Chapter 1
The August sun came down hard on Rose's skin as she sat under the barely-existing shadows of the pine trees. There was a soft murmur of traffic coming from the nearby street, but she was alone as she knew she'd be.
The small stone enclosure was her private oasis in the middle of the city, something she had stumbled upon in her early teens and revisited each time she needed to let her thoughts flow or simply take a few breaths in solitude without any outside pressure heaving on her shoulders. She propped her back against the stone wall and looked up. The green of the pine tree branches softly brushed against the vivid blue sky. She always felt alone, even lonely, gazing towards the sky, the branches lazily swaying in the warm summer wind, but she couldn't keep herself from doing it. There was something beautiful hidden behind the sadness.
She still had an hour to kill before the pub meet-up. Rose wasn't particularly enthusiastic about going since it meant having to navigate the packed streets of Ljubljana, but at least it was something to occupy herself with. Things were always moving slow when summer was coming to an end, and this particular summer wasn't any different. She dug a can of Coke out of her leather backpack–it was still quite cool, for which Rose was immensely grateful–and took a long sip.
Maybe we'll get an assignment this evening, she thought while she remembered there was something slightly stiffer in the air when Mark had contacted them about the meet-up. Ending her thought, she let the liquid spread in her mouth before gulping it down, almost finishing the whole can and topping it with a small burp. Rose let out a husky laugh, thinking about the usual shock that came across people's faces when someone so feminine as she dealt out burps so liberallysupes . But then again, when you were part wolf, growling kind of came with the territory.
As the sun hid behind the pine trees, Rose knew it was her cue to go. She pulled her strawberry blond curls into a tight ponytail, brushed off the back of her shorts for any dirt that might have gotten caught up in the fabric, and walked out onto a barely visible path. When she emerged from the small park, reaching the sun-dipped pavement, the heat was almost unbearable. Rose cursed under her breath for not insisting on a much later hour for the meet-up. They were a bunch of supes, after all, it's not like they were afraid of the dark...
She made a few turns and slowly entered the city center. Somehow, the small-but-wants-to-be-a-megalopolis capital of Slovenia was always filled with tourists in the summer months, which was actually a nice change from seeing the same local faces over and over again; however, that didn't alter the fact that she wasn't particularly pleased with just how crowded it got. Too many people on too narrow streets always made Rose uneasy–they weren't a threat, not for the larger part, at least, practically bursting with their shopping-driven tourists, but they didn't exactly leave much personal space either.
It always amused her how Paris never seemed as crowded; the Champs-Élysées maybe, but she never felt confined or anxious. The city knew how to breathe, while Ljubljana was still at the beginning of the learning curve. Consoled by the thought that her return wasn't that far away, Rose made her way through the masses, bypassing the main attractions while still keeping close to the bank for the magnificent view it offered. Rose may not have been among the biggest fans of Ljubljana, but even she couldn't deny that in the right light–or maybe in the right moment–the old town was nothing less than breathtaking.
Rose could hear several street musicians spread across the main and not-so-main streets nearby, their sounds slightly clashing–a textbook example for when she wished she didn't have augmented hearing; the ever-present babble of tourists only emphasizing the sensation. She expanded a bit of her energy to filter the important sounds from the unnecessary, keeping the audio distractions to the minimum. Overly summerish days never agreed with her, her body working in overdrive to keep her cool, but over the years Rose had learned how to compartmentalize her energy between the heat and the distractions while still retaining perfect control. And at that very moment, she was more than glad to possess that particular set of skills.
Fixedly, she progressed through the streets dipped in the evening light. There were fewer people northeast of the main square, and as the well-known setting of Pri Sojenicah slowly formed in the distance, Rose was completely at ease. Even from this far away, she could see the familiar tall, broad-shouldered figure standing next to a packed table. Frank. She smiled at the thought of seeing her friend who also worked as the bartender at Pri Sojenicah–something Rose always looked upon as a blessing. His easiness in life never failed to lift her spirits, and if this meet-up brought problems to the table (as their gatherings usually did), she more than needed his down-to-earth input; not to mention he mixed the meanest martinis she had ever tasted.
"Here comes the last one," a deep voice echoed over the terrace with a hint of a smile lingering underneath the words.
"Hi to you too, Mark," Rose tapped his shoulder. "Took my time so you wouldn't be the last one to haul his ass over here, at least once."
He flashed her a smile, showing off his canines, the few silver strands in his beard reflecting the early evening light.
"Keep that for the ladies," Rose winked at him, turned around to give Frank a tight hug before the werewolf returned to the other patrons, and took her seat.
She found herself in the usual setting. Mark, Evelin, Tim, and the twins, Jens and Jürgen. Rose was glad to see that Zarja was missing from the mix–maybe the Double J team had something to do with her absence. Out of the bunch, they did know the most. Rose truly didn't have the energy to deal with her passive-aggressive remarks along with whatever was about to come her way.
"No strays today, I see," she observed.
Pri Sojenicah was partly shielded from regulars, but from time to time, those who were more sensitive, more open to the supernatural part of the world, would end up occupying a table or two. Somehow, the subtle layer of glamor that made the bar unappealing to humans didn't have any effect on those particular people.
"Thank Belobog for that," Evelin exclaimed with a seriousness in her voice Rose wasn't used to. "I don't think the Gamayun would appreciate the extra company."
Rose pulled a new pack of cigarettes out of her backpack and proceeded to light one in silence. She had expected something to come up at the meeting; however, her imagination hadn't stretched that far out. Only after she had stabilized her pulse, Rose dared to ask: "The Gamayun is coming here?"
No one answered, but their eyes sent out a clear yes. The shift in atmosphere was almost suffocating; however, neither of the werewolves had the strength to break the silence just yet. Rose let the cigarette smoke fill her lungs–a bad habit she had wanted to kick out of her repertoire, even though human substances had a different, less altering effect on supes, and had failed every time she decided to quit.
She tried to get her thoughts together, recollecting as many historical and legendary facts she could conjure up in her memory. As far as she knew, the Gamayun didn't leave her place of dwelling unless they were on the verge of something catastrophic. Silently, she hoped that the situation wasn't that bad; she couldn't dismiss the fact that something clearly had to be dealt with, but maybe the Gamayun had changed her rigid rules of travel and came to discuss something of merely moderate catastrophic potential. Still, she knew she was lying to herself. Rose let go of any false hope she might have harbored; it was safer to be grounded when it came to disagreeable situations.
"So we have a shitstorm on our hands," she cut through the silence.
The remark made Mark's lips twist a slightly upward, but his voice was stone-cold and completely leveled as he confirmed Rose's suspicions.
"Has anyone even seen the Gamayun in our lifetime?" Jürgen asked with caution, as if the Gamayun could sense them talking about her. "I mean, she basically is a legend."
They slowly shook their heads. They all grew up with knowledge of those myths they knew to be true but were next to impossible to witness with their own eyes. And now, one of those myths was about to join them at their favorite bar.
"Fuck, is it even appropriate to be drinking beer in her company?" Jens asked, stupefied, a hint of his family's origin seeping through in the slightest of German accent. The Double Js always combatted arduous situations with at least a bit of humor.
Rose couldn't help but to laugh, but what came out was something more similar to a deep growl than anything else.
"Well, shit, I guess this implied danger got my were-impulses going," she noted, her growl-laugh lightening the mood once again. "And thanks for reminding me: I need a beer, too."
She signaled to Frank, and he returned within seconds with a cold pitcher of beer in his hands.
"You think we should strengthen the glamor around this place?" Frank asked as he set the pitcher in front of a very thankful Rose. They knew he heard every word of their conversation, but was polite enough to give them their space.
"I think someone with that kind of power will take care of it on their own," Tim replied in a small, yet firm voice, his eyes still fixed on the mosaic structure of the table. He remained silent, his gaze focused on one of the tiles before he lifted his eyes to the rest of the company, "Why us?"
The question lingered in the air. However, the pause wasn't due to searching for an answer. They already knew why.
Rose was the first to break the silence.
"Because of our fur," she muttered under her breath.
They were all descendants of the original Black Werewolf pack and one of the few pure-Black packs in existence. Their ancestors were the embodiment of the first mutations of the werewolf gene; the six of them, seated around the table, still proudly wore the pitch-black fur they inherited, but they had also evolved. Rose knew more changes would accompany future generations. Everybody assumed as much, but she felt that whatever caused the mutation of the gene wasn't at a standstill even now. At least not when it came to her specifically. However, she decided not to discuss that with the rest of the pack, not until she was certain of it herself.
"Okay, so the Gamayun needs flexible weres," Jens pitched in.
"No, not flexible. She needs someone calculative with that cold ruthlessness only the human species was able to develop," Mark explained.
Basically, the Gamayun is in need of psychopaths, Rose thought, none too pleased with the new information that came to light. She noticed Frank, who remained standing next to her throughout the conversation, shift his weight, which subtly gave away his uneasiness.
"At least you're in the clear," she smiled at him, sincerely glad he wasn't going to be pulled into whatever shitstorm that awaited them.
"You know I hate seeing you go into something like this by yourself," he cooed, the years of their friendship echoing in his voice.
Rose smiled and traced her gaze across the remaining five weres seated around the table.
"Luckily, I won't be alone."
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