Black Werewolves: Books 1–4

by Gaja J. Kos

  However, he was adamant. With her help, he had found those depths, tasted them in small amounts. But dry runs were never a viable experience. If anything, they gave you a false sense of security, the idea of possessing control that wasn’t there yet.

  “Don’t let it lead you, Vee.” She smiled, although a bit sadly. “Remember who you are. What you wish to achieve. And never forget that it is because of you this power even exists.”

  She stood and crossed the small distance to sit down next to him. Her hand brushed against his in a comforting gesture, and, to his surprise, the goddess placed her head on his shoulder, staring into the distance.

  “I wish I could come with you.” She exhaled softly and pressed her cheek into the fabric of his thick sweater.

  “I wish that, too, Em.”

  At his words, he felt a shift in her energy, something livelier humming in the air around her.

  She angled her head, her distinct pale blue eyes peering up at him. “Will you come back?”

  He wrapped the goddess in his embrace, struggling for words that didn’t come. There were so many things he was unsure of, but leaving his friend in the solitude of the frozen castle wasn’t one of them. Yet he was painfully aware that even the firmest resolution carried no weight in times when everything was changing.

  “I hope I will be able to,” he finally admitted. It was the only thing he could say that didn’t sound like a lie.

  “You always were my favorite.” The goddess sighed as she shifted closer. He chuckled. “Death calls to death.”

  She nodded. “And all else is repulsed by it.”

  A phantom weight fell upon his chest.

  Rose hadn’t been.

  Even when he had thrown her consciousness into the dying memories of a soul, something he had never bestowed upon another person—something for which he had been certain would push the werewolf away—Rose had stayed.

  Death was only attractive to people when it presented itself as a concept of the fleeting passing of time, as a concept that drove their passions and justified them all at once. It was supposed to be appealing only as long as the individuals weren’t linked to its darkness directly.

  But Rose had never been part of that rule. In fact, the very thing that he was made her care for him. Without romanticizing his calling or his nature, she had cared for him.

  She understood him with her mortal mind—even when she still believed she was nothing but a Black were—better than anybody, save for Morana. Or perhaps even her.

  A smile began to form on his lips but faltered before it truly developed.

  The path he had set upon now was different.

  This was a display of all-consuming power. The stance of a god with every negative connotation the word carried. It was a stance where the end justified the means and where every individual was but a figurine in his game, disposed or used at his will.

  As much as he wished he could convince himself otherwise, he knew the greater good was an excuse wrung into existence by the mind. Nothing more than a petty attempt to make yourself believe you still had a moral compass.

  He laughed inwardly.

  A skewed one, perhaps. Formed by your own standards.

  This pouch of darkness—though an inseparable part of who he was—existed for a reason. It was him, and only him, who had decided to use it for something else.

  He placed a gentle kiss on the top of Morana’s head and slid from her embrace. She observed him in silence as he began to wrap his body in the long, black coat, the hint of sadness returning to her eyes.

  “I will try, Em,” he said, coming over to kneel in front of the goddess. He took her hands in his, pressing his lips to the pale, thin fingers. “I will try.”

  Veles had slept for two days in a row, leaving the parts of his power he didn’t have to monitor constantly to tend to the underworld. The departure from Morana’s realm had proven to be even more tasking than his arrival. All the exercises the goddess had led him through left their mark, and for the first time in centuries, he needed to sleep the exhaustion off.

  He despised being incapacitated, but knowing that he had succeeded in crossing into a realm that was supposedly closed off smoothed the bitter edges. He rolled out of bed, the sunlight pouring through the window warming his nude body.

  Outside, woods stretched into what seemed to be infinity, the woods in which Rose had run… He found himself staring into the brilliant greens, each nuance stirring a memory within him. His fingers traced a line down the warm glass.

  That part of his life was gone now.

  With a sneer, he pushed himself away from the window. No more brooding. He was rested, his energy replenished. There wasn’t a single valid reason to stale.

  He exhaled.

  He could grab breakfast while on the move. The meals were much less enjoyable since the werewolf had ceased keeping him company, and eating alone would only lead to more thoughts he’d rather not have.

  But this was where fate had led him. Perhaps things were as they should be.

  The screeching emptiness he hadn’t been able to contain called him a liar. He ignored it. The notion came almost naturally now.

  Things were as they should be.

  He stalked into the bathroom, and once he had dressed in his usual all-black attire, the world around him turned dark for a split second before a secluded alley on the outskirts of Ljubljana materialized around him.

  A muscular man was resting with his back against the wall of a shabby building—right on time, as usual. Like Veles, the man wore black boots, black pants, and a black tee, every inch of his clothing combat appropriate. Veles dipped his chin in salutation.

  “Andrej,” he said. Andrej was the half demon he tended to turn to in those rare times he needed assistance—or simply didn’t feel like dealing with something by himself.

  Since Andrej and his brother had been the pair Veles had sent to retrieve Rose from New York last summer, it seemed only fitting that he needed their skills now, when everything he was doing was for her. Only for her.

  “I have located the most isolated one of their group, Lord.” The dark-haired man’s raspy voice spread through the alley. “Those that attacked the werewolf directly were their majority, and she dispatched them well. This vampire is one of the three that helped organize the attack, but hadn’t taken part in it.”

  Veles nodded slowly. Andrej had been searching for test subjects since he’d left for Morana’s realm. Clearly, Veles’ faith in the half demon was justified yet again.

  “He’s in the dirty blue building two blocks south from here. Right on the edge, where the fields begin. No neighbors. None that are home, anyway.”

  A chilling smile stretched across Veles’ lips. “Excellent. You will receive your usual payment once I return to the residence.”

  Andrej gave a single, firm nod that was almost a bow and left him standing alone in the alley. Veles wrapped himself in a thin layer of glamor, not wishing to exercise too much power, yet not quite willing to be seen even in these parts of town.

  The sun had just begun to rise, dissipating the early morning mist that accompanied the break of dawn of Ljubljana’s spring. He left the alley behind him, walking south until he reached a badly paved road. He passed the ramshackle buildings that lined its sides, barely paying them any notice as his gaze fell upon the blue house Andrej had mentioned.

  Trees were scattered across the area, some green, some adorned with vivid blossoms. He stalked into their generous shade once he deemed the distance to his mark was sufficiently close. There were no windows turned his way, the view from the road blocked by the wide tree trunk he stood behind now. Perfect.

  He dropped the glamor.

  He opened himself up to the power pooling within him, his will flowing past the known nuances to the depths he had uncovered under Morana’s guidance. Focusing on his breathing and the sensation as he bonded with the opulent energy, his mind slowly slipped into Duševje.

  The world be
came a place where nothing existed but the singularities that were in their base linked purely and solely to him. If he desired, he could feel them all. Vampires, humans, werewolves, witches… There wasn’t a single soul within this realm that didn’t belong to him.

  A rush of power sizzled through his flesh, a sense of superiority widening his chest.

  It was what Morana had warned him about.

  Being present in a world that existed because of you was exhilarating. The energy called to him, taunting him to shed the civilized skin and become the all-powerful ruler he was born to be.

  He hushed the poisonous whispers. He had no intention of playing with lives at that moment, save for one.

  Holding on to that thought, he focused on the souls that were linked to him intimately—not because he was the lord of the underworld, but because he was Veles. Father of vampires. The being whose essence those individuals carried as if it was their own.

  Grudgingly, the dark tendrils of power stepped down and offered themselves to his desires—but not without resistance.

  Olive embers danced inside his body. It was the energy he knew, the energy that had always been his. Sweat condensed on his brow, but the flames began supporting his attempt of taming that ethereal swirl of darkness.

  The forces mixed, only not to the desired result. He exhaled.

  He would not be able to fully enter the state of Duševje as long as he remained tense. Reminding himself of his goal, he forced the frown on his forehead to disappear and fully relied on the olive embers to contain the lethal swirl while his mind let go of everything but his true intention.

  The unique vibration of an individual vampiric soul thrummed in his mind. There were others in the background, but he didn’t dare let his attention slip.

  Another day.

  He locked his focus on the altered air and picked apart its unique traits. Slowly, layer by layer, he peeled away the fragments of the soul’s individuality, the markers that made the vampire bearing them who he was.

  Time flew by, but he didn’t pay it any heed.

  This was the first test. The opportunity to learn. To practice. And since the vampire remained unmoving inside the house, he wanted to exercise every option he had.

  Like Morana had instructed him.

  But even well-crafted words failed to convey just what the process entailed.

  There were so many nuances to the soul, so many clouded layers he had yet to unfold. Dealing with the whole underworld at once wasn’t as complex.

  Even the souls, damaged by the wolf-man’s toxin, seemed so simple compared to this.

  The sweat on his brow glided down his temples in feverish currents. And he began to understand.

  The vampire’s outline materialized on his eyelids, the vines of power flickering inside Veles, and he instinctively knew what came next. With a long exhale, he guided them towards the soul, willing their shape to change into a net as the power encircled the vibrating, dense air.

  The vines connected, creating a perfect olive cage.

  For a few moments, he did nothing but observe the structure, monitoring its stability. The tendrils of power hovered just above the vibrating density, calm, and in some odd way, predatory.

  He felt a tingle of dread tugging at the depths of his stomach and wondered if perhaps this was why so many preferred to give themselves to those poisonous whispers that spoke of an absolute rule. Of the stance that knew no boundaries. Every deity’s power was laced with that same promise, even if the outlet and effects were different.

  It would be so much easier to live without a conscience.

  The darkness danced within him, reacting to his thoughts, but he pushed it down again. Instead, images of Psoglav’s last moments surged in his mind, a powerful reminder of how quickly one could fall under the magnetic thrall of the tongue of power.

  And the darkness retreated.

  This decision was his. One he had made when the first drops of turmoil began to disrupt the way of the world. It had been his decision that led him to Morana’s icy land. And it was him, only him, that was sensing the vampire.

  He was the lord of the underworld. He was its master.

  He tugged on the net, feeling every detail as it cut into the ethereal structure of the soul. The two blended, olive strands expanding in this new mixture, overriding those components that still linked the dense air to the living.

  Bile rose in his throat, but he remained focused. The time for dread—or perhaps even regret—would come later.

  As his power burned through the final flickering specks of life, an overpowering sensation of the change he had caused hit him.

  The state of Duševje was empty, save for the distant vibrations, humming their lively tune in the far background.

  Veles lifted his gaze from the mattress and forced himself to meet Rose’s eyes.

  He hadn’t told her everything, but he had said enough.

  The weeks after his return from Morana’s realm were laid bare before the two women, the decision whether they still wanted his association now theirs.

  Shadows of Rose’s own past swirled in the gold-specked midnight color, but the werewolf didn’t shy away. She held his gaze firmly, determinately. Without a breath of condemnation. Beside her, Serafina adjusted her pose, her focus directed at him—only the look wasn’t disapproving.

  “Glad to know I’m not the only one who sucked them dry.” The Koldunya exhaled, the stiffness in her shoulders fading at a rapid pace.

  He turned to her, his head cocked slightly to the side. The sole thing he read from her features was relief. And it rendered him speechless.

  Rose cleared her throat. “I guess that makes three of us now…”

  Her voice was husky, riddled with guilt and solace at the same time. Perhaps even gratitude.

  He tried not to dwell on the implication, not daring to risk reading more into the were’s response than there was. A product of the twisted circumstances, nothing more.

  “We do make a fine, macabre trio,” he exhaled instead, a hint of dark amusement turning a single corner of his lips upward.

  A timid laugh escaped Serafina, and the witch buried her head in her hands. Fiery red hair spilled around her, each strand performing a dance of its own as the Koldunya battled the chuckles.

  “We fly back to Ljubljana tomorrow,” Rose said, her gaze once again resting on his face—clear, lighter than before. “You’re welcome to join the pack meeting if you wish.”

  He dipped his chin then glanced at the Koldunya who still kept her face pressed into her palms. A quick calculation darted through his mind. A decision.

  “Forget the plane,” he whispered, but the words were strong. “I’ll transport you both home.”

  Chapter 24

  Dark clouds dipped from the sky, the countryside’s greens vivid as the light rainfall fell on them with its gentle tapping sound. Yet the ground on which Evelin stood was dry, no hint of the humidity seeping into the gentle spring air that surrounded her.

  Rafael, still in human form, was asleep in her arms, the child’s head resting in the nook of her shoulder. She placed a soft kiss on his fragrant blond strands, overwhelmed by just how much she had missed the boy.

  The instant she carried him out of that cavern, he had become a fundamental part of her life, and with each passing day, their connection grew. Being separated from the cub was difficult—one child couldn’t replace another, no matter how much she loved him. Even with Til home, she longed to see that inextinguishable spark in Rafael’s eyes, the exuberant energy as he prowled around the house, trailing after her in his quest for cuddles.

  And now, having him in her arms once more, she needed a moment to herself. For them.

  Sander waited in silence, leaning against a wide tree trunk, his gaze flowing between Rafael and her.

  “He does smell nice, doesn’t he?” the Koldun remarked and crossed his hands in front of his chest, the muscles beneath his white shirt bulging with the movement. “The s
acred circle, despite the differences, fed his magic. Turned him into more of what he already was.”

  Evelin lifted her eyes from the child, meeting Sander’s bronze gaze. “And what is he?”

  “Unique.”

  A small smile played on the Koldun’s face, but the effect wasn’t taunting nor teasing. With some surprise, Evelin realized he was being sincere.

  Sander raised his hand in response to the remark that hadn’t yet left her lips. “But I know you need more than that.”

  “Please.” She returned the smile.

  The Koldun pushed himself away from the tree, gesturing her to follow. He led her a short distance through the trees, the ground losing the redundant moisture as he approached it, leaving it dry to walk upon. She eyed the change with curiosity. She had always thought the Kolduny bent nature to their will—and they did. But the scene unfolding in front of her eyes struck her as a kind of symbiosis. A beautiful harmony between two forces.

  The strength of it, however, was no less frightening.

  Sander stopped next to a creek where a small wooden bench stood on the bank and invited her to sit down next to him. She hesitated for a moment, the warnings Mark had fed her over the days spinning through her mind, but, in the end, accepted Sander’s offer. The bench was small, designed to be an unobtrusive part of the forest, and left little space between them.

  Heat radiated from the Koldun’s powerful body, a gentle whiff of his earthly, magical scent brushing against her senses. And once again, she found no malice, no ill intent lurking within the warlock.

  She cradled Rafael in her arms, fighting the desire to yield to ignorance. Perhaps not knowing would be better. Perhaps she was inviting trouble by poking at things that should be left alone.

  She scolded herself.

  That wasn’t who she was. The whole point of reaching out to the Kolduny had been the craving for answers.