by Gaja J. Kos
But as much as the glawackus tried, he simply didn’t exude the kind of elegant confidence their vampiric leader gave off without effort.
Perhaps it was the fact that Ian hadn’t spared her as much as a glance—a sure sign of his intentions. And weakness.
Whatever delusions of grandeur the shifter suffered from, he recognized his betters.
Ileana would have been pleased if she wasn’t quite as annoyed.
Swallowing one last sip of coffee, she sucked in a silent breath and prepared herself for what she knew would follow.
“The supernatural community has been concerned of late, and rightfully so,” Ian began. “Only recently have the majority of us within the higher circles gained the fragments of history pertaining to the new power that’s on the rise.” His gaze flickered over to Ileana. Briefly. “The Dark Ones. I suspect some of you had been privy to the information earlier, which is why the lack of any kind of response on your part is that much more surprising.”
“Ian,” Cornelius cut in, his wavy, dark-red hair reflecting the sunlight that spilled from the long line of windows. “Present your concerns, but do not judge others’ actions. Or the lack of them. As you said yourself, the knowledge of The Dark Ones was rare even among us. And with the Keepers’ oversight, we had few reasons to think the newly founded pack would become a matter with which we had to deal.” He waved his hand, gold cufflinks flashing from beneath his black suit. “Continue.”
The glawackus’s cheeks darkened almost to the shade of his beard, and Ileana didn’t fight the small rush of satisfaction that stirred to life within her.
The shifter cleared his throat. “Word seems to be spreading about the existence of this new force. And while the wider community doesn’t understand the essence of The Dark Ones completely, they do sense their power, and they worry. As should we.”
“Please.” Garrison snorted. “You’ve always had issues with werewolves. Personal ones. Yes, Ljubljana’s Black pack has gained in power, but so far they haven’t shown any indication of following in their ancestors’ steps. If anything, we should send our aid to help them control the vampire situation—”
“The vampire situation that wouldn’t have started if it hadn’t been for Markell’s daughter,” Trent pitched in.
Ileana turned her gaze on the young vamp, allowing just a bit of canine teeth to sharpen her cold smile. “Although I hardly think Rose should be held responsible for the actions of murderers following their own set of twisted ideals, if what you’re saying were true, than the uproars in the vampiric community are connected to her, not The Dark Ones.”
“She is one of them,” Trent snapped. “And packs always stick together. The workings of an individual belong to them all—”
“Oh, cut the crap,” Garrison snarled. “I still don’t know why the fuck you’re even in the higher circles, Trent. You’re still a babe in vamp years, and not even the life you led back when you were still human offers any kind of solid argument to support your inclusion in our group.”
The vampire’s pale blue eyes turned even colder. “That’s rich, coming from a no-name were.”
“I come from Svantovid’s line, Trent. And as one who shares blood with one of our gods, it is my right to sit at the table.”
“Not my gods,” the vampire sneered, but before he could continue, Cornelius smashed his elegant hand against the table.
“Will you stop squabbling? Trent”—he turned to the blond vampire, his rich voice carrying the weight of the centuries he’d endured—“you may not cherish them, but they are your gods. We are of the same race, and we are of the same creator. You cannot dispute our heritage, even if you do not follow the old ways. And you”—his stare locked on Garrison, softer but not relenting—“know better than to fall prey to petty baits. I understand your arguments, support them even, but I will not allow us to stoop to the level of bar brawls and drunken debates. Do I make myself clear?”
After the silence had stretched from seconds into a full minute, and the agitation in the room started to dispel with each audible breath the rallied members took, Ileana stood.
“If I may speak, Cornelius.” The vampire angled his head. “I agree. The Dark Ones are a subject we must broach. I only wish we could do so without prejudice. They represent a shift in the power structure, yes, but they are not the bringers of blood and death as history would have us believe. Not this pack. Not today. We should work on finding a way to implement them in the existing society, not shun them because some of you either fear their strength or fear for your positions. You may call me biased, but my relationship with the pack gives me insight you simply do not—and cannot—possess. The Dark Ones have no desire to overthrow anyone. They don’t care about social status, haven’t as much as veered in that direction, and they certainly don’t want to start a war just so they could come out of it on top. All they care about is maintaining peace, precisely as they did when they were still a Black pack, tasked with their own territory in Ljubljana, and nothing more.
“But war will come if we don’t help them crush the vampire supremacy movement.” She braced her palms on the table. “In case you have forgotten, it’s the Upirs who are guiding the vampires’ actions. Creatures we thought were long lost in the ashes of time are lurking in Ljubljana’s underground right now, feeding on the vampires’ fears and augmenting them to the point where they feel lashing out is their only option. My fragment of the sacred knowledge divided among us has revealed only little about the two-souled creatures. That is why I reached out to other acquaintances.” She sighed. “The result wasn’t something I ever even considered to be possible.
“How could an entire nest of Upirs go unnoticed for centuries? And, if they’re present in Slovenia, who’s to say that they aren’t scattered all over the world, too?” Her gaze skimmed over Trent, then settled on Ian. “You say we should be concerned about the rise of The Dark Ones. But have you even considered what it means that creatures who were born out of chaos, who possess raw magic that doesn’t belong in this world, are among us now? Did you even think about the consequences, the damage that power could unleash upon us all?”
She sat back down and ran a somewhat trembling hand through her loose curls, aching to down the still warm coffee in a single gulp. But she didn’t dare interrupt the silence her words had placed upon the room, regardless of how uncomfortable it made her.
Cornelius watched her with cunning eyes, his features unreadable, but the rest of the higher-ups…
They were wary, some even pissed off. However, there were also a few who seemed to have taken her speech to heart. Three of them even dipped their chins in silent acknowledgment.
“I can’t force you to believe me,” she said eventually, her voice soft. “But I implore you to at least share any information you think might be related to the Upirs with me. I like our world. I like the humans in it, too. And I really, really don’t want them to fall victim to the full extent of unleashed bloodlust. Or worse.”
Sunlight engulfed her as she strode out on the street, her feet instinctively carrying her towards the green expanse of Central Park. While there were too many people out to go for a run—at least the kind she craved—she still wanted to wrap herself in the comfort of nature. Even if only within the constraints of human form.
Garrison was silent by her side as they maneuvered through the crowd spread down the length of the street, but Ileana could feel the support emanating from the werewolf’s powerful body, and in that moment, she couldn’t have asked for more.
Ileana drank in the lively beat of the city, the endless hum of engines and waterfalls of steps, but for once, the brimming atmosphere didn’t feel like home. A couple of firetrucks rushed by as they waited for the green light at the intersection, the babbling throng of people around them only making the onslaught of sound worse. Ileana rubbed at her temples, hoping to dispel the headache the meeting had stirred.
Naturally, the New York chapter hadn’t come to any conclusions. B
ut, at the very least, she could take some consolation in knowing Cornelius had forbidden them to take any action against The Dark Ones until they had gained more knowledge on the pack. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
“They’ll come to their senses,” Garrison said as they crossed the road then veered west. “At least those with half a brain will.”
Ileana let out a small, husky laugh, but the sentiment failed to reach her eyes. “It’s the others I worry about.”
They continued their walk in silence, then stopped as they reached the restaurant Garrison’s pack owned. It was a charming little thing with a warm, welcoming deep green front that gave off the vibe of a vintage barbecue joint. There was even an homage to Svantovid resting above the entrance—a drinking horn and a bow, easily mistaken for just another decoration by those ignorant of the old ways. For the rest of them… It was a fragment of their history. Their roots.
Garrison placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention back to him. “You know you can count on me, Ileana. Whatever you need, I’ll be there for you.”
“Thank you, Garrison.” She traced a finger down his trimmed beard and met the rich gray of his eyes that created such a stark contrast to his warm, brown skin. “Right now, I think I just have to walk around for a while. Get my thoughts in order.”
The werewolf caught her hand in his, gently brushing his lips over her knuckles. Unable to help herself, Ileana closed her eyes, losing herself in the caress, in the distraction it offered—even when she knew, with no small amount of regret, that things could never get further than this flirtation.
She wouldn’t want to endanger him with her association. Garrison was a good were. A good man. And an excellent leader.
His pack depended on him—as did the higher circles, whether they wanted to admit it or not. There were too few of them already who didn’t grapple for power, but instead worked as a circle of elite supernaturals should. To aid the wider community above all else.
And although she believed herself to be one of the latter, Ileana also knew where her priorities lay. If things escalated, she would do everything in her power to help Rose.
Garrison didn’t deserve to be dragged into her fight.
“Let me take you out to dinner,” the werewolf said once he released her hand. “Just dinner, Ileana. Among two weres.”
His grin was contagious, and she found herself smiling without meaning to. She didn’t know how, but she found the strength to shake her head.
“Not tonight, Garrison.”
The were shrugged, but the nonchalant gesture failed to mask the slight disappointment lurking in his gaze.
“When all of this blows over, I promise we’ll have our dinner,” she added softly.
“Do you mean that, or are you just trying to make me feel better?”
She laughed. “I mean it, Garrison. More than you know.”
Before she could react, the were wrapped her in his arms, the heat of him enveloping her entire body. But Garrison didn’t push her, didn’t steal as much as a kiss. He simply gazed at her with warmth touching his eyes, the corners of his mouth turned up into a dashing smile.
He gave her a wink. “Then we have a deal,” was all he said before he released her from his grip and strode into the restaurant.
She stared after him, shaking her head as he disappeared out of sight. Determined to ignore the light blush that crept up her cheeks—something that hadn’t happened in years—she turned into the narrow alley that ran alongside the barbecue joint. Trash littered the ground and dumpsters made the space even more crammed than it was, but at least the beat of the city wasn’t as strong here.
Lost in thought, lost in the appealing image of the were and the memory of his lips pressed so gently against her skin, Ileana noticed the coiling scent just a second too late.
Wisps of black smoke disappeared as quickly as they had materialized, and she found herself staring at the two cloaked figures in their stead, blocking the alley.
Three, she corrected as she sensed the bastard standing behind her.
She let out a silent breath.
For more than two and a half decades, she had wondered when Bogdan’s brethren would find her.
Slowly, fingernails lengthened into claws, every muscle in her body tense as she shot them a chilling stare. “Took you long enough.”
Chapter 6
“And you’re only telling me this now?” Rose hissed.
She could hardly hear the commotion coming from downstairs. Her claws sank into the wooden windowsill, marking it with the force of her anger. Faintly, she recognized Veles’s smooth voice telling the pack they would head to Pri Sojenicah without her, but even the familiarity and warmth of the alluring sound failed to overpower her pulsing heartbeat. She clutched her cell phone tighter, a faint crack letting her know she needed to ease up lest she wanted to shatter the device into bits.
“As I said, I’m all right,” Ileana stressed once more, more than likely picking up on the tension even with the expanse of an entire ocean lying between them. “I didn’t want to wake you up in the middle of the night because of something that’s already done, sweetie.”
Rose snarled, a streak of curses exploding from her lips. “They attacked you, Mom! They went after you.”
She couldn’t calm down. Just couldn’t. It was one thing to hunt her, but for the fuckers to ambush Ileana… The wood groaned under the pressure of her claws.
“I can handle three Vedmaks, Rose.”
There was a hint of a deathly edge in her mother’s voice, and Rose let out a whizzing breath. “I’m not saying you can’t.”
She leaned on the windowsill, the sudden absence of fresh, lively scents letting her know the pack had already left with Veles. Somehow, the isolation made the reality of her mother’s words even worse.
The Vedmaks had tracked her down. They had ambushed her…
Her voice was a strangled whisper as she said, “I just hate the thought of something happening to you.”
“I know, honey. But you have enough on your plate as it is. Please don’t add me to your worries.”
Rose snorted. “Yeah, like that’s ever going to change.”
A husky laugh came over the line. “How about if you look at it from another light—I did enjoy sending the assholes into your consort’s realm.”
The sheer satisfaction that saturated Ileana’s voice loosened some of the tight knots running down the length of Rose’s spine and brought forth awareness of something she had already known. Even if it had been buried under stinking layers of wrath and concern her mother’s news had thrust upon her.
By choosing to protect her, to keep her hidden from the Vedmaks’ sight, Ileana had consciously given up her chance to seek vengeance for Bogdan’s execution. And if Rose knew her mother at all, the attack was a blessing, not a curse.
It wasn’t enough to make her cheer, but at least she could try not stomping all over Ileana’s parade. She bit her lip.
“Did you take your time?”
She could almost see the smile growing on her mother’s face. “Oh, yes.”
“Good.” She hesitated, fingers fumbling with the chipped wood of the windowsill. “Could you describe them to me?”
Although she really didn’t know why, she had kept her father’s dying moments to herself. Hadn’t told Ileana that Bogdan had somehow suspected who she would one day become—or, at least, the company she would keep. With his final breaths, her father had offered her a glimpse at his killers, preparing her for the future he would never get to see.
As Ileana went on to describe the three Vedmaks she had successfully unhooded during their fight, Rose rummaged through her memory. She brought up the details of each and every face of the scum who had stood in Bogdan’s cell, infusing it with lethal magic to trick her father’s own power into tearing him apart as it lashed out in need to protect. Her energy flared at the thought, but she willed herself to stay focused on Ileana’s words, matching
two of her attackers to the men from the memory, but not the third.
“Fuck,” she said softly.
Either the man hadn’t been present that day for some unfathomable reason. Or—as she suspected was the case—Vedmaks had added numbers to their rank.
Slowly, she exhaled, forcing the impulse to rent and tear to leave her flesh.
No, Bogdan’s execution—the execution of a traitor—was something the warlocks wouldn’t miss.
She growled, then swore anew as Ileana asked, “What’s the matter?”
“I’ve been building a file on the Vedmaks,” Rose half lied and shoved down the thought of just how many new Vedmaks might have spurted into existence over the past two decades. That was something to deal with at a later time. “The young one you mentioned, the blond—he isn’t on my list.”
“And what do you plan to do with that file?”
Destroy them all. “Nothing yet. I’m just trying to stay informed. Well, right now I think I’ll go and cross off the two you killed.”
Her mother’s uh-huh was filled with doubt, but Rose ignored the implication. As well as the irrational decision to keep her father’s memories to herself to protect Ileana from Chenobog knows what. Perhaps even something as trivial as giving her nightmares flesh.
“I’ve got to go. Will you call me if anything happens?”
“Of course I will. I love you, Rosey.”
“I love you, too, Mumsy.”
The call disconnected, and Rose tilted her head back, taking in deep breaths to calm her still rattled pulse. How was it even possible to hate someone who was her kin as much as she did the Vedmaks? Then again, blood meant little in light of who they were. Nothing but magic-wielding vermin of the most rotten, fucked-up variety.
Unwillingly, her teeth elongated, and she snarled into thin air—the sound filled with frustration, and, perhaps, a hint of despair. But as a faint scent snaked into the room, the onslaught of anger rumbling inside her died down, replaced in its entirety by silent determination.