by Gaja J. Kos
“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing his beard. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Evelin shot back, the words perhaps sharper than she had intended them to be. “You can be worried. You can be upset. But always remember that we are equals. We are pack. You wouldn’t treat me like a bloody fragile doll if this had happened two years ago.”
The remorse lining Mark’s features made it clear she had struck a cord. He was being protective, and that would do neither of them any good in this situation.
“I may use my innocent look to my advantage when the situation calls for it, but you should know by now that I don’t respond well to being babied. Especially not by the man that’s supposed to be my family.”
Mark didn’t reply. Staring at the table, Evelin had no difficulty counting the long breaths he took to calm himself down.
The accusations she had thrown at him were harsher than the were deserved, but she was disinclined to give him any special treatment. His struggles were in no way superior to her own.
But she had made her point.
There was no reason to drag things out any further.
“If Rorik can gather the remaining Perelesnyks, we might have a shot at winning this,” she said just to ease the tension. “Even a single one of them could scorch a hundred vamps at once. All we have to do is draw the leeches out…”
“You know,” Mark sighed, leaning back in his chair, “I spoke with Jens yesterday evening. He returned from bringing down one of the smaller lairs, and what he had to say…” The were took a deep breath. “Even if we kill all the vamps that are brainwashed by Vaclav’s reasoning, the shit won’t end there. Everything we tried not to be as The Dark Ones is coming to the surface. It won’t just be the vamps that will want to get rid of us.”
Evelin’s face was devoid of any emotion, her tone perfectly flat as she hissed, “Then it’s a good thing the Perelesnyks want to stick around.”
Chapter 38
Leaving the lively buzz of the streets behind them, Rose and Serafina veered into the stone enclosure. The Koldunya had kept a sheen of glamor around them at all times, not risking Rose being ambushed again by Vedmaks or vampires. That had been Serafina’s precise statement when Rose had protested being wrapped in a condom of magic, and the witch had stuck to it, even when Rose assured her she smelled no danger.
But Serafina was having none of that.
The Vedmak had gotten past Rose’s defenses once before. Nothing Rose could say would convince her otherwise.
Even in this small oasis in the center of Ljubljana, the bubble of spring shimmered around them like a potent shield. Rose had tested it with her power, trying to unmask the ingredients of mastering glamor, but fell short time and time again. From what she could gather, you were either born with it or condemned to a glamor-less existence.
She poked the shield with her power again.
“You do know that I can feel that?” Serafina gave her a pointed stare, but the words were light.
Rose pursed her lips. “Sorry.”
“Trying to figure out if you can do it?”
Rose snorted. Everything she did was transparent when it came to Serafina. Though Rose felt sort of foolish, like a cub wanting to leap a distance that was simply too large for their small paws, she nodded.
“I’m not sure you ever will,” Serafina said apologetically. “Your powers are still developing, so I wouldn’t dare say no for certain, but with your Vedmak bloodline…”
“They don’t have glamor?” Rose perked up.
“Not naturally, no. They can use stones or amulets, but those are quite a nuisance. They have to be placed correctly to shield the entire body, and you have to put a fair amount of distance between you once you wish to be visible again, otherwise the magic doesn’t truly detach. And, trust me, the result isn’t something you would desire. Besides, the potent stones—the stones that work on supernaturals—are hard to come by. I haven’t seen one since I was a child.”
“That’s promising,” Rose murmured.
They sat in silence, only the whispers of Mokoš weaving between them.
“In the Realm of Kolovrat, nearly one half of the Vedmaks worshiped Morana,” the witch said softly after minutes had passed. “Maybe she’ll be able to shed some light on where to find them.”
Lighting a cigarette, Rose exhaled and sent wisps of gray smoke swirling into the air. “Most of my father’s brethren belong to Zirnitra… Maybe Morana can learn where those faithful to her are, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up. Bogdan had been one of hers… I don’t know what happened to the few that were his kind.”
“I looked further into his death when I was in the circle.” Serafina leaned forward, clasping her hands in front of her. “It’s hard to separate stories from truth. The example he was made out to be succeeded in skewing reality, and at that time, the Kolduny and the Vedmaks had already been separated. None of us were there when it happened. Or when the aftereffects took place. But it wouldn’t surprise me if they decided to purge any remaining warlocks of Morana. Not truly, anyway…”
“I’ll have Veles transport me to her tomorrow.” Rose blew out a long whiff of smoke. “But like I said, I don’t have much hope.”
Silence stretched between them, the faint buzzing of Ljubljana’s busy streets vibrating in the distance.
“There is another way.” The Koldunya exhaled, dropping her gaze before meeting Rose’s eyes again. A storm danced in her irises, wild and threatening. “Your magic. You could call the Vedmaks to you.”
Rose swallowed, the cigarette trembling lightly between her fingers.
She had suspected as much from the moment her energy reacted to the leftover magic in that cafe. But hearing it from Serafina’s lips…
“You still don’t know their numbers?” was all Rose asked.
The Koldunya slowly shook her head. “There’s no way to tell how many will come.”
“Fuck.” Rose tilted her head back. “Fuck.”
She let the warm rays of sun banish the cold that had settled inside her body.
At least she knew her options.
It was the worst-case scenario. But it was also the way to save everybody she loved.
The stench woke her from sleep. The sickening essence of eluding life and growing decay, mixed into a blend that made Zarja’s hackles rise.
Darkness spread through the apartment, the room illuminated only by the stark moonlight of a cloudless night that seeped past the half-drawn curtains. She threw off the thin sheet and pushed out of bed, ignoring her girlfriend’s sleep-dazed protests.
The stench was too potent. Too close.
She padded down the hallway, her fingernails lengthening into claws, teeth turning into vicious canines.
The stench was too damn close.
And worst of all, she knew the scent that lingered underneath.
Death was still too fresh, too new to burn away the years spent on Earth, to destroy the unique traces of a person’s life. They wove through the air like a melody, struggling to maintain that last bit of existence before the festering talons of decay took over and obliterated the final fragments of individuality.
Wrath and fear boiled within her, Zarja’s stomach contracting into a tight knot.
Swallowing past the nausea, her legs pushed her forward without her consciously ordering them to. Her claws sliced the handle as she pulled open the front door, then she stopped in her tracks, her every tendon going tense to the point of pain.
She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even breathe.
The snarl that had been ready to spill from her lips died when it reached her throat. Instead, dread washed over her in violent waves, potent enough to freeze even the nausea that had stirred within her.
Slowly, she knelt down, her fingers shaking. She steadied herself with one hand on the doorframe, not truly trusting her legs to hold.
“What is it?” Lili called from the bedroom.
Zarja blocke
d her senses, trying to take a few calming breaths that seemed nothing more than a breeze in the midst of a hurricane. Nothing could help.
This was all on her. She had done this.
No, a voice called to her from the depths. A voice filled with blood and the promise of revenge. A voice of calculated wilderness that was laying out the path of slaughter before her—ripe and waiting for her to accept it.
“Just—Just don’t come out, okay?” she croaked, but she was unable to lift her gaze from Mrs. Barle’s severed head.
Or from the note pinned to the deceased woman’s skin, just below the hairline.
Chapter 39
Sebastian walked through the vast orchard that stretched around the Glass Mountain. On the very top, the Sun Palace glistened, the everlasting light ricocheting off its surface and transforming the structure into a brilliant, ethereal jewel. It had been his home for millennia, a home he shared with his brethren, believing them to be protectors of the living.
He couldn’t fathom what had driven them to unite with the Upirs. The creatures’ agenda was the enslavement of mankind, a path to superiority where no rules applied, save for those they set themselves. And though the protection of the Kresniks covered all mortal creatures, the majority of them were human—precisely those who would be slaughtered should the vampires prevail.
Sebastian ran his hand over the apples that rested heavy and golden on the branches, their surface perfectly smooth. The essence of immortality. He would give it to them if he could.
But the fruit was coded to fuel only those that were born as Kresniks, designed to sustain them and only them throughout the ages. If a mortal were to consume it, the only thing the apple would achieve was sending their soul to Veles faster.
He sighed.
Of all the higher beings, the Kresniks were the ones least affected by the shift in the power structure. They were detached from the world as it was, a solitary unit that overlooked the bloodlines they had been assigned to and kept the fates of their protégées on track. What his brethren hoped to gather by supporting the promised bloodshed was beyond Sebastian’s comprehension.
He tore himself away from the apples and walked towards the Sun Palace, the crystalline blue skies and warm sun feeling almost like a mockery in contrast to the rot festering inside.
The bastard had left his scent everywhere, like an intrusive perfume that teased you to the point of gagging. It lingered in the air, thick and sickening, guiding her further.
It was a setup, but Zarja didn’t care.
Barle had anticipated her temper would lash out, that she wouldn’t turn to the pack for aid, mindless from bloodlust.
Zarja snorted. Good for him.
The bastard had planted his bait in a way that ensured maximum result. A cruel and calculative game, leaving her little choice when it came to veering from the path Barle had laid out.
But the vampire had made one grave mistake.
He was arrogant enough to think that she, alone, wouldn’t be a threat. And she certainly wasn’t mindless.
The fucker had signed his own death warrant.
An intersection came up ahead. Zarja turned left, ignoring the swaying drunkards shouting their catcalls as she slunk through the shadows. She knew where the path was taking her even without the stench burning in her nostrils.
Predictable bastard.
She sped up, running in the shorts and T-shirt that doubled as her pajamas, her bare feet touching the cooled concrete as she pushed through the city center. Her claws ached to be released, the fur scratching against the inside of her skin. But it was too soon. The area was too well lit, and there were too many cameras here that could catch her.
Even as wrath drowned her mind, the order to keep the werewolves’ existence secret was coded so fundamentally inside her, she had no choice but to obey. Though shifting would make her faster, doing so in plain sight would bring more problems than it was worth. And she certainly didn’t want to use Tomo to clean up her mess with the humans afterward, going from venue to venue and collecting security tapes under false pretenses.
Besides, it wasn’t like Barle was running from her. No, the bastard wanted her blood too badly.
She let out a frustrated growl, claws itching.
Just three more minutes left, and she could let go.
She darted across the empty road, her legs propelling her into the more residential parts that lay beyond. The instant her feet fell into the shadows, the sharp rip of clothes spread through the night, and her body shifted, black fur flowing out in a wild wave. Her front paws touched the concrete, and Zarja ran, the corners of her vision going red.
The Palace halls were fairly quiet. Sebastian had only passed a dozen or so Kresniks on his way in, and none of them had struck him as any different than usual. Then again, he had lived among them all this time with absolutely no clue that something was off.
But he trusted Ileana’s information, especially when the were had taken the precaution of passing the message through Rose. Ileana wasn’t the paranoid type. If she had gone through the trouble of concealing what she knew, Sebastian needed to be all the more careful.
He passed by the great hall, its doors closed until the next common feast, and continued towards the private residences. There was no solid plan in his mind, and it made him wish he had discussed the subject at length with Rose beforehand. He wouldn’t even have minded a discussion with Veles. Neither of the two was a stranger to this kind of game, but to Sebastian, these were completely foreign waters.
Perhaps he had been naive to spend his immortality so fully devoted to his job. Then again, he had expected to deal with rumors and hidden agendas that might affect the people he protected, to deal with outside threats—not to sniff out backstabbing bastards inside the walls of his own home.
The rules of his kind were painfully simple, after all.
The Kresniks were good. If an individual from their ranks took a path that was less than honorable, it turned them into a Črt. The mirrored opposite.
However, the Črti had been gone for thousands of years, and even when they had still walked the earth, they were more likely to cause smaller problems than threaten the entire balance of the world. Immediate results were their preferred game plan. Premeditation and patience were not.
But now, the lack of Črti didn’t strike him as odd at all. It seemed his brethren were doing a fine job of balancing out good and evil on their own. For all Sebastian knew, they were the ones who had wiped out the darker kin.
He snorted.
At least there was some humor left inside him.
The West Library stretched to his right, the last communal space before the palace divided into a labyrinth of hallways leading to the Kresnik’s personal chambers. Sebastian veered inside, driven by the thought that perhaps there was something about the Vedmaks his memory had failed to produce. There were no protectors assigned to them, but that didn’t mean the Kresniks had never shown interest in the shapeshifting warlocks.
It had been a long time since he had last checked the wider library records, and even immortality wasn’t a sufficient timeframe to wade through all the tomes. The likelihood of something slipping past him was—in this case favorably—high. There was some hope left.
Besides, keeping his mind occupied with rummaging through entries on Vedmaks while dealing with the larger problem at hand on the back burner seemed like the best option. Sebastian had picked up the method from Rose, and stuck with it religiously since the very first time he saw the results for himself.
If he tackled the Upir alliance now, he would likely do more damage than good. Isolating who he could still trust was a prerequisite. And that couldn’t be done overnight.
He pushed deeper into the heart of the library, headed for the historical section that was kept at the far right corner. Going through the magic-specific books again would be useless; he had already read every word, and nothing jumped out that he—or Rose—didn’t already know. But the record
ings of life as it had been, though indirect, could shed some light on how the wielders of dark magic operated.
It was a far better start than spending weeks walking among the shelves and picking out titles at random. Although he knew that was precisely what he would end up doing if this particular search bore no fruit.
Translucent wings spread behind his back, lifting him towards the ceiling. He scanned the titles before he pulled a large tome from the highest shelf, the divine nature of the Palace shielding its pages from dust and the decay of old age.
Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground, voices in the distance catching his attention just before his feet touched the light gold marble. He kept his wings out, hovering silently in the air.
The conversation weaved through the empty spaces on the bookshelves. The Kresniks must have been in the geographical section of the library that lay adjacent to the historical one. It was cut off from the main chamber, and hidden out of sight by the long line of reading nooks spread down the length of the wall. The section itself rested just on the other side and was accessible only from the southern part of the library. But the northern wall, separating the historical and geographical area, consisted of nothing but well-stocked bookcases.
Even if the Kresniks had gathered in the very heart of the sector where even those using the remaining sections of the southern wing couldn’t see them, anybody who wandered into the rarely used row where Sebastian now hovered could overhear them with ease.
And judging by the theme of their discussion, they were pretty careless to believe nobody would venture into such deep parts of the library. Or perhaps they didn’t care.
After all, it wasn’t their ill-tempered acts that were the core of their conversation.
Sebastian’s wings continued to bat on silent winds, his breaths inaudible as he listened.
“It seems they’ll need to get their hands dirty.” One of the gathered Kresniks chuckled.
