by Gaja J. Kos
And it wasn’t from Morana.
Although, what he hoped to obtain from the goddess of death was inadvertently driven by that exact motion. He was willing to do it all for the single person who made him crave the kindness of waking up next to her every day for as long as she would have him. Even if he had been the one to push her away.
For her, he would destroy the world if it meant keeping her safe.
Morana stood, carefully regaining her balance before gliding over to him. Her blue eyes were clear, a silent question lingering in their depths.
She likely understood this wasn’t a social visit. Yet she did not resent him for it.
He stepped closer and wrapped his arm gently around the goddess’ thin shoulders. The gesture was not one of a lover. But of a longtime friend.
He wouldn’t leave Morana to wither in this place. Not until he used the extent of his knowledge and strength to ameliorate her position. But there were things he had to do first.
This was just the beginning.
Slowly, he exhaled, his grip on Morana’s shoulder tightening—to reassure himself as much as anything else.
“I need your guidance, Em.”
Chapter 16
Tim and Nathaniel were sitting in their grandmother’s dining room, huddled fairly closely together on the well-loved corner bench—a habit they had held on to since childhood. Pia was preparing lunch in the kitchen, and the two brothers used the time before those aromatic dishes arrived to catch up. With Nathaniel closed off in his lab and Tim investigating vamp lairs around town, they hadn’t seen each other in days, which didn't exactly please their brotherly bond.
However, their talk wasn’t one filled with pleasantries. None of them had been of late.
“The COD of the two bodies from the warehouse was similar to one we’ve seen before,” the human began, keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t carry into the other room.
It was habit more than anything else, a conduct to give himself an illusion of intimacy. If Pia wanted to listen in, there was nothing the brothers could do. Despite her old age, she was still a Black were, and the distance wasn’t nearly large enough to distort Nathaniel’s words.
However, Pia understood the value of privacy. She’d sooner hum a melody to block the words than eavesdrop on her grandsons’ conversations.
Tim leaned back, slowly closing his eyes as he exhaled. “Like Damir?”
He feared as much from the moment Zarja had mentioned Rose’s—hopefully by now former—ability to take vampiric souls. The crime bore no traces of any foul play the pack was used to. The bodies were left intact, only their spark of life snuffed out. Permanently.
Nathaniel nodded. “They just…died. But you said there were markings indicating a fight on the others?”
Involuntarily, images of the different wounds Tim had seen flooded his mind. “Not claws. Fists. Broken necks. Knife thrusts through the heart.”
“No decapitation?”
Tim shook his head. “The heart wounds seemed to have done the job—except on those like the two bodies you’ve seen.”
“Okay.” Nathaniel sighed as he sat up straighter and repositioned his glasses higher up his nose. “So at least we know heart wounds are enough to keep twentyfourhourlies down.” He winced and added silently, Rogue twentyfourhourlies.
“I don’t believe it was Rose,” Tim went on, oblivious to his brother’s remark. “It was the night before she went out of town. And even for her, taking on so many vampires would be a stretch.”
“But we can assume someone is as pissed off with the lets-take-justice-in-our-hands vamps as we are?”
Tim ran his hands through his short hair, rubbing his scalp to ease the slight headache. “I guess. But whoever they are, they’re powerful. And their skill is too close to Rose’s for comfort. I know that she probably did snatch Damir’s soul away, so there’s nothing we can do about that. But I don’t like the idea that other murders may end up being pinned on her, even if they are in our favor.”
Tilting his head, Nathaniel pursed his lips. “Shit, you’re right. So whoever offed the vamps in the warehouse could just as easily be setting Rose up?”
Tim lifted his hands up in surrender, his nostrils flaring as a whiff of Pia’s cooking snaked into the room. “If it’s someone from the higher circles not too pleased with the way the hierarchy is starting to rearrange itself… Possibly. But if this is a setup, it was done rather carelessly. Like I said before, the vamps were killed just before Rose left. It might fool the less bright of them, but anybody who’s monitoring Rose’s movements—”
He smacked his lips shut when he heard footsteps approaching. Despite the subject, his mouth watered as the smell of mashed potatoes, pasta dipped in crumbs, and a chicken steak submerged in that delicious natural sauce Pia excelled at flooded his nose.
His grandmother came into the room, balancing two full platters in her hands. She placed them down in front of her grandsons and brushed a short strand of gray hair from her forehead.
“I don’t want to interrupt,” Pia said, propping her right hand on her hip, “but you do know that every ruler of the underworld may take souls as he pleases?”
Both brothers straightened their backs, the food momentarily forgotten. Pia lifted her groomed eyebrows, clearly surprised her grandchildren had been oblivious to the fact.
“It is why people feared Death and Afterlife. Both deities waited patiently for people to come to them, but in some cases, they chose to hasten the process…”
“Veles…stole lives?” Nathaniel breathed, staring at his grandmother in bewilderment.
The old woman tilted her head. “I don’t know about that lad, but his father did. It isn’t something easily achievable,” she added, sitting down on the chair opposite the two young men. “From what I’ve been told as a child, even though the ability is inherited, one must exhibit immense strength, as well as possess a sharp, focused mind to even understand the workings of the process, let alone engage in it.”
Tim threw a piece of meat into his mouth and chewed on it just so he could keep himself occupied. Sometimes, Pia’s knowledge of things he was fairly certain she should never have even been aware of made him worry for his grandmother’s well-being. If anything, what Tim had been through during this past year was a fine example of just how protective the members of the higher circles were of their secrets. Even of those that didn’t exactly belong to them.
A werewolf with insight into the workings of deities would without a doubt end up even higher up on their threat list than The Dark Ones.
But his grandmother, oblivious or not to the perils of her own knowledge, plowed forward, “If Velin hadn’t taught his son how to own that part of his nature, it would explain why the god couldn’t take all of those nasty vampires’ lives by using only his energy.”
Blowing out a breath, Nathaniel leaned forward and crossed his hands on the table. “So what you’re saying is that this could be a new thing for Veles? One he, the lord of the underworld, has learned only recently? I mean, clearly he didn’t want anything to do with it before. Somehow, I don’t see that…man…giving up even an ounce of power he could possess. So why now? His realm is stable, the wolf-man gone…”
“To save Rose,” Tim whispered by his brother’s side. He rubbed his hands across his face as hard as he could, anger now mixing in with the whirlwind of other emotions that were already racing through his body. “He left Rose because she took a life by accident, and then he went and taught himself the exact Chernobog-damned thing…” He snarled into the air, the sound bouncing off the dining room walls. “Asshole.”
Pia sighed from across the table, the light fabric of her shirt flowing with the movement. But there was nothing light about the shadow that crossed the elder were’s face for the briefest of moments before her eyes met Tim’s. “Sometimes we do things others might perceive as foolish to protect the ones we love…”
As those words sounded into silence, Tim began to doubt if
their grandmother truly was oblivious to the dangers her knowledge put her in.
And the thought chilled him to his very bones.
The hands on the clock showed it was already late afternoon. Zarja blew out a breath, casually eyeing the pitchers of beer on the various tables as she passed the endless streak of bars on Ljubljana’s promenade. She had been trailing the Upir for the past seven hours and was seriously craving a taste of the delicious, golden brew.
According to Tomo, the receipts she had dug out from the trash hadn’t bore any fruit so far. The vampires seemed to rotate the stores they purchased their supplies from, not giving the employees any particular reason to remember them. They weren’t regulars. The quantities were fairly small since they divided them among different vendors. And, worst of all, they seemed to have a knack for choosing establishments without any video surveillance.
With police resources stretch out too thin as they were, Tomo couldn’t put an officer on every single one of the stores the vamps had been in on the odd chance that they returned. Besides, the man hardly had a case to present to his superiors that might warrant such an action. Not only was there no crime, but they couldn't go around questioning every vamp that bought a specific brand in just the right quantity. With no identities known as of yet, the police would end up chasing ghosts rather than solid leads.
What Tomo had done for the pack, scouting the Upir’s building, had been generous enough. However, as grateful as she was, all of that meant Zarja had no choice but to work on her own. Tracking the female wouldn’t have been so tedious if it weren’t so boring.
The Upir was caught up in her everyday business, leading Zarja from store to store, making her wait as she went to the disgustingly packed post office or bank, and did absolutely nothing else than run her errands. The normalcy of it made Zarja grind her teeth.
If the three vamps she had tracked from the warehouse hadn’t visited the Upir’s apartment, she would have gladly given in to the idea that she had simply jumped to the wrong conclusions.
But the woman’s species, along with her associates, kept Zarja’s feet moving.
Wind ruffled her hair, and she squinted into the distance. Fantastic. The Upir seemed to be enjoying a stroll along the riverbank.
Cursing under her breath, Zarja adjusted her pace. She didn’t fear recognition by smell, but sight was another thing. Luckily, there were enough pedestrians out on the streets to provide ample cover, but since her stature was quite tall, the technique wasn’t a reliable one if she got too close to her mark.
She wasn’t too keen on disguises—the smart suit she wore when she went to the apartment with Tomo was as far as she went. And though chances were slim that the Upir knew who she was or remembered her, even the most clueless person would eventually become alert if they spotted the same face too many times. So Zarja dropped into a laid-back stroll, her eyes never leaving the figure in front of her.
A gentle rap sounded in her mind.
She eased open the passage blocking her brain from the pathway that connected the pack, inviting the familiar energy inside.
Veles might be the one offing the vamps. Tim blurted the words out without as much as a hello.
She stopped mid-step, her breath catching. What?
I guess he figured out how to sense them. And how to murder them at his will.
Her eyes focusing once again on the back of the Upir’s head, she moved forward. She took a few breaths before answering, desperately needing to process the information first. Why wouldn’t he tell us?
Something close to a laugh came over the bond, but the sound was strained. Like you wouldn’t rip into his flesh the instant he was within reach for what he did to Rose…
Zarja remained silent. Tim was right. Even if the lord of the underworld had a very valid reason for staying away from their pack mate, the execution had been blunt, without even sparing a bloody thought about how Rose felt. She huffed. Veles deserved a good punch in that pretty face of his. But if the god had gone about murdering vampires who were after Rose, after the pack, he should have told them.
Personal history wouldn’t matter if the situation became even more messed up than it was.
Do we tell her? Or—
No. More determination saturated his words than she was used to. She’s away. Leave her be. She deserves to have some time without Veles occupying her thoughts; Chernobog knows he’s been there for long enough. We’ll deal with it when Rose gets back.
Zarja nodded, letting her silent agreement flow through the bond. She wasn’t fond of hiding information, but at a time when Rose had just begun to improve—in her energy as well as in her heart—perhaps waiting for the proper moment was a wise choice to make.
So what do we do about it? Do we hope he clears out more nests? Direct him to the fuckers?
This time, Tim’s chuckle was sincere. He'd found the bastards before we did. I doubt any information we can give him will be news to the god…
Well, he could at least share his…
Another chuckle. Because that’s what always happened in the past.
Despite everything, she grinned. She received a few odd looks from passersby in return, but paid them no attention. I kind of miss those times, though.
And she truly did. There had been a special kind of dynamic between the lord of the underworld and the pack. Yes, he had withheld knowledge, never letting them fully in on his plans until he was certain there was no other option… But as much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, as much as it irritated her, she liked the challenges coming her way.
She had always been the wild one of the pack—or so they claimed. Fighting against threats the higher circles should have dealt with, fighting without having the full picture in mind… It suited her nature, even if she hadn't known it before.
During those times, she effectively burned off all the pent-up excess energy she’d had to live with on a daily basis. In her whole life, her mind had never felt clearer.
The imminent peril, the fear, the blood, the constant battle—she may have cursed it on more than one occasion, but the truth was that that particular state of being had helped.
It had helped her get over her cousin’s passing.
It had given her the chance to be friends with Rose once again.
It had been good.
Experiencing all that, experiencing what she had been made for, had given her a valuable insight. Pack life was nice, but it lacked that something extra that made her tick. Something that wasn’t merely trailing an Upir as she did her shopping.
I’ll talk to you later, she said to Tim, cutting off the connection. She didn’t want those thoughts to accidentally slip through.
Her pack, despite them being Black weres, and with all their ruthlessness taken into account, were nonetheless wired differently. She had noticed the slight disapproval in Tim’s voice as he mentioned that Veles had turned to murdering vamps. Like the god was doing something so fundamentally different from the main mission the pack had laid out for themselves.
Sometimes, an odd kind of entitlement seemed to surface among werewolves. There was honor in bringing down an opponent that threatened you or your kind. It wasn’t even a desire to help others. It was duty. And as for the rest, minding your own business was the way to go.
Zarja let out a low growl.
That was why she worked so hard to keep a few things sheltered deep inside her. Some might understand, but not all. She didn’t love them any less for it, but at times, she wished she could snag them between her teeth and just keep on shaking until they saw reason.
A battle was a battle. None were better than the rest—or more justified.
They all had two sides, fueled by different motivations that made sense to its supporters. The idea of throwing stones at others for their actions while you were doing the exact same never failed to piss her off.
In the end, she was a woman built for war.
A child blessed—or cursed—by Svantovid, just
like her cousin had been. Only she would be the one who persevered.
Chapter 17
Rose and Serafina bought some spring rolls to go as they walked down 7th Avenue and past Madison Square Garden. The Koldunya’s city disorientation lessened after a good night’s rest, and the witch was eager to explore the city. Rose, on the other hand, was much more interested in exploring an entirely different subject.
“So the Kolduny are part of the higher circles?” Rose asked, munching on the Chinese delicacy as she stopped at a red light.
Ileana’s not-so-small revelation yesterday had come as a shock. Rose had had to dig deeply into her supply of patience to not interrogate the Koldunya the very instant the two of them left the cafe.
Beside her, Serafina paused, peeling her gaze from the busy street to meet Rose’s eyes. “You know I can’t tell you that…”
Rose scowled, wanting to retort, but as a dimple appeared on each of Serafina’s cheeks, Rose’s lips formed a wide o. The Koldunya couldn’t speak of the higher secrets, of the intricately organized beings at the very top of the pyramid, not since Rose wasn’t family. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t get what she sought.
Under different circumstances, Rose would have pestered her mother about it; under different circumstances, she might have gotten an answer. But as it was, Rose figured Ileana would sooner brush away her questions in hopes of keeping her daughter safe than actually offer what she was searching for. And perhaps it wasn’t a bad outcome after all. The last thing Rose wanted to do was put her mother in a position where she would feel directly responsible in case things took a turn for the worse. Ileana would have a hard time coping even without the weight of partially blaming herself.
Though shielding her mother was important, it didn’t change the fact that Rose needed knowledge. She simply had to get it from another source.
Besides, Rose didn’t need to hear Serafina speak the secrets to learn them.
