by Gaja J. Kos
Finally, he eased off, returning to the rest of his coven with his wide, bronze shoulders shimmering in the sun.
The boyish Koldunya who had addressed the werewolves before observed Sander, releasing the gaze she’d held on him only after the Koldun came to stand by the voluptuous redheaded witch.
Her simple burlywood skirt flowed around her knees as she crossed the remaining distance to the pack, a sliver of tanned skin showing just above her navel where the hem of her top met the fabric.
Even the feminine clothes couldn’t hide the honed body that lay beneath them.
The Koldunya may not have possessed Sander’s impressive build, but Rose sensed she was just as lethal in her own way.
She outstretched her arm, palm up. As her fingers uncurled, a small silver pendant rested against her skin, carved with intricate detail.
Rose’s eyes widened with recognition.
“The amulet of Mokoš,” the Koldunya said, seemingly oblivious to Rose’s reaction, “will alert you if a disturbance were to occur.”
Rose’s finger itched with the need to touch the pendant.
It called to her blood, stirring some fundamental urge to reunite with anything pertaining to Mokoš.
But it shouldn’t have. Not yet.
Ileana had explained that only one living person could claim the status of the goddess’s descendant; it had passed on from Rose’s grandmother to her mother, and after Ileana’s death, it would pass on to Rose.
Yet she remembered the sword Veles had gifted her, the inexplicable connection she had felt with the relic since the first time she laid her eyes on it.
Her blood came alive at the thought of how she and the blade Mokoš had once wielded became one as she faced the wolf-man on that crimson-soaked clearing in Mračaj. Maybe she was already becoming a proper descendant of Mokoš. And it wasn’t because her mother would die young; no, Rose felt Ileana’s liveliness and knew her mother would enjoy the streets of New York for decades to come...
Veles believed she was destined to be a goddess.
She still thought the theory far-fetched, yet there was some truth in it. With the pull she felt from the amulet, maybe she was closer to Mokoš than any of her ancestors had ever been.
Maybe, she was more than just a descendant-to-be.
In the end, she fought the compulsion to wrap her fingers around the silver pendant, Evelin taking it in her stead.
“The amulet Ilka gave you carries part of the ward that will be placed over your city,” Agata said, observing the werewolves with motherly kindness. “Keep it. If need ever arises for us to reactivate the wards, you will already have your key.”
Not even for a second did Rose believe that a consecutive spell would come without a price.
She wasn’t quite sure the bronze beefcake wouldn’t continue to insist on some sort of reimbursement for this one. However, Sander remained silent, obediently standing by the redhead’s side; only his eyes gave him away, the odd manner in which they observed Rose—a controlled mixture of carnal and murderous intent.
Somehow, the former worried her more.
“You will have your wards by sundown,” the plump Koldunya said, Rose’s attention snapping from the man back to Agata in time to see a dark shadow pass across her face. “Find the fomenter that walks the line between races, wishing to tip the scale. It will be payment enough.”
The drive back was quiet; even Frank wasn’t in his usual talkative mood, but instead observed the countryside changing as they approached the gray outlines of Ljubljana.
Rose kept replaying the Koldunya’s last words in her mind, wondering if they truly had overlooked some hate group who was out to get the vamps.
Rose groaned, clutching the wheel tighter.
Something didn’t quite fit.
Why would crimes against vampires tip the scale?
Unless whoever stood behind the attacks had something larger in the making...
A thin veil of darkness crept across the horizon, becoming more opaque the closer they drew to the city. By the time Rose dropped off the werewolves at Pri Sojenicah and parked her Defender in the small parking lot behind her building, night was in full bloom.
A touch of magic prickled at her senses when she shut the driver’s door behind her and leaned against its cool surface.
The wards were up.
And with no word from Evelin passing through the bond, it was safe to say that Ljubljana was quiet.
“How come you’ve never taken me for a drive?” a velvet voice spilled from the shadows.
Rose smiled, enjoying each caress his words lay upon her body, heating her skin despite the winter chill.
“Always thought you were too lordly to make use of something as ordinary as a car.”
“Srček,” the god said with a fanged smile complimenting his features as he casually sauntered towards her, “with that much space in the back, I could make extraordinary use of this car.”
Evelin lay on her side with Rafael curled in the safety of her lap. The amulet of Mokoš dangled from the cotton string she had secured around her neck, the silver cool against her skin. Mark shuffled around the room, falling into his pre-bed routine, although—Evelin noticed—his posture lacked some of its usual easiness.
She knew the were was worried.
Worried about the night falling victim to savage vampires.
Worried about tomorrow’s scavenger hunt for notes deep within the vamps' territory.
Worried for her.
Mark would never voice his concerns, never demand from Evelin that she’d miss a fight with the pack.
But she had seen the way he watched her while she was with Rafael, something fatherly softening his features each time his eyes came to rest on the cub.
Rafael had already lost one mother; Mark wouldn’t allow for him to experience losing a second one. And with the bond of The Dark Ones woven through the pack, all Evelin had to do to stay alive was to remain part of the pack, but not engage in every dangerous fight life threw their way. Especially not one where all seven members were present.
Evelin understood the impulse; with her past sending reminders of how she had lost her mother and sister at such an early age, the mere idea of leaving Mark and Rafael behind stung just as badly as one of her memories.
But Lena had died fighting.
And if it came to that, so would she.
Finally, Mark crawled under the covers, pressing his body tightly against Evelin’s back. He threw one hand over her side, where it came to rest on the soft, white fur of Rafael’s sleepy form. Evelin closed her eyes, the warmth of Mark’s body dispersing unfavorable thoughts and filling her mind with a sensation of serenity.
Nikolai and Nadia had accepted her without a hint of hesitation after the poachers took the lives of her mother and sister, offering her a loving home. They made her feel wanted, made her a part of something bigger.
Evelin never found herself in need of anything.
But what she had with Mark… What she had experienced the moment she laid hands on the small, snow-white cub in that den that reeked of death.
This, this was her family.
And with that single, heartwarming thought resonating in her mind, she fell asleep, and slept till morning, the amulet quiet against her skin.
Chapter 23
Rose woke up in the warm embrace of Veles’s body; the long lines of his legs were tangled with hers under the sheets as if they refused to release her from the comfort of their bed just yet. She peered out the window under the half-lifted Venetian blinds and gazed at the dull, gray morning.
Nothing new.
Habit had driven her to stay in Ljubljana until the crisis was resolved. Veles hadn’t objected. But then again, the god didn’t seem to mind the bleak mornings either.
A few days compared to centuries upon centuries were probably nothing more than a blink of an eye for him.
Not to mention that with staying in her apartment came the lack of need for hi
s particular means of transport—which meant Veles had the luxury of sleeping in. No wonder he hadn’t pushed the issue.
She sighed and slipped from underneath the god. Silently, she stalked over to the low dresser that held her weapons. She would need them today.
After placing a kiss on his forehead, Rose eased out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. She threw together a quick breakfast, vigilant not to make too much noise, and downed the food with a cup of strong, still steaming black coffee. The beverage cleared her mind, putting the day’s objectives in perspective.
The thrill of the hunt pulsed through her body, its punch more powerful than any coffee could deliver.
In less than twenty minutes, she walked around the building to the parking lot, her skin-tight attire hidden underneath the woolen coat and her blades secured in the sheaths she had strapped to her body.
For the second day in a row, she lifted herself into the driver’s seat of her Defender, the low hum of its engine twisting the corners of her lips into a smile. The weres hadn’t been too enthusiastic about the idea of sharing Veles's method of transportation with Katja, who volunteered to join them on their search and had decided to use a more conventional method to get to the vamps' lairs.
And in that moment, Rose couldn’t have been happier with the choice.
She turned onto the main street, music blasting from the speakers, and drove in the opposite direction of the traffic. To the northern outskirts of Ljubljana.
Rose saw Tim’s hog and the twins' Harleys parked on the shoulder of the narrow road that had taken her away from civilization and deep into the countryside; it never ceased to amaze her how Ljubljana’s commuter belt ended abruptly, opening up to the green hillsides with its rustic villages.
It was as if a whole different world lurked beyond the urban Tetris tiles. Not quite as impressive as the one the Kolduny created. But it still managed to take Rose’s breath away.
A little farther down the road, she spotted a wide enough shoulder to pull over and park without the danger of the car’s rear end sticking out on the lane; the location was as discreet as it could be, so maybe, once she got back, her Defender would still have all four tires right where they were supposed to be.
She got out of the car and opened the shutters on her senses. The fresh, icy smells of nature poured into her, followed by the signature scents of her werewolves that were being carried across the terrain by the steady currents of northern winds. Frozen ground crunched beneath Rose’s boots as she followed the trail through the silent woods.
Too silent woods.
You’re thinking too much into it, she snapped at herself. It’s winter. Of course everything seems dead.
Yet the eerie quiet sent chills crawling down her spine.
The pack had set their meeting point at a safe distance from the nearest lair. But still…
Traditionals’ hunting grounds. She cringed as it dawned upon her, listening for even the faintest traces of wildlife.
She found none.
There was, however, a different sound weaving through the air. A warm sound that forced the chills from her body. She pushed forward, blocking everything but the familiar tone.
She heard Jürgen’s distinct rumbling laughter before the rest of the group came into her line of sight, gathered among the trees. And it didn’t take her long to notice the reason behind Jürgen’s good mood. Katja’s chestnut curls, meticulously pulled into a tight ponytail, stood out against the white surroundings, her posture relaxed as she chatted with the blond were.
Initially, Rose hadn’t been too keen on bringing her along for the hunt. Frank was a safe bet; like all werewolves, he had received his combat training from an early age, and wouldn’t divert their attention with the possibility of being a victim if it came to a fight. But nobody could vouch for Katja, except the vampire herself.
Katja had dug in her heels, adamant to participate in the hunt. But those were only words, and Rose had long since stopped believing in them.
Yet, with the combat-appropriate tight pants coupled with a fitted long sleeve shirt, and her easy demeanor, Katja fit right in. Noticing the knives strapped to the vampire’s thighs and wrists, Rose let go of her doubts, and walked over to the group.
Losing no time except for the necessary greetings, the nine pushed deeper into the woods, following Katja’s lead with Jürgen all but glued to her side. Zarja fell in step with Rose, occasionally snickering at the enamored, chatty were.
“Decided to give up the chase?” Rose raised an eyebrow, sincerely curious.
Zarja peeled her gaze away from the couple in front, the warm hazel tone of her irises catching Rose’s eyes. “Maybe I’m not a vamp kind of gal.”
Rose opened her mouth in surprise. Zarja would never have given up so easily. Unless… “You’ve met someone, haven’t you?”
The were shrugged innocently, but she couldn’t prevent a devious smile from lifting a single corner of her lips upward. A confession. But also something else…
Rose cursed, but couldn’t hold back the husky laugh. “And you’re not going to tell me a damn thing, you minx!”
Zarja flashed her a grin, provoking a playful growl from Rose that dissipated into easy laughter as the two werewolves bumped shoulders together. They continued the walk in silence, Rose catching glimpses of the were’s lively mood.
Whoever it was that Zarja had met, they must be nothing short of extraordinary to have lifted her spirits this profoundly... And made her lose all interest in the magnetic, curvy vampire that even Rose had to admit was one of the more beautiful women she had crossed paths with. Especially with the boastful assortment of knives, the vamp should have driven Zarja insane—yet the werewolf remained blissfully ignorant of her appeal. And looked…happy.
For the first time since she had lost her cousin to the wolf-man, Zarja looked happy.
Rose smiled at the thought and settled into a steady pace through the woods, her mind clear and her senses open.
The path took them downhill, past a small creek they had no trouble crossing, despite Jens’s relentless attempts to throw his twin out of balance and into the frigid water. The eerie silence of nature continued with nothing but their soft footfalls accompanying their trek. Rose became more unnerved with each passing moment, yet grateful at the same time, that the vampires had turned their bloodlust onto the wildlife and not the nearby villages.
Well, mostly, at least.
The group crossed into an area where the undergrowth and trees became sparse, Rose’s attention falling on Katja at the front of the column. The vampire had stopped, motioning the werewolves to gather around her.
Her gaze was focused on a small group of boulders that rested ahead, her forehead wrinkled in a delicate frown.
“We’ll be in the vamps' home territory once we cross those rocks.” Katja exhaled, turning back to the werewolves. “It’s fairly open ground, so we’ll need to make use of what little cover there is. Try to catch the scent as soon as you can. We’ll have to be fast if we don’t want any unwanted company on our asses.”
Despite the urgency of her words, Katja’s eyes sparked as she spoke, the thrill of a hunt lining her features with eager determination. Rose concealed a smile, realizing with some surprise that she looked forward to working with someone equally agile yet with such a different inborn set of skills.
It had been too long since she participated in one of those joined vamp-were hunts under the night sky, and intended to remedy it as soon as the murders were solved.
Rose moved up front, followed by Zarja and Evelin. The twins positioned themselves in the center, while Tim, Mark, and Frank brought up the rear. Katja showed no inclination to leave the head of the group in favor of huddling in the safe zone behind the weres, and when Evelin shot her a questioning gaze, the vampire offered a winsome smile in return.
“Jürgen told me you three were the—his words, not mine—head sniffers of the pack.” Katja rolled her eyes when laugher erupted behind h
er, yet her lips remained plumped into a soft, warming smile. “Well, you can smell vamps. I can sense them.
“Every vampire can sense their kin. Like every living being, vampire bodies carry a fundamental energy charge. It’s not quite the same as your qi or the pulsing powers that seem to hover around gods. It’s…different. And we’re tuned to it. An invisible aura that allows us to recognize our kind. To band together, to avoid… Who the fuck knows why.
“There isn’t a single vampire without the inborn ability to sense that energy. But the magnitude differs widely. Some are only capable to determine if a person is a vamp once they’re within touching distance... And some of us have a larger radius.”
“You?” Zarja asked.
“I know that there are three traditionals resting in their lairs on the other side of this hill.”
According to Sebastian’s information, the nearest vamps' habitations were at least two miles out. Even the weres couldn’t catch a live scent from this distance, not without at least some wind blowing from the targeted direction.
But Katja, it seemed, didn’t need any help.
Evelin gave her an appreciative smile as Rose and Zarja grinned at the same time.
“Impressive,” Zarja beamed. “Im-fucking-pressive.”
“How long do you think we’ll have before the traditionals sense you?” Tim asked, breaking rank to move closer to the chestnut-haired vampire.
Katja turned towards him, an easy expression resting on her face.
“When we reach their lairs.” She smiled. “Yes, the traditionals are vicious, blood-crazed creatures, but with their restricted way of life, they have unintentionally put a buffer on their abilities. However, if you think the risk is too high, I’ll hang back for you to sneak into their lairs alone...”
Rose raised an eyebrow. “How do you know all of this?”
“I studied them,” Katja replied with an innocent shrug.