Black Werewolves: Books 1–4

by Gaja J. Kos

  Nathaniel lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “Could be. I mean, if there isn’t any poison present, there simply aren’t that many options left...”

  Rose crossed her arms and leaned back into the chair. She was pleased that Nathaniel shared her convictions, yet that didn’t change the gravity of the situation. If it was natural causes that ended Damir’s life and the vampire community learned of it, the pack could have a whole new manner of panic on their hands. And quite possibly, this one would be even harder to contain.

  The werewolves fell silent, and Nathaniel sat slumped again, concern and puzzlement weighing down on his features. Finally, he looked up and caught Jürgen’s attention.

  “I know it’s disturbing and against protocol,” he began, the words strained, “but I’d need someone with vamp expertise by my side if I want to find out what happened to Damir.”

  “You want Katja?” Jürgen asked, not missing a beat.

  Nathaniel pulled his lips into a tight line, clearly fighting the discomfort at the idea that someone who had known the victim would be dealing with the body. Even with Katja’s interest in vampiric studies, examining a person she had been acquainted with, a person who had been her friend, was distressing. But despite everything, she was Nathaniel’s best shot.

  And Jürgen knew it.

  “I’m sure Katja would do anything to help.” The werewolf nodded and pulled his cell from his pocket. “How soon do you want to start?”

  Nathaniel paused, his mind spinning in a series of calculations. With working overtime, he needed to catch some sleep before devoting himself fully to Damir’s remains. Howbeit, he didn’t want to waste too much time either. A few hours of rest and a few hours of coffee was a combination proven to work.

  “I’ll be in the lab from two p.m. onward,” he finally said and observed as Jürgen maneuvered through the surprisingly empty interior of Pri Sojenicah and into the chilled air that waited outside the door, his phone already pressed to his ear.

  Rose trudged back to her apartment. Irritated by pedestrians, she chose one of the zigzagging routes home, combining several less-traveled streets and a few snow-crusted paths. The absence of slush was a welcomed change, but in her state of mind, she wouldn’t have noticed it even if it had soaked through her boots.

  Chain-smoking like she hadn’t had a cigarette in days, Rose lost track of time and was standing outside her front door much sooner than it pleased her. She sniffed the air, finding the apartment inside empty.

  Good.

  She hadn’t told Veles the meeting was already over. There would have been too much explaining, too many theories thrown around. And too much time lost. Time the pack didn’t have.

  This was something she had to do on her own.

  Sebastian’s words had been resonating in her mind during the past couple of days, and combined with the idea that at least part of an Upir’s soul could cross over—that a part of Vaclav’s soul had crossed over—into the underworld, the words became a noise she couldn’t block out any longer.

  He told you that? Sebastian had asked when Rose remarked that Veles couldn’t sense vampiric souls. The Kresnik topped his mocking question with an irritatingly condescending, You’re in way over your head, kid.

  Sure, they had been on the outs at that time, but the blond immortal wasn’t one to tease for no reason.

  Still, Rose understood Sebastian’s hatred for the lord of the underworld might have given him a few blind spots despite his vast knowledge.

  And while she had no doubt Veles was telling the truth and vampiric souls truly did elude his active reign, she trusted the hints Sebastian had slipped into his words to be correct.

  Which meant the actuality of the situation was smacked somewhere in the middle.

  And that was what Rose intended to confirm.

  She threw off her boots and coat, walking straight into the bedroom. She had gotten better at dipping into the source of her power, but for this, she wanted to make herself comfortable.

  There was no telling how long it would take for her to find what she was looking for.

  She sat down on the bed cross-legged and closed her eyes. The warmth of her energy bubbled deep inside her core, answering her call; she welcomed it, and allowed the golden light to fill her body, to fill every part of her being.

  What had once been an odd sensation now made her feel whole, made her feel at home.

  With ease, Rose slipped into the darkness.

  Chapter 35

  The endless black space stretched around her. Rose welcomed the sensation, smiling as her body adapted to the new environment, to the all-and-ever-present sensation it occupied within the small pouch of ethereal beings.

  In the waiting room. Rose smiled as Veles’s name for this miniature realm flowed through her mind.

  She had spent so much time in this dark world within the past six months that it became as familiar to her as the one she had been born in. During those visits, she learned how to navigate the realm of Earth-tethered souls, learned how to rule it.

  And the souls embraced her reign.

  They flocked to her, seeing her for the protector she was—the one person who could fulfill their destiny.

  As often as she could, she transported the dense masses of air into Veles’s realm, bringing them into the embrace of light. To their final resting place. Their proper home.

  It always pained her when she had to choose which spirits would meld with the golden aura that pulsed on the surface of her body and leave the dark ethereal pocket while the others remained behind. But there were limits. And as much progress as she had made in the past months, Rose wasn’t all-powerful.

  She would be, someday.

  But until then, even she had to conform to the rules of this world.

  When it came to were-souls, they were the easiest to sense and the easiest to transport in larger groups. They were her kin, and they called to her, revealing themselves like ethereal lights coming to life in a city on the brink of night.

  Once, she had managed to call just over thirty of them to enter the golden aura and succeeded in startling Veles with the unusually high number of sudden newcomers. The sight of Veles’s surprise still made her chuckle. He had uncorked a bottle of red wine, asking her over and over again as they drank how she had been able to hold so many souls at the same time.

  Her power was unique, and it fascinated the god to no end.

  Their soul conversations never failed to excite him, and she gladly indulged in repeating her findings. She knew how much it meant to the god that he had found someone who understood—who could comprehend the weight of being the caretaker, and knew the painful compassion the final moments of all these former lives stirred within the observer.

  Soon, she realized that humans were almost as uncomplicated to locate and carry as the weres. She figured it must have been because werewolves were, in part, human. Supernatural, yes, but nonetheless closely related to the Homo sapiens. Many of those within the waiting room were now resting in Veles’s realm among their kin and under the guardianship of the lord of the underworld.

  The others, however... The others were trickier.

  When she had stumbled upon a small group of Psotnik souls, she had to exercise an almost painful amount of strength for the elf spirits to even reveal themselves from behind the odd blurred veil that had kept them hidden. The task had forced her to retreat to her world and replenish her power before she had been able to return and help them cross.

  One by one.

  But the experience with the Psotnik spirits, as tasking as it was, drove her onward in her search for not only the souls of other races, but for the one she was most desperate to find. Velin’s.

  Standing in the darkness now, feeling her presence at all and every location the pouch offered, she admitted to herself that her determination to find Veles’s father might have impaired her sensitivity to others.

  The golden energy that rushed through her flesh wasn’t a universa
l siren designed to call all souls. It had to be tuned. Finely.

  And while she kept her senses open for any disruptions in the air around her and tended to them when they crossed paths, she hadn’t been actively seeking those unique, singular keys that would unveil the spirits of different races.

  This time, it would be different.

  She cocked her head to the side, not only releasing the shimmering energy, but with it the ancient remnants of Mokoš that rested within her, willing the two entities to mix. They flowed through her, spilling out of her pores and illuminating her skin, transforming Rose into the beacon she was meant to be.

  The souls flocked to her, seeking her guidance; with remorse, she blocked their eager request, focusing wholly on the lively golden power and its subtle nuances. The presence of Mokoš’s spirit unfolded the ethereal layers, presenting them to Rose like pages of an antique tome.

  In her mind, she ran her fingers across the ethereal, power-ridden paper; she knew the language that greeted her in flowing, beautiful calligraphy, yet could not read every paragraph. Some persisted to be nothing but a blur, those dark lines barely visible beneath the layer of mist.

  Still, she continued.

  The day when she could flip through the pages with ease would come; she felt as much deep inside her core, and it was a sensation she trusted to be reliable. Her fingers glided over the blurred writings of combinations, of notes that would call to strong, immortals souls.

  A smile formed at the corners of her lips.

  She had achieved being one with her power months ago, but seeing the very structure of her energy so clearly, so vulnerably placed before her was something sacred, something divine. And she cherished it with all her being.

  Pushing the thought of vampiric souls through the celestial presence of Mokoš, Rose felt the tome stir in her hands. A light breeze of energy ruffled her hair as the pages turned, tuned to her request.

  She lowered her gaze, willing the slightly blurred script into focus.

  Power rushed from her core, brushing against the calligraphy.

  She now understood why she hadn’t been able to find Veles's father. Spirits of gods held the very highest position in life as well as in death—vampires, on the other hand, ranked just above mortal supernatural creatures despite their immortally possessed souls. And if Rose had to pull all her strength to unveil spirits of the latter, her powers would have to grow immensely before she could even come close to reaching a being who had once ruled the underworld. A being who had been built from pure power, from the fundamental strength of the earth.

  With one final push of energy, the tome pulsated in her arms, sending waves of vibrations through the golden light, altering it on their course. She closed her eyes, feeling her body adjust to the new frequency.

  Slowly, the tremors subsided, and she peered into the darkness once again.

  She could still sense human and werewolf spirits, but they were pushed into the background, idly hovering behind a wall of thick air. She probed the space around her with vines of rich light and gasped in shock.

  The wall wasn’t a single, unanimous structure, but a tightly woven crowd of souls.

  Vampiric souls.

  Rose relaxed as much as she could, trying to keep her mind focused on the task at hand and not the overwhelming number of spirits that encircled her. It was an impossible task to comb through all the souls in the attempt to find that single one she wanted.

  She needed another approach.

  Remembering the odd sensation when she had encountered Psoglav’s spirit, she tried to replicate her actions. Golden vines uncurled from her sides, feeling out the ethereal crowd.

  She cleared her mind, allowing the energy to be her only guide.

  She glided easily over the souls, only a few rare ones causing any kind of disturbance in the field she had spread out. She isolated the latter by drawing them closer while keeping the rest a short distance away.

  But even after she had finished picking out those who roused in her a similar sensation Psoglav’s soul had, there were still too many of them. And so far, she had found no definite way to determine which one belonged to Damir.

  Rose cursed silently under her breath; she would need to talk to Veles about teaching her how to note the identities without diving into the spirits’ final moments. She was already exhausted, and merging with a dozen or so souls would undoubtedly cause her to burn out.

  Not wanting to find herself roused from a blackout at Dr. Xu’s office, Rose understood she would need to pick one out and return for the rest later.

  Subtle nuances differentiated the gathered spirits; however, despite her stubborn attempts, she was unable to decipher the notes and transform the information into a useful whole.

  As much as she pushed the energy to feel out those dense areas of air, she was nonetheless left with a single choice.

  To choose blindly.

  Releasing a long breath of air, she dropped her hold on all vines except for one. The golden light shone brighter as it wrapped around the soul, binding it to her.

  Rose eased the tension out of her limbs, relaxed her stiff neck, and welcomed the transition.

  Chapter 36

  A groan tore itself away from the body, kicking Rose’s senses into high alert. The person in whom she was now nestled hadn’t been prepared for the sudden change rushing through their nerves, and the shock of it translated over to her.

  She knew better than to allow herself to be sucked into every sensation the soul was feeling. Monitor it, yes, but never become one with it. Never let it override her own, separate existence.

  She calmed herself, taking in her new surroundings.

  The view was one of a ceiling, painted in such a light shade of blue that it appeared to be almost white unless you brought it into focus, noticed how the shades were just a little too pigmented in the weak light that poured into the room. A window must have rested somewhere to the right of where Rose—the vampire—was, but she had no way of knowing for certain.

  The person with whom she had melded kept staring idly at the flat surface, unblinking and trying to calm their racing pulse.

  When the man shifted in discomfort and another groan spilled out into the empty space, Rose felt the softness of a mattress beneath the vampire’s back.

  Either he had been resting or whatever was happening to the vampire incapacitated him, forcing the man to lie down.

  And Rose had a suspicion she just might know what it was that ailed the dying vampire.

  She focused, trying to recall what Lara had told the police. She had mentioned her husband had been upstairs, mentioned he had gone to change. When had he felt the poison?

  Rose rummaged through her memory, straining her mind and willing it into obedience, but given the growing pain she felt through the corporeal form, it was a more difficult task than she had initially expected.

  Panic had begun to rise inside the vampire, and Rose had to block herself from experiencing the full effect of the sensation. Yet even with the barrier firmly set, it was impossible to completely prevent the vamp’s responses from seeping through, clouding her own senses.

  The pain was harrowing.

  Rose used all her training, all the experiences the spirits she had touched so far offered, and tapped even into her own conditioning—the one all young werewolves went through. She sought the strength she had gained from the exercises designed to make them tougher, to make them withstand broken limbs and still be able to drag themselves to safety.

  Perhaps even strong enough to slaughter their assailants before making their retreat.

  So Rose pushed through the vampire’s agony, and slowly, she remembered.

  Damir hadn’t been lying in bed when the poison began to destroy his body. No, it had been the bathroom that bore traces of his struggles with the poison.

  But there was another.

  Another vampire whose existence came to an end as he lay on the bed.

  Alex.

&n
bsp; Still, something was off. A nagging at the back of her mind, telling her she was missing something vital.

  She opened her senses anew, casting the net wider; she strived to capture every possible detail in hopes that it may shed some light on the elusive element and quiet that voice inside her head.

  But the dying vampire had already closed his eyes, cutting off Rose’s sight in the process.

  She cursed. Relying only on sound and scent, she’d need to lower the barrier separating her from the vampire if she wanted to gather information. And embrace the full rush of pain that came with it.

  The groans became louder, yet at the same time more labored. She wouldn’t have much longer.

  The wall between them fell.

  It was then that she truly felt the increasing tightness in the man’s chest, the overwhelming sensation of being trapped within one’s own body.

  And the pressure of it was crushing.

  The vamp’s eyes flew open, and he stumbled from the bed, gasping for air in a series of frantic pants. His vision was blurred, but Rose managed to make out the outlines of the pale blue bedroom as well as the door towards which the vamp was now headed.

  Rose left the barrier down, juggling between feeling every Chernobog-damned sensation and taking note of every painfully small detail the vampire’s out-of-focus vision granted her.

  The hallway was bright, with a large window looming in the vamp’s peripheral vision and no artificial lights illuminating its walls. Fuck, Rose cursed in her thoughts, finally realizing what the vexing detail had been.

  Alex hadn’t been alone when he died. And the event had taken place in the middle of the night.

  Judging by the intensity of daylight filling the space, it must have been early afternoon when the corporeal form of the vampire she was in now met its death.

  Fuck, Rose swore again, understanding just what this development meant.