Black Werewolves: Books 1–4

by Gaja J. Kos

  The Koldun standing in front of her was a different man. Unwillingly, she took a step back. Sander’s gaze shot to her, but there was nothing predatory in them now.

  “Leave the child,” he said softly, tipping his head to the side. “No price will be requested of you.”

  Sheer will kept her jaw from dropping. She wasn’t a fool. The Kolduny weren’t known for offering anything freely unless it served their purpose. Yet she saw no ill intent in Sander’s face. Not a single hint.

  She had prepared herself for dozens of possible scenarios, but this was something that hadn’t even crossed her mind. Sander going against his own people…

  Evelin didn’t know what to make of it.

  When she didn’t reply, the Koldun glided towards her, small blue forget-me-nots softly falling from his hair and onto the vivid green grass behind him. The white linen shirt he wore was unbuttoned, revealing the powerful muscles of his chest and abdomen that flexed gracefully with each move. All the while, translucent magic swirled around him, powerful and lethal as only nature could be. He was majestic.

  She should have felt threatened, but no fight-or-flight alarm sounded in her core. In fact, she found herself trusting the Koldun as he outstretched his arms, and she handed Rafael into his embrace with barely any hesitation.

  “I’ll look after your son,” Sander said, a slight dip of his chin accentuating his words. “And you will have your answers.”

  Evelin stepped closer and placed a kiss on the top of Rafael’s head, playfully messing his thin blond strands before she pulled away. Using the opportunity to catch a clear whiff of Sander’s scent, she went through the usual markers indicating that something might be amiss. And found nothing but the desire to help. The Koldun was being sincere.

  “Come back to us in five days. You will be expected.”

  Evelin observed him in silence as he retraced his steps back to the group of Kolduny lingering in the shadows, walking past Ilka and Agata without giving the two women as much as a glance.

  The third level was substantially warmer than the two Tomo and Zarja had already waded through, though Zarja figured part of it could simply be her growing excitement. After spending a little over twenty minutes questioning the people in the four apartments below—an elderly woman did, in fact, see something the police might have been able to work with—she was anxious to catch a glimpse of what lay beyond the vampires’ door.

  Her nostrils flared as she separated the scents in the hallway, discarding the ones that belonged to the apartment opposite the one Tomo had just approached. The communal space wasn’t ideal for obtaining accurate readings, but it did give her an idea of what to expect once the door would open.

  The gods knew they needed the head start it offered.

  If the vampires didn’t have anything of value to add to the false investigation, Zarja just might find herself operating within a very narrow timeframe. Though Tomo had assured her he intended to stall as much as he could since not raising any suspicion was still their primary goal—even if it cost them some information.

  So Zarja used her honed senses to pick up the different scent signatures that lingered in the hallway, storing in her mind those that were the most potent, those that had time to seep into the very structure of the building over and over again. However, she didn’t exactly neglect the passing traces of visitors, either. She cataloged every single one, although not in as much detail, taking note of the bare numbers more than anything else.

  If she didn’t fear being overheard this close to the vamps’ residence, Zarja might have growled.

  How the fuck did we miss this? she snarled into the bond instead, not truly caring if anybody was there to listen.

  But Tim’s voice greeted her in response, so quickly that he nearly startled her. That bad?

  She counted the scents again, double-checking what she already knew to be true. It’s like a whorehouse on a Friday night.

  Fuck. The were’s voice glided through Zarja’s mind. And the residents?

  Zarja looked over to Tomo. The man nodded, inclining his head toward the door.

  Going in now, Zarja replied and closed the mind link without a goodbye. As much as she wanted Tim on the line, she needed her focus to be perfect. And she needed it now.

  She stepped next to Tomo just as he knocked on the sturdy white wood, the man’s whole posture shifting to emanate the authoritative figure a person expected a senior policeman to be. Zarja heard the approaching footsteps and caught the peculiar scent a split second before it died down completely, and the door in front of her swung open.

  She kept her face blank, immensely grateful she had worn the only pantsuit she had in her wardrobe. Even if the creature sensed she wasn’t human, Zarja looked nothing like her usual self with the regal outfit, polished hairstyle, and just the right amount of makeup to transform her features. She did, however, look every inch the consultant she was supposed to be. Or a P.I., if that was how they wanted to interpret it. And with the no-nonsense attitude rolling off Tomo, the pair gave the impression of being a true unit.

  No sup, as twisted as they might be, would attack an officer and his associate while on official police business. Especially if they had already gone to such lengths to implement themselves in the very heart of Ljubljana, and quite possibly, its society.

  A woman with light brown hair that flowed straight past her shoulders appeared before them, her dark eyes inquisitive as they traveled across the pair, dipping down for a second to take in the badge in Tomo’s hand. The motions were natural, nothing unexpected from an curious citizen.

  The thirty-something female could’ve easily passed as human.

  But Zarja knew the truth, and so did Tomo. Even if, in this case, the man might not be aware of the full, vile extent of it. Still, with all the information the pack had shared with him, she had to admire Tomo’s unyielding expression. He appeared to be nothing but a man, doing his job.

  “I’m officer Kaspar from Ljubljana P.D., this is my consultant Ms. Vovk. We’d like to ask you a few questions about a crime that happened in your neighborhood yesterday.”

  The woman in the doorframe inclined her head. “What crime?”

  “An elderly lady died as a result of a mugging…” Tomo began, and Zarja lowered the volume on his words, only half-listening while keeping a professional, alert expression plastered on her face.

  She let the air seeping out of the apartment fill her lungs. A window was open opposite the door, the light breeze blowing straight towards her and into the hallway. There was no need to strain herself. She breathed easily, sampling each new supply of air and isolating the individual markers that lay within.

  By the fresh, strong scent, she placed at least two more beings inside the apartment, presumably in the room adjacent to the one in her line of sight. But the lingering traces told her more. So much more.

  She cataloged everything, even the minutest detail of the components that made each smell unique.

  As Tomo continued to exchange words with the female, Zarja’s search wasn’t focused on the numbers any longer. She was fairly certain she had the final count. But as daunting as that was on its own, it still wasn’t something she could dwell on at the moment.

  Because as each scent imprinted itself in her mind, Zarja knew that, for the first time in her life, she could share her sensory memories with the pack.

  She had thought about it extensively, and after turning every aspect around in her head for the fifth time, she was certain that the live feed technique she and Evelin had used the previous day wasn’t the only option.

  A near-perfect reading of what she sensed now could be pushed through the bond. Only instead of temporarily replacing one’s reality with her own, she would be replacing memories.

  In light of that, every detail mattered. The weres were different enough from one another that something of less importance to her just might create a valuable link in someone else’s mind.

  It was only when the air
ceased to bring new information that Zarja allowed the voices to rise to their normal volume. Tomo was getting closer to the end of his question, and the would-be human female answered in earnest.

  She was good.

  She played the role of a concerned citizen well, and Zarja almost wished the woman gave her an excuse to claw her face off.

  But the opportunity never arose. Not that she had truly expected it.

  The instant she caught that scent, the scent that had existed for those brief moments before the doors had opened then faded into oblivion, Zarja had known there would be no surprises. No immediate danger.

  Yet the thought of what lay beneath that human mask chilled her to the bone.

  Tomo thanked the woman for her cooperation, and Zarja echoed his words with professional courtesy. They turned around, listening to the harsh click as the lock on the door fell in place.

  Zarja exhaled as quietly as she could, willing her claws to stay retracted.

  It was a harder task than she’d thought with her entire body thrumming with the need to lash out.

  The Upir had appeared to them in her human form.

  And if Zarja hadn’t been paying attention, if she hadn’t been straining her senses to smell what lay inside the apartment even before the tenant answered, she would have believed her to be human, too.

  Chapter 14

  Having spent so much time here on her own, Rose had nearly forgotten how New York affected those who found themselves on its streets without truly knowing what to expect. In a way, it was worrisome and adorable all at once.

  Serafina was twirling on the sidewalk, her head tilted backward in an attempt to take in the tall, looming buildings with their straight surfaces and too many windows to count. She had been like that since the moment they had exited Grand Central, which was saying a lot since they had almost made it to Central Park.

  Rose felt a hint of pride for managing to maneuver the Koldunya so far. And since they had some time to kill before meeting with Ileana, she had wanted to give Serafina a chance to surround herself with nature, to give her something familiar.

  As much as the witch was charmed by the city, Rose imagined the urban setting was nonetheless disorienting for someone so closely linked with the workings and life of the earth. Serafina may have been older than Rose by quite a few decades—a small fact she still had difficulty grasping—but Rose was the undeniable winner when it came to experience. The most the charming redhead had seen was the small, though endearing, center of Radovljica, which was barely anything more than a slightly larger village. The few limited trips to Ljubljana hardly counted.

  Something about that ignited a sense of guardianship in Rose. She had failed to protect the Koldunya from rogue vampires, but a city was something she knew how to handle.

  Leaving Serafina alone to reconnect with nature once they entered Central Park, Rose stalked over to a vendor, happily handing over a few dollars for two large pretzels. The entrancing aroma played with her senses, making Rose’s mouth water with unbearable urgency. She hardly made it back before taking a bite.

  Serafina eyed her with curiosity that only intensified when Rose outstretched her hand, offering one of the delicacies.

  “Trust me.” Rose winked and bit into the twisted, soft snack again.

  The blessed expression spreading across Rose’s features as the taste hit her must have been confirmation enough because Serafina followed suit with no further questions asked. And as they continued strolling through the park grounds, Rose found herself listening to the pleased sounds of someone who had just discovered one of their new favorite foods. Silently, she thanked the gods for the joy bubbling inside her friend.

  It had been a rough couple of days as they traveled to New York, the ghost of massacred vamps weighing heavily on the Koldunya’s consciousness. Despite knowing of Serafina’s kind, and even more so, the witch’s darker brethren, Rose hadn’t been surprised to learn that Serafina had never taken a life.

  There was a sense of innocence lingering within the Koldunya—something she hadn’t seen in a long time. Rose had spent her life surrounded by killers, by natural predators; sniffing out one that wasn’t wired that way was as easy as spotting a neon sign in the middle of the night.

  Yet that only increased the overwhelming amount of guilt gnawing at her for throwing the witch in a situation where there had been no other options but to decide which meant more. Her life. Or theirs.

  Although Rose had grown up with the me-or-you mentality accompanying her every step, had grown up with the survival instinct not only coded in her genes but drilled through many, many years of training, there were deaths even she couldn’t forget.

  But to put all that unbarred weight on an innocent’s shoulders…

  Shutting down that thought, Rose glanced once more at the cheerful glimmer in Serafina’s eyes, sincerely hoping that nothing would ever snuff it out.

  Least of all something she had inadvertently caused.

  Any reservations Ileana might have had when her daughter had warned her that she was bringing a magic wielder to New York had evaporated within the first five minutes of meeting Serafina.

  The three of them were sitting at the corner cafe the older were liked to frequent, bathed in sunlight that flooded over the treetops standing sentry on the opposite side of the road. She noticed Serafina flinch several times when louder trucks or cars with sirens passed behind them, but living in New York for as long as she had, Ileana wouldn’t have even noticed the sounds if she wasn’t observing Rose’s friend.

  And what she saw certainly didn’t add up to her expectations.

  Serafina’s red hair shone like fire under the blue skies, matching perfectly the temperament Ileana had picked up on while she made her basic, much-needed assessment of people she ran into for the first time. Though she possessed a gentle heart, the Koldunya was strong, her magic as resilient as her mind.

  It wasn’t difficult to see that there were scars beneath the surface, traces of the recent events the witch had been forced to go through. But there was also joy, and a grounded determination to contribute in the silent war.

  Because Ileana harbored no delusions what all these recent developments meant.

  With vampires protesting Rose’s reign not only in Ljubljana but countries as far away as France, the road to peace the pack and their supporters had been working so hard to achieve would have to be paved in blood. There were no choices left. Only facts.

  The individuals, threatened by her daughter’s power, would more likely give their lives than see reason at this point. And from what Ileana had heard, their numbers weren’t nearly as small as she hoped.

  “You believe the shit will spread?” Rose asked, sensing what the older were had been thinking.

  Ileana blew out a breath. Sometimes, she forgot the special bond they shared could work both ways. She should have known Rose would pick up on her thoughts, and, perhaps, it was for the best. Because as much as Ileana desired to spend some time with her daughter without the stain of wider events clinging to every word, this was more important.

  She gave Rose a solemn nod. “The one thing that still remains uncertain is how many individuals from foreign lands will be willing to join in a direct fight.”

  Serafina half turned towards the pair, her gaze shifting from one to the other. “Why wouldn’t they?”

  Though Rose tensed in her chair, Ileana’s face softened. For all the hatred she harbored towards people of magic, she couldn’t deny that some of them were pure. Pure of heart and pure in history—although the latter may have been presented to them falsely.

  The Koldunya was not only young for her kind, but she was also detached from the immediate workings of the world. And as her daughter’s eyes began shimmering with gold that barely remained hidden behind her black Ray-Bans, she understood Rose hadn’t told the witch everything, either. At least not the things that weren’t hers to share.

  “You remember the tale of how Velin appeared
to the newly turned vampires and spoke of the gift of gods to them?” Ileana asked softly, casually keeping an eye on her daughter. She observed Rose go through the initial phase of shock and confusion, then gradually advance into understanding as the lines of her face smoothened out.

  Ileana figured Veles hadn’t given her the official version those few, privy to higher, classified information had access to. Truthfully, the god had no reason for it, either.

  Rose had confessed the whole truth to Ileana during the weeks when she was barely piecing herself back together. She had beseeched Ileana not to say a word of it to any other being, but the plea was unnecessary. Ileana understood that the god’s tale of his past was personal. Intimate.

  Veles had spoken of what mattered to him—to them, eventually. There was no need for Rose to hear the official statement.

  Besides, with her daughter still being excluded from higher circles, from the company which Ileana kept, she wouldn’t have been able to share a damned thing even if she wanted to. Not without gravely breaching security rules.

  As far as everybody knew, the vampires had simply come to exist at one point in history.

  And as far as the majority, if not all, of the higher circles were aware of, it had been Velin who created a new race, not his son.

  So, naturally, Ileana’s knowledge must have come as a surprise to her.

  The older were, unlike Rose, wasn’t prohibited from sharing information, as long as the recipient was among the ones that were approved. Her daughter held the highest spot on that list—she was the one Ileana could confide in the most. Blood was blood, unbreakable, even in the eyes of the higher-ups.

  Yet the reason behind Ileana’s silence was a far simpler one.

  She had wanted only the images of true history to linger in her daughter’s mind, not some well-constructed lie.

  Oblivious to the shift in Rose’s posture, the Koldunya nodded in reply. Ileana knew the redhead’s coven was one of the few magic-wielding groups that had been accepted into the higher circles upon their formation.