Blackstorm (Nightwraith Book 2)

by Gaja J. Kos

  The apartment was more than likely safe, but I still sent out a wave of magic through the rooms. Once I was sure nothing was amiss, I thrust aside the silken sheet, and gathered the courage to face the consequences of yesterday’s mess of an evening.

  As expected, the bruises were still there, but they were faded, some of the lighter ones even completely gone. I made a mental note to ask Alin if I could buy a couple of those tins of ointment from him, although I really hoped I wouldn’t get smacked with a repeat of last night anytime soon. Better safe than sorry. Or was that calling for something bad to happen? Either way, the tins seemed like a far better option than getting pummeled with no quick-fix salve on hand.

  I sighed and slowly stretched out my legs, my arms, then arched my back, getting rid of the tension still lingering there. My stomach rumbled as I went through the motions, so I padded into the kitchen, desperate for a few slices of Nutella-covered bread and a strong, strong cup of coffee.

  A note caught my attention as I slithered ever closer to the fridge, and curiosity won the silent battle with hunger. I peered at the slanted, elegant handwriting, and frowned.

  Meet me at the lair when you awaken.

  A.

  Short and to the point. But it was what his note didn’t say that worried me. We didn’t schedule any training, and if he was going to make me sweat today, I wasn’t entirely sure if I wouldn’t let him feel the brunt of my demonic side.

  I huffed.

  Maybe that was precisely what he’d planned. He was, after all, just the right type of bastard.

  Since it was already way past noon, I quickly finished my breakfast and downed the coffee, then pulled on a T-shirt and shorts and slipped into my sneakers. I retraced Alin’s sign on my bedroom floor, the blue light engulfing me the instant I stepped into the circle of chalk, and after a brief travel down the umbilical cord, I was standing in his lair once more.

  The demon lord himself, however, wasn’t here.

  And neither was anyone else.

  Frowning, I reached out with my magic, tasting the air for any other energy beings present in my vicinity. Sure enough, there was a signature coming from the room that harbored the boxing ring, so I headed there, unease growing with every step like a threatening tide.

  Alin was up to something. I was certain of it. Only I didn’t have the slightest idea what.

  I pushed open the door and instantly regretted my decision. The foul smell hit me before anything else did, and I all but stumbled, gawking in shock at the sight.

  Bodies.

  Fuck, the ring was littered with bodies.

  I swallowed, unable to peel my gaze away from the corpses of the men who had tried killing me yesterday. The same men whose lives Alin’s power had taken.

  And among them—

  Bile splashed at the back of my throat, the possibility of losing my breakfast becoming a living, seething thing. But I forced myself to suppress the impulse, forced my stomach to calm down as I took in the lifeless body of the man-mountain I’d killed.

  My gaze met Alin’s.

  Bastard.

  If he noticed the wrath spitting fire from my eyes, the demon lord didn’t let it show. Instead, he sauntered over, his expression once more the hard focus of a teacher. Of a leader. And it only fed my fury, transforming it into a bloody bonfire that wanted nothing more than to scorch his smug ass.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I hissed.

  He leaned against the ring, his stance so casual I could hardly resist clawing him for it. “Ilya told me what you did yesterday. How you reanimated the fallen, implemented them in the fight. You’re strong, Lana. And I want to see just how much.”

  I stared at him, horror and anger gripping my features until I though my face was about to crack. “You want me to bring them back?” I thrust a hand towards the pile of bodies. “That’s sick, Alin. That’s sick and it’s wrong and it’s—”

  “Necessary.”

  The force of just how calm his reply was snapped my mouth shut.

  “If Alexander comes after you, you’ll need every advantage you can get. That includes using zombies for your own protection.”

  Whether I like it or not, was what he didn’t say.

  I rubbed my hands across my face. I knew he was right, but still I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t use them like they were disposable.

  It dawned on me that this—this was what Alin had talked about yesterday.

  I didn’t have walls. I wasn’t like him. And I certainly didn’t fancy losing my moral compass anytime soon. Crap. Just a massive pile of steaming crap. That was what my life had turned into.

  “You’re a necromancer, Lana. You may think there is a difference between raising zombies to tend to your bar or raising zombies to fight, but I think those protestors that liked to lurk in front of your bar would disagree. Or do you want me to bring them back, remind you that you are exploiting corpses for your gain? Even if it’s legal, love, it doesn’t make it any less true.”

  I glared at him, glared at the cocky, cruel smile on his face. The bastard was baiting me. And it was working.

  “Just because you can’t tell right from wrong doesn’t mean I can’t. Asshole.”

  He laughed then. Laughed. The sound danced down my skin, intimate, teasing, and fueling my anger. Fuck, I was stepping right into his trap and didn’t know how to stop.

  “Keep deluding yourself, Lana, and you will end up dead. Or did Yelena manage to pass her ridiculous sense of grandeur onto you? Is that the reason why you won’t raise these corpses? Because like your mother, you’re just full of shit?”

  My vision went red, and as if some phantom force was guiding me, I climbed into the ring.

  “Fine,” I snarled, my magic shooting out from me like lightning as it sought out the dead and infused every cell of their rotting flesh. The minor wounds knitted together, their dull eyes regaining their former sheen. I screamed and a choir of raspy, rough voices echoed the sound as they pushed onto their feet and created a semicircle around me.

  Gods, I was pissed. I was pissed, and scared, and tired, and as soon as Alin joined me in the ring, the zombies charged him with all the reanimated speed they could muster.

  And fell short.

  Alin’s power was a mere echo of the blaze he’d called forth yesterday, but I still couldn’t breach it. The bastard had brought a gun to a knife fight, but as it turned out, so could I.

  With my necromancy a steady, living presence in the back of my mind, I thrust ethereal hands into my core, reaching for the blend of Kolduny and demonic power pooling inside me. Vines lashed out from my flesh in unison with the two zombies, working like a scythe to clear the reanimated’s paths. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I poured every inch of my concentration to break through Alin’s shields. But the bastard was too damn strong.

  He cut through the zombies, severing them in half, and kept shoving my own power back until I hissed in pain. In frustration.

  “I can’t do this.” I shook my head, already reeling back the vines of energy. “I can’t. I—I’m not good enough.”

  A defeated groan left my lips. I ordered the zombies to sit down on the floor and was tempted to do so myself when Alin crossed the distance between us, placing his hands on my shoulders, the touch gentle, yet firm.

  “You are, Lana.” His voice was a whisper, seeping through my skin and calming the tremors that wanted to spread down my limbs. “I felt your power”—he hesitated—“not only now, but before. I wouldn’t have given you this task if I didn’t believe you could do it.”

  I glanced up at him, batting away the tears that prickled at my eyes, and laughed bitterly. It was an ugly, ugly sound. “You’ve seen my best. The zombies didn’t even reach you.”

  Alin let out a breath, his hands sliding down from my shoulders to my elbows then up again. “This wasn’t your best. This was anger. I provoked you so that you would use the zombies.” He lifted one hand, his finger following the hot trail of th
e tear that slipped down my cheek. “But”—he wiped away the tear, then gently lifted up my chin—“that was a tantrum, my dear, not fighting.”

  “Oh, fuck off.” I laughed, burying my head in his chest.

  He wrapped his hands around me, holding me as I cried and laughed, then cried some more.

  I let it all out, everything I hadn’t allowed myself to feel, everything that had been piling up within me ever since that night one of Alexander’s men ambushed me in my apartment. I felt vulnerable and helpless, but enveloped in the warmth of Alin’s body, I also felt safe. Hopeful.

  He didn’t say a word as I crumbled then pieced myself together again. He simply was, and it was enough.

  “All right,” I said once I was sure I’d liberated myself from any remaining sobbing. I leaned back to meet his gaze. “Let’s try again.”

  A smile touched his lips, and he inclined his head before walking over to his side of the ring once more. I watched his powerful back ripple with muscle as he moved, flickers of energy dancing across his skin.

  This time, it was me who smiled.

  He barely started to turn around when I hit him with my magic. I could have sworn his eyes shone approvingly as he fought back, the collision of our power creating an electrical storm right in the middle of the ring, transforming it into something frightening and otherworldly.

  It was then that I activated the zombies.

  All of them.

  They rushed from behind me like a sea of flesh, light on their feet, and moving like a lethal swarm that closed around Alin. I sacrificed a couple of the weaker ones, using them as shields against Alin’s power to protect those I knew would be the best fighters. My head threatened to split in two as I divided my attention between fending off his energy and orchestrating the zombies’ advances, but somehow, my concentration didn’t slip.

  I fed the reanimated flesh everything Alin had taught me. Every punch, every parry. They didn’t have knives, but I knew by now that fists could be just as lethal.

  I only needed to get them past Alin’s godsdamned shield.

  Bringing more and more magic from my depths, I channeled it into the storm still brewing in the middle, then lashed out with a few inconspicuous vines that came at him from the side. Alin fended them off, as I knew he would, but he missed a small, translucent thread that slithered towards him from behind.

  With the zombies moving in, I struck, the dainty vine of power touching Alin’s far less protected back. The attack took him by surprise, and his shield wobbled.

  My cue to strike.

  I attacked with a massive blast of my power at the same time the zombies went at him with their fists and feet. Alin struggled to pull the shield back up even as he physically fought the reanimated ones, but I was adamant, so, so adamant not to let him win.

  His every attempt was met by a wall of my own energy, and each time I pushed, I gained ground. Forced to either fight my power or my zombies, Alin chose the latter. He all but obliterated a few with a minor explosion of ethereal demonic strength, but he couldn’t take them all. Not while he was still shielding himself.

  I sent another pulse of energy from my core, forcing his defense even farther back. Limbs flew and zombies collapsed, but every part that was still usable dragged itself right back at him.

  Slowly, I pushed him to the right, exchanging the zombies’ brute force with my own power until he was precisely where I wanted him.

  Before he could realize his mistake, I activated the two zombies he’d severed in two. Arms snaked around his legs and threw him off-balance, the other reanimated corpses closing in to bring him to the ground.

  Once I had him pinned, I reeled back my power and let go of my necromancy, burying the demon lord in once again rotting flesh.

  A laugh bubbled from the center of the grotesque pile, and when Alin all but exploded from beneath, scattering the bodies, I flashed him a smug grin. I knew I’d done well, but the admiration written so plainly on his chiseled features still made my breath falter.

  “I knew you had it in you,” he half said, half growled as he stood, brushing bits of dead flesh off his combat pants.

  Then he prowled over, pride and something else rolling off his body in such pulsing waves I could feel them lapping at my skin. For a second there I didn’t know whether he was going to hug me, kiss me, or pin me to the ground to return the favor for the treatment I’d given him.

  Somewhat frustratingly, I would also never find out.

  Because even before he obliterated that final stretch of distance, the door burst open to reveal Ilya running towards the ring.

  “What?” Alin snarled, a hint of demon fire flickering at his fingertips.

  If Ilya noticed, he didn’t seem bothered by it. His gaze met mine briefly before coming to rest on Alin, satisfaction touching the corners of his mouth. “We have a lead on Alexander. We know where the bastard is.”

  Chapter 16

  Every muscle in Alin’s body seemed to tighten, power rippling in small, electric waves down his skin. “Gather the men.”

  Without words, Ilya spun around, the heavy rhythm of his footsteps accompanying him as he left the room. Alin and I both watched him go, but when he turned to face me, the look on his face was once again the cold mask of a lord, devoid of any emotions save for steel-hard determination to run Alexander into the ground.

  “I want to go with you,” I blurted.

  For a second, all Alin did was stare at me as if he couldn’t comprehend the words that just flew out of my mouth. Then a shadow touched the brightness of his emerald eyes, and he shook his head.

  “It’s too dangerous. I can’t afford to look after you while we’re in there.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. “The lair is secure. Stay here until we return.” His gaze flashed to the door. “Living quarters are to the right of the summoning chamber.”

  With that, he cleared the ring and strode out of the room, leaving me with nothing but a pile of bodies and a bitter taste in my mouth. I couldn’t believe that he benched me like that. Not after what I’d just done.

  My power was still far from running on low, and the bastard knew it. Damn it, why were we training if not for something like this?

  Fuming, I climbed from the ring and drank a few mouthfuls of water then tossed the bottle aside. I could hear their voices filtering into the room, the metallic sounds of guns and ammo, knifes, and a whole lot of booted feet crashing beyond the walls. Alin intended to storm Alexander, and I was supposed to sit here like some useless twit, awaiting their victorious return.

  I sighed, torn between obeying and doing what I felt was right.

  My restlessness grew as the voices started to die down, the men moving to another chamber—or outside. I didn’t know the lay of the lair, having only been in the summoning chamber and the two gyms, so if I wanted to act, I needed to do so now.

  Without further hesitation, I called to my particle form.

  The energy swept through me, breaking down my body until I was nothing but atoms floating freely through the air, and glided out of the room. I still didn’t know whether Alin or any of his men could sense my energy in this state, so I pushed forward carefully, peering around the edges before sweeping though the rooms. I crossed two before I saw them.

  And just in time.

  The doors leading outside were a heavy construction, made of smooth steel and guided by a mechanism that would seal them air-tight once the last of the men crossed the threshold. It was a smart, smart move on Alin’s part, protecting his dwellings not only with wards but a physical boundary even someone in particle form couldn’t slip through. However, that meant I needed to be fast.

  I swept down low, keeping close to the ground as I propelled myself forward. Luckily, the men in the back didn’t seem to sense my presence as I floated closer—far too close than I would have dared under any other circumstances—and followed them out the doors.

  Not two seconds passed since the full f
orce of sunlight hit me when I heard the mechanical click of the gates sliding shut. I blew out a nonexistent breath. I made it.

  For a moment, I hovered idly before the entrance, waiting as Alin led the group of twenty-five or so men into the labyrinth of Maribor’s streets. I recognized two—the werewolves who survived the slaughter at The Hag the previous night—but the rest were strangers, nothing but a sea of hair and muscles, moving as a unified front.

  Slight discomfort slithered through me as I noticed Ilya’s golden head wasn’t among them. Had Alin left him behind to check up on me?

  If so, my only hope was that the vampire had no means of reaching out and alerting his leader to my absence. Somehow, I didn’t feel Alin would carry a cell phone on him—not on a mission like this—but that didn’t mean they hadn’t devised some magical ways of communicating with one another. Even something as simple as a spelled amulet that would warm up when there was trouble could be enough to turn this procession around and hand my disobeying ass to Alin on a platter.

  But worrying would get me nowhere. I couldn’t change a damn thing, except pray to the gods Alin would stay in the dark until all this was over. I would even stand idly and take all his anger, every ounce of it, when we made it back.

  When the group was at a fair distance away, I rose higher and set out after them. I noted the location of the lair as I moved, somewhat surprised to realize just how inconspicuous it actually was. Heavily shielded, it lay almost in the very heart of Maribor, the entrance masked as the doors of a closed church.

  I snorted mentally.

  Alin’s lair was under a godsdamned church.

  Though, really, I shouldn’t have been surprised. There were those among the supernatural who had been around for a while and didn’t always look all that kindly on humans who had forgotten our pantheon and turned to following the one god Christianity brought to our lands instead. Alin, it seemed, while definitely belonging to said group, turned to humor rather than hatred.