by Gaja J. Kos
The rest of the pack had lined up behind her, but no one could move at the sight of Evelin's silk black fur clashing with the paleness of the recumbent bodies, her painful cries still resonating in the narrow space. Jens and Jürgen turned into their half states while Mark, Zarja, and Tim remained in full wolf forms, keeping guard at the back.
“Shit,” the twins cursed under their breaths in unison.
Rose knew what they were looking at, what they were all looking at. The immaculate straight lines cut into the victims' faces constituted the two letters the werewolves had been afraid they would find. WV.
“Whites, all of them,” Rose confirmed their assumptions, catching the particular blend of a human-shifted White werewolf she had learned to identify.
“We have to get Evelin out of there.” Jens's eyes focused intensely on their grieving friend. “She shouldn't be here.”
Rose silently agreed, taking slow steps towards the mass of corpses that were left splayed on the ground, and shifted back to full human form along the way. She used the opportunity to observe them. From the stage of decay, it was safe to conclude they had been killed in the same attack that repugnantly gifted the Blacks with the severed head. As with the first victim, the marks remained fresh, the green of the toxin untouched by the elapsed time. Rose stepped over to Evelin, careful not to touch any of the bodies that lay between them.
“Evelin.”
The soft whisper caught the were's attention. Evelin's trembling form leaned into Rose, the comfort gradually calming her down. Rose stroked the silky fur down the centerline of the wolf's back, the gentle gesture giving Evelin just enough strength to tear herself away from the carnage. As they put some distance between them and the macabre circle, the twins appeared at their side to aid Rose, who supported the distressed wolf as they made their way towards the rest of the pack.
“Was that their whole populace?” Zarja asked once they settled down in the midpoint of the cave.
The twins took their turn standing guard out front, leaving the rest of them with the opportunity to shift and gather their thoughts.
“Otmar didn't mention their numbers to me,” Mark quietly answered, his gaze falling on Evelin.
Her face still carried streaks of tears, but she had calmed down enough to participate in the conversation. “I'm not sure. I should have asked. Should have been prepared.” Her voice broke, but she didn't let it die out in the sobs she was persistently fighting. “I hoped we wouldn't be doing a body count. It was stupid, I know...”
“I'm sorry, Evelin, but I have to ask.” Tim turned to the rest of the pack, his face hard as he struggled with dealing with the imprinted images of what they had just seen. “What will we do with the remains?”
They couldn't fool themselves into believing they could carry them back through the woods; the trail had been burdensome enough on its own. But they intended to return to the pile of bodies, carefully smelling the site for anything that might prove useful and mentally noting the different scents with absolute precision. However, as useful as their talent was, it didn't even come close to comparing to an actual autopsy Nathaniel could perform back in his lab.
“It's not perfect, but I have a way of bringing those bodies back to your brother, Tim,” Rose said with a gentle trace of positivity in her voice. “In a way, at least.”
Rose found herself standing next to Tim a few moments later, staring at the grisly scene at the end of the cavern. It hit her as hard as before, the rank stench of death seeping into her senses, but she blocked it as efficiently as she could, focusing on the task at hand.
“Shall we start?” She looked at Tim without any true expectancy of an answer. She procured her smartphone out of a sturdy pocket placed on the side of her pants, swiping to activate the camera. “The whole thing first?”
Tim nodded. He slid out of the way, giving her enough maneuvering space to capture the scene from different angles. Once she was confident enough that she had covered every possible perspective, she motioned him to come closer.
“I think it's best if we align them in a row, one by one.”
Despite the spaciousness of the cavern, they couldn't move all the bodies at once. She needed enough space to circle around each one as she photographed it, meticulously trying to capture even the smallest detail. It was a tedious process, carefully pulling the carcasses out of the pile while avoiding any contact with the unfamiliar toxin contained on the victims' faces. And it had taken her more time than she would have thought to document every part of each deceased's body.
Finished with the carcasses that were on the edge of the circle, they advanced to the perplexing, pyramid-like pile at the far end of the cave. The bodies lay with their limbs intertwined, huddled together as if they had been caught in mid-search for safety. Rose swallowed hard as she approached them, Tim solemn by her side. They pulled out the first body, sliding it halfway from under another, which threatened to tumble down and was stopped only by Evelin's interference. Both weres were startled by their pack mate's sudden appearance, but the sensation quickly shifted into one of gratitude.
“It seems you could use another pair of hands,” Evelin said in a soft voice.
Rose was glad to see her more composed, but was at the same time somewhat surprised that Evelin had offered her assistance in a matter as morbid as the one they were undertaking. However, when she truly looked at the female were, all she could see was the determination to capture the responsible party. And that was a strength no one could argue with.
Together they managed to disentangle the carcasses in far less time, efficiently laying them down in empty slots, where they would remain to be photographed later–separating the bodies, showing them at least that small token of respect, was their priority. They were more than halfway through the pile when Evelin tensed, followed closely by Rose. The two had been closest to the remaining corpses, while Tim stood a short distance away, instantly becoming alert at the sight of his pack mates' stiff body language.
“No,” Rose managed to whisper, completely bewildered, before they both launched towards the mass of deceased flesh, throwing the bodies to the side without any consideration for the evidence they might be destroying.
Tim rushed closer, his half shift already executed. Still, he stopped before reaching them, keeping to the periphery to stand guard without interfering with the two weres who continued to rummage through the remains. A cry filled with anguish brought the rest of the pack running to the innermost part of the cave, coming to a halt at the virtual line Tim had set.
Rose and Evelin turned towards them; both had shifted at some point during their frenzied search, baring their canines in agitation. The werewolves didn't notice what Evelin had been holding tightly in her embrace until she kneeled on the ground in front of them. She unfolded her arms to reveal a small lump of the purest white color, only a thin streak of green protruding from the hind leg.
“He's still breathing,” Evelin said as they all listened to the faint heartbeat soothingly echoing in their ears.
Chapter 10
Rose barely remembered their trek back to the starting point located at the very edge of the woods; Mark had set the pace at double-time, his memory not failing as they retraced their route without any delay even at the more problematic crossroads. Evelin had refused to let anyone else carry the White cub, holding him tightly in her arms as she settled for a half shift, knowing she couldn't keep the pace otherwise. Despite their knowledge that Evelin would be without a doubt just as lethal and ruthless with a youngling in her hands as without him (or quite possibly even more), the other weres nonetheless encircled her, running closely by her side to create a wall of bodies between her and any possible threats, while Rose held her position at the back.
She had half shifted when they set out from the Whites' den, throwing knives prepared for prompt defense should something come after them, and kept her stance throughout the journey. However, the woods remained silent, only the deathly reek of battlef
ields still lingering in the air.
Rose stretched her legs under the table, resting them on the vacant chair on the opposite side. She still wore the clothes Veles had given her and was surprised by how well they regulated her body heat. The woods had been rather chilly when the pack made their way back; an afternoon storm had caught them halfway, and although it had been a short one, the temperature had dropped substantially. Not only had the clothes succeeded in keeping her relatively dry, she hadn't felt a shiver rush through her even once while the brisk wind gusted over the exposed meadows. And now, in the heat wave-affected night that had set upon Ljubljana, she had nearly forgotten she was still clad in long, tight pants. Knowing Veles would probably erupt from self-satisfaction if she'd let him know just how much she was in awe of his gifts, she acknowledged the silent gratitude within her and let it go before a chance to dwell on it presented itself. There was no need for the god to occupy her thoughts more than he already did.
She repositioned her legs on the chair and lit a cigarette, observing the smoke as it rose in a steady rhythm before it dissolved under the night sky. Pri Sojenicah was just as she liked it–charmingly abandoned. There was only the presence of Frank's broad-shouldered silhouette pacing around as he went through his usual routine, preparing to close the bar for the night. Once done with his work, he joined Rose at the corner table, bringing out a beer for himself and another one for her.
“On the house.”
Rose smiled at him, grateful for reading her thoughts–or more likely reading her slumped and beat form as she finally had a chance to relax. Although the pack had managed to cross the Czech territory without any disturbances, keeping herself in a state of constant alertness for all those hours had undeniably taken its toll. They hadn't stopped at Otmar's stronghold, pressing themselves to return to Ljubljana without any further delay.
It would have been futile to continue searching the woods; they hadn't scented anything of relevance around the White werewolves' den, the unsteady weather disposing of any tracks the culprit might have left behind, and the wider area of the woods bore too many odors for any single one to stand out. Even if the attacker was foolish enough to remain in the vicinity of his crime, he had a fair chance of going unnoticed. Besides, since they couldn't pick up a specific scent inside the cavern, the strong reek of death overwhelming their senses, they had no way of recognizing the murderer solely by the unique body odor each living being had.
Their best shot at making any progress was to return and let Nathaniel examine the photographs Rose had taken. Besides, they had had an even greater task at hand–bringing the cub to a safe place where he could recover. She hoped with all her heart that he would; the toxin was restricted to a fairly small area, but since they had no way of knowing how it behaved once it came in contact with the body, the best they could do was hope.
“Those are some badass looking knives.” Frank eyed the few blades Rose had decided to keep on herself, after leaving the more menacing weapons safely at home before setting out to grab a beer. She had confidence she wouldn't need them in Ljubljana; it was too open, too public, and there was an abundance of friendly werewolves dispersed throughout the city, weres who would come running at the very instant one of their own howled for assistance. Besides, she wasn't too keen on the idea of flashing those valuable blades in public, even if the subtle layer of glamor hid them from regular humans.
“I'm a badass were.” Rose grinned at her friend, elongating her teeth.
An uncontrolled chuckle almost made Frank spit out his beer. “That, you've always been.”
He lit a cigarette, leaning back in his seat. They smoked in silence; although Rose wasn't exactly in a talkative mood, she was tremendously grateful for Frank's unobtrusive presence. The same inclination kept her from staying inside her apartment once the pack got back from the Czech Republic; she had witnessed too much carnage, the staggering stench of decay still ingrained in her nostrils.
Despite the pressing fatigue she felt weighing down on her limbs, making her aware she couldn't avoid her bed for much longer, she wouldn't have been able to fall asleep before clearing her mind at least to some mild extent. And smoking in the calmness of the night with the silent presence of her friend was the perfect remedy.
Nikolai stood stupefied next to an improvised sickbed that had been set up in the guest room while his wife fed the dehydrated cub through a bottle. Evelin and Mark were in the next room, curled in the armchairs that provided them at least some comfort after the long trip back.
Neither wanted to part with the child they had found. Nikolai accepted Mark's presence with silent understanding, enriched with affection for the person who clearly loved his stepdaughter, even if the sentiment wasn't one the pair of them demonstrated publicly.
Nadia had convinced the tired weres she could look after the youngling while they took some well-needed rest. Evelin wanted to argue, but saw reason before the impulse to protest took over–she was exhausted, and Nadia was a healer. It would be foolish to drain her energy further, considering the cub would receive the best possible care. As a compromise, Evelin accepted the armchair and fell asleep almost instantly.
“Do you think he'll make it?” Nikolai muttered a whisper, low enough for only Nadia to hear.
“I've never come across anything like this in my life,” she said, her eyes intent on the gash of green that parted the pure white fur on the were's leg. “And from what Mark and Evelin told me, no one dares to predict how the poison will act.”
“At least he's still breathing.” Nikolai stroked the small werewolf behind his ear, the young one sleepily responding to his touch. “I can't imagine how hard this must be for her.”
Nadia's eyes watered as she reached out to hold her husband's hand. Evelin had had enough grief in her life; to lose another youngling, especially another White, would undoubtedly break the foundations she had worked so hard to rebuild.
“I won't allow him to die, Nikolai.” Unyielding determination underlined Nadia's words.
“If it comes to that, I don't think it will be your fault,” he said in a small voice, setting his gaze once again upon the toxin that seemed to carry a life of its own.
Rose found her senses slightly numbed when she finally said goodbye to Frank and set off to stalk the streets of Ljubljana back to her apartment. Alcohol had a far weaker impact on werewolves than any other mortal beings, but she was tired and had barely eaten anything since they departed from the Czech Republic. A stale croissant hardly counted as food.
Somewhat amused by the dazed state she found herself in, the walk back home was far more pleasant than she would have dared to imagine with the lead-like sensation weighing down on her limbs. But despite the good mood, she kept her guard up without allowing even the slightest chance of a slip-up; she had learned her lesson in New York, and that was something that would stick with her for a long, long time.
She was glad to find her apartment pleasantly cool despite the unnatural warmth of the night. Heat waves in Ljubljana were nothing less than meltingly unbearable, too much concrete and not enough greenery to combat the high temperatures August brought; but at least she would be able to sleep. The thick walls of the old building her apartment was situated in prevented the outside world from seeping inside. She finally stripped herself of all the remaining weapons, placing them neatly on an antique table in her bedroom where she could keep them close. She ran her fingers over the blades, admiring their lethal edges and flawless make. They were, without a doubt, masterpieces. Her fingers slid around the hilt of the sword she hadn't had the chance to wield yet. It had lain effortlessly across her back throughout the Czech journey, embracing her with the power of its muted presence. She placed the sword back on the table, not knowing if she feared the day she would need to use it, or relished it.
Hot water filled the tub as she undressed and released her hair from the almost unpleasantly tight braid that was part of her battle armor. Since she avoided full shifts, she needed to
keep her hair safely tucked away from her face, not wanting it to compromise her vision, and–more importantly–to keep her locks from getting hacked away in a fight. Long, loose hair, as attractive as it was, didn't mix well with the sharpness of claws and blades.
Rose savored the moment when the hot water touched her skin, peeling away the lingering odors of the Czech woods. She felt them detach, the pores on her body at long last being able to breathe again. However, as her physical self cleansed, she had more difficulty scrubbing away the mental images that relentlessly pecked at the back of her mind. But it wasn't the crimson fields of slaughter that had gotten to her, not truly; it was the strain on Zarja's face when she had the chance to observe the were while they were on the move.
They didn't exchange many words in those woods, but Rose didn't need a verbal explanation to see that Zarja had been struggling. A brief moment presented itself right before they reached the White werewolves' location during a short rest they took. Rose took advantage of it to promise Zarja that if she needed anything, she would undoubtedly be there for her. The older were squeezed Rose's hands in appreciation, briefly filling her in on what had happened, and sharing her concerns about Libor.
Although Zarja was good at bottling her emotions and keeping an impenetrable facade when she wanted to, Rose knew her too well to not see what lay behind it. And she had never seen the werewolf this vexed. Giving herself a silent promise to keep an eye on her in case the peril of overthinking became too much for Zarja to handle on her own, their conversation was cut short by Mark's command to carry on with their trek.
Rose submerged herself fully, feeling the remaining odors dissolve from the strands of her hair, which floated freely, extending to the edges of the bathtub. She thought of how Zarja practically collapsed into bed; Rose had walked her home, making sure the werewolf got the rest she desperately needed.
