Black Werewolves: Books 1–4

by Gaja J. Kos

  Zarja had the unpleasant tendency to brood over a harsh subject for hours, her stubbornness sometimes keeping her up until dawn. There had been too many nights like that, sitting at the small dining room table. Zarja had opened new cans of beer in regular intervals as Rose went through nearly a pack of cigarettes, keeping her girlfriend company and trying everything she could to help her loved one get through the dark thoughts that obfuscated her mind. But the subjects and situations that had been the cause of Zarja's aggravation then couldn't even come close to the dreadfulness of Libor's unsure and possibly terminal fate.

  So Rose had stayed until Zarja had fallen asleep, then silently slipped out of the apartment, knowing the were would be out until well after dawn. Feeling slightly calmer, she got out of the tub, throwing a thin silk robe over her skin without patting herself down with a towel beforehand.

  The clash of cool air and the drops of water that ran down her body produced a pleasingly refreshing effect and served as the final means of clearing her thoughts, this time completely. She walked over to the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of water, knowing very well she had to rehydrate herself unless she harbored some irrational desire to wake up with a headache throbbing in her temples.

  She leaned against the tilted kitchen window, lighting up one last cigarette before heading to bed; she savored the quiet that had now taken place inside her thoughts, feeling the drowsiness settle within her. Aside from the odd car passing below, the neighborhood remained silent, mirroring Rose's own state of mind. With one last glimpse at the clear dark sky, she put out the cigarette and spun around to finally turn in for the night, only to find herself crashing into a wall of muscles that had been motionlessly standing behind her.

  Chapter 11

  Screams burned in his ears; conscious of the row of bodies extending on both sides, he couldn't fool himself into believing he was anything but one of them, like them. Or would be when the time came. Restraints dug into his flesh, tearing at his wrists and ankles, the warm trickle of blood pooling around on the hard surface of the same cot that had left its imprint on his skin.

  He couldn't move; he hadn't, not for a long time. The sores on his back were the only indicator of the lengthy duration of his captivity. His body had barely begun to heal when it had been broken anew. What now flowed inside burned at a slow pace. Like with the others, the pain would only intensify. It wouldn't be long until he joined them, the screams drowning out his own thoughts.

  Nathaniel looked over his shoulder to see Tim had fallen asleep spread across the swivel chair. He had told his brother to go home while he would go about examining the photos, but Tim had always been stubborn, a trait he held on to even when he was doing something that more likely hurt than helped him. Refusing to leave Nathaniel's side, the two brothers reached an understanding; Tim could remain in the lab, but only under the condition that he would rest. Doctor's orders. Since the idea of a blanket thrown over an autopsy table appalled him, the chair was the one remaining possible solution.

  Nathaniel leaned over the photographs he had printed out, putting on a pair of reading glasses to make sure no detail escaped him. He was pleasantly surprised with Rose's resourcefulness; naturally, this kind of documentation couldn't compare to having an actual body in front of him, but he was able to gather at least some valuable information.

  He had marked the photos belonging to each body, had later grouped them by signs and marks on the corpses he perceived as relevant, and more importantly, marked the ones he had found to be similar on all the carcasses. Once he was done with the first stack, having gone over each and every aspect of the evidence that caught his attention, he noted his findings in a fine leather notebook he had reserved for supernatural cases only, since he didn't dare enter any of it on his computer, not even his personal laptop.

  He never had much faith in a person's privacy when it came to technology, and he wouldn't risk revealing a whole world that had remained hidden from the majority of human eyes for as long as the species existed by storing it some place that could be hacked. He wasn't naive. Growing up in a partially werewolf family, he had seen enough evidence up close not to delude himself that humanity was predominantly good.

  The vampires had a hard time with their out-in-the-open existence even though humans had been aware of them for centuries. He didn't even dare think what would happen to the weres if they were discovered. They would almost certainly lose their jobs; the werewolves had trouble keeping a steady schedule since pack matters took precedence, but they still needed some income. And if the population became obsessed with outing the supernatural, they would certainly be kicked out of professions that put them in the proximity of regulars. Like some outdated witch hunt. Humankind didn't deal well with the unknown.

  Nathaniel moved on to the next pile, spreading the photos across the table side by side. The images showed different parts of the skin, blown up so that he could see the structure of it without difficulty. At first he had been unsure whether it was his mind playing tricks on him or if it had been the effect of Rose's phone camera quality; but as he continued to search the images, the undeniable recurrence of one single thing led him to believe it was neither. The small mark was without a doubt part of the victims' skins, placed there in a short time window that had preceded the murders.

  He glanced at Tim, who lightly snored in the swivel chair, his long limbs deadweight across the armrests, and his dark blond strands falling down his forehead, covering his eyes. Nathaniel wanted to share his find with him immediately, since it was the first real break in the case they had so far, but thought better of it. Despite its relevance, it wasn't something they could act on immediately, and he thought it might prove useful to search through the remainder of the photos before reporting to Tim. Although he had a hunch that nothing he would find would be as significant as the recurrence of that one small mark.

  Nathaniel resolved to work silently for three more hours before the strain on his eyes became too notable for him to ignore. He ran through his notes to make sure he didn't forget to write down even the minutest detail; he had been preoccupied with the photos, but his findings were all there, documented in perfect detail. Satisfied with his work, sleep crept upon him just as he closed his notebook. Knowing with certainty that when Tim woke up, he would be getting his wake-up call as well. He decided not to fight it, but put down his glasses and leaned back in the passable comfort of his chair.

  Before the glass of water Rose had dropped from her hands managed to plummet to the ground with a shard-producing crash, it had been silently swept away in a single swift movement. A pair of green eyes glimmered in the darkness, and that almost-broken glass found itself trailing the curled lips of the god that had showed up uninvited at her apartment.

  Rose gave herself a mental high five for not screaming, but she could clearly hear her heart race in the quiet of the night. Trying to calm her heartbeat as her mother had taught her to do when she was a child, she kept her gaze locked on Veles, and remained standing in the same spot where he stopped her in her tracks. Despite the fact that it put her in the unnervingly close proximity of the leather-clad god, she stood her ground, unwilling to show just how much he had startled her.

  It wasn't until she saw his eyes trail down her body with amusing appreciation that she remembered her own choice of clothes. The thin silk nightgown revealed even more than it normally would, the dampness of her skin allowing the fabric to follow the shape of her body without any deviations. The exuberant entertainment in those green eyes made it perfectly clear just how little there was between her and the intruder god.

  “What do you want?” she growled, pushing past him towards the dining room.

  Fighting against her shooting anger, she nonetheless invited him to sit down. She was certain he wouldn't have left his premises if he merely intended to tease her, even if he was working hard to give her exactly that impression. He took the chair opposite hers, his legs spread in a scandalous position.


  “What do you have to report?”

  His voice was authoritative and arrogant. But there was that hint of seductiveness within it that only aggravated Rose further. Her tolerance level was low. It had been a long day, preceded by several equally long days, and all she wanted to do was rest, not deal with the conniving lord of the underworld.

  She breathed deeply, trying to keep her voice relatively calm. “I do not report to you.”

  “Everybody reports to me. In the end.”

  “Wow, you do know how to play the whole god-of-the-underworld role, don't you?” Rose couldn't help but snap at him. “In the end, I may be just one of your minion souls down there, but right now, I sure as fuck don't report to you.”

  She meant what she said, although she figured her snappiness would contribute to nothing but an even longer, and substantially more unpleasant, conversation. She was surprised to see a spark of intrigue flare up in Veles's eyes.

  A devious smiled stretched across his face. “I like it when you growl.”

  Rose sighed. It was without a doubt a better outcome than what she had expected, but she still had zero intention of playing games with him. “Look, I'll give you a second chance. Try again, Your Underworldy Majesty.”

  Veles dragged his chair across to her side in a single move; Rose felt the light breeze touch her skin, the closeness unquestionably compelling. He trailed his finger over her collarbone, reaching for the almost nonexistent fabric of her robe; he fondled the hem, the corners of his lips tugged in a smile as he followed it down over the curve of her breasts.

  “Would you,” he said, his voice touching the skin on her neck, “care to share what you have found?”

  His fingers remained brushing her skin in a rhythmic motion where the robe ended, effectively dispersing her anger with every stroke.

  “You were wrong,” she whispered, the finely formed tips of her lips pulled into a smile. “It wasn't in vain. We found a cub. A living cub.”

  “One less soul for me to handle.”

  His voice was a purr, meant to disorient her, but she knew he truly hadn't believed they would find anything of importance and decided to keep the small gap in his knowledge to himself. He had probably known the White pack had been slaughtered and had been satisfied with that bit of information; since they had left the plane of living days before Rose had been brought to Veles's manor, they must have already passed into his realm when they discussed the pack's exploration into the Czech woods.

  However, she couldn't wrap her mind around what kind of game he was playing, not telling her they would be dealing with a murder scene. They could have gone there prepared to examine a crime scene and not find themselves put in a position where they had to improvise the shit out of it.

  “The rest of the pack was murdered. But you already knew that.”

  His fingers became completely still, the room suddenly filled with a deathly silence. She turned to face him, a chill running down her spine.

  “You didn't know?”

  The ever-present sensuality disappeared as Veles dropped the sultry facade; his whole body had gone rigid, those eyes that had been fixed on her now staring somewhere in the distance, the green violently blazing against the dark rims.

  The only reason she didn't flee from the room was because of the small consolation that the murderous aura wasn't directed towards her, and that she still held some valuable information for him. Still, she knew she would have to tread carefully if she wished not to end up as collateral damage in a godly outbreak of fury.

  Her voice was hoarse, but she forced herself to speak. “Sixteen. There were sixteen of them. All dead. And all branded.”

  The cold distance that occupied his eyes slowly faded when he locked his gaze back on her. She felt the tension in her shoulders lessen; she discreetly retracted the claws she had kept hidden from sight before placing her hand around his arm.

  “None of them had passed into the underworld?” she asked softly, glad to see the god was responding to her touch.

  The caresses were partly a calculated self-preservation move, yet they were, for the larger part, sincere. As much as Veles irked her with his arrogance, she still cared. What she had seen moments ago, and what she was seeing now, in the aftermath, was oddly human. And seeing him distraught spoke to the human part of her, respectively.

  He slowly shook his head, concern drawing deep lines between his dark eyebrows. “Not one.”

  He took a strand of her damp hair between his fingers and played with it absentmindedly in a way that spoke of comfort, not sex, while she gently stroked his other arm. “Has this happened before?”

  “No.”

  He brushed her cheek, the green of his eyes drinking in her features. He would likely never have allowed for a mortal to see him as he truly was, to show even the slightest weakness. But he had likely never seen anybody frightened for him. Of him, yes, but never for him.

  “You do know that I intend to bed you even harder now.” The barely noticeable hint of fang added spice to the otherwise gentle nature of his smile.

  Rose shoved away his hand, a relieved laughter escaping her. She maneuvered past him to the kitchen, her body brushing against his as she slid across his lap. He had probably been too surprised by her unanticipated movement to take advantage of it, the palm of his hand only barely touching her hips as she already began to move towards the adjacent room.

  “Since you have already robbed me of my chance to fall asleep”—she placed a small bottle of wine and two wine glasses in front of him—“we might as well make the rest of the conversation a little more pleasant.”

  Knowing Veles would be waiting for her to slide back across, she instead went around him, preventing him the pleasure of her touch. He read her tactics, throwing an appreciative smile at her, combined with a subtly raised eyebrow. The rich aroma filled her senses when he uncorked the wine and poured it in equal measures into the glasses.

  “So,” Rose began, bringing the luscious red liquid to her lips, “can we discuss the earlier topic, or would you rather we move on?”

  “Move on to where?” His hand was on her thigh as soon as he mouthed the question.

  She ran her fingers through the dark strands of his hair and leaned closer, pressing her mouth to his ear. “To the next move in finding out who the sick fuck behind the murders actually is.”

  “Ah, you're no fun.” He closed his eyes, leaned back, and smiled. “But I'll play along...”

  He didn't need to finish that sentence for Rose to realize the god expected her to play along later, naturally, in the way he envisioned it. She relaxed back into the chair, crossing her legs and fastening the silk robe a little tighter, so the fabric fused with her body.

  Veles slowly sipped his wine, taking in the view, the tips of his fanged smile denting into his lower lip. “What do you wish to know?”

  Chapter 12

  Nathaniel joined the pack early the next morning. They had gathered at Pri Sojenicah, on the sun-drenched terrace, occupying their usual table. It was clear by the dark circles under their eyes that they could all use a longer night, but after Tim had woken up and heard of Nathaniel's findings, he called the weres immediately after sunrise, kicking them out of bed and scheduling a meeting in the still predominantly early hours of the morning. Frank kept bringing them refills of that strong, black coffee they all loved him for, pushing them into a painful state of semi-awareness, while the Double J team opted for beers. As they usually did.

  Rose rubbed her eyes, wiping away the consequences of the very few hours of sleep she had managed to get, combined with the several bottles of wine she and Veles had drunk. The god had stayed almost until dawn and had been uncharacteristically cooperative; they had kept the discussion limited to the dining room, despite his regular, yet subtle attempts to drag her next door and ravage her between the sheets.

  Although she cursed herself for the agonizing lack of sleep, she was glad to have found something to share with the pack, even if
she had to censor part of it. Veles wouldn't have appreciated if word spread about his blindness considering the literally lost souls of the past events, and Rose understood his motivation; however, he urged her to nonetheless share their existence with her pack mates. The problem was undoubtedly linked to the toxin, giving them something more to work with. In a way, he grasped better than most their urgent need to know just what they were actually facing.

  “I think my mind is working reasonably well,” Zarja began, her gaze firmly focused on Tim and Nathaniel, despite her continuous wincing into the morning sun. “You brought us here, you should begin.”

  Nathaniel opened his briefcase, pulling out sixteen blown-up photographs of the victims' skin and placed them next to his coffee cup. “Let me start with the important stuff, yeah?”

  All the weres nodded, glad of Nathaniel's understanding that the less important details could wait, their focus directed sternly at the stack of photos he had brought.

  “First of all, good thinking, Rose.” Nathaniel smiled at her, catching her in the middle of a long yawn. “It was hard to work solely on photographic material, but not impossible, and definitely better than not being able to check the bodies at all.”

  Rose shot him a triumphant smile, her eyes becoming even smaller slits than before, which brought out a low growl of laughter from Jens and Jürgen, who sat opposite her. The beer clearly put the twins in a far better mood than the rest of the pack who had been dosing on unnatural amounts of coffee.

  “So,” Nathaniel continued, visibly excited to finally share his find, “I was unsure at first. There were so many variables to consider, the quality of the camera itself, the distortion that could come from enhancing the photos... But something kept appearing on all the bodies. It would have been easy to miss if I hadn't gone through every detail of every photo, trying to make up for the absence of actual corpses.”