by Gaja J. Kos
“I’m sorry.” Rose smiled apologetically at her pack mates while Nathaniel merely looked intrigued. “The idea that a teenage kid was nothing more than a random victim of some sick fuck got under my skin...”
“You’re not the only one,” Zarja growled and took a deep breath. “I guess we need to tackle this from a completely different point of view now. If the first two victims were results of some macabre lottery as well, there isn’t any point in trying to profile why the killer chose them. The locations, maybe, but certainly not the people...”
“Wait,” Tim intervened, shooting to his knees. “Evelin, how thorough of an investigation is your police contact planning to do once he gets access to Pelican’s premises?”
The werewolf’s emerald eyes gleamed as she followed Tim’s unspoken train of thought, and through the bond, so did the rest of them. “As thorough as he can. But I will ask him if he could give some extra attention to the filling and distribution of the crates...”
“If we can determine when the poison was mixed into the blood, we can confirm or rule out the relevance of the locations,” Rose added, allowing the gold filaments in her eyes to spark up with the prospect of catching at least a small break in the case.
Jens cleared his throat, leaning forward. His usually inviting blue eyes turned cold. “We still have to figure out what drove the sonovabitch into committing these killings in the first place...”
“And if the locations were randomly targeted, not chosen, we just lose another motive and gain absolutely nothing...” Jürgen snarled and lay down on his back, his body flat against the carpet. He rubbed his hands across his face, groaning.
“Not exactly,” Mark said quietly. “Maybe somebody is targeting the company, and everything else only presents collateral damage to them? Ev, do you have the report on the second victim here as well?”
Evelin fished out the right folder and handed it to Mark. He rummaged through the pages in silence, keeping one bookmarked with his finger as he continued reading. Finally, he exhaled, nodding to himself. Yet the strained look that captured his face led on that the case file and his theory didn’t exactly see eye to eye.
“There goes my company theory,” the werewolf growled, scratching his rough beard with his thumb and index finger. “But my memory didn’t fail me. I thought Dragan had said his partner drank blood at the theater, and I wasn’t mistaken. Judging by the report, the banquet after the show was the only time Alex fed in public that day. So unless Dragan drugged his partner at home, the poisoned blood had to come from there.”
“Only the supplier isn’t the same...” Rose concluded, reading the missing information from Mark’s strained expression. She turned to him, eyebrows lifted.
“Yeah,” the older were sighed, his gaze trailing down the paper still in his hands. “Says here a company called Sanguine Refreshments supplied the blood.”
Evelin patted Rafael absentmindedly. The cub had begun to wake up, only to fall back down on the soft texture of the carpet in a sleepy haze. She smiled at the white ball of fur, but the affection didn’t erase the determination that had set upon her face.
“I’ll call Tomo,” she declared as she stood, already making her way towards the other room. “I guess we need another warrant...”
“I just hope the theater hadn’t already discarded the trash from the banquet,” Nathaniel added, writing down a memo of his own in the trustworthy leather notebook he kept for supernatural cases.
Just as Evelin closed the door behind her, the opening lines of Bauhaus’s “Telegram Sam” boomed through the silence of the sitting room. The werewolves jerked, the explosion of sound catching them by surprise. To everyone’s amusement, Rafael merely lifted his head, his dazed eyes following Zarja’s movement for a few moments before the cub lost interest and fell back to sleep.
The werewolf leapt to the armchair positioned by the window, tapping the pockets of her coat in hopes of finding the raving phone as quickly as she could. A current of barely audible curses accompanied her search, the catchy tune of “Telegram Sam” becoming almost screechingly loud before she managed to fish out the device.
“Yes?”
The bond of The Dark Ones grew more vibrant, more alive with every word that came from the other side of the line. It drove the pack to stand, their bodies on guard. Rose felt her own power stir inside her, prepared to take action.
“Thank you for notifying me. We’ll be right there,” she managed to say in a firm, reassuring voice before she turned her burning hazel gaze back to the pack. “Get your claws out. The shitstorm has begun.”
Chapter 13
Rose stood in the deep shadows beneath the trees, the first traces of fog already dragging across the park as the late afternoon grew darker. Soon, the park would be nothing but silhouettes and mist. Veles stood by her side, motionless. His lean figure was draped in an ankle-length black coat, the sharp collar lifted up to his chin. His dark, sleek presence made Rose wish they were alone in the winter solitude of Tivoli and not actively trying to prevent the beginning of what could be a series of cataclysmic events.
She had reached out to him after Zarja’s phone call. Although Tivoli was only a twenty-minute run from Nikolai’s residence, the werewolves didn’t dare risk losing that much time, and eagerly accepted the offer of faster transportation. Besides, contacting the god gave Rose a chance to reunite with her weapons.
Claws were sufficient, yet she yearned for the reassuring weight of her knives. It calmed her tension-ridden body, turning her mind into a cold, tactical machine.
In position, Evelin’s voice came over the bond. They had been waiting for her to reach the farthest check point they had set up once they’d assessed the situation.
The rest of the werewolves were already strategically spread between six different posts, just far enough from the path for them to go unnoticed without compromising their speed of interference at the same time. The trees of Tivoli kept them out of sight, the familiarity of the terrain giving them an advantage.
“Fucking idiots,” Veles seethed and continued to curse underneath his breath. His gaze followed the procession that crawled down the path like a snake towards the direction of the city center.
They were lucky Zarja had received the call when she did. The vampires were already close to the boundary between Tivoli’s woods and the bristling streets of Ljubljana. If the pack wanted to resolve the situation quietly, they needed to do so before the group entered the urban quarters.
Rose’s claws itched to be released; it would have been so easy to slash through the several dozen vampires that made up the group. But until they did something stupid, they were still considered innocent. Or at least innocent enough not to justify a slaughter—even though none of the werewolves harbored any delusions that the vamps were out prowling the streets for anything less than exactly that.
“Barle lost his son,” Rose said, her voice low enough for the vampires not to overhear. “I imagine losing a kid must be devastating... And the rest of them are scared shitless by the idea that someone is gunning for the twentyfourhourlies. A death of a child was just the thing to push them over the edge.”
“Why did his wife alert Zarja to her husband’s ass-fucked plan? I’d have thought she’d be on his side…” the god muttered, unable to hide the disgust from spilling across his face.
“She’s not as ass-fucked as he is,” Rose said matter-of-factly, shrugging her shoulders. “Thank Belobog she took that phone in her hands the second she realized her husband was gone. Luckily, Barle hadn’t been too secretive about his plans.”
“She should have clubbed him...”
Barely containing the snicker that threatened to escape her lips, Rose didn’t have a hard time imagining Veles knocking those who annoyed him over the head without even blinking twice. She cleared her throat, regaining her composure and surveyed the procession of vampires. They were slowly progressing through the park, keeping close together. From afar, they might have looked l
ike a group of tourists taking an evening stroll, but Rose could smell the reek of bloodlust oozing from their pores.
If it weren’t for that slight hint of hesitation still persistently present, the pack would have swarmed them instantly, innocent or not.
Veles’s eyebrows knitted together; he had sensed it as well. “They’re hesitating.”
Rose nodded. The pace they were moving with suggested the vampires weren’t in a hurry, the doubt weighing down on their limbs.
Yet her gaze remained fixed on the group; she would need to move the instant the procession went past her.
“They’re twentyfourhourlies.” She sighed. “They usually shy away from violence, not instigate it...”
A gentle brush of fingers against her left shoulder alerted her that the god had moved closer. Although her gaze didn’t leave the marching vampires, she leaned into Veles's touch. He continued with his caresses, driving away the tension that wrapped itself around the werewolf once again.
“You’re worried about what will happen when darkness falls completely...”
The rich, sensual voice eased the weight of Veles’s statement, but the fact that the god was correct remained. If the twentyfourhourlies strived to protect the rest of their community, they would wait until dark. Until the traditionals' hunting time came into play, using the wretched creatures as scapegoats. Or worse…
Rose drank in his caresses as she continued to stare into the distance, trying to take as much comfort as she could from the warming presence of her god.
“If the good guys decided to rally...” She shook her head, fighting the urge to pull out at least one of her knives from its sheath. “The traditional vampires won’t hesitate. If they learn about the murders—if they realize their vanilla brethren were worried enough to entertain the thought of going on a killing spree...”
“They won’t hesitate,” the lord of the underworld concluded, his tone grim.
Rose growled in a low voice and brought out her claws. “I don’t want to fight a shitload of traditional vamps, Veles. The damage they’ll do before we even get the chance to jump into the fight...”
The god’s fingers tightened around her upper arm, grounding her, but it wasn’t enough.
“We’re ruthless. We kill easily, efficiently. But the traditionals… They just slaughter anything that crosses their path,” she finally said, her shoulders relaxing. It felt good to voice her fears. Somehow, it made them more manageable.
Veles turned his back to the procession and fixed his olive-embered gaze on Rose. “Some might say the same for The Dark Ones, Rosalind. You’re a force to be reckoned with.”
“Fuck,” she exhaled. She fought the golden specks in her eyes from shimmering; since Veles’s body didn’t block her completely, the vamps could easily spot a golden glow cutting through the darkness of trees. “Have you heard something?”
Veles returned to his position by her side, but his hand remained locked with hers. Silently, they watched the line of vampires snake its way further.
“Nothing substantial,” he finally said, entwining his fingers tighter with hers. “But it wouldn’t be ill-advised for you to handle this twentyfourhourly mess with as much grace as you can. And as quickly as possible.”
Rose ran her thumb across his hand. It was a gentle affection, but her features remained hard.
“Great. No pressure at all.”
The front is two trees down. What’s the situation in the back? Evelin asked, stepping deeper into the shadows as the vampires made their way towards her.
Two strays left, Zarja answered, followed by a wave of agreement from Rose. We’ll signal you.
Evelin released a deep breath. Dealing with troublemaking twentyfourhourlies wasn’t how she envisioned spending her evening. Silently, she hoped the pack would resolve the rioting vamps issue swiftly; or at least get the situation well enough under control so that she could slip away and examine the presumed location of the second poisoning.
Before Zarja conveyed Mrs. Barle’s warning, Tomo had told Evelin the warrant for the theater went through. The process had been much quicker than she had expected due to Tomo cashing in an old favor. And the policeman intended to visit the establishment as soon as he was done with Pelican’s facilities. The timeline being as it was, and with police forces stretched out too thin to assign any additional men, Tomo didn’t want to risk waiting any longer. If they had any hope of confiscating the theater’s trash from the banquet, they needed to act now.
A cold breeze pulled a few black strands from her otherwise immaculate ponytail, swiping them across her forehead. Evelin frowned, not amused by being forced to lay in wait in the middle of Ljubljana’s humid winter. The green surfaces of Tivoli made the situation even worse, the fog more condensed, more aggressive. It seeped through her clothes, wanting to settle in Evelin’s bones.
Fighting the urge to wrap her coat tighter around her less shielded human body, she studied the three vampires in the front.
They seemed...ordinary. Even if the park hadn’t been as devoid of evening strollers as it currently was, the mere sight of the twentyfourhourly crowd couldn’t have caused panic on its own. Still, even people prone to severe violence could pass for regular Joes; Evelin wasn’t about to drop her guard based on the vamps' vanilla appearances.
Got them. Rose’s voice sounded over the bond, followed by the sensation of her and Zarja closing in from the back. The twins, Mark, and Tim were positioned in pairs on each side, all in their wolf forms and ready to cross the short distance at any given moment to prevent the vampires from dashing into the cover of trees.
Evelin straightened up, allowing her claws and teeth to elongate as she calmly walked from her hiding place and onto the path. The vampiric trio of what appeared to be middle-aged men ignored her at first, but once they realized the delicate female in front of them had no intention of moving, they came to a stop, their fangs gleaming under the yellowish artificial light.
Whichever reaction they were anticipating, it certainly wasn’t the display of Evelin’s own sharpened teeth.
She flashed them a smile. “Where are you boys headed?”
“Move, wolf. This isn’t your fight,” the redheaded vampire from the trio snarled. His body shifted into a threatening stance but the display failed to impress Evelin.
“Right now it isn’t.” She smiled back, allowing a faint trace of crazy to seep into her emerald green eyes. “But if you take one step forward, it will be.”
She studied them, maintaining the tension.
“Come on,” she said in a teasing voice filled with a promise of violence, “I haven’t had a proper fight in months. Almost can’t recall the exquisite sensation of tasting the mangled flesh of my opponents as it rolls across my tongue.”
The vampires stood still, contemplating their options. The trio in front still tried to look menacing, but the other vampires kept their gazes lowered.
A female gasp escaped from somewhere in the center of the group; someone had spotted the dark forms emerging from the shadows. The vamps recoiled, huddling closer together. Even the trio took a step back, reaching for the safety of their group.
A male voice rose above the noise of hushed rumble of uncertainty. “This is bullshit.”
The man pushed his way through the mass of vampires. Strong physique, graying hair, and glasses. Barle shoved the procession-leading trio to the side, taking that step towards Evelin the rest of the vamps had been afraid to.
That dumbass, idiot of a man, Zarja commented, a vicious growl underlining her words.
Evelin stood her ground, not fazed by Barle’s large frame. Even as he came to stand directly in front of her, his body looming over her, she didn’t flinch. She tilted her head and fixed her firm gaze on the vampire.
“Mr. Barle,” she said in a chilled tone. “You’re the ringleader of this little get-together, aren’t you?”
The only reply she got was a flash of fangs. Behind Barle’s back, the group began to sq
ueeze together even closer, neither of the vamps on the edges wanting to be near the werewolves that had successfully encircled them.
“It appears that you’ve lost your support.” Evelin smiled and nudged her head in the direction where the petrified group stood. “Go home. Go to your wife. There is no need for her to lose another loved one.”
Barle’s eyes turned predatory. “My son was murdered, and you dare threaten me?”
“You were the one who cast the first threat.” Evelin matched his expression, her words barely containing the growl that had begun to spill across her lips. “Grief doesn’t excuse rounding up a group of vamps and pitting them against the human population.”
The distance between them was nearly nonexistent as Barle took another step forward, bringing his teeth dangerously close to Evelin’s face. “They targeted us first.”
In the split second before Barle launched at her throat, she placed one foot back, shifting her weight onto it and thrust her clawed hands directly under the vampire’s collarbone, palms up. Her grip was unyielding as she kept the snarling man at a safe distance, her hands extended just high and far enough to keep Barle’s feet from touching the ground.
The group of vampires behind them stood perfectly motionless, observing the display of strength in dead silence.
Do you want me to take the load off? Mark’s voice caressed Evelin’s senses, bringing with it that warmth that would hold even at the darkest of times.
She suppressed a smile. Let me have fun for just a little while longer.
Barle hissed as he tried to twist his body out of her grip, only to realize that each movement made her claws sink deeper into his tissue. And brought them closer to snagging a lung. Despite being somewhat more resistant than human beings, punctured lungs could still land a vampire in the E.R. Bitterly accepting the situation, Barle allowed his limbs to fall down by his sides.
“Good,” Evelin said with a deranged smile dancing on her face, “now we can chat.”