by Gaja J. Kos
He took a sip of his coffee, then picked up the stack of photographs.
“Look.” He passed the images to Evelin, who sat on his left, completely sunken into the chair. “There is a tiny mark on all of these. Different positions on the skin, but it's undoubtedly there.”
He waited for the photographs to circle around, holding his silence until each of the werewolves took their time, examining them on their own before continuing. “It appears to be–”
“A puncture mark?” Zarja asked, astonished.
“Exactly. It puzzled me at first as well. You see, with the level of decomposition, it should have been impossible for me to find it, especially since I was dealing with photos...”
Rose lit a cigarette. She knew that tone; Nathaniel always bombarded them with some mind-boggling information after that particular tone came into play. Slowly she inhaled, preparing herself to absorb the information with as little stress as possible.
“The puncture wounds had clearly remained untouched while the rest of the flesh decayed. Sound familiar?”
Growls erupted in the calm setting of Pri Sojenicah and refused to settle down until Nathaniel spoke again.
“I tried to magnify the photos as best I could. Mostly they ended up blurred beyond recognition; however, one of them endured the process. It was pixilated, but not so much that the image became overly distorted.”
Nathaniel spoke fast, the excitement clearly getting to him. Despite their eagerness to hear his final conclusion, none of the werewolves interrupted or pushed him, partly because they knew he'd get there eventually, but mostly because they had been too paralyzed with anticipation to even breathe normally, let alone be able to talk.
“And one image was all I needed. The marks were identical on all the bodies, of that I was positive. And seeing it up close in one photo... I'd stake my head that all of them would prove to be exactly the same if we had the chance to examine the remains.”
Nathaniel took a deep breath. “It was the toxin. Inside the puncture wound.”
“You're saying the fucker injected them with the toxin?” Jens snarled, his teeth elongating.
“Before or after?” Mark's question drew a wave of silence across the werewolves.
Nathaniel fidgeted at the corners of the photographs with his fingers. “I can't say for sure, but my best guess would be that the mark came later.”
“It makes sense. The mark was the fatal one, right?” Rose turned to Nathaniel, putting out her cigarette in a series of small taps as she spoke. “When you examined the head?”
He nodded, a thoughtful expression captured in his features. “Undoubtedly. And from what I gathered from our first victim, the puncture couldn't act as a source for the toxin that was–or rather is–held within the mark.”
The pack turned to him, no one making a sound as they waited for Nathaniel to elaborate. Only the chaffed breaths resonated under the morning sky. Even Ljubljana seemed quieter than it normally was in the early hours of summer days.
“It hadn't come from within the victim's body. The toxin contained within the WV was placed upon the head, not drawn out of the parted flesh.”
The distressing images of the victims' mutilated faces filled Rose's mind, how the flesh had been peeled back to reveal the lethal green liquid that rested within. How it seemed alive amidst the decay, and–Nathaniel had been right–how it seemed to pool on top of the victims' heads, not emerge from within them.
“Why the double dose?” she asked, snapping out of the eerie mood of her thoughts.
“We don't know yet,” Tim answered in his brother's stead. “We can't even be sure anymore if the shift was caused by the injection or the mark.”
“So the carvings in the flesh could be nothing more than a statement?” Evelin finally joined the conversation, frustration flushing her cheeks with crimson while the emerald green of her eyes turned cold.
“How is he?” Evelin asked as she stood over the sleeping cub, Nadia by her side.
“He has a good appetite.” The healer smiled, running her fingers over the soft white fur between the youngling's ears. “He's tired, but he's calm. No nightmares, I would like to think.”
Nadia turned towards Evelin, placing her hands on her delicate, yet muscular shoulders with a comforting grip, before leaving her stepdaughter alone with the tiny little creature she had rescued. Evelin silently pulled up a chair to the edge of the bed, nearly collapsing onto it with the overwhelming surge of fatigue she had been fighting the whole morning. But she wouldn't rest, not yet. Gently, she stroked the ball of white fur that had curled up in the middle of the bed, feeling his body rise and fall with even breaths. Her gaze fell on the gash of green; but as unsettling as the sight of it was, she was nonetheless glad it hadn't expanded or showed any other signs of progression.
A shiver ran through her when she remembered the brief talk of amputation that had taken place between her stepparents and Mark. Despite the fact that she understood the reasons behind it, understood the possibility that it might be the only way to save the White cub's life, she couldn't agree to mutilate the young werewolf, not when there was a chance the toxin would remain contained to the leg. Even without a limb, he could theoretically still live a normal life, but she couldn't ignore the circumstances. White werewolves chose to spend their lives in seclusion for a reason.
The hunters who had taken and skinned her sister weren't some odd rarity. There were more of them out there in the world, and there always would be, as long as people were willing to pay no less than a fortune to wear those white skins as a symbol of their status. And on three legs only, he would be more vulnerable, his speed not sufficient to outrun other werewolves. She would watch over him, of course; however, that was no guarantee for his safety. Her sister had had Lena's protection, the pack's protection, yet there had been nothing they could do to prevent her harrowing fate from unfolding.
“I will protect you with my life, Rafael,” Evelin whispered, naming the serenely sleeping cub.
She thought of Raphael's parents; it must have been his mother who had thrown herself over the young werewolf, keeping him hidden under her body as the toxin robbed her of her life–and of her soul. Rose's report about the deceased's failure to pass into the underworld had been unsettling. Every soul should have the ability to move on to the other realm, to the place designed to serve them as their next home.
Evelin wondered if they had remained trapped within the corpses, being forced to witness the decay of their former flesh, until there wasn't anything left for them to reside in. She kissed Rafael, who continued to sleep soundly, and softly walked out the room, knowing she needed to speak to Nikolai.
“So not all of them were in the den?” Rose repeated Evelin's words, forming them into a question that drowned out the noise of the main streets she was crossing as she made her way back home.
Rose pressed the cell phone closer to her ear–not so she could hear better, but to minimize the chance of being overheard. Well-trained werewolves could monitor such conversations without the need to tap into cell phones as long as they were taking place within their fairly vast hearing range. She had done so herself on several occasions and knew just how easily information was obtained with this method.
“At least nine are missing,” the other were replied with a sigh.
She had asked Nikolai to reach out to Otmar, knowing he must have had at least the approximate number of White werewolves residing within his territory. The Moravian were couldn't give the exact figure, since there was no official rule for the White packs to declare their numbers to the Czech leadership, but considering that Otmar knew the weres personally and had spent time visiting their secluded den in the past, he had, at the very least, some knowledge of how many there were in the pack.
“So we could be looking at a similar situation as with the Banniks?” Rose had told her pack about the slaughtered immortals during their meeting, apologizing for not bringing them up to speed earlier, although no excuse
was necessary; they were all aware that there simply hadn't been time to indulge in a proper conversation before, not with everything that had happened in the span of the last few days.
“It's possible,” Evelin answered, but the strain in her voice betrayed her disbelief. “The Keepers found the few surviving Banniks, didn't they?”
“Yes, but not without luck. Maybe the Whites went into hiding before The Keepers got the chance to talk to them,” Rose replied, but even she didn't believe the words that came out of her mouth.
“If they didn't make it,” Evelin said, her voice small, the pain within it potent, “we'll have no way of knowing, will we?”
If Veles couldn't feel their souls, and if their bodies wouldn't show up, they would never know if the missing werewolves were still among the living or if they had reached the same sadistic end as their pack mates.
“No, we won't.”
Rose was glad to escape the heat as she closed her apartment door behind her. The meeting thankfully wasn't long, since none of them had been in a fully operational state, the weight of the past few days ungratefully straining their bodies. But the heat of the approaching day caught up with them nonetheless, the cloudless skies robbing them of any protection against the blazing sun.
She was unsurprised to find a note signed with Veles's name on her dining table. He had gotten into her apartment before, so she wasn't particularly startled by the fact that he had done it again; however, the question of whether he ever even slept crept into her mind. He must have returned during the two hours she had spent with the weres at Pri Sojenicah, which meant he had travelled back and forth in a very short amount of time after his departure from her company right before dawn.
The note, written in immaculate handwriting that spoke of ancient times, was brief. She wasn't too pleased with the idea that it required further action on her part, but war times–and these definitely were war times, even if their enemy hadn't openly declared it–demanded sacrifices. Her sleep being the first in a line of many.
She downed a large glass of water and ate the croissant she had bought on her way back home before she stalked into the bedroom. She pulled on her combat pants and top, twisted her hair into a tight braid, and proceeded to strap the full set of weapons onto her arms and legs, finally securing the sword across the length of her back. Although Veles hadn't instructed her to arm herself, it would have been foolish to set off anywhere without her blades kept closely by her side.
The street was already filled with people when she stepped outside. She was thankful for the glamor that concealed her weapons from human eyes; she would have a hard time keeping herself from being noticed by the steady flow of pedestrians, not to mention she would inevitably run into trouble with law enforcement, should they cross paths. She went around the building, following the shade to the fairly deserted back street Veles had instructed her to find. She felt the glamor obscuring the far end of the alley, the shadows keeping her from seeing through it. She pushed forward, far enough for her to see past the dumpsters, and came to a sudden stop.
“You've got to be kidding me...”
Chapter 13
“... a simargl will be waiting to bring you to me.
I expect to see you soon,
Veles”
Rose gasped in astonishment as she approached the creature who had been standing idly in the shadows, waiting for her to come to him. “So you're a simargl.”
Acknowledgment shone in the beast's silver eyes at the sound of her words, a gaze that spoke to her silently, inviting her to step closer, to reach for him.
She outstretched her hand, slowly touching the thick layer of silver-gray fur; she ran her fingers along the nape of his neck, and the simargl lowered his head, making it easier for her to reach him. The sensation under her fingers reminded her of silk and the calm surface of the sea; she could barely feel any traction as she stroked the giant being's neck. She took a step back to capture another glimpse of his full stature, the palm of her hand cupping the side of the simargl's head. He resembled a wolf in almost every aspect, except wolves could never reach his size... Or have wings.
“Veles says you will act as my transport,” she said, her voice soft, while the simargl gently shifted the weight of his head into her palm. “So I'm supposed to...ride you?”
The wolf-like creature lightly dropped on his front paws, careful not to startle her with his movement, and tucked the wings of the purest silver closely to his side. Rose swung herself onto his back, cautious not to graze his feathers with the upward motion of her body, and settled herself on top. The simargl waited for her to find the correct position; Rose hooked her legs around the being's torso where she wouldn't interfere with his ability to outstretch his wings when the time came for them to take flight.
Despite the shadows, his feathers seemed to reflect light in a way even the most expensive gemstones known to mortals couldn't mimic; the unified argent color of his wings captivated her, made her struggle against the impulse to brush them with the tips of her fingers. Despite the ache, she didn't want to cause the magnificent creature any discomfort, and in a way, she felt that something as beautiful as his wings simply wasn't meant for any mortal to touch.
The simargl took a few strides, taking her up and down the alley, allowing her to get accustomed to the movement and giving her the chance to relax as best she could. She welcomed the unspoken affection, although her heart raced even at the thought of the inevitable takeoff.
Once they reached the back of the alley where the simargl had initially waited for her, he turned around, his body positioned towards the exit. Rose tightened her grip around his neck, being vigilant not to pull on his fur too strongly, but just enough to give her some confidence that she wouldn't tumble backward with her legs undignifyingly swinging in the air when the moment arrived. She sensed the winged wolf stir under her, warning her of their approaching ascent.
His muscles flexed in graceful movement as he sprinted towards the courtyard that lay just beyond the alley. As soon as they left the narrowness of the walls, he leaped into the air and extended his wings, each bat taking them higher, until she could see the length of her street coming into full view below them. The simargl used the wind currents, leisurely taking her in a semicircle around her neighborhood, before rising higher, his fur and his feathers shimmering in the unimpeded rays of sunlight.
The wind brushed against her skin as they gained speed; it would have been painful for a human, their less protected skin exposed to the elements like this, but she welcomed the coolness it brought, knowing she still had the luxury of doing a half shift at any time should the strokes of fresh air become too aggressive for the tough, but nonetheless more sensitive human form.
The green landscape of Slovenia lay outstretched below them as the simargl kept a steady course, leaving the concrete circle of Ljubljana in the distance and taking them farther southeast. But Rose didn't settle for gazing at the beautiful sights her homeland had to offer; she was far more enchanted by the way that silver fur placidly flowed with the caresses of the wind. The simargl was without a doubt the most majestic being she had ever seen.
He's a pain in the ass, but the Lord of Sultry does know how to woo a werewolf, she thought to herself, a smile spreading across her face.
Since she knew in which direction they were flying, she wasn't surprised to see the deep blue color of the sea extending to the edge of the horizon on her right, but it did make her wonder just how far Veles's lands actually extended. He had left her deep within the Czech Republic the first time, which, as he had told her, acted as the northern border of his premises, and now she found herself aligned with the southern shores, following the endless seam of land and water.
She permitted herself a quiet laugh, finally grasping Veles's intentions; he would never have missed a chance to show off, and the flight with the mystical creature couldn't be anything less than exactly that. If Veles's earthly borders indeed reached from the Czech Republic down to the oc
ean, he could have instructed the simargl to bring her to the western continental perimeter, which probably lay just beyond Slovenia, if not even within her home country. Still, she didn't exactly plan to hold a grudge. It was a breathtaking gift, one she would cherish until her soul was nothing more than merely one of many within Veles's realm.
Lost in the train of thought and in the caresses of the raw wind against her cheeks, Rose almost didn't notice they had begun to descend. She hadn't been keeping track of their route; the pragmatism of it would have taken away some of the delight she reveled in. When she finally looked over those silver wings, there was nothing to help her pinpoint their location; the shimmering blue of the sea was farther away than it had been, but not out of sight, and they appeared to be descending towards an uninhabited part of fairly barren land.
The simargl dived with grace, gaining speed as the ground approached them; Rose's fingers impulsively tightened around the thick fur of his neck, her stomach clenching at the possibility of impact. She reached out to hear the silver-winged wolf's heartbeat, focusing on the calm rhythm that spoke of his absolute control.
The simargl outstretched his wings, using the strong air current to spin them around; he rode the comfort of the steady wind in a circular motion, giving Rose one last view of the barren land that was without a doubt a part of Veles's estate, before bringing them down with the gentlest thud as his large paws touched the ground. Without breaking his leisurely running pace, he headed towards a shaded part of the area and came to a stop under the delicately scented air of the thick pine trees. He waited for her to catch her breath before dropping on his front paws, allowing her to climb down.
“Don't tell me you're scared of a little speed?” A voice overflowing with seduction caught Rose unprepared just as she had begun dismounting the simargl.
Following the sound, she saw Veles's lean figure melted into the shadows a short distance away. She ignored him, instead turning to the shimmering simargl, who had remained standing by her side, almost intimately close.