evelyn Jackson presented to whomever in the world possessed a computer or cellular device . . . or that a little bit of money could help furnish.

Although I despise modern technology, and do my best to have those under me tend to such matters, it was fascinating to see everything so laid out about a person, nay a beautiful creature such as this. It's quite possible that I've had never been so captivated by a woman such as her, given the breeding choices of the three families. Their spouses were theirs to choose with no objections from me, so long as I had access to suitable brides, as needed.

Nevertheless, to see such a radiant beauty, confident in so many digital photographs, with many piercings in each ear, a lone piercing looped through the nose, and flowers drawn on her right shoulder? I was captivated. Where there more of those artistic tattoos on her body? I hoped so, and my eagerness to see and taste each one made me seem far too impatient for a creature that had spent nearly 600 years plaguing the Earth.

Evelyn, or Evie as she preferred, seemed to be so ethereal, like a wisp of smoke one might try to catch in the air; a young angel far above this old demon. Perhaps once she was part of the blood harem, my heart might beat once more.

Chuckling at that absurd thought, I reached for the decanter, pouring two fingers of scotch to dull the pain as I looked at the silver gelatin print that I'd kept all these years. Viktoria would like nothing more than to burn the photograph, though even she wasn't allowed in my private study.

Viktoria Klopstock has been in my household for 500 years now, and though I was never too fond of her, the last few decades I had grown tired of her incessant neediness. Yes, I've enjoyed some wives more than others, but Viktoria has understood this arrangement for longer than anyone else in this household has been alive.

Maybe that's exactly the problem. She often acts like she is in charge, at least when I am not around.

"Emmaline," I whispered, tentatively caressing the outline of her face as the candlelight flickered behind her visage. My last Alexander bride, and the only lost bride that I could not help but obsess over.

Yes, I'd been told that it was only because my other brides had all been viciously murdered by unrestrained townsfolk with their torches and pitchforks, or those obsolete hunters that I dispensed of over a hundred years ago, whereas Emmaline chose to leave me.

I didn't love her, they'd tell me, and what was love?

However, there had always been something about her that intrigued me.

At the age of sixteen, all children in the three families are told about how their fortune, safety, and long lives are earned, so Emmaline had been made aware of this for around a decade, and had attended many soirees, dinners, and balls at New Carfax Abbey without any outright disgust for who I was; and why would she? I provided everything that allowed her to live such a lavish lifestyle; wanting for nothing.

With all three brides, I was able to provide the three families and any devout followers a tripled life-expectancy. I couldn't share my exact gift with any others without a spoken agreement between us both. Since I only had a need for wives, a blood bond was forged at the turn of the 15th century, with the help of those long-dead witches and the ancestors of the three families.

The same sort of accord worked for kings with their noblemen.

Before I took Viktoria Klopstock as one of my brides, there was her great-aunt, Léna, a magnificent beauty with the most radiant red hair that I swore to her I could cast rubies from them. And although I possessed no magical skills to do such a thing, I managed to learn some common sleight of hand from a touring group in the old country.

Many such skills were gained over the next 400 years, and I found it quite fun to trick and seduce many women into my home; my flirtations pulling them just beneath the veil of society's expectations of modest, young ladies. None of them survived the night, of course.

Perhaps I missed Emmaline because it had now been many generations since I'd been at full power, and that weakness could very well have me erased from this world. All of this was true, however, in the end it was the fact that not even my wealth nor my power could convince her to stay with me.

It gnawed at me.

Was I truly that horrible to be around? So long as she wasn't my victim, what else could she wish for, all the dresses and jewels, as much blood as she could desire, and this lovely estate?

And certainly, would anyone blame me for being bothered by the fact that she held little interest in me physically? With women nearly lining up outside the doors of New Carfax Abbey to become our next victim, and then Emmaline begrudging her position as an eternal bride when most would take her place in a heartbeat.

Ah, but there'd been that forbidden romance with her family's footman.

I didn't care for such things, as what she did before our marriage was of no concern to me. However, for those eight months of our marriage, her dower mood became a constant.

Not a single offering would please her, nay even the young ones. In fact, when I once showed her a small infant that I had to work extremely hard at procuring, she wailed louder than the babe.

Swirling the glass from side to side, I groaned and stepped up to ring the service bell. Punctual as ever, Mr. Field appeared at the door.

"Yes, Master de Ville," he bowed, the motions feigning robotics. "What can I help you with this morning?"

"The Alexander Suite readied . . . something enchanting for a young woman. And do contact the families, as we are finally hosting a wedding after all of these years."

"Very well, my lord," he dipped his head. "Does this," he paused briefly, the next word nearly gutted as he spoke, "American pass your standards?"

I lifted up the snapshots from her social media profile, an easy smile gracing my lips. "She's an Alexander, what more could I desire?" I replied, betraying that small voice inside.

A/N: I've made an accompanying Spotify playlist for this story with the movie's score, anything that fits the ambience of the film, and songs that relate to this specific fic. It's called "The Invitation (2022)" with a picture of Evie in the red dress, and it's under the same username: Sessediz

(You can also find me on Tumblr, AO3, and Insta with the same handle)

Here's the link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1NvzUVh26IuyT7TG3Poy5Z?si=78de82dce57e40de