by Gaja J. Kos
“Improvements?” My hands stilled on the mug, fingertips burning. “What’s going on, Isa?”
She bit her lip, the tip of her fang digging in until a ruby droplet welled from the wound. Isa discreetly licked it away, then drank deeply from her glass while my discomfort grew.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t good if it had her hesitating.
Especially when my gut was telling me her reservation had nothing to do with including a civilian with a bad rep on the case.
“Isa, tell me,” I whispered. “Those two who tried to kidnap me—they belonged to the same group, right?”
Her hard, yet shadowed gaze met mine, and it was clear she had been hoping I wouldn’t put two and two together.
Or maybe it was the fact that it could have been me that someone pulled from the water, making those depths strikingly fragile.
“I deserve to know,” I said gently. “That man from the parking lot—I couldn’t pinpoint his species. It was the same with Manfred’s body until I was collected enough to thoroughly sample his scent. It’s like he was—”
“Changed?” She glanced out the window and tapped her manicured nails on the vinyl tablecloth. “The man who jumped you behind Albtraum was a Leshy descendant.”
That would explain his strength and hulking form. Though not why I hadn’t read him as one.
Still, I kept my mouth shut and let Isa carry on.
“From what my people could gather, it was the shift after the War that brought out his Leshy heritage along with several others. A hint of Vedmak in his blood, a touch of vampire.” She sighed. “He was hospitalized eight months after the War, when the magic in the fabric of the world started to fuel all those traits locked within him beyond minor outbursts. A group of healers and doctors tried to stabilize his body, make it pliant, more accommodating for the changes that would have otherwise ripped his system apart.”
“If he’s here and attacking supes in the middle of the night, then I guess they succeeded,” I said dryly.
“That’s just the thing.” Isa’s jaw clenched. “Someone snatched him from the hospital before they could fully treat him.”
My mind grappled for a logical explanation, but none came. The traits Isa mentioned could prove to be a dangerous combination. The Leshy had the ability to weave illusions, Vedmaks possessed magic that was both powerful and dark, and vampires… Well, Isa was the perfect representative of how lethal their species was.
But if the man was on the verge of dying…
“Why? Why not wait until the traits settled?”
“I believe it was because they needed to see the process of integration itself, not the end result.”
Unease rolled in my stomach. I held my mug tighter, but didn’t dare drink. Not when I wasn’t sure it would stay down.
“Right,” I muttered more to myself than in conversation. “Mixed heritage is normal, but most are born with the traits they get to keep for the rest of their lives. And with those who were affected by the War, the changes were instantaneous.”
“Precisely. Every person I interviewed provided the same answer. While it took time for certain powers to develop, their genetic makeup had changed in a matter of seconds. They had all felt the transformation when the wave of power swept across the world and, effectively, through their flesh. But Ammot Gerig, the man who attacked you, initially believed he had been spared.”
“Shit. That must have been awful.”
I recalled what it had been like, the moment the world changed. How the wave of pure, potent energy seemed to irradiate my very essence before moving on. The force of it had brought me down to my knees, but despite the invasion, I knew I was still the same. That nothing had stayed inside me.
I couldn’t imagine finding out just how wrong I’d been after months had already passed.
Taking another sip of my tea, I brushed away those fragments of sympathy swirling inside me. Gerig didn’t deserve what happened to him, but he was a kidnapper—and quite possibly a killer.
No amount of past pain or tragedy on his part made it all right.
Isa pulled out a pack of Davidoff slims and tilted her head towards the narrow strip of sunlit pavement that could only barely pass for a patio. I had no idea she was a smoker—at least I never scented it on her before. Although given her apparent stress levels, I wasn’t surprised she had to pick up a few additional ways to deal with all the shit.
Much like I always kept an extra stash of beer at home, as well as in my office.
Nodding, I followed her out, then wrapped Afanasiy’s coat around me. I’d found it impossible to part from his scent or the comfort it offered even if it did swallow my smaller body and tangled around my feet.
I braced my back against the dull gray wall, Isa mirroring my movements on my right. She lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, then let the smoke coil into the still chilly air.
“Ammot Gerig was missing for four years before he reemerged,” she explained. “Unfortunately, on the wrong side of the law. Beatings, threats, even the occasional suspicious death. We could never grab him, but we gathered enough reports to know without a doubt it was him.”
I frowned. “When I fought him… I didn’t feel anything, Isa. None of the traits you mentioned. It was like he was made of chaos. Too many things, but all of them…hollow.”
She nodded and took a long drag.
“I believe whoever took Gerig from the hospital succeeded in making the powers settle.” The dark glint in her eyes chilled me to my bones. “Then ripped them from him.”
14
Every muscle in my body went taut. Smoke curled into the air from Isa’s cigarette, but aside from those gray, slithering wisps, nothing moved.
Only after seconds of painful silence had stretched for what felt like hours, my mind erupted in a cascade of thoughts. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and bunched my hands in the pockets of Afanasiy’s coat. “They took his powers?”
Isa rubbed her temple, the cigarette pressed between her index and middle finger. “You’ve seen how he is…”
Broken. It wasn’t the consequence of embracing the wild, instinctual nature every supernatural had locked up in their core over the man-made rules of modern society. There had been something fundamentally wrong with him. A part that was missing.
Obviously, they hadn’t been thorough when they stripped him of his essence, but what they left behind was only strength and useless echoes of who he’d been.
No wonder his mind had wired itself in another way.
Stealing someone’s powers was like taking away a person’s individuality. Even if the traits had only awoken after the War, they were nonetheless a part of the very essence that made us who we are.
I couldn’t imagine experiencing such a base violation.
“Son of a bitch,” I whispered and wolfishly shook my body to chase away the chill. “But why? Why keep him around? Why do this at all?”
Isa sighed. “I think the sole reason they didn’t kill Gerig is because he’s strong enough to do their dirty work. Obedient, too. As for the reason behind this entire operation…” She took another long drag, then crushed the cigarette beneath her heeled leather boot. “I can’t claim to know what drives them, but one thing is clear…”
“They’re experimenting on supernaturals.”
Her smile was grim, gaze filled with shadows and confirmation. “I believe they’re trying to create beings to their liking. Individuals who will escape the balancing nature of magic that rules all those with mixed heritage.” Her fingers touched mine. “I hope we’re lucky enough to never see the day they succeed.”
Despite the long years of hopping all over the globe, I had only ever been to Ljubljana once before. I sat in the back seat of the cab like a kid, comparing live images to my memories and trying to take note of everything that had been rebuilt. Even the driver’s curses as hordes of cyclists weaved in and out of traffic hardly registered.
The force of the War had hit Slovenia’s
capital worse than any other city. It was ground zero. The epicenter of all the shit that had been unleashed.
Before the healing power spread across the world, the Upirs’ chaotic and destructive magic had eroded the very structure of the town, turning entire blocks into rubble. But there were no hints of that destruction lingering in the streets now.
Merely phantom remnants, etched not in the material, but in the atmosphere, whispering of what the city had endured.
I peeled my gaze away from the window and caught Selma’s gaze. “How do you feel about taking a day off?”
“Really?” Curiosity flooded her voice, a hint of hope entwined with her tone.
“Yes, really.” I grinned. “You did amazing during training this morning. There’s no point in wearing you out.”
I held up my palm when I felt the thrum of her excitement vibrate through the air.
“But you have to go out on your evening run. That’s one thing you can’t skip.”
Her eyes flickered to the buildings looming on either side of the street, then came to rest on me once more. “You’re the best coach, you know that?”
The image of Voit’s face filled my mind, but I managed to give Selma a smile, even though I knew it failed to reach my eyes.
The cab slowed as we cruised into the pedestrian zone once the steel bollards lowered. More muffled curses came from the driver as he wove through the masses of people scattered about, seemingly headed in a thousand directions—and not particularly minding our lone vehicle.
We progressed at a crawl.
My insides were vibrating with the need to get out, walk through the town that had become the twins’ home. I spotted our hotel up ahead on the left, a building with an ageless facade that managed to give the impression it had escaped the War unscathed. It didn’t. Absolutely nothing in the Old Town, especially on the wider area of Ljubljana’s west bank had survived the destruction.
A jerking stop nearly sent me smashing into the seat before me.
I caught myself on the headrest just as the driver yelled at a cyclist who cut him off. The woman bared her fangs, gave him the finger, then sped off on her bike.
Selma snorted quietly and rolled her eyes. I couldn’t help but share the sentiment.
Obviously, Jens and Jürgen hadn’t been joking about the whole kings and queens of the road attitude ingrained in the townsfolk here.
Much to my relief, the cab pulled up to the hotel less than a minute later—without extra bursts of road rage.
I paid the driver, grabbed my luggage from the trunk, then followed Selma into the opulent lobby. The yellow glow of the many lights gave the gold-and-crystal interior a warmer tone than it would have otherwise had, but I was still glad I opted for more elegant clothes than the usual tracksuit and sneakers I wore for travels. Sticking out like a sore thumb wasn’t a sensation I particularly cared for.
After a human with a professional smile checked us in and handed over the keys, Selma and I stalked back across the lobby and up the stairs. Neither of us was willing to wait for the elevator to make its slow descent all the way from the top floor. Shuffling our asses from the S-bahn, the plane, then, finally, the cab, left us both a little restless.
Dragging a suitcase and a bag full of rackets up the stairs seemed like a fair price to pay to stretch our legs.
“I’ll have my cell on me if you need anything,” I said as we jogged up another flight, then stopped on the fourth-floor landing.
Selma’s “I will” scattered on the breeze as she raced down the dark-red hallway.
I shook my head in silent laughter, then took the corridor to my room.
The instant I freed myself of the luggage, I stripped off my black jeans that smelled a bit too much like public transport and changed into something appropriate for an afternoon out on the town. With Ljubljana’s ghastly humidity only getting worse as the light faded, I opted for a pair of fleece-lined leather pants and a curve-hugging cashmere sweater, then threw a woolen coat that hit me just above the knees over the ensemble.
My stomach rumbled, so I swiped a banana from the table and wolfed it down. It would have to do for now. I had no desire to get snarled at on the off chance I was too full to be properly pampered once the twins were free of their meetings.
After a quick stop to the bathroom and those few seconds it took me to shove my cell phone, wallet, and keys into my messenger bag, I marched out into the lively pulse of Ljubljana again. A myriad of scents wrapped around me, entwining with the loud voices and the distant hum of traffic.
Best of all, it chased away that spark of impatience that grew worse with every hour Isa didn’t call with an update. Either there was no progress on the case, or she was shutting me out—which was more than likely.
Neither option was particularly pleasant for my nerves.
I made my way down Čopova, mildly tempted to veer into the many shops that lined the street, but in the end only marched on. Given I had no reason to believe Selma would reach anything less than the finals, we would be staying here for a while, and right now, there was something far more important on my mind than throwing money away on overpriced goods.
I crossed Prešeren Square, then the Tri-bridge, and continued in a fast rhythm until the terrain beneath my feet started to slope upwards. It wasn’t hard to follow the instructions my brothers had given me, and faster than I anticipated, I found myself standing before the castle gates.
Like most buildings, it had undergone its fair share of remodeling, but there was enough of its old presence there for the mind to skip over the changes.
Lingering in a patch of light that seeped through the thick copse of trees, I sampled the air. Police, military, HSC—they were all here. Including the gods who had once again established themselves as a fundamental part of our reality.
The castle with its striking view of Ljubljana became headquarters for the new leadership.
It was odd to sense all that power embedded in the air, but it wasn’t intrusive or menacing. Sure, there were traces of anger, frustration, and tension present, reflecting the nature of the meetings unfolding behind those thick walls, yet the atmosphere carried more than that.
Camaraderie. Determination to keep this world on track. To create a place worth living in.
A smile teased my lips as I allowed it all to fill my lungs one last time before I walked across the flat stretch of paved land to the two guards manning the gate.
“Lotte Freundenberger.” I showed them my ID. “I’m here to see my brothers.”
One of the guards, a ginger-haired were, grinned. “You’re the kid sister?”
His reaction caught me by surprise, but my chuckle rose not a second later. “What? Can’t see the family resemblance?”
“We’d need to beer-test you to confirm that,” the other said in mock seriousness, which gained him an even wider grin from his, I suspected, pack mate.
“But not you, Kev.” He patted him on his back. “They drank you under the table so fast it was painful to watch.”
I snickered. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. I think Jens and Jürgen would bleed beer if you’d cut them.”
Both guards laughed then stepped aside to let me pass. A lovely courtyard opened up before me, a few supes and humans hanging about in small groups, some enjoying a smoke, some chatting. But as my gaze scanned the far wall for the proper entrance I had to take to reach the twins, my breath caught in my throat.
What was he—
“Lotte?” The smooth, utterly fuckable voice caressed my ears, quiet enough that if I hadn’t possessed preternatural hearing, it would have gone past me in a whisper.
Remembering how to breathe, I strode over and didn’t stop until I was practically bathing in the erotic scent. “Hello, Afanasiy.”
His violet gaze drank me in from head to toe. My choice of winter clothing could be called sexy only by the loosest of terms, but judging by the smile that curved on his lips, the demon definitely liked what he saw.
> So did I.
“Pleasure to see you.”
“Same here.” I let out a husky laugh. “Although I wasn’t expecting to bump into you at leadership HQ. Business?”
He inclined his head. “Indeed. My liege sent me in her stead. She isn’t in her right mind for meetings.”
The shadows that swept across his face revealed more than words could. Voit might have wanted to escape the Shadow World, but he was missed. And his people worried.
I brushed a finger down Afanasiy’s cheek. “Are you staying here for long?”
“Another night.” His voice was a silken invitation. “But if I had a reason to linger…”
Words danced on the tip of my tongue, a thousand reasons I could give him to remain in Ljubljana. But before any of them found voice, I rose up on my toes and pulled him into a kiss.
Desire burned at the touch, primal and overpowering.
Afanasiy’s arms wrapped around me, pressing me close as he shifted our position until my back was against the wall, his front digging into mine. A soft moan tore itself from my lips as our tongues met. Heat erupted in my core and pooled between my legs.
Gods, his presence was a storm, ravaging my insides and whisking all rational thought from my head.
All I knew was that I wanted him. And I wanted him badly.
I cupped his ass with one hand, using the other to play with his luscious hair. Curling then unwinding a pitch-black strand, I trailed my fingers up the powerful curve of his shoulder until they came to rest on his neck. His pulse beat into my palm, echoing the heavy pounding of mine.
Shit, if merely kissing him threatened to unravel me, I didn’t dare think what the sex would be like.
Actually, I did.
The thought of us taking this all the way exploded in my mind. My nipples tightened to the point of pain, and I groaned, willing Afanasiy to trap me harder between the heat of his body and the icy touch of the wall.
A flicker in the hum of his energy was all the warning I got before he was devouring me. The taste of power and hunger mixed into a dangerous blend as his hand slipped beneath my coat and sweater, traveling all the way up to my breast.