Black Werewolves: Books 1–4

by Gaja J. Kos

  “Correct me if I'm wrong,” Rose started, blowing out a long whiff of smoke into the empty space in front of her, “but Mračaj was this ultimate land of darkness, wasn't it? I hardly believe a place like that had only one entrance...”

  “No, of course not.” There was an edge of frustration lining Veles's voice, but she knew it wasn't directed towards her even before the god continued to speak. “The main gate was the only known entrance. At least to me.”

  He turned his head away from her to stare at the ceiling, his eyes following the horizontal lines of wood that stretched above the room. “Mračaj was...something like a parallel world. Similar to the underworld, yet different in so many ways.”

  Rose put out her short-lived cigarette in a ruby-imbedded ashtray and pulled her legs up on the sofa, crossing them under her body to find a comfortable position. But even as she fidgeted around, the god had nothing less than her complete attention.

  “The underworld carries no material element within itself. What you have seen when you searched for the souls that still hadn't crossed over would probably be the best example for you to visualize, to comprehend what my realm actually represents. However, despite the stories that sometimes like to circle among the commoners, the underworld is a place of light, not of darkness. It's home for the souls, and as such, it couldn't be anything but the purest of comfort.”

  “And I stumbled into darkness because it's not natural for souls to continue their existence here,” Rose added absently, but she understood what the god meant. “So the underworld has no compass, no geographical points... It is the place without measurement and where you are all and ever-present.”

  Veles turned to his side, putting the weight of his upper body on the hand he had propped under his head. “Mračaj was different. You couldn't pinpoint its location anywhere on the earthly realm of the living, but it did have locations within itself.” A frown line drew itself down the middle of his forehead as he waved around the air with his free hand. He was probably searching for words, but all that escaped his lips was an exhausted sigh.

  “It's okay, I think I understand what you mean,” Rose intervened, releasing him from the struggle. “Mračaj itself had a material quality to it, although it couldn't be found on earth... well, the mortal earth, at least. It was still built as a place in...our understanding of the word.”

  The god lay back down, spreading his hands wide across the carpet. “Thank you.”

  Rose couldn't help but laugh at the sight of the dark lord of the underworld sprawled against the pure white color of the fluffy carpet. She crawled down from the couch, covering the distance between them, and slithered into his embrace. He wrapped his arm around her as she repositioned herself to rest her head in the nook of his shoulder.

  She wanted to give in to the comfort, to let the nighttime that offered them the covers of privacy, where everything else was muted and subdued, come early. But she fought the tempting image, a very different thought already forming on her lips.

  “Could the caverns act as a temporary location of Mračaj?”

  A stillness crept into Veles's body as he seemed to consider her proposition. “Caverns are places of darkness, and with that they undoubtedly carry the primal trait of Psoglav's land...”

  Rose traced her hand down his chest, willing the tension to lessen the grip it had over the god. She spoke softly, without interrupting the series of gentle strokes of her fingertips along the thin fabric of his shirt. “Do you think there's any way we could predict which cave they have chosen as their lair now?”

  Silence filled the room, but Rose knew it wasn't a bad sign; the god was rummaging through his ancient knowledge, searching for any indication why those specific places had been chosen by the wolf-man and the werewolf vetalas.

  “The White werewolves' den was simply a stroke of luck, I believe. It wasn't a location of their choosing, but it did play into their plan to keep to the darkness.” Veles's cheek was pressed to her head as he spoke and the vibrations of his words played down her skin; even if the subject wasn't pleasant, his voice was calm and came down like velvet upon her body.

  “However, the one I visited must have been chosen by them. They did use it to transform the werewolves into vetalas, a premeditated act. But still, if the cavern had an otherworldly quality in itself, I would have noticed it. It would have spoken to my power the moment I entered it.”

  “So it wasn't a part of Mračaj?”

  Veles brushed his cheek against her skin as he shook his head. “That doesn't mean, however, that it wasn't somehow linked to Psoglav's land. Although there were no hidden gateways inside the cavern... It is possible that a passage had been made in the vicinity of the cave, somewhere out in the woods... But if we were to go searching for it, the vetalas would probably have already won the war before we 'd have managed to locate it.”

  Rose nestled her head deeper in the comfort of his shoulder, her hand resting across his chest. “Why?”

  “It is much easier to hide things in the open.”

  He left it at that, as if that one sentence explained everything. She wanted to open her mouth to demand a better explanation, one fitting for someone who was so fairly new to dealing with forces of pure power, but she sensed something stir inside the god.

  “The location in the Alps,” he breathed, and by the tone of his voice, Rose knew his lips must have stretched into that chilling, fang-tipped smile. “It is the gateway to the remains of Mračaj.”

  Chapter 36

  Dawn had just begun to light the skies over Ljubljana when the pack gathered at Pri Sojenicah. Rose had contacted every one of them the night before, informing them of the new discoveries she and Veles had made, and passed on a redacted version of the conclusions they had come to. The werewolves had been eager to jump into action, but the god warned them it would be foolish to start their search, or possibly even venture into the land, of Mračaj in the dark of night.

  Daylight would give them at least a minor advantage, should they need to escape; the werewolf vetalas were clearly unaffected by the sun and the hours of day, which was why the weres didn't put much thought into when to attack. However, Veles noticed that the wolf-man hadn't shown himself when the weres had faced their enemy in the Alps.

  Even though there was a fair possibility that the wolf-man's absence was nothing more than a mere tactical maneuver, Veles nonetheless believed the creature simply didn't have enough power to venture anywhere without the cover of darkness.

  What strength Psoglav had put into his lackey must have been enough to help the wolf-man survive his master's death, but for a being that was so fundamentally linked to the dark, to be able to walk under the sun demanded a much higher lever of power. They had attacked the Banniks, and Veles had no delusion that the creature must have fed on their energies, but even several lives of nearly immortal magical beings couldn't provide him with the strength needed for the wolf-man to return to his previous state of capabilities. Not in the world where the only remainder of his master's powers rested solely within the wolf-man himself.

  As much as everybody disliked the idea of giving the enemy another night of freedom, they nonetheless understood the importance of having even the slightest of advantages on their side. Besides, having a few more hours of rest was a welcomed bonus.

  Rose used the cover of night to slip into bed beside Veles, falling asleep in the firm embrace of his bare arms. The comforting smell of the god's skin eased her into a calm, dreamless sleep, one she would never have thought possible before an impending fight and possible slaughter. Of the enemy, hopefully.

  She woke early into the still pitch-black night to slip into the skin-tight attire Veles provided for her, and sharpened her blades over the first cup of morning coffee. The god laughed, likely at the image of her caught up in something as ordinary as breakfast while her whole arsenal of weapons was spread neatly across the table, the steel shining under the artificial light. His gaze lingered on the sword she cradled in her
arms, then their eyes met with a smile.

  “I didn't know who you were, not truly, when I gave you the blade,” Veles said, his words rolling down her skin, brushing against her in a delicate, intimate way. “And yet I believed, without a doubt, that it had been waiting for you all those centuries.”

  Rose tucked away a loose strand of hair that had fallen across her face as she bent over the sword. “Does it make a difference? That you didn't know?”

  “Yes.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Why? I was a descendant of Mokoš then as much as I am now.”

  “That is true.” The god smiled. “But Mokoš was a goddess whose veins were filled with a unique blend of lively energy. Your particular strength may not come from her, but it is more than fitting that someone of equal power wields the swords that had once rested in her hands.”

  “I'm not a goddess,” Rose replied softly, tracing her fingers down the cold steel of the blade.

  Veles's smile spread into a mischievous grin that showed off the tips of his fangs. “Not yet, maybe.”

  Rose decided to take a few seconds to process his remark; she sipped her coffee, her eyes never leaving the black-rimmed pools of green that stared at her with a combination of admiration and desire from across the table.

  She placed down the mug, her face calm. “What do you mean?”

  The god kept his teasing grin in check, but couldn't do much to hide the satisfaction oozing from his gaze. “Your powers are still developing. We can't be sure to what proportions they have yet to extend. It might only be a matter of time before The Keepers nominate you a goddess.”

  The new information pushed the wind out of her lungs. “Wait, what? The Keepers have a say in who is god and who isn't?”

  “The gods grew tired of dealing with amateur usurpers when the world's population went up...” Veles clicked his tongue. “The Keepers were very eager to control the balance of the world, so we let them.”

  Rose opened her mouth, but he replied before she even got the chance to phrase her question.

  “You can't become a god if you don't have the strength to be one. The title The Keepers give you is more for show than anything else. It keeps the idiots at bay.”

  Rose couldn't stop herself from laughing at his earnest remark. “Okay, so until The Keepers deem me appropriate for a goddess, I have nothing to worry about.”

  He shot her a puzzled look. “You don't want the position?”

  “I'm a werewolf. I'm mortal. I never even put much thought into the highest circle of the world's hierarchy,” she confessed, shrugging her shoulders. “How the gods operate isn't exactly something mortals concern themselves with.”

  Veles kept his gaze fixed on her while she fumbled her fingers through the thick strands of her strawberry-blonde hair. His eyes followed her movements almost absentmindedly and continued to do so even as his voice cut through the silence.

  “Even mortals can be gods.”

  The conversation still played over and over in her head when Veles transported them exactly onto the largest, although still small, clearing in the back alley of Pri Sojenicah. There were many beings with power written in the DNA of their bodies that never ascended to gods; her belief that Veles might not see the actual situation, but more than anything else wished for her to step into the circle he was a fundamental part of, had a soothing effect. She wasn't ready to become a goddess. Not now, if ever.

  The situation threatened to occupy her mind, but all her fears and even those thoughts that could have lingered were scattered away at the sight of the six massive bodies clad in that almost otherworldly black fur, which would have melded into the darkness of the alley if it weren't for those first rays of sun that began to pierce the dissolving night.

  There was no need for them to wait in human form for Veles and Rose to arrive; the pack had discussed everything that was of importance over the telephone the previous night, and if need arose, they now shared the bond of The Dark Ones between them, which made almost every other form of communication between them redundant. Rose could sense the eagerness for battle rumbling under the surface of each and every werewolf, the cold and lethal bloodlust building up as it waited to be unleashed.

  “I will transport you to higher ground.” Veles's voice was low, but it washed over the weres' augmented hearing, bringing them to attention. “Your plan of attack worked once. I would not count on the element of surprise again. That being said, I'm not sure if they will be expecting you or not. I can't even say if they will still be there, although I'm inclined to believe they moved on. But it's better if you have the ability to scout the area from a safe distance rather than running into any unwelcome surprises.”

  The pack growled in agreement, and the bond that swirled through them vibrated with the trembling sensation as it came out of its dormant state with full-blown force. The rush of energy kick-started Rose's own power, making the gold specks burn against the midnight blue of her eyes.

  Veles looked at her admiringly, tracing his fingertips down her cheeks in brief affection before turning his attention back to the pack. “With Rose's abilities, you should be able to sense if there is a gateway leading into Mračaj anywhere on those premises. And if you find it...” His eyebrows knitted together in a frown.

  “Veles's communication with us might be cut off if we enter Mračaj,” Rose finished for him, her voice steady and solid, even though she did not like the idea of not having an escape route in place. “He won't be able to transport us out of there if things go wrong.”

  Through the bond, she knew the pack understood the risk, accepted it. The energy flowed in a waving motion, breathing into them as their bodies readied for the possibility of an attack.

  Rose turned to Veles, softly cupping his cheek with her right hand. “I think we're good to go.”

  The god leaned into her, clasping his mouth onto her lips; he wrapped his hands around her waist, sliding them carefully over the small of her back, careful not to brush against the tip of the sword of Mokoš she had strapped in place as the final piece of weaponry.

  “You carry so much power within you,” he whispered into her skin. “Trust it, Rosalind. Please.”

  She nodded in reply, gently rubbing her face against his. “You have a shitload to tell me when I get back. Better gather and organize your notes.” She flashed him a weak smile, it was all she could manage to do, but it was honest.

  The god matched it before drawing her into another long, gentle kiss. As their lips parted, Rose slipped into that calm state of mind which acted in sharp contrast to the battle-yearning rush that filled her body. The lethal combination of a killer born and bred.

  She took Veles's hand, and together they walked among the rest of the werewolves who, in return, huddled slightly closer to them, yet kept that mandatory minimum space between them in case an ambush was waiting for them on the other side.

  “I'm buying you all a round of beer when you get back,” Veles said in an easy tone, although Rose could sense the more serious weight of his wish for that reunion to happen under the seemingly playful promise.

  Jürgen chuckled in his wolf form and strutted over to brush his muzzle against the black leather of Veles's pants.

  Rose caught the werewolf's attention by flashing her canine teeth in a lethal smile. “Find your own god.”

  Jürgen rubbed his head one more time against a very amused Veles, keeping his eyes on Rose the whole time. Something that would have been a smile on a human's face stretched along the length of his muzzle. Rose scowled at him, and the werewolf playfully bumped into her with his massive body before returning to his position inside the pack.

  “Have fun, kids,” the god whispered, taking in a deep breath before the alley disappeared in a rush of darkness.

  The familiar freshness of the Alps filled Rose's lungs when the werewolves found themselves a little higher up the same slope where Jens and Jürgen had led their first attack. She opened her senses farther, expanding their
range until they reached the small encampment. Through the bond, she knew the others had done the same.

  It was strange, not needing to use verbal language; the link between them offered them not only information about what they needed to know, but it was as if their thoughts, their observations were shared between the pack almost at the same time they were made.

  All of the werewolves agreed that the encampment was deserted. They began to descend, but did it carefully nonetheless; even if nothing could, or rather should, remain hidden from their augmented senses, they took into consideration the possibility that there might be things even werewolves couldn't sense. Being arrogant in situations like this was what could get you killed, and the pack had seen enough arrogant supernatural beings in its past succumb to injury, or something even more fatal, by not taking precautions.

  However, their descent offered no surprises; only their feet ruffled with soft sounds as they touched the grass and gravel surface of the slope, cutting through the early morning calmness of nature. They came to a stop just outside the encampment, stretching their senses anew and searching the light winds for any indication of life only to find none. The weres approached the building that had previously concealed the werewolf vetalas, carefully stalking around its walls.

  Something tugged at Rose's senses. She tapped into the bond of The Dark Ones, but none of the werewolves had shared the peculiar experience. They turned to her with questioning gazes, but Rose merely growled under her breath and circled the corner to find the entrance into the building. The pack followed at her heels, their bodies alert. She brought out her claws as she walked into the dim room, but found it abandoned.

  If she hadn't seen so many werewolf vetalas come out of it the previous time, she would never have guessed they had even been inside the building. There was no lingering trace of their scent, and the whole room was bare, devoid of any indicators that someone had lived, or at least stayed in it, even for a short period of time.