by Gaja J. Kos
“So not all of them are creeps...” Evelin smiled. “Is he around? I think my mind is screaming to talk to someone from here who isn’t a full-blown pretentious prick.”
Tomo shook his head, laughing. “Not as far as I can see. But I managed to get a hold of him before we got here. The man—Belobog bless him—told me who was on call that night. So even if that promised list never magically appears before me, I know who to talk to.”
“Please tell me that at least he’s here.” Evelin sighed, shooting the policeman a desperate gaze. “Maybe I can growl some information out of him. I’m just in the right mood.”
“He’s a no-show so far, but it couldn’t hurt to ask around.” Tomo smiled. “Come on, let’s see if people are drunk enough to give us any useful intel.”
The warrant granted them access to all the premises, but taking into account the chaos that ruled inside the theater, it wasn’t of much use without someone from the inside guiding them through the process. And so far, Evelin and Tomo hadn’t had any luck, despite the abundance of alcohol that surged through the crowd, unlocking their lips.
Growing irritated by the pointless chatter, they decided to roam the backstage by themselves.
The inner rooms were laid out like a maze, endless narrow hallways and circular stairs cutting between different levels and sections. Even though neither Tomo nor Evelin usually had any difficulties navigating, the labyrinth the theater presented proved to be overwhelming.
“I wish I could’ve brought more man power with me.” Tomo groaned, the first drops of sweat condensing on his temples. “This layout doesn’t make any sense.”
“Wait,” Evelin said, stopping next to another stairwell, this one somewhat better lit than the previous ones they had ascended and descended. Some even multiple times. “I think I smell their trash from here.”
“Lead the way.”
The stairs took them past another level, which they gladly ignored, since the scent those rooms emitted consisted only of sweat and poorly washed clothes. They continued downward. The sour scent mapped out their path, leading them to a light wooden door. Unlocked.
A relatively vast inner courtyard stretched out before them with a hybrid of a concrete basketball/football field positioned in its center. Evelin turned right as soon as they emerged from the building, following the trail her nose had locked on. There were no visible trash cans, but she knew they were getting near.
“You go ahead,” Tomo said, placing his hand on Evelin’s shoulder. “I think I’ve finally found someone useful to talk to.”
He motioned his head towards two cleaning ladies standing on the other side of the courtyard, chatting away, each with a cigarette in her hand. Evelin nodded and set off in the direction she had been previously pursuing, while Tomo pulled out a pack of Lucky Strikes from his jacket pocket, lighting one as he stalked towards the two women.
“Mind if I join you, ladies?” Evelin heard the policeman ask, sensing that he whipped out all of that hidden charm. Unsurprisingly, the women gladly accepted his company.
The odor of unconsumed food and tossed away containers of various beverages became almost overwhelming by the time Evelin stopped in front of a square enclosure, its entrance guarded by a pair of metal sliding doors. The chain that bound the two handles together was unlocked, making her job even easier. She pulled up her mental shields, just the right amount to block out the most intrusive stenches while staying vigilant enough to not miss any of the important ones.
The thick cement walls made the space slightly claustrophobic, but she ignored the sensation, focusing rather on the several heaps of piled-up bags.
Closing her eyes, she scanned the room.
The unmistakable metallic scent prickled at her senses and washed over her mind. She locked down all other thoughts, her brain now tuned to the specific smell.
She maneuvered around the trash until she reached the far end of the back wall. Cursing herself for not bringing a pair of gloves with her, she nevertheless grabbed the reeking bags and shifted them to the side.
“Got you.” She smiled, peeking into the one that had called to her from the moment she entered the enclosure.
When she finally emerged back into the somewhat cleaner air of the courtyard, Tomo was already waiting for her, a smug smile playing across his face. She dumped the bag on the ground between them, raising her eyebrows in question.
“Ms. Aldina very eagerly shared the unpleasant experience that had befallen her on the opening night,” he began, the smile still persistently occupying his features. “Apparently the organizer accused her of stealing some blood after the hostesses reported a discrepancy in their inventory.”
Tomo paused and turned around, waving to the two women who slowly made their way back into the theater.
“Ms. Enisa vouched that her friend wasn’t some petty thief, and that she certainly didn’t have any reason to take that repulsive broth.”
“Did any of them mention how many cartons they supposedly served and how many were missing?” Evelin asked, fighting the impulse to shake her body from head to toe. She hadn’t had a chance to get rid of the odors lining her skin, and despite keeping a tight lid on her senses, the stench made her nose curl.
“Oh, yes.” Tomo grinned. “One served, one missing.”
Evelin flashed her teeth in a broad smile and bent over to unbind the strings on the dirty blue bag of trash. She stepped back, letting Tomo peer into its contents.
Mixed in with the various bottles of wine and canisters of juice, two small burgundy red cartons stood out, their metallic scent speaking of at least some remaining traces of blood still lingering inside them.
“I’m calling this in.”
Chapter 16
The streets were completely submerged into the thick winter fog when Rose and Veles circled back, doing one final check of their surroundings before they intended to retreat to Rose’s apartment. The solitude in which they had found themselves gave off an eerie sensation, but it was not wholly unpleasant.
The warmth of the god’s presence by Rose’s side managed to turn the damp, bone-chilling watch over Ljubljana into something more intimate. And by the slow pace of their walk, it seemed neither of them wanted for it to end.
A narrow alley opened up between two town houses, its darkness more potent due to only a single small streetlamp emitting a soft yellow glow which barely cut through the fog. Veles’s hand curled around Rose’s waist, his demanding grip steering her off their course and into the quiet intimacy of the alley. Her back was pinned to the damp wall before she had a chance to react, the god’s lips curled in a devious smile.
“I want you, Rosalind.” His voice rolled over her, spilling warmth through her core.
Her breathing deepened at the sight of two sharp fangs pressing against his lower lip, lingering there like a promise. She wrapped her hands around the collar of the god’s coat and brought him closer.
“Yes?” he asked, the distance between their lips almost nonexistent.
She lifted her gaze from the sensual swell of his mouth, finding that alluring olive-green color of his irises. They were filled with a craving so primal that it dispersed every sane thought from her mind.
“Yes,” she whispered and trailed her hands down the light curve of his back.
The god shuddered, his body leaning into hers. The feel of his rigid length pressed against her stomach made her forget about the dampness, about the chilling sensation of the cold wall against her back. Their energies sparked, caressing one another and coaxing a soft moan to spill from her lips. He caught it with his mouth, exploring the taste of her even as the uniqueness of his washed across her tongue. She willed a little more energy to saturate the kiss, enticing Veles to escape the tightness of his winter clothes and push inside her. As she craved he would.
She slipped her hand underneath his coat, her fingers finding the hem of his shirt. She caressed the naked skin just above the waistline of his pants, playing with the fine h
airs that urged her to follow them lower.
“Tease,” he hissed into her mouth. His body pushed even harder against her trapped form, the swell of his demand almost impossible for her to ignore.
But she wasn’t about to give in that easily.
Her fingers hooked behind the line of his pants, just low enough for the sensation to give him a preview of what was to follow. The god groaned, snagging her lip with one of his fangs.
She shivered as the rush of heat washed over her body, and her hand slid behind the fabric. She could feel the cocky smile that stretched across his mouth in the subtle change of their kiss. The god knew her too well. He knew she couldn’t resist his body. Resist him.
With the influence Veles held over her, he had every right to be cocky. But still…
Fine, Rose thought in mock annoyance, and allowed her fingers to close the remaining distance without warning.
A masculine groan vibrated from his lips, his eyes wild with olive embers. His hand traveled underneath her coat, finding the full swell of her breast. He matched her rhythm, slowly strengthening his grip.
His fingers explored the line of her bra through the thin fabric of her sweater, her nipples erect and willing beneath his teasing touch. She entertained the thought of slashing through the unnecessary layers, but the god’s body kept her pinned in place.
Her breaths became labored, the steady pressure of his hand threatening to spill her over the edge.
“I want to finish this in bed,” she muttered. The inviting idea of seeing the god laid across her sheets had won over the impulse to have him right in that alley. As titillating as that image was.
His eyes shone, the black rims barely containing the blazing embers. “As you wish, srček.”
He laid another kiss on her lips, but she turned rigid beneath him. He pulled back, and Rose knew he saw the color draining from her face. Her features were hard and the gold filaments in her eyes cut through the darkness as they began to shine, casting off an eerie glow that lapped at Veles’s skin.
“What’s wrong?”
Her teeth were lethally sharp as she answered. “Vampires.”
The abandoned factory-turned-party-pad loomed before Rose and Veles when the darkness slipped away from their eyes. The building stood like a defeated sentry of older times, overlooking the Ljubljanica river.
Most of the windows sported broken glass, reflecting the true condition of the building. The façade had flaked away during the past few decades, the chipped plaster creating patterns of its own choosing. The factory seemed like one of those places a reputable citizen would steer clear of, yet this was where the majority of the city’s alternative partying went on.
Rose found Veles’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. The god had transported them without hesitation after Tim’s message came through, the intimacy of the alley becoming nothing more than a wistful dream. He must have been pissed at the interruption, yet he let none of it show. The uncharacteristic selflessness of his actions made Rose love the dark-haired man even more.
They stood in silence, a short distance away from the entrance. She used the time to take in her surroundings. Something close to two hundred footsteps echoed in panicked chaos and were accompanied by outbursts of horrified screams. The twins were already inside, with Tim blocking the main entrance. There were a few more gaps in the facility where people could slip in and out, but judging by the sounds of massacre coming through the derelict walls, the unsecured exits weren’t a priority.
They did, however, offer a covert entrance point.
“I’m coming with you,” Veles said as Rose pushed around the corner of the central building, aiming for one of the smaller gaps.
She turned around, the gold filaments in her eyes sizing him up. “You don’t have any weapons on you.”
“I am a weapon, Rosalind.”
She exhaled. She had no doubts about the murderous capabilities of the lord of the underworld. Every god was lethal. And from her own experience on the training mat, Veles’s abilities surpassed her own. Yet she felt uneasy seeing her consort throw himself into a slaughter unprepared.
You’re being stupid, she thought to herself. He’s a fucking god. He doesn’t need a mortal’s protection.
But the discomfort didn’t lessen its hold over her.
Jens's voice came through the bond. Don’t be a party pooper. Let your man have some fun.
She had forgotten that she’d kept the mind link open, broadcasting her thoughts wide and clear to the trio inside the factory.
Get the fuck out of my head, Rose growled back, but couldn’t keep the amusement out of her words.
Stop stalling, get inside, and I will, the werewolf replied, followed by a snarl as he lunged at an attacking vamp.
Rose groaned, knowing the blond were was right. She procured a dagger from her thigh sheath and another one from inside her boot. Flipping them around so that the handle faced away from her, she handed them over to Veles. The no-nonsense expression she hoped was on her face left no room for argument.
The god rolled his eyes but took the blades nonetheless.
Silently, they stalked through the opening between two buildings, nearly ramming into a panicked woman. Rose barely managed to glimpse the blood-drenched clothes that hung from her body as the woman dashed past them and disappeared into the night.
The inner courtyard reeked of urine and sweat, the two odors mixed with the unmistakable metallic tinge of spilled blood. Rose pulled her lips into a tight line, hoping the body count wasn’t already too high.
“The party is inside,” she breathed, eying the courtyard for a final time.
Tim appeared to be doing a good job of holding the front entrance despite the pressure of the crowd. Their impulses told them to flee, but Tim knew better.
The twins must have been occupying the vampires well enough for none of them to slip outside the main building. The space before her was as secured as it could get.
The same, however, couldn’t be said for the streets that lay beyond the gate.
Rose spun around, giving Veles a quick kiss before she stalked through the frenzied crowd, driving towards the entrance. The surge of panicked people was thicker there. The twins seemed to have figured out a way to let civilians leave the building without giving the vampires a chance to pursue their intended victims.
She elbowed her way through the crowd, stripping her coat in the process. With a minor thought of regret, she threw it onto the relatively untouched ground close to the entrance, and stepped through the doors.
The stench of blood burned her nostrils. The ground was sleek with crimson stains, and several parts of the graffiti-filled walls bore a lethal amount of splatter. The spurts spoke of carotid artery damage. Several carotid arteries damaged.
She scanned the floor; the heaps of bodies splayed near the wall proved her guess had been correct.
She swallowed the bile that had begun to rise in her throat. They needed to get the situation under control and split before the police arrived.
Normally, it took about eight well-trained men to bring down a traditional unless the hunters were descendants of vampires themselves. Those children, born of mixed couples, were human, but possessed a specific set of skills that made it easier for them to engage in one-on-one combat with vamps.
She wasn’t sure how many true hunters the local police had on the retainer. If any.
So if the authorities found five people battling a loose horde of traditionals, alarms would certainly go off. The pack and Veles could claim being of vampiric descent, but it was a long shot, and definitely a risk they weren’t willing to take.
The one advantage the weres had was Veles’s presence; he could transport them out of the factory at the first sign of trouble. However, the cost of keeping their existence hidden would be leaving the police to deal with too many vampires than they could handle. Even if they had—by some odd stroke of luck—a hunter or two in their midst.
They needed to s
ecure the area before the first car arrived.
She glanced at Veles; his features turned sharper than usual, the olive flames in his eyes nothing like the ones that came to life when he gazed at her. All she saw now was a dedication to kill.
Deep within the large rectangular space, Jens dashed between five vampires, his clawed fingers dripping with blood. The half shift he held was discreet. He was wisely keeping his werewolf nature as low-key as possible. But even without a blunt display of his supernatural traits, Jens was efficient.
His brother stood closer to the entrance, his muscular body acting like a wall between the three blood-crazed vamps and their way into the courtyard. The vampires snarled, baring their fangs as they tried to push through the barrier Jürgen represented, but the werewolf continued to rebuff their attacks, squeezing in some slashes of his own.
Currents of humans trickled behind Jürgen’s back, tripping over each other in the urge to escape the deathtrap the factory had become. Rose scanned their faces; mostly people in their late teens, twenties, and early thirties. Despite the fear that kick-started their primal instincts, the majority of them were visibly intoxicated.
Bad for them, good for us, Rose thought, positioning her body in a fighting stance. The levels of alcohol and drugs in their systems would make them unreliable witnesses; swift displays of claws and fangs wouldn’t be a problem.
Want to take these party boys? Jens’s voice sounded in her head.
Rose sent back a wave of agreement while nodding to Veles at the same time. The god glided soundlessly by her side as they advanced towards the center of the building. Through the bond of The Dark Ones, Jens was aware of every step and would know just when to begin his retreat.
Rose engaged the vampire closest to her and successfully diverted the attention of the remaining four fanged creatures. They turned away from Jens, giving the werewolf an opportunity to join his brother by the entrance.
