Black Werewolves: Books 1–4

by Gaja J. Kos

  At this point, at least.

  Once the need for claws arose, that’s when she’d get her chance to shine.

  With her goal set firmly in her mind, she would do whatever was necessary to reach it. And she would put in as much effort as it took.

  So as she lay gazing into the ghastly washed-out gray color of the sky, she rummaged through her thoughts. She tried picking out a suitable motive for the vampires’ deaths, but the information on the victims was too sparse. Aside from the very rare occurrence of hate crimes, she couldn’t pull together any macabre logic about what drove the killer into attacking a married broker, a low-key but likable graphic designer, and a teenage kid.

  And why make them suffer a panic attack? Hawthorn couldn’t be masked by any other substances, not that it was even necessary, and the use of eleuthero and copper only drew more attention to the crime…

  She stifled a groan, deciding not to burn her energy by running in endless, fruitless circles. She was better off conserving it for when the pack would run through the case notes at their meeting later in the day. The police officer Evelin worked with gave the were copies of everything he could obtain pertaining to the investigation, including a few notes on the latest victim, Barle, even though Tomo’s partner still hadn’t filed most of the reports.

  Besides, the duo’s trip to Metulj—as much as Mark abhorred it—was far from futile. Nathaniel had been running tests all day yesterday and well through the night. Evelin had dropped off the bottled blood at his lab after Tomo convinced the station’s forensics that he wanted to have a different set of eyes examining the shipment. Just to be on the safe side.

  With Nathaniel’s exceptional record thrown into the mix, nobody argued.

  A sleepy rumble diverted Rose’s attention from the overcast skies; she traced her fingers across Veles's temple, brushing back the silken strands of his black hair. The god let out another satisfied moan, slithering closer to her body; he buried his face against her neck, placing a gentle kiss on her delicate skin as he began to wake up.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” she said in a soft voice, her fingers still playing with the god’s hair.

  She felt the warm touch of his hand slide up from her waist. His fingertips followed the curve of her body before settling on the mound of her breast. Her breath deepened with every caress, the power inside her sparking up at the sensation.

  “How much time have we got?” He spoke into the skin of her neck, the sensual tone of his voice devoid of any sleepiness.

  “Enough,” Rose breathed, forgetting about the gloom of Ljubljana’s winter mornings.

  The smell of freshly brewed coffee wrapped around Jürgen and Zarja, its aromatic tendrils teasing their senses. Instinctively, they turned their noses towards the source, observing a man in his early sixties carrying a tray with two steaming mugs on it as he emerged from the kitchen.

  “Thank you, Mr. Perko.” Zarja twisted the corners of her lips in a non-threatening smile, cuddling the aromatic cup in her hands.

  Tomaž Perko returned the smile, the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes deepening. He sat down on the couch that was set at an angle from the two werewolves, filling the empty spot next to his niece. He wrapped his arm around the woman’s hunched shoulders in a fatherly gesture, but Lara gave no indication that she had noticed the affection. She continued staring at the small, round coffee table in front of her while keeping a steel grip on Katja’s hand. The brunette occupied the left end of the leather sofa, dutifully being the silent support her friend needed.

  It was the vampire who had set up the meeting after Jürgen called, just as she promised. Initially, Zarja wanted to bite the blond werewolf’s head off when she heard he had taken it upon himself to contact Katja.

  The appealing vamp was fair game between the two of them, but not in the middle of an investigation. And especially not since she was the only link between the pack and the deceased’s loved one. There were some boundaries that should never be crossed.

  Making an enemy out of a liaison by trying to get her in bed with you was very high on that list.

  However, according to Jens’s testimony, his brother had acted very cordially. Zarja hadn’t even known the word was in the twins’ vocabulary, but given their weakness to boast with their badass, heartthrob behavior, she decided to trust his word.

  How come we always end up talking to the victims’ relatives? Jürgen’s voice sounded inside Zarja’s head.

  The werewolf kept her composure, keeping a pleasant gaze fixed in the general direction of the couch.

  You volunteered, moron, she thought back, observing the quietly crying figure of Damir’s wife. Besides, better to witness a few tears inside than to stand in the Chernobog-damned humidity on the other side of the wall...

  She paused, sipped her coffee, and realized that she had meant it, too. You can still go outside, you know, blondie. I promise I’ll do a good job of questioning Lara with the hands-on help Katja’s willing to provide.

  Mischievous laughter vibrated in Zarja’s mind, coaxing her to cast a sideways glance. But Jürgen maintained the good-boy look plastered on his face, keeping the three people on the couch in the dark about their exchange.

  “Mrs. Kline, we have read the statement you gave to the police, but we would like to ask you a few additional questions due to some new information that has come to light,” Zarja began, placing the coffee cup on the table in front of her.

  With the alluring vampire’s presence in the room, talking to the grieving relatives wasn’t as unnerving as it had been with the Barles.

  But the human didn’t say a word, didn’t peel herself away from Katja’s support. Finally, she gave a weak nod in agreement.

  “Was your husband vampire born or made?”

  The blonde woman raised her eyes, the dark rims under them speaking volumes of just how hard the past few days must have been for her. She patted her nose with a plain handkerchief she kept crumpled in her fist and took in a few shaky breaths. Slowly, she straightened her back from the hunched position she had previously been curled in.

  “Damir was vampire made.”

  Jürgen put down his coffee mug next to Zarja’s and braced his elbows against his knees. “You said he had difficulty breathing when you found him. Did he or his family have any medical conditions that you are aware of?”

  Lara shook her head and brought the handkerchief back to her nose. “He was fine... I don’t know about his family. Damir... He didn’t like to talk about his human life.”

  “He had been turned a long time ago,” Katja offered, receiving a grateful glance from the widow in return. “It was against his will...”

  “I’m so sorry,” Zarja said sincerely, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

  She had heard that those who had been turned tended to seep into the shadows, the presence of humans too painful for them to endure. Damir must have been an exceptional man to not only refrain from becoming a traditional, but to harbor the desire for sharing his life with Lara.

  Zarja opened the bond of The Dark Ones in the background, tapping lightly on Jürgen’s end. Another perfectly healthy vampire with an induced anxiety attack?

  A beginning of a growl vibrated from the other side of the bond, but when Jürgen spoke, his voice was perfectly calm.

  “The police report says Mr. Kline had drank preserved blood for lunch on the day of his death. Did he normally take food with him to work?”

  Lara nodded, pulling herself together anew. “Damir worked long hours. It wasn’t that he couldn’t go without blood for a day, but he said it made him weaker, somewhat groggy in his mind... Being a broker, he didn’t dare risk losing that sharpness.”

  “Where did he buy the blood?” Zarja asked, trying to keep the implications from her tone.

  “He... He didn’t. It was mine, and we bottled it at home,” the widow replied, her voice breaking at the memory. Ragged breaths escalated into uncontrollable sobbing, her fingertips digging into her palms.r />
  Perko turned his niece towards him. Lara folded into his embrace, and he held her securely, like cradling a child. She buried her head in his sweater, her shoulders shaking in violent spasms. He shot the two werewolves a questioning look over the woman’s head.

  Jürgen and Zarja merely nodded unanimously without even as much as a blink. There was no need to expose the widow to further emotional distress. Mrs. Kline had already given them the vital information they needed, even if it wasn’t the most encouraging kind.

  The man mouthed a silent Thank you and led his niece out of the room. Their footsteps echoed as they slowly made their way up the staircase, leaving the two werewolves and Katja alone.

  “I’m sorry,” Katja sighed once she determined Lara had moved far enough for them to be out of her hearing range. “You have to understand that she didn’t take Damir’s death well. They were the happiest couple I’ve seen in all of my existence... It will take her some time to be able to talk about his passing more freely. She… She keeps dreaming about him lying broken on the bottom of the stairs, suffocating. I take turns with Tomaž, watching over her, you know. But there’s only so much that we can do…”

  Zarja returned to her coffee, nodding before she brought the cup to her lips. She needed to wash away the bitter taste Katja’s words had left. Jürgen noticed his pack mate’s discomfort, so he leaned back in his chair, his gaze set upon the chestnut-haired vampire.

  “Did Damir have any enemies?” he asked. And much to Zarja’s surprise, he kept the ogling to a minimum.

  The werewolf was clearly fonder of the captivating vampire than she had ever seen him be. And the blond had an impressive row of previous partners.

  The cascade of curls flowed around Katja’s figure as she shook her head. “He was well-liked. Even as a broker, he never got into any conflicting situations...”

  “From what I understand, he kept the bottled blood close by his side the whole time he was at work,” Zarja intervened, the foul taste in her mouth now gone. “Was it a habit of his to never leave it unsupervised? Or was he suddenly being cautious?”

  The vampire pulled her perfect features into a frown, her blue-green eyes gazing at the coffee table between her and the two werewolves.

  “I believe he was being cautious, but it wasn’t anything new. Not all of the people he worked with knew he was a twentyfourhourly, and Damir didn’t want to startle those who were unaware of his vampirism by seeing him sip blood on the job,” she answered matter-of-factly, but the crease running down her forehead deepened. “You think someone freaked out when they came to the realization that their coworker was a vamp and decided to poison him?”

  “It’s a thought.” Zarja sighed, her teeth slightly elongating. She hid them before Katja could notice, yet the anger remained. “Humankind isn’t exactly known for its kindness towards phenomena they can’t fit into their little minds.”

  Chapter 12

  The antique furniture in Nikolai’s sitting room was moved against the walls to create enough space for the pack and Nathaniel to sit in a circle. Case files and a small blackboard were scattered across the middle of the floor, the large rug beneath them barely visible. Rafael slept in a tight ball between Evelin and Mark, his white fur touching both werewolves.

  Evelin stroked the cub in a lazy rhythm, but her gaze was intense as she scanned the three cases spread out in front of them. Like the rest of her pack, Evelin was good at composing strategies pertaining battle, but wasn’t as skilled when it came to police work.

  “Is anybody else as lost as I am?” she finally asked, her gaze scanning the gathered group.

  Rose let out a heartfelt laugh. She ran her fingers through her hair, loosening up the curls, and secured them in an improvised bun. “I have no fucking idea how to tackle this. Why can’t we just sniff out the killer?”

  Six different sets of growls confirmed the pack was completely on her side. Nathaniel stared at them with amusement, seeing the werewolves in a situation that went against their wolfish nature and robbed them of relying on their senses for the first time. Usually, being the one that felt inadequate whenever the weres’ natural instincts were in full bloom, Nathaniel had sympathy for them.

  But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the moment all the same.

  “That’s why you have a human on your unpaid retainer.” Nathaniel’s laugh mixed into the growls, effectively silencing them. Nathaniel didn’t have the heart to leave them hanging much longer. “The test I ran on the blood from Metulj came back positive for hawthorn, copper, and eleuthero.”

  Rose observed Tim reach for the blackboard and place it in his lap. The sound of chalk running against the surface glided through the room. The magnetic sound kept the pack alert and waiting until the were finished putting down the facts.

  “I don’t think one will suffice.” Tim exhaled in a half laugh. Exasperation widened his eyes as he turned the blackboard towards the rest of the group.

  The werewolf had tried, and failed, to squeeze the whole timeline onto the relatively small rectangular surface. The Double J team snickered at Tim’s annoyed expression, Zarja joining them a few breaths later.

  “Shut up and give me a minute.” Tim groaned, wiping away the chalk with his sleeve.

  The twins continued with their good mood, eventually contaminating the rest of the pack with it. In between the laughs, Rose peered at Nathaniel, who had continued to monitor his brother’s frenzied doodling. The human caught her gaze, shrugging his shoulders with a compassionate smile spread across his face.

  “Yeah, yeah, much better,” Tim mumbled, drawing a few more lines before showing the newly filled slate to the room. A triumphant expression brightened his features. “Until we get a larger blackboard, or several of them...”

  Rose leaned closer, scanning the immaculately outlined record of the third murder. Below the short vertical line that marked Vito Barle’s lunch at Metulj, Tim had noted Nathaniel’s findings about the blood. A pointed arrow led from the annotation to the left side of the timeline, ending with a question mark.

  “I can help you with that,” Evelin intervened, picking up a file from the middle of the carpet. Her eyebrows knitted together as she scanned the report, fast-forwarding to the page that held the information she needed. “The blood was delivered to the restaurant at six a.m. the day before Barle died. According to the manager, it was kept unopened in their storage until Vito ordered it.

  “A group of vamps cleaned out their old stock the previous evening, and Barle was the first one to order blood the next day,” Evelin said in response to Mark’s questioning gaze. “Several members of the staff confirmed this.”

  The sound of chalk scratching against the board echoed in the background as Tim made a new annotation on the timeline pertaining the delivery.

  “The supplier?” he asked, lifting his gaze from the writings.

  Evelin turned another page. “Pelican Foods. They stock quite a few restaurants with solid foods, as well as blood. Tomo is waiting for the warrant to go through as we speak...”

  Mark turned to Nathaniel while Tim added the new information onto the blackboard. “Were all of the bottles poisoned?”

  “Just one crate,” the human said and leaned back on his palms. “The other one they had in their storage came back clean.”

  Rose frowned, adjusting her cross-legged pose. “But doesn’t that leave a lot to coincidence?”

  Zarja nodded. “Was there any way the killer could have known Metulj would use the poisoned blood first?” Her hazel eyes were harsh as she spoke, not missing a beat.

  “No.” Evelin shook her head, the light flush of her cheeks paling. “Both crates arrived at the same time and had the same expiration date... And they couldn’t have predicted that Vito would be the first vamp in the restaurant.”

  A sickening feeling spread through Rose’s stomach, forcing her to bite down the bile that burned in her throat. “The kid wasn’t even targeted...”

  The room turned
suffocatingly hot. She closed her eyes, rage tearing at her insides.

  The kid wasn’t even targeted.

  “Rose.” A soft voice came from Evelin’s direction. “You’re glowing.”

  A golden sheen lingered around her body, pulsing in tune with her heart. Gradually, the olive-tipped embers died down as Rose took long breaths, soothing the energy until only a slight gold shimmer illuminated her skin.

  “That was one fuck of a rush,” Jürgen breathed with a wild expression fixed on his face while his brother nodded in agreement.

  Once the power had retreated back inside her completely, Rose could sense what the twins had meant. She hadn’t even been aware that she pushed her energy through the bond of The Dark Ones, feeding it into the werewolves.

  Puzzled by how little effort it took, she made a mental note to discuss the phenomena with Veles. The god had warned the strength of her power would continue to grow, but she hadn’t thought about what that might mean in relation to The Dark Ones.

  Being able to feed a larger amount of energy through the bond, and passing it to the rest of the pack, was a welcomed improvement, a game changer in battle; however, if the newly gained strength meant the task was easier to fulfill, she would need to work on obtaining complete control so as to not let it leak accidentally.

  Although the werewolves were now beings of power, Rose couldn’t be certain just how much of it they could take.

  As they had established in training, small amounts boosted their systems, making the pack more effective, more durable. More lethal.

  But her golden light burned Psoglav’s lackey, a creature riddled with ancient power, into oblivion. And destroyed his whole world.

  Risks were something she couldn’t afford to take.

  She ground her teeth. It wasn’t that long ago that she had learned how to command her energy, and by the appearance of things, she would have to go through the dreaded process yet again.

  Exploring the depths of her power had proven to be time-consuming and strenuous enough all on its own. She didn’t need the fear factor added into the mix.