Black Werewolves: Books 1–4

by Gaja J. Kos

Through the connection, she could feel the sad smile playing on Rose’s lips. Sander brought you to Pri Sojenicah. There was a whole lot of shit going on in Ljubljana at the time, so Veles and I were already there. A question started to stir in Evelin’s thoughts, but her pack mate cut her off. Don’t worry about the rest. Everyone’s fine, and right now, the only thing you should focus on is reaching that level yourself.

  A soft, silent chuckle rose in Evelin in response to the light tone, yet it did little to lift the clutches of fear, marring her deeper than any wound the Keepers had inflicted. Just as it couldn’t lessen the weight of the memory that slammed into her full force.

  Mark… The Keepers wanted to take me to pressure him into giving up Rafael.

  Mark’s safe, Evelin. Veles temporarily transported him to one of his other residences, where he’ll stay behind wards until we patch you up. The Keepers can’t harm him there. Besides, you know how he gets—he would only interfere with your healing if he were here.

  As much as she wanted to protest, Evelin knew Rose wasn’t exaggerating. Mark was protective to the point where his dedication could do more harm than good under certain circumstances. And she could only imagine what seeing her like this would do to him.

  Thank you.

  Tim is keeping an eye on him. We’ll bring them both back as soon as you’re on your feet again. Or at least out of bed.

  Evelin nodded mentally, thankful not only for the care they took of Mark, but for Rose’s calmness. There was something different about the werewolf, and though she had every intention of figuring out what, right now, she simply accepted this new state with nothing but gratitude. It was bad enough that the Keepers had come after her, and, as Rose had said herself, her priority was to heal. Not dwell on just what their attack insinuated.

  She gave herself over to the flow of Serafina’s magic, noting how it entwined with her own ability to heal. Fascinating was too weak a word to describe the harmony of the two forces, knitting her body back one sinew at a time.

  But as she marveled at the Koldunya’s strength, she remembered another power. A power wrapped in the cocoon of spring that had cradled her fiercely when she was teetering on the verge of consciousness.

  I—I faintly remember Sander’s scent… He fought them, didn’t he?

  He did. A flicker of amusement flowed down the bond. And he won, too. Quite spectacularly, at that.

  As hard as she tried, her memories failed to reconstruct anything but that sensation of power. Is he all right?

  Pissed as fuck, but physically, yes, he’s all right.

  Some of the fear in Evelin subsided. Is he here now?

  No. Rose hesitated. We don’t know where he went after he brought you to us. But he did take a Keeper’s body with him.

  The old, almost sentient magic of the sacred circle fed his own power as he glided through the woods, the blistered, charred remains of a Keeper lying across his arms. He threw the body onto the ground like the worthless sack of shit the creature was, unleashing the fury coiled inside him and allowing its full force to enter his gaze. One by one, he looked at the Kolduny who had begun to trickle from their dwellings, summoned by the pulsing signature of his wrath and their own curiosity.

  Vultures.

  They always did take too much pleasure in seeing him erupt. Luckily, this was one time when their audience would play in his favor.

  Sander stood over the Keeper’s body, his expression merciless as he waited for the coven to gather. The only action that broke the display was a small warning glance at Chesna, the Koldunya looking after Rafael whenever he left the boundaries of the circle.

  Chesna was pure, her heart untainted from the bitterness and conceit the rest of them had succumbed to. She didn’t have to witness what was to follow.

  Heeding the warning, the young Koldunya retreated to her cabin immediately, and Sander once more turned to face his coven.

  “What is this?” Agata asked as she approached, but kept her distance from the corpse.

  And, Sander presumed, the pulsing threat of his own magic.

  “This”—he motioned to the charred remains, his voice cold yet holding an edge of violence—“is the consequence of our isolation.”

  The plump Koldunya cocked her head to the side in silent question, but her face remained as impassive as ever. It appeared Agata had learned her gentle matron theatrics failed to achieve the desired effect when it came to him. Ilka appeared on her right and immediately took up a defensive stance. Loyal to the bitter end.

  Sander didn’t acknowledge the second’s presence, didn’t as much as flinch at the warning threat the slender Koldunya emitted through body language and magic alike.

  Irrelevant. She was irrelevant.

  Nothing but the matron’s puppet. An extension of her jaded will.

  His business wasn’t with her.

  Taking his time, Sander held Agata’s gaze. Only when the annoyance seeping from her threatened to erupt, he said, “The Keepers have parted from their task of maintaining the balance of this world. They used force when none was necessary. Upon innocents, at that.”

  “How does this connect with us, Sander?” Agata asked, the heads of the three wrinkled elders in the background bobbing in unison.

  Sander swallowed a sneer. “The core of our magic is based on aiding others. Isn’t that what you were trying to prove to me, when you sent me on the quest to obtain the Fire Flower all those years ago? That selfishness and arrogance do not become a Koldun?

  “I can understand that our magic always comes at a price for the one requesting it. It is a rule as old as Kolovrat. However, you also drawled on about how we aided humans of our own free will before the Realm fell. We had lived separately then, as we do now, but we had never kept a barrier between the two worlds. Not like this.”

  “I still do not see the pertin—”

  “Because you always only think of nothing but your own fucking ass, Agata. As do the rest of you pricks. Serafina went out into the world, and she stayed there. Not because anybody made her, but because it’s the bloody right thing to do.”

  “That’s rich, coming from someone who never gave a thought about anyone else but himself,” Ilka snapped.

  Sander shot her a cold stare, his own power pulsing in response—pulsing with the very strength of the Fire Flower he carried in his core.

  “Well, you fucks sure as shit made certain of that.” His gaze skimmed the three white-haired crones in the background, then came to rest on Agata once more. “You sent me to Serbia to teach me a lesson. You sent me there to break me. To show me that power wasn’t everything. That I was still helpless, even with the presence of an ancient, bloody mythological plant entwined with the very fiber of my being. Did you know I would meet Ava there? Did you know of her son?

  “You did, didn’t you? You knew I couldn’t keep him from dying, just as you knew I wouldn’t be able to save Ava from the demonic bond that plagued her family—worse, the bond that tethered her fucking life to the bastard. What did you think would happen when she died? Or did you believe I would leave her at Yarognev’s mercy?

  “Because I made a choice that day. A choice to help her brother and his family, to give them the life Ava wanted them to have. A life free of servitude. Oh, I have no doubts you manipulating assholes believed my own helplessness would make me step away from my own desire for power.” He laughed, and it was a bitter, dangerous sound that washed across the serene nature like a storm. “If anything, it convinced me of the opposite. I became more of who I was before I’d left the circle to fulfill your fucking quest. And yet all that time, I waited. I waited for the chance to show you what you’ve done. To show you just who your bloody games created.

  “But you forget one thing, matron dearest. Even when I was at my worst, I was still better than you. Because I knew what it meant to aid someone without expecting a fucking thing in return. And now, I’ll give you something you’ve never had the grace to offer me—a choice. You can step beyond the
border of the circle and lead the Kolduny to help keep the world from going to shit. Or you can fight me for the role of coven master”—his gaze skipped from Agata to the gathered witches and warlocks, then back again—“and we’ll see who will dare oppose my word after I drop your worthless corpse onto the ground.”

  Agata laughed, the sound as unpleasant as he’d ever heard her make. “You think you can take the Kolduny from me, Sander? I see your quest has, indeed, taught you nothing. I have the power of the elders behind me, and I am far stronger that you will ever be, magic of the Fire Flower or not. Cease this madness before you pay for it with your life.”

  Sander stepped over the blackened remains of the Keeper, extending his power farther around himself so that it drew a line halfway between him and the brown-haired Koldunya.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Agata. Raw power is nothing if it’s not fueled by passion. And that, my dear, is something you have never experienced in your life.”

  The Koldunya opened her mouth, but Sander didn’t wait to hear her answer. He had issued an official challenge. And he was within his rights to strike.

  Agata’s only reaction was a slight widening of her eyes before his magic hit her full force.

  Chapter 22

  “Be careful,” Veles said as they materialized under the canopy of trees, right on the edge of the sacred circle. “While there might be no love lost between Sander and me, I do not wish to see him harmed. But even more so, I care for your wellbeing, Serafina. I will wait here, if you need me. Call my name, and I will come.”

  She met the power of his olive gaze and nodded. While Veles couldn’t interfere in a battle for leadership—if Sander had indeed taken the road she feared he had—the god could whisk them away if things took a turn for the worse. But not even his aid would mean a damned thing if she failed to reach Sander in time.

  Releasing a long, slightly trembling breath, she ignored the unease pooling in the pit of her stomach, and walked into the circle. The remnant of what once had been an entire realm accepted her magic, recognizing her as an inherent part of it and allowing her entrance onto its sacred ground.

  Her mind was racing as fast as the tree trunks whisking by on both sides as she pushed forward, following the trail she could navigate even with her eyes closed.

  For years now, Sander had been an explosion waiting to happen. There was a darkness inside him—not evil, just darkness—clawing at the cage he had constructed around its coiling form and waiting for the opportune moment to burst through. And when she saw what the Keepers had done to Evelin, how they had beaten her to within an inch of her life, she knew there was only one place the Koldun would go. Only one thing that he would do. Perhaps even could do.

  Because the distaste he felt for the Kolduny and their affliction to cower from the world was one they both shared.

  “Gods, you bloody idiot,” she murmured as the wind beneath her feet carried her deeper towards the heart of the woods where they resided. “Please, don’t be dead.”

  If only Sander had waited, if he had waited for her to stabilize Evelin’s vitals—she would have come with him. She would have thrown in her vote of support, the weight of her magic, too. Yet deep down, she couldn’t judge him for his rash response.

  If it had been Rose the Keepers had attacked, she would have come here, as well. And battled her entire coven without as much as a single thought about her own wellbeing if they refused to aid the cause.

  Cursing silently, Serafina willed the magic around her to become more forceful, to flow out of her core with such force, it saturated every atom of air and granted her the speed she so desperately sought. A faint hint of power fluttered down to her from the north, carrying Sander’s distinct taint—and Agata’s.

  Only the Koldun’s was stronger. Far, far stronger.

  Hope fluttered in her chest, and she rushed through the woods, not even breathing until she reached the heart of the storm. Her shoulders brushed against the Kolduny who had decided to linger on the outer rim of the circle, where the contestants’ energy wouldn’t reach them—at least not beyond the harmless essence they could all feel—and pushed on, using force when they wouldn’t budge. She only slowed at the innermost line, where the press of magic was a thick, heavy cloud that grazed her skin. Quickly, she squeezed herself between Iza and Anton, two of the younger Kolduny she trusted at least remotely, then finally took in the two figures locked in battle in the middle of the circle the members of the coven formed.

  Sander’s face was a mask of ice cold fury, his bronze eyes alight with power as the weight of it buckled Agata’s knees and shoved her down on the ground. The matron was gasping for air, hands impulsively clawing at her throat even when she knew—as they all did—that nothing but magic could revive the molecules of air her body screamed for.

  As Agata’s skin gained a blueish hue, Sander changed tactics, punching through what little protective magic still surrounded the Koldunya, and heated the air until it shimmered, until her skin blistered and flames started lapping up and down her form.

  He smoldered Agata with power brimming in his eyes, the power that spoke of the leader he was on the verge of becoming. Merciless. Just.

  Every hair on Serafina’s arms stood on end as she watched Sander burn Agata until the witch resembled the Keeper, reduced to nothing but a heap of charred flesh lying just a few feet to the side.

  The nauseating reek of death spread through the clearing, the flames slowly dying down. Fatigue lined Sander’s harsh features, dulling the radiance of his skin, but the Koldun didn’t rest.

  Instead, he spun around and faced the three ancients lingering in the deep shadows by the cottages.

  It was then that she saw it. A figure, darting across the clearing without a single sound, leaving nothing but the scent of fury in her wake.

  Serafina didn’t have time to think. She didn’t have time to scream in warning as she saw Ilka’s trembling body ready itself to attack.

  The weight of Rose’s dagger—her dagger, now—was in her hands, her magic snapping out in vines no member of the Kolduny should be able to fashion. But she didn’t care if the rest saw her secret. Didn’t care if they knew that, somehow, her essence was different from the ancient magic the coven shared.

  Yet as the collective gasps echoed all around her, Serafina found herself sharing their surprise.

  Because the vines—the vines were far more powerful than ever before.

  Morana had been right. Even if she had been unable to display such power under her guidance, the goddess had nonetheless been right.

  Her family had been blessed by Mokoš herself, and the goddess of fertility and womanhood had granted her devotees something no one else had. Something that had been buried when the pantheon had fallen, and, finally, all but lost when the Realm collapsed.

  But it was in her now. Serafina could feel it, the power that was not one of the Kolduny, but more.

  The vines wrapped around Ilka’s feet, and while they didn’t entrap her completely, they slowed her down enough for Serafina to close the distance she would never had been able to otherwise. Sander spun around the instant she landed on the witch’s back, a snarl uncurling from his lips.

  He hadn’t felt Ilka coming.

  Serafina met his surprised gaze the split second before she buried the dagger in Ilka’s neck.

  And, for the first time in her life, felt no regret as her hands stained with the warm touch of death.

  Chapter 23

  Sebastian sat in the far corner of Nathaniel’s lab, a pen with the M.E.’s emblem etched on its side resting between his fingers. The human worked soundlessly at the other end of the rectangular, white-walled space, while he did the same at his own improvised station. A gurney rested on his right, its cool, gleaming surface carrying the remains of the now thoroughly dissected Keeper, and the cabinet in front of him served as a makeshift table for taking notes. It wasn’t the most comfortable of settings, but Sebastian didn’t care, not when chill
s swept down his spine each time he glanced at the crammed pages of observations he had already written down.

  He twirled the pen around, mouth pulled into a displeased line.

  Now more than ever, he was glad he had decided against taking the corpse to the Sun Palace as had been his first, hard-coded impulse. Not only was his home unsafe, filled with betrayers who hid behind friendly faces, but Sebastian had no desire to upset those who remained true to their calling, either. At least not until he was certain his suspicions were true.

  That, however, was something he couldn’t do without Nathaniel’s help.

  The human had a remarkable brain, an affinity for the scientific aspect of the supernatural Sebastian had never before come across, despite the long ages of his existence. And it had been the human who, after a series of tests, had established that there was, indeed, a resemblance between the Kresniks’ and the Keepers’ DNA. The discovery, although disturbing, was a remarkable achievement.

  Although he regretted the time lost, Sebastian understood why Nathaniel hadn’t delved into the mechanics of the Keepers’ bodies until now. The only specimen he had had access to before was the body belonging to his grandmother’s murderer. Nobody had thought twice when they tore apart the remains and buried them in the woods. Scientific research wasn’t worth going through that kind of pain.

  This time, however, it was different.

  Amped up on coffee, Nathaniel had spent the entire night working to provide the basics for further research, refusing to give up until the early hours of morning, when the demands of his mortal flesh finally overcame his exploratory determination. After Nathaniel had fallen asleep, curled up in his swivel chair, Sebastian had taken over, replacing the scientific approach with one based on energy.

  While his own powers weren’t like those the gods possessed—not even the Kolduny were, for that matter, able to read the energy signatures of beings in their vicinity—his calling granted him insight into all that could prove to be a threat to the mortals his kind was sworn to protect. It wasn’t much, merely a trickle of awareness, alerting him to the nature of the individual, but in this case, it had been enough.