by Gaja J. Kos
“Mm-hm,” she whispered back, shifting forward so their lips touched briefly.
His hand wrapped around her tighter; his fingers fanned into a possessive hold on the curve of her hip, bringing her body to his.
Green flames rose inside the dark rims of his eyes, and a single corner of his lips turned deviously upward.
“It’s empty.”
Nathaniel packed his bag, hauled it over his shoulder, and walked down the hallway away from his lab. The doors locked behind him with a click, sounding the end of a long day. He was already late for the gathering at Pri Sojenicah; a newly arrived body had kept him at work for much longer than he had initially intended to be.
But when the chief of police asked you personally to do a rush job, it was next to impossible to say no.
Nathaniel ran his hand through his hair, tousling it up. He peered into his reflection in one of the ornate mirrors the building had for Belobog knows what purpose and squared his shoulders. Good. Presentable enough. Even the dark circles underneath his eyes weren’t that prominent. Regular doses of coffee had done their job, refusing to surrender his features to the sunken, drained grayness that usually enveloped him after hours upon hours spent at the office.
He continued, actually looking forward to the healthy dose of sleep he wouldn’t get tonight.
With the exception of the few unlucky ones who were lined up for the night shift, the building was empty. He turned around the corner, his footfalls a little hurried, when he passed the slightly dimmed glass on a heavy double door.
Nathaniel retraced his steps.
He should leave, have a nice night out—he had been cooped up in his lab for long enough; he hadn’t even seen his brother in the past few days—but curiosity got the better of him.
Listening for any sounds, he pushed one wing of the door slightly open. There was nobody inside; only white walls greeted him, and that smell of disinfectant that would drive his brother crazy.
Any doubts he might have had about his evening plans seconds ago were now whisked away, blown into the land of long-forgotten wishes.
This was too good of an opportunity to give up.
With a sigh, he entered, knowing just what he would find once he opened the three cold chambers on the lower left part of the refrigerator. He scowled at himself; why of all days was this the one he had chosen to go out through the front door?
Somewhere inside him his subconscious was snickering.
Like he hadn’t known the vampires' bodies would be brought here after the case had been officially closed.
He exhaled and dropped his bag by the entrance.
The morgue never released bodies before nine a.m. the next day, which meant Nathaniel had a little over twelve hours to do his examinations.
And he fully intended to use every single minute of it.
Chapter 33
Nathaniel rubbed his eyes, feeling as if he were plucking a million grains of sand from them. He repositioned his glasses and put on a pair of fresh gloves—there were no windows in his lab to alert him of the time, and he was too lazy to turn around and peer at the wall clock behind him. But there was the persistently growing drowsiness weighing him down, and so far, it hadn’t led him astray.
With an alarm set on his cell phone that would ring its hellish sound at seven a.m., Nathaniel had the luxury to give in to his work without the constant time pressure. But the drowsiness he couldn’t combat.
The examinations had taught him more about vampiric characteristics and physique than he had dared to even dream while going into this covert side project. He memorized every detail, looking for information in the drawers of his mind. With the newly gained knowledge, there would be no more stalling or hiccups if a vamp’s body was brought into the building.
No more lost hours trying to determine the normal values of natural elements present within the corpses. No more doubts.
And with the upper hand, he would have a much easier task strong-arming the other M.E.’s into signing over the supernatural bodies.
But even more so, Nathaniel was pleased because the additional autopsy he had done on the second victim, Alex, proved his suspicions right. He had been harboring them for some time now, theorizing and whisking up arguments inside his mind. And all this time he had been correct.
The vampire in question had received a somewhat smaller dose of hawthorn with the blood he had drank at the theater, possibly because the killer was experimenting with the levels himself. The smaller dosage corresponded with the time it took for the poison to enter Alex’s system and, in the end, brought upon the vamp’s death.
Nathaniel even went so far as to determine what amount of plant was undoubtedly lethal, the damage done to the body irreversible, and threw out some theories about the possibility of an antidote. Or at least a mixture of drugs and procedures that could counteract hawthorn’s effects.
Perhaps Alex could have been saved. He had seen that the deterioration of the vampire’s body had been gradual. Slow enough for someone to act.
If they had known…
Nathaniel entered his findings in a hand drawn spreadsheet that took over two pages of his ever-present leather notebook. He put down the pen when he scribbled the final data on the cream-colored paper and looked at the page. There was one column left for him to fill.
He rolled Alex’s body down to the morgue, grateful the hallways were as devoid of life as usual, and returned the corpse to its designated chamber. Nathaniel closed the door with a click and moved to the one on the left.
The cold metal warmed beneath his touch, whispering its silent hello. He tugged on the handle, knowing it would all be over soon.
He pulled out the body, positioned it on the gurney with the skill of a senior M.E., and threw a white sheet over it before retracing the steps to his lab. He blended with the ghostly hallways, the turning of wheels and his soft footfalls the only signs of life.
Needing some confirmation despite his resolve, he glanced at a wall clock he had passed along the way.
Four hours left. Just the amount of time he needed.
Once inside the lab, he maneuvered the body onto the examination table and retrieved some specimens from the small fridge he kept mounted on the wall. Inside the clear glass vials were samples the primary M.E. had taken when the corpse had first arrived. Just like with Alex’s body before, Nathaniel intended to multitask.
He never understood why some chose to twiddle their thumbs and wait for the machines to run their tests when they could just as easily work on the body in the meantime. There were tasks one could perform without the analyzed data. And in Nathaniel’s case, he had enough preliminary info to base his autopsy on the records done on the previous two bodies.
He put on a new set of gloves and clicked on his recorder.
When Veles woke up unusually early the next day, he found Rose staring fixedly at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling in slow, deep breaths. She hadn’t noticed him stir, which meant she had been stuck in her state of pensiveness for quite some time. Veles had witnessed this before, and not once did it end in something pleasant. Usually, the longer she had to ponder, the longer it took him to bring her back—to set her mind at ease. At least temporarily.
The god brushed his fingertips against her shoulder in a gentle caress, softly capturing the were’s attention, not wanting to startle her. He slithered closer to place a kiss on her cheek, inhaling the magnificent earthly smell of her power.
She turned her head to the side, a small smile appearing on her lips; the expression was warm, yet it failed to reach her eyes. He pulled his mouth in a compassionate line, but didn’t speak.
He didn’t have to.
In the months he and Rose had spent together, they had come to learn the value of silent conversations. And to what they normally led.
“Vaclav mentioned the new world order,” Rose began after a fashion and exhaled deeply. She slipped her hand underneath the covers, trailing her fingers down his chest. �
�I think he meant us.”
“The Dark Ones?” he asked calmly, his gaze lingering on the small frown line that appeared between the were’s eyebrows. His lips brushed the spot, coaxing a soft purr from her.
He repositioned himself on the mattress to shift the werewolf closer to him.
She nodded once she nestled herself in his embrace, her expression solemn. “I knew that our new status would cause problems. You said as much yourself when we first spoke of the bond. And I tried to prepare myself. I knew that not everybody would look kindly upon another force mixing up the established ranks... But I never thought—
“I expected for the pack to be hunted, to be forced to spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders. And I was ready to accept that. Willing to become hated and shunned only to stop the gates between realms from falling, to prevent another massacre…”
Her voice trailed off, and she closed her eyes for a moment, fighting the tears. Golden sparks were shimmering against the midnight blue of her irises when she looked at him anew, shadows of ghosts hardening her expression.
“I feel guilty, Veles.”
He opened his mouth, but she stopped him before he had the chance to speak. “I realize Vaclav was a sick fuck. He sacrificed innocent vamps because he believed their lives were nothing but small sacrifices he had to make on the path to vampiric glory. That was purely him. I know and understand that.
“But it was still our existence that drove him to that point. The fear of our power that led him to believe that he—the vampires must act now. Or we will…doom them all. His vision of the future where we exist as The Dark Ones was reason enough to justify a slaughter. A war, if he would have succeeded.
“And I just... I feel really, really shitty.”
Without another word stirring the air, Veles wrapped the werewolf in his arms, hiding her in a cocoon of muscle and power. She relaxed against his touch, burying her head deep in the warmth of his chest.
She remembered how she had consoled the god when he had learned about the souls that couldn’t cross, about the souls the wolf-man and his toxin had broken so badly that only pieces were salvageable. And those fragments of the person who had once existed consisted of nothing but pain.
Now, she was the one fighting demons that clawed on her subconscious, flooding her mind with darkness.
They both deserved more than those few months of peace life had granted them together.
“I hate this,” she mumbled, releasing a soft groan as she hid in his embrace.
The god let out rumbling laughter, tightening his grip on her back and waist. He buried his lips into her wild strawberry-blonde curls, placing a chaste kiss on the top of her head.
“If you need me to take your mind off things, Rosalind, you know I’m always more than happy to oblige,” he purred into her hair, angling his body in just the right way to give her some incentive.
She laughed.
And gladly took him up on his offer.
Nathaniel had closed up the body, throwing his bloodied gloves into the trash. Going through the motions of yet another autopsy had become so automated in the past twenty-four hours that he had managed to finish in record time. With a smirk, he realized he had done his job faster than most of the machines that were still humming silently in the background.
It was a beer-worthy achievement, and he looked forward to dragging his brother to a bar in the evening.
After a little shut-eye—unless he wanted to fall face down on his well-deserved pitcher.
Nathaniel was certain the satisfaction would last until then.
He covered Damir’s body and took it back to its cold chamber, then left the empty room behind him for the final time. All he had to do now was wait for the machines to beep the end of their marathon race, write down his findings, and drag his exhausted body back home.
He grabbed a cup of coffee as he made his way from the morgue, the slightly burned taste of it nonetheless giving him that extra boost he so desperately needed in these final minutes. He drank the coffee just as he entered the lab, tossed away the cup, and padded over to his table, a pen already in his hands.
A mechanical beep sounded behind him, followed by another.
He finished the sentence he had been writing, then walked over to the corner where most of his equipment for running analyses was stocked—on top of and under a simple metal desk.
He tore away the paper, his eyes scanning over the results. Then read them again.
He cursed silently, moving over to the second machine, checking the component levels it displayed.
“Shit,” he muttered.
Damir’s corpse had shown no anomalies compared to the other two bodies.
But these results sure did.
Chapter 34
Rose enjoyed her coffee and cigarette with the view of the snowcapped mountains stretching out in front of her. She had had enough of Ljubljana’s perpetual fog, its chilling humidity; she welcomed the sight of Trentino and the beautiful white winters she yearned for.
She was grateful the god had surprised her with the change of scenery after they had eaten breakfast.
Veles whisked her away before she had the chance to refill her coffee, and she found herself standing in front of a fresh mug, the lovely aroma curling around her as she appeared in the spacious living room of his mountain retreat.
At least now she knew why he had taken so long to come out of the “bathroom.”
With a smile softening her lips, she snuggled closer beneath Veles’s arm, breathing in the god’s alluring olive scent.
“Mmm, wolfie,” purred the lord of the underworld, his words filled with craving and mischief as he drew her in, “I finally have you all to myself.”
Rose let out a husky laugh and lifted her head to meet his willing lips. Heat rushed through her body, the god’s energy calling to her own, inviting it to spill out and play. The familiar sensation began building inside her core, mixing with her own arousal. She shivered and uncurled a golden vine, releasing it to travel up the inside of Veles's thigh.
She felt his mouth twist into a smile as they kissed, and urged the energy to travel higher, slithering up the god’s powerful muscles.
“You are a naughty little wolfie, Rosalind.” Veles’s whisper stroked her skin, the low tone of his voice carrying promises of the punishment that would follow.
He plucked the cigarette from her fingers, tossing it almost carelessly into the ashtray.
But Rose knew better.
There was nothing careless about the lord of the underworld; he was a man made of natural smoothness. Deadly meticulous. His every move honed to perfection.
Just like the god himself.
Rose spiked her kiss with a dash of golden power, coaxing a masculine groan to spill from Veles’s lips. Smiling, she slipped one hand underneath the god’s black T-shirt and curled her fingers into the fabric. Without breaking the kiss, she brought him on top of her as she lowered herself back on the couch.
His tongue filled her mouth, tracing every fine line as he pushed the alluring energy inside her. Rose tore herself away from his lips, from those sharp fangs that grazed her skin and whispered the beginnings of an orgasm.
She angled away, balancing his strong torso with her palm, keeping her face inches away from his. “And what do you propose to do to this naughty little wolfie, lord?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.
A wicked smile twisted his lips, but his words were cut off by the beep of Rose’s phone.
She sighed, yet her eyes still refused to release the sparkle of mischief. “Hold that thought.”
“I intend to hold much more than just a thought, Rosalind,” Veles crooned after her, but she had already twisted from underneath him and was reaching for her phone.
Only calls from her pack could come through, and they knew better than to disturb her for something trivial.
Veles sat up, his arms spread wide across the back pillows of the couch. Rose was talking, but he couldn�
�t make out any words; his mind was set too firmly on the supple body of the werewolf, on the gentle curve of her back and the swell of her ass—flooded with images of which positions would keep them occupied during the day.
Just as soon as she’d get off the bloody phone.
“Damn them all to Chernobog,” Rose swore as she turned back towards Veles and placed the phone firmly down on the table.
The fury in her tone snapped the god out of his dazed state, effectively shattering every devious plan his thoughts had played with. Rose’s mouth was pulled into a tight line, the gold in her eyes burning violently.
“You’ll have to transport me back to the pack,” she said before Veles had the chance to ask what was wrong. “Vaclav might not have killed Damir.”
The usually pleasant atmosphere of Pri Sojenicah was drenched in gloom by the time Nathaniel finished, and Rose certainly wasn’t the only one sporting a foul mood.
No copper. No Eleuthero. And certainly no hawthorn.
Damir wasn’t poisoned, at least not in the same manner as the two victims after him. Vaclav could have changed his M.O., but even Rose had difficulty believing the solution her own mind offered. Damir was the one victim who didn’t fit in with the rest. And now they knew way.
“I told the office not to release his body.” The human sighed, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. “I want another chance to examine him properly.”
“But so far you’ve found nothing?” Rose asked and then swore when Nathaniel shook his head in response. “So it could have been natural causes?”
Although small and incredibly rare, werewolves had a history of diseases. Their bodies were wired to fight off any attack on their immune system before it even properly began, yet something strong, something mutated to outrageous proportions could slip their defenses.
But she hadn’t heard of vampires catching anything; she’d never even come across the knowledge that one of their kind died of natural causes. Still, she had to ask. With no obvious pointers that Damir’s death was a homicide, they needed to keep an open mind.
