by Gaja J. Kos
Ileana had given her the freedom to do as she pleased for a few weeks every year when they traveled to the French Alps. Rose was immensely grateful for those moments. They had quenched the thirst—the worst of it, at least—and offered Rose an easier life during the months she had to pretend to be human. And even more so during the times she needed to let her wolf skin show without compromising her safety.
She understood that Veles was fundamentally linked to the living; not in the same way as he was to the souls within his realm, but the connection was strong enough to drive him into her world. It did so now just as it had back then. And Rose didn’t have trouble grasping the god’s frustration for being kept away from it for so long.
“So I stayed,” Veles breathed, dropping his weight to lie on his back. His eyes were focused on the minimalistic chandelier hanging from the ceiling, as if the memory played on its sleek surface. “I crept up to the nearest village and hid in the shadows of the densely grown pine trees. The settlement was a beautiful thing with its little makeshift cottages built from stone, and an open square blossoming right in the middle.
“The people failed to notice I was there as they went about their business. It brought me peace to see them caught up in chores that were a part of life, and not merely being forced to witness the final moments of their passing. It was what I had been craving for all that time I was stuck in the underworld… I needed to know there was more to those souls than their deaths.”
Rose reached out to him, sliding her palm down his finely honed arm. She wrapped her fingers around his hand in a light squeeze that meant more than any words could. The god answered with a small smile that softened his features, yet his eyes remained distant.
“The sight of those people was mesmerizing, Rosalind. So very mesmerizing. I lost track of time. It shouldn’t have been important. Minutes and hours mean little in an immortal’s life. But reflecting on it now, I can’t help but to think that if I had just left sooner...
“As I sat there in the shadows, something began to stir inside me. Dazed by the life that danced around me like a summer breeze, I didn’t notice the sensation until it was already tugging on my insides. And by the time it began tearing at me as if it wished to rip me apart, it was already too late.” The words came out strained, his lips pulled into a tight line, pale.
Rose’s grip tightened around his hand, her thumb flowing in a circular movement across his skin. The echoes of painful memories that lay across his features urged the affection resting inside her to comfort the dark-haired god. But it only achieved to make her feel helpless.
The past was rooted inside him, and there was no simple method to lift its weight.
“Once I realized I was about to experience another power surge, I tried teleporting myself back into the underworld. However, my energy was thrown too far out of balance, and it impaired my abilities. I was stuck on the edge of that village, unable to even run towards the sea… I fought the surge within me, but it was fruitless. The power wanted to burst out of my body, something that must come to pass before it can settle itself in my core.” Veles spoke calmly, although he failed to hide the pressure of his words from Rose.
“When the moment came, the energy snapped out of my body, almost breaking me in the process. Power should not be fought. I understood that, and I was willing to risk my life to prevent it from surging. But instead of consuming me, it lashed out even more violently, engulfing the whole village in its green flames.”
Veles turned on his side, his eyes fixed on Rose. Her breath caught. The pain he had kept hidden inside him now flowed freely, transforming every line of his face in a hauntingly beautiful mask of remorse.
“The power burned through those bodies with such speed that the villagers were unable to scream. I lay there under the pine trees, my body broken, and witnessed how the people crumbled down on the ground, their forms resembling nothing but unrecognizable heaps of flesh. Nobody moved. I was certain I killed them all...
“That was when the screams began.”
“You transformed the whole village into vampires?” Rose asked.
Goose bumps erupted down her arms and legs when she saw the confirmation blazing in Veles’s eyes.
“They turned. All of them. And as they transformed into fanged, blood-consuming beings, so did I. But as you can see for yourself, I don’t need the crimson liquid to survive. It helps in feeding my strength, yes, yet it is not vital. The change was merely one of the many aspects of my powers, which, in its twisted way, should have strengthened my connection to life. And that was all it should have been.”
“But the villagers weren’t people of power...” Rose nodded, understanding why the effect on them was so fundamentally different than the one Veles exhibited.
“Exactly,” the god breathed. “They had no energy base of their own, except for the perfectly normal Qi flow, as your Dr. Xu puts it... They weren’t built to accommodate any other strength. So the power that burst from me overrode their systems, manifesting in full.”
Veles fell quiet for a while, only the sound of his steady breaths filling the room.
“My father came just as the vampires gained awareness. He found my broken form on the ground, and leaked just enough of his own energy into me to repair the worst damage, to make me able to move again. We observed the village in silence.
“The turned were scared, unaccustomed to their new forms, but they weren’t vicious. Not the majority of them, at least. A few escaped into the woods before Velin got the chance to approach them...” he said, a frown line appearing down his forehead.
“The rest fell to their knees when they saw my father’s silhouette walking towards them. The people all knew, and respected, him. Gods were much more entwined with the human culture back then than they are now. There hadn’t been a single person that wouldn’t bow their head in respect for the lord of the underworld.
“Velin’s knowledge was vaster than mine. It didn’t take him long to realize what consequences my burst of power brought. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to commit genocide over innocent people. So he explained to the villagers that there was no need for them to succumb to fear and bloodlust. I still don’t know how they understood, but they did. They remained listening to his speech idly, accepting their god’s word that the change was something divine and that they should treasure it...”
“They were the first twentyfourhourlies.” Rose gasped, trying to wrap her mind around the idea that a group of petrified villagers listened to the god’s speech, that they understood the extent of their new existence… And accepted it without friction.
“Yes. And if it weren’t for the ones that escaped, the vampires would never have become the fuel of human nightmares.”
Chapter 9
A trickle of sweat tore itself away from Novak’s forehead and slid down the sides of his brows. Nathaniel kept his unrelenting gaze on the younger man’s face, observing with hidden amusement how his skin turned a darker shade of red with every passing moment.
Nathaniel didn’t have to try hard to loom over the rookie; with his muscular build and more than impressive height, he was a mountain compared to Novak’s scrawny existence. If the coroner weren’t such a smug rat, Nathaniel might have even felt sorry for him.
“Until the primary is back on duty, this body is mine,” he growled, a trick he picked up from his brother despite lacking the canines that usually accompanied the sound.
Novak’s hands turned clammy at the feral tone of Nathaniel’s voice, the red hue of his face paling. The short man muttered a string of curses under his breath, but even without augmented hearing, Nathaniel could sense that Novak’s heart was racing. It was a useless game of pretending to still put up a fight.
In the end, Novak signed the body over, his nostrils flaring as the pen glided across the form.
Nathaniel pulled the clipboard out the man’s hands and flashed him a cold smile. “Thank you.”
The heavy fall of footsteps followed Novak as h
e made his way down the hallway, his head held straight as if his life depended on it. Nathaniel stifled a chuckle, watching Novak as he made a sharp turn to the right and disappeared from his line of sight.
“You pathetic piece of shit.” He laughed in silence, but the cool feel of the clipboard in his hands had already taken Nathaniel’s mind elsewhere.
He motioned one of the assistants lurking about the hallway to transport the body from the main autopsy room into his lab. Nathaniel smoothed down the front of his coat and turned in the opposite direction, to where his office waited for him—as pleasantly disinfected as always.
Halfway there, he stopped by the coffee machine to pump his body with the vicious little dose of instant caffeine. The hot liquid couldn’t exactly boast with any kind of exceptional quality, but it did deliver a mean kick to the system. And if Nathaniel wanted to complete the autopsy before the primary returned, he needed a boost.
After all, his workday had officially ended hours ago.
Languidly walking back to the lab, Nathaniel gave the coffee time to charm his system into some additional endurance. And when he finally felt pumped up enough to give Vito Barle his full attention, Nathaniel found that the assistant had already come through.
The body was placed on the examination table, nude and prepped for the autopsy.
Although he had been doing it for a long time now, going through the motions of examining remains was never easy for Nathaniel. But having someone as young as Vito Barle laid out in front of him brought the discomfort to a whole new level.
With every child he had to open, outlining the details of what had been done to them, Nathaniel lost sleep. A few days, if he was lucky…
But some cases retained a more permanent position in his mind, following him around like shadows.
He cut the Y-incision into the teenager’s chest, silently promising the boy he would aid the pack in getting him the justice he deserved.
And even more silently—but all the more deeply—wished Vito wasn’t one of those who lingered.
The typical gloomy winter night had already settled upon Ljubljana, the thick fog blurring its streets. Evelin stood in front of Metulj’s entrance with Tomo, a well-built man in his fifties by her side. His eyes were scanning the building, undoubtedly noting every detail that might prove useful.
When Tomo had come to Nikolai’s residence, he hadn’t only brought copies of all the requested files, but extended an invitation neither of the weres expected.
Tomo couldn’t grant the pack autonomy to run around town shooting questions pertaining to the murders. It would have drawn too much attention. Even private investigators were frowned upon and deemed as interfering with police matters, despite having the legal status to do so. But being on the job for as long as he had, Tomo knew how to bend the rules in his favor.
As long as the person signed the standard police waiver and swore to not discuss the case with civilians, Tomo could take someone on as a consultant. When he offered the position, his only request had been that it was Evelin who accompanied him as he did his job. Her stepfather’s connections would keep her out of trouble in case some piece-of-shit-sonovabitch—as Tomo had put it—gave him a hard time about dragging a civilian into an ongoing investigation without actually filing the waiver beforehand.
Once Evelin accepted, all that the policeman had left to deal with was his partner.
But the rookie had gladly accepted Tomo’s generous offer of sharing the workload. Even though it was Tomo’s day off, the officer hadn’t second-guessed his motives.
Everybody was overworked these days.
Tomo shouldn’t have been surprised by just how gullible the promise of some additional free time had made the younger man.
Somewhat bitterly, Tomo wondered if the rookie would even make it to retirement. But observing the young, determined woman by his side gave him hope. There were still strong-willed people left in the world.
Metulj was located on the ground floor of a three-story building, right on the western edge of Ljubljana’s old town. From the outside, it appeared like any other restaurant that catered to students. Large enough to accommodate a decent amount of people, with overflowing ashtrays positioned like guards on either side of the door. If it weren’t for the restaurant’s name and the neon butterfly sign above the door, Evelin would never have guessed they served blood.
It was the perfect, discreet location for vamp students to grab a meal.
Tomo peered at her from the side, the glow from the sign coloring his shortly cut gray hair in a purple hue. He cocked his head, and Evelin nodded.
She followed him inside, observing the no-bullshit attitude that radiated from the older man as he walked towards the counter. Ahead, the interior of Metulj stretched in a wide rectangle, more than half of the tables occupied by groups of three or four students. The restaurant appeared pleasant, and Evelin hoped the owner would fall into the same category. She wasn’t certain just how open Tomo was to intimidation techniques. Especially ones that involved claws.
The policeman whipped up a current of charm as he grabbed the waitress’s attention. The girl flashed him a bright smile in return, instinctively perking up her breasts. Evelin stifled a chuckle.
Tomo reminded her of Nikolai; her stepfather had the same kind of elderly allure that he could bring to the surface when he wanted to. The charm affected people regardless of their gender and made establishing connections, as well as gathering information, so much easier at times.
And even though they weren’t related by blood, Evelin inherited some of Nikolai’s charisma, although her delicate form usually got the job done perfectly well all on its own.
Tomo turned around from the blushing waitress and cocked his head. A silver Employees Only plaque shone on the upper half of a door at the right end of the bar. Evelin lifted her chin and fell in step with the policeman.
She made herself more approachable, more traditionally feminine as they pushed through into the employees section of Metulj, leashing that pulse of deadliness she carried inside her. It couldn’t hurt to have two pleasant figures presenting a unified front.
If one’s charm failed, there was always the other.
They crossed a small storage room which led into a narrow hallway, searching the doors until they found the one labeled Manager.
“Come in.” A young voice answered their knock.
The office was a small square with a too large desk positioned right in the middle. File drawers stretched along the walls, making the space even more claustrophobic. Evelin shuddered at the idea of spending her time cooped up like this. And judging by the twitch in the corner of Tomo’s lips, so did he.
But the man sitting behind the desk didn’t match the unappealing ambient of the room. In fact, the stale smell and barely maneuverable area around him didn’t seem to bother him at all. Metulj’s manager appeared to be in his late twenties, cleanly shaven and dressed in well chosen but casual clothes. His complexion lacked the gray undertone office workers usually had, leading Evelin to believe he didn’t spend nearly as much time in the crowded office as she’d originally thought.
“Vid Kramberger.” The human outstretched his hand as he stood up, an award-winning smile plastered on his face.
Evelin realized it wasn’t fake; the young manager was simply one of those easy-going, happy-go-lucky people. In larger numbers, his kind annoyed her, but this one was a refreshing change from what she had expected. Besides, Kramberger’s type usually succumbed to pressure faster, which made her like him even more.
Maybe there would be no need to bring out the claws after all.
“I’m officer Kralj.” Tomo shook the man’s hand, emitting silent authority. “This is my associate, Evelin Maister.”
Evelin smiled at Kramberger, offering her own hand. The manager took it, his gaze dropping down to the werewolf’s body. Evelin offered him a perfectly innocent expression when Vid finally hauled his eyes back to her face. As if nothing had happened
, and no offense was taken.
“We would truly appreciate your help in the matter we’re investigating,” Tomo began, opting for gratitude before stating the reason behind their visit. It would give Kramberger a sense of importance instead of making him feel like he was a suspect.
Evelin made a mental note of the tactic. Lessons like this always came in handy.
“One of your regular patrons, Vito Barle, has died earlier today and we suspect foul play. We are trying to retrace his whereabouts. His mother informed us he had lunch with a group of schoolmates in your restaurant between two and three p.m. Your waitress confirmed she had seen the boy.”
Vid Kramberger looked blankly at the policeman as his brain fought to connect the dots.
“We believe someone poisoned him,” Evelin added, having cleared with Tomo beforehand just how much information they were willing to reveal. Her voice was soft, laced with discreet concern. “We are aware that he ordered blood for lunch. It would be immensely helpful if you could tell us how the blood was served. Does it arrive bottled or do you have it on tap?”
The waitress had already given Tomo the answers, but it was the manager’s replies that they were after.
“Do you have a warrant for this?” Kramberger asked in an uncertain voice, his eyes darting between Evelin and Tomo.
She was the first to answer, upping the display of concern on her face. “No. But if someone held a grudge against Barle that was serious enough for him to opt for murder, we cannot be certain the perpetrator was careful enough to target solely the intended victim.
“If Barle was indeed poisoned here, there is a possibility the killer had spiked the blood before it had been served. Which means that another one of your patrons could become collateral damage, and experience the exact same fate.”
The calculations flowed through Kramberger’s gaze as he weighed the cost of offering information against the risk of bad press if another guest would, indeed, be poisoned. Finally, the underlying pressure of Evelin’s words tightened its grip on the manager’s features, pulling them into a worried grimace.