Seryozha Jovonovich, the eldest son of the Jovonovich family, exuded the boldness and steadiness of a big brother. His appearance was quintessentially Slavic: a square face framed by a prickly beard and complemented by strong arms that made even the current Neville look frail in comparison. As he ruffled John's hair, Seryozha muttered with evident dissatisfaction, "Look at our Yadani, how he's been starved." John's gaunt cheeks were a source of concern for Seryozha, who cast a reproachful glance at Watson, as if accusing the Brit of neglecting his nephew. Watson, feeling cornered, shook his head vigorously, silently protesting that he was not to blame, as culinary duties were beyond his purview.
Andre, the family's eighth child, fixed Watson with a menacing glare, his narrow eyes reminiscent of a wolf's. Despite sharing the same haircut as his siblings, Andre's demeanor radiated a dangerous aura. Anton, the seventh child, had come to visit his sister. For the occasion, he had tamed his usually unkempt black hair with hairspray, his posture and silent demeanor signaling that he was not one to be trifled with.
Alexei, the ninth child, presented a stark contrast to his siblings. Wearing glasses and possessing a gentle demeanor, his long limbs gave him an almost scholarly appearance. He was Andrei's twin, yet they looked nothing alike. Had John not witnessed Alexei skillfully hunting a wild boar in their childhood, he might have mistaken him for a college student.
Sensing a silent exchange among his uncles, John observed as Anton quietly left the room, followed by a knowing glance from Alexei to Andre. Andre, smirking, subtly communicated with Alexei before turning his neck with a click. "Yadani, we've brought you a gift. I hope you like it," Alexei said with a smile, guiding his sister and Watson towards the living room.
Watson, oblivious to the undercurrents, merely wished to make himself as inconspicuous as possible to avoid attracting the Jovonovich family's attention. John, however, sensed that his uncles were far from ordinary. Indeed, surviving in their harsh environment was no small feat. Eager to ingratiate himself, John warmly addressed the men as uncles, much to Seryozha's delight.
Seryozha then revealed a box of vodka, a remnant from a larger shipment that had been reduced due to an unfortunate incident involving the captain's drunken antics and a malfunctioning engine. Watson, who prided himself on his drinking prowess, was visibly shaken at the sight of the vodka. Alexei's gift, briefly revealed before being hastily concealed by Mrs. Wick, appeared to be some sort of weapon, judging by the rattling sound it made.
As the evening progressed, Watson found himself coerced into a drinking session, with Seryozha flamboyantly igniting the vodka before downing it. John could only offer Watson a silent thumbs-up, empathizing with his predicament.
Meanwhile, Anton and Andre returned, the latter with bloodied fists, eagerly joining the festivities. Anton, his hands freshly washed, wore a look of savage satisfaction.
Elsewhere, on Privet Drive, a man ran frantically, his face pale and his curses loud. He recounted a terrifying encounter with two individuals who seemed like demons from hell, capable of dispatching a dozen trained men with ease. The sheer brutality of their actions, particularly the cold efficiency with which one gouged out an enemy's eyes and the other crushed skulls, left him in a state of shock.
In his panic, the man fumbled with his phone, his anger peaking as he struggled to make a call. Just as he was about to give up, a slender hand reached out from behind, offering assistance. Before he could react, he looked up, and the eyes behind the glasses were as cold and deadly as those of a venomous snake. The driver, seized by panic, attempted to flee but was swiftly grabbed by the neck and pinned against the wall. "Shhhhhhhhh," a sinister hiss escaped as the man with glasses checked the call log and dialed a number. A deep voice on the other end inquired, "Is it finished?" The man with glasses revealed a malevolent smile and responded, "We found you." After ending the call, the driver's life was extinguished. A tiny needle mark was visible on his neck, his face turned a ghastly shade of blue as he slumped to the ground in the alley.
...
Sergey and Watson lingered over drinks until midnight. Sergey was the main drinker, occasionally waking Watson to take a sip before he drifted back to sleep. "Things are pretty grim there, but St. Petersburg is lucky to have a good mayor this year," Sergey mused. "He's a rare breed compared to those officials who devour without remorse. My father holds him in high regard. He even received an invitation from the mayor, but declined citing his old age."
"Strange noises have been heard around the house lately. Valery went to check and caught two intruders, breaking two wooden sticks in the process," Sergey continued. "Yadani, do you remember Valery? The uncle who took you winter swimming?"
John absorbed Sergey's words, reflecting on the recent turmoil and the current instability. Thankfully, St. Petersburg seemed a bit warmer this winter under its commendable mayor. His grandfather had opted out of involvement, feigning illness to the public.
John noticed Alexey returning with an additional mobile phone. The sound of a noisy truck starting up was soon followed by Anton's return. They kept silent about their activities, but John had his suspicions.
Several uncles eventually fell asleep in the living room, allowing John to retreat to the basement. With the map activated and the replay feature on, he witnessed the outside world's happenings. He saw Anton gruesomely remove someone's eyeballs and Andre crush skulls with his bare hands, displaying a ferocity that seemed beyond human.
"Why do my uncles seem to possess abilities beyond those of normal men?" John pondered. The ease with which they inflicted such violence was alarming. It was no wonder his grandfather feared them, considering how cheaply they regarded human life. Was the Jovonovich family truly this ruthless?
The next day, John's uncles left early, claiming they were just going for a stroll, though suspiciously taking a box of gifts with them. By lunchtime, they had returned, all smiles and laughter. Watson greeted them, still nursing a slight stomachache. Andre's casual demeanor earned him a stern look from Mrs. Wick, prompting him to adopt a more respectful posture.
Watson turned on the TV, and a news broadcast reported a mass death that morning. The victims were identified as members of the Nigerian Jungle Gang, their demise described as horrific. Watson was taken aback by the graphic images displayed, a stark reminder of a threat once made against him by the gang's boss.
The police speculated it was gang-related violence, but John caught a fleeting smile on Sergey's face. It was clear his uncles were behind this, their actions swift and decisive. This incident provided Watson a brief respite from the Wallace family's troubles, as London was gripped by fear over the emergence of such a ruthless group.
The gang's obliteration sent a clear message, particularly the chilling detail of their eyes being gouged out. It was not just a killing; it was a statement.
Sean Wallace's call came through, his voice grave, "Watson, we need to talk." Watson picked up, bracing himself for the conversation ahead. John hung up the phone and fell into a moment of silence before responding with a simple "Yes." The recent death of a prominent boss had left Sean feeling uneasy. John had initially planned to resolve these issues before embarking on his trip, but with the arrival of his uncles, his involvement was no longer necessary. Thus, the seventh day of the holiday arrived.
Over the past few days, London had been abuzz with the news that the police had recovered a van filled with dead bodies, causing a sensation across the city. Watson found himself swamped with work, but thanks to Andre's presence, they managed to avoid any mishaps.
Down in the basement, John was meticulously shaking a bottle of magic blood. He downed it in one swift gulp, grimacing at the lack of taste, and then crushed the bottle in his hand. The magical blood coursed through his veins, spreading rapidly throughout his body. John was confident it wouldn't seep outside; he had taken extra precautions to reinforce the basement after an incident involving Harry, ensuring that no trace of magic could escape.
Amidst this preparation, an idea struck him. His gaze shifted to the pile of materials he had assembled. As the magic within him surged uncontrollably, John channeled all his focus into the materials before him. Under the influence of his powerful magic, the pile began to transform rapidly.
John's actions were deliberate and filled with a sense of purpose. He understood the risks involved in experimenting with magic, especially in a world that was largely unaware of its existence. The basement had become his sanctuary, a place where he could explore the depths of his abilities without fear of discovery.
As the materials continued to change, John's mind raced with possibilities. He was on the brink of a breakthrough, one that could potentially alter the course of his magical journey. The excitement was palpable, a stark contrast to the silence that enveloped the basement.
Outside, the world remained oblivious to the wonders and dangers that lurked within the confines of John's makeshift laboratory. But for John, this was more than just an experiment; it was a testament to his dedication and a step closer to unlocking the mysteries of magic.
_________
If you are tired of reading I also have this converted to an audio novel on my youtube
https://www.youtube.com/@NovelAudioForge/featured
Direct Link to playlist
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_Hg-qsW4rM&list=PLKskshYG-OcPTR4-Nw7IWFEBZm07D8pBV&ab_channel=NovelAudioForge