by Gaja J. Kos
Windstorm
Gaja J. Kos
WINDSTORM
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Copyright © 2017 Gaja J. Kos
All rights reserved.
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No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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ISBN 978-961-94368-1-3
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Published by Boris Kos
July 2017
Contents
KOLOVRAT UNIVERSE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Also by Gaja J. Kos
About the Author
KOLOVRAT UNIVERSE
The Nightwraith series is a fundamental part of the “present” portion of the Kolovrat universe. However, several other works exist in the same sphere.
Each series/standalone title can be read individually, or as a whole for a more complex insight into the universe where myth and reality blend into one.
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PRESENT
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BLACK WEREWOLVES SERIES
Urban fantasy
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Novels:
The Dark Ones
The 24hourlies
The Shift
The Ascension
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Novellas:
Never Forgotten
Chased
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NIGHTWRAITH SERIES
Paranormal romance
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Windstorm
Blackstorm
Nightstorm
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FUTURE
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LOTTE FREUNDENBERGER SERIES
Urban fantasy
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Shadow Moon
Darkening Moon
Transient Moon
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SHADE ASSASSIN SERIES
Urban fantasy
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Shadow World
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PARADISE OF SHADOWS AND DEVOTION
Standalone paranormal romance
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DESTINY RECLAIMED
Urban fantasy standalone novella
For B.
Chapter 1
If there was one thing my demon half couldn’t eviscerate, it was my undying love for sunshine. The beautiful, warm light streamed into the antique shop, bathing the human, as well as the not-exactly-human artefacts in the alluring streaks of a spring’s day.
Not that demons had any physical aversion to the beauty of the sun, aside from a single week leading up to the summer solstice. The purification spells kept the pureblooded from walking upon the earth during that time, but the rest of the year, the issue was purely psychological.
If I were to guess, I would say that sunbathing just didn’t sit well with the menacing image they tried to project. Honestly, I’d never come across an embodiment of evil that liked to tan. At least not among those born of shadows.
I, on the other hand, was a Nightwraith. Half witch after my Koldun father. And that part of me loved to drown in the ethereal caresses of the golden rays.
The darker side of my heritage I kept safely locked away. Out of sight, out of mind. Not an entirely effortless affair, but so far it seemed to do the trick.
The clicks of the keyboard fell silent as I finished inputing this week’s numbers into the designated spreadsheet. I leaned back in my Thonet bentwood chair, glancing at the digits on the top right of the computer screen. Just one more hour until midday. One more hour until I could close the shop for the weekend.
With spring knocking heavily on our doors, every nerve in my body was urging me to go outside and enjoy what the season had to offer. A good glass of red wine in the cafe on the riverbank seemed like an excellent way to start.
Though the park that stretched on both sides of the Savinja river tended to overflow with people and their less than pleasurable offspring as soon as the warmer weather began, it was easy to use my magic to steer them well away from my table and keep their voices from invading my personal space. A girl had to enjoy her time off, and no whiney kid or nagging parent was getting in the way of that.
Besides, if I already used my altered powers to aid people in need on a regular basis, there was no harm in tapping into them to help myself on the odd occasion or two. Sure, my services didn’t come cheap, but no amount of money could make up for all the nightmares I encountered on the job. Sunlight and a little peace at least kept the worst of them at bay—even if they couldn’t wipe them from the depths of my memory completely.
Somehow, I suspected that nothing could.
I glanced up at the ornate gold clock perched on the wall. Unsurprisingly, only a couple of minutes had skidded by. I sighed. Might as well use the remaining hour to get some work done.
Without any particular enthusiasm, I pushed away from the desk and strode into the back room. I left the door open to hear the bell chime in case someone decided to do some last minute shopping, but the ward stayed in place, moving only to accommodate my body. I certainly didn’t want anyone stumbling into the storage area by accident if their patience wore thin and they decided to seek me out. Even if they weren’t sensitive to magic, having a customer spot me while I worked would raise too many questions I had no desire to answer.
Although I didn’t exactly expect anyone to trade the lovely weather outside for antique shopping today, I’d learned over the past four years that sensible rules like that didn’t apply on Saturdays. I could spend the entire morning alone then have more people inside right before closing than the store could fit. Without any discernible reason in sight. So the ward stayed.
The lights in the storage area hissed to life as I flicked the switch, illuminating the many shelves and the too many boxes they supported. The objects whispered to me immediately—an array of voices that had become familiar over the past weeks, ever since this massive shipment arrived.
As usual, the ones I’d decided to hold on to but hadn’t gotten around to repairing yet were the loudest. I tuned them out. As much as I enjoyed restoring antiques, that was a task for another day.
The damage the items sustained somehow made them more aggressive than the rest, unable to contain their lively cores. I had to coat myself in thick protection spells—spells that took hours to prepare—if I wanted to touch them without being assaulted in turn. But even that was usually good enough to merely dampen the connection, not kill it off completely.
Needless to say, working under such circumstances wiped me out so badly
not even a fine glass of wine had the strength to put me back on my feet. Besides, there were seven boxes of perfectly usable items I had to go through, and they had priority.
Carefully, I made my way past the shelves to the large oak table set at the very back of the room, and wiggled the first package out from beneath it. Although I tried to keep my demonic side buried within me as deeply as possible, there were times when I was grateful for the additional strength it gave.
This sonovabitch was heavy.
Mindful not to chip my gold-painted nails, I placed the box on the table and peeled the tape off the top. More murmurs swatted at me, whispers of pasts the objects had lived, of the beauty and terror they had witnessed.
There was always a balanced combination of both in antiques.
As much as I tried, as much as Nenad—my friend and go-to guy for new finds—tried, we never did succeed in getting a batch of complete goodness. After all, the objects were echoes of the world as it was, filled with dreams and nightmares alike.
I blew out a breath.
No point in postponing the inevitable.
I channeled my inner magic to become a beacon, then picked up one of the smaller items and relieved it of its brown wrapping paper. The cool surface of the 1940’s silver pocket watch brushed against my skin, immediately infusing my mind with vivid images of the many generations it had seen. The clearest one, the vision that froze for a second longer than the rest, was of a guy in his late twenties. He turned the watch over in his hand before he placed it on top of a pile that contained a whole lot of silverware. Grief wove through the memory, but it wasn’t profound. More of a resignation, really, than anything else.
The image faded, and I put the watch on the right edge of the table, marking that it had passed the initial examination. Like the majority of the supernaturals who kept their existence shadowed from the world, I didn’t appreciate any additional attention from the authorities coming my way. And that was precisely what stolen items were excellent in procuring in a blink of an eye. Vetting everything that crossed the threshold of my shop was a must.
But it wasn’t the sole reason.
While my ability to connect with objects was the strongest one around thanks to the odd mix my half-witch and half-demon heritage made, it was far from unique. Disturbing my supernatural clients by unknowingly passing them glimpses of terror some of these things carried simply wouldn’t do.
However, that meant that I had to live through them all.
Blowing out another steadying breath, I extracted the next object from the box. The murmurs swooshed through my mind even before I unwrapped the gold cuff links and pressed my skin against their cool surface. I gritted my teeth.
This wasn’t going to be pleasant.
Loud curses exploded in my ears as the memory burst to life, pain and wrath sinking their claws into my body. I bit into my lower lip, furiously shielding myself from the worst of it while focusing on bringing out the visual at the same time.
A woman winked into existence before my eyes, with black hair pulled into a tight, no-nonsense French braid, and an expression on her face that spoke of pure, absolute concentration. She was dressed in tight black pants and a black long-sleeve T-shirt, but the crimson spatter on her clothes didn’t escape me. Nor did the blood dripping off the knife she was clutching in her right hand.
The visual shifted as the man wearing the cuff links raised his hands in defense, and offered me a glimpse of his face. A deep slash marred his left temple and his right eye was swollen shut, but the streak of curses just kept on leaving his mouth even as a flicker of fear seeped into the tone of his voice. Dizziness swept over me at the sudden motion of his arms that made the surroundings spin and blur, but, luckily, the shift didn’t last long enough to make me lose my balance.
The image stabilized just as the woman dodged the man’s blow. She rammed his body into the wall with supernatural force—and, judging by the angle of the knife and the gurgling sounds, slit his throat.
I snorted loudly when I found myself standing in the familiar back room of the shop once more.
The cuff links were definitely going into the smash-into-oblivion pile.
Right after I called my sister and told her a piece of my mind for being so damn careless.
Of all the people in the world, she should know better than to leave personal items on corpses. If the cuff links had ended up in someone else’s hands…
I swore. Lena and I may not be close, exactly, but she was my sister. And I certainly didn’t want to see her get prosecuted—or worse—just because she was doing her job. I half turned, already reaching for my phone to give her a lecture, when the bell on the store door chimed. Talk about timing…
Suppressing a curse, I wrapped the cuff links back into the brown paper they came from. It was only after they were safely stashed behind some dusty boxes that I hurried across the room and pushed into the shop. The midday sunshine that poured through the windows blinded me for a moment, and I halted beside the counter, chirping my hello to the shadowed customer while waiting for my eyes to adjust.
Even with the glare messing up my vision, his tall figure, the narrow waist and the broad expanse of his shoulders the fine cut of his suit did its absolute best to pronounce blew the air out of my lungs. My intrigue flared. I certainly didn’t get a lot of customers looking like that in here.
The man spun towards me, but didn’t take a step forward. He didn’t even say a word.
We simply stood there, staring at each other. The discomfort within me grew with each torturously long second that passed, until, all at once, my sight came back and I reached out with my magic.
The very blood in my veins froze as the realization hit me, and a treacherous gasp left my mouth.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
The man wasn’t a man at all.
He was Fae.
Chapter 2
The Fae kept staring at me with deep blue eyes, the strong line of his jaw set tight. Tall, dark, and handsome, he ticked all the boxes that drove my hormones crazy. Light ricocheted off his short black hair, but there was nothing light about this male.
Now that my magic recovered from the sudden hit, I could sense the glamor shimmering around him, containing all that strength that bubbled beneath and preventing me from feeling its full extent.
Shit, no wonder the Fae had hunted so many demons down with success. We were a powerful breed, more energy than flesh. But if this dampened version of the Fae were anything to go by, he was easily stronger than even my mother—and as one of the major players in the World of Shadows, the Bitch Queen of All, Yelena was fucking strong.
Yet here I was, face-to-face with a being who could probably take her down without breaking a sweat. And I was still breathing.
My stomach tightened into a knot, the demonic tendrils inside me hissing at the Fae’s presence, demanding that I either attack or flee. As much as I hated to give the darkness inside me any kind of acknowledgment, it didn’t exactly have the wrong idea. But, true to the moron that I was, I simply continued to stand behind my polished counter, pinned to the spot in my gold YSL pumps, and gawked at the male like some lovestruck teenager.
Something was seriously wrong with me.
Because it wasn’t his appearance that charmed me. It was the taste of his energy, brushing lightly against my skin.
Nails digging into the palms of my hands until they drew blood, I shoved the unsettling thought into the graveyard of my mind where all nonsense was buried and forced my voice to be as steady as I could make it.
“Drop the glamor.”
Although I hadn’t exactly seen any Fae in my life—not that I was complaining—I’d learned enough about them to know that the glamor they used wasn’t there just to hide their essential self. It hid their appearance, too. Strutting about with elongated incisors and tipped ears was as much of a telling sign of their race as was the unmistakable signature of their ancient, raw power.
And if the male who had
sauntered into my store to do me in just like all those long-gone demons before me, I at least wanted to see my killer’s true face. As would the objects around me.
The Fae arched a shapely eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing on his lips. Honestly, I couldn’t tell if he found my bravado funny or if he was simply entertained by the thought of what was to come. But I stood my ground, despite my wobbly knees, and arched a blonde eyebrow right back at him.
“As you wish.” His velvet voice rolled over me, the same half smile still lingering on the inviting curve of his mouth.
I sucked in a breath and pulled the light magic from my core, sustaining it so that it flowed just beneath the surface of my skin in case he tried anything funny—like trying to take me by surprise. Sure, he would probably zap me from existence in a blink of an eye if he put his mind to it, but I wanted to at least give the bastard some resistance before that happened. And maybe, just maybe the potency of my witch blood would prove to be enough to give me the needed edge. Either way, I had to try.
