The Greatest Revenge: Manhattan Werewolves series, #4

By Gabriella Messina

"In my country, there are many stories of men-made-beasts by the light of the full moon… What if I told you… that the stories… were made true?"

 

It is 1947… The many victims of World War 2, the walking wounded who carried on, wandered throughout Europe, searching for family, friends, a new home… and justice.

 

Surviving the diabolical hell of Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp was only the beginning for Ivan Karolyi. He is on a single-minded mission to find the Nazi physician whose experiments turned him into a werewolf. His quest takes him to a refugee camp in Cyprus… and he soon has a new goal.

 

For the Zaslavsky family, finding justice in the aftermath of the war has been difficult. Reclaiming their family legacy has become their focus, and the dark-eyed Romanian who agrees to help them seems like a Godsend. But Ivan Karolyi is far more than he seems, and the bond between him and Anna Zaslavsky could spell disaster for the mission.

 

A fateful night in Paris reveals true motivations… And Ivan is soon torn between the promise he has made and a love that could change his destiny. Every family legacy has its beginning…

 

The Greatest Revenge is the exciting prequel in the Manhattan Werewolves series. If you like suspenseful action, fated love, and intelligent humor, you'll love this fast-paced, globe-trotting tale.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gabriella Messina
• Release date: Oct 13, 2018
• ISBN: 9781393870111

Gabriella Messina

Always a spinner of tales, Gabriella Messina’s journey as an author began in the realm of screenwriting. Whether writing fantasy or crime fiction, short stories or full-length novels, Ms. Messina brings a fresh point of view and a snarky wisdom to her work, exploring science, justice, faith and feeling in equal measure. In addition to her creative writing, Ms. Messina helps other authors reach their goals, designing book covers and graphics, and providing proofreading and editing services.  When not writing, she enjoys indulging in her favorite “guilty pleasures”: coffee and chocolate, watching car racing with her son, and spending too much time looking at music videos online.

Book preview

1

The world seems full of good men, even if there are monsters in it.

Bram Stoker, Dracula

AUSCHWITZ II- BIRKENAU, 30 January 1945

The end is near. Not the end of the world... That comes to each in his time, and it has for so many already... No, this is all coming to an end... Something in the air has changed... The smell of smoke and gunpowder on the east wind... Everyone is anxious, frightened even... They are leaving, taking equipment with them... They have destroyed two crematoria, turned a third into a bomb shelter ... They are coming, and the hope of freedom with them, if we are still alive to see it. Though they have killed many of the others here, he will not let them kill me. He is preparing to run as well, making his way through the underground... I have heard him, whistling his Beethoven while he packs his books, his papers, his research. I have heard him learning Spanish, though I think he will be forced to leave Europe completely. The Allies will be looking for him and, if they do not find him, the Jews most surely will. We would hunt him as well, all of them, but so many are gone... And we are the most outcast of them all. Perhaps one day we will find him... I will find him...

Ivan Karolyi rubbed his eyes, re-reading the words that he had written some weeks before. His suspicions at the time had come to pass, and the smell of fresh burning and death from the east had manifested three days ago when the Russians came knocking at their front door. The Soviet First Army of the Ukrainian Front had approached the clearing in the forest where the remaining buildings stood with great caution. There was no way to tell them that the Nazis had all gone, fleeing at the first signs that it was over... It was all over.

Ivan heaved a ragged sigh and rubbed his eyes once more. Keeping them clear was becoming more difficult, and even the doctor had not been able to tell him why. The doctor... Ivan cringed at applying the title to such a man who had done such terrible things to so many people... done such terrible things to him. Ivan looked around the empty roadway that led through the main camp... Few remained, as most had exited those bloody gates as soon as the Russians threw them open. Many would die in the days to come, the very blessing of having food and drink causing their painful ends to come. What irony it was, that the thing which one needed the most could be the death of you... Ivan noted the twinge in his own stomach and ignored it. He had taken a small portion of the food the soldiers gave them, but only a handful of tiny bites... Enough to assuage his mental hunger, but not enough to cause the terrible torsion in the stomach and intestines that the others experienced. Best not to be greedy... Hell was over, there would be plenty of time to indulge later.

They had all known that the end was near months ago when the leaving began... At first, they thought that the Nazis were simply going to kill everyone and obliterate the camps from the face of the Earth, but by the middle of October, Ivan could see that they were merely moving as many people out as they could. They were given a choice: stay and wait for the Soviets or leave with the Nazis and be taken to other camps in Germany. For some, perhaps, the certainty of Nazi treatment seemed better than to risk the Red Army, and they chose to take the 50-kilometer hike through two feet of snow. Ivan knew it was a death march and refused. He would take his chances with the Soviets...

In November, Ivan noticed the large cranes brought into Birkenau, and, after much vacillating, decided to ask the doctor what was going on. The doctor had been reticent about it, only assuring Ivan that it was not something he needed to be concerned about. A few days later, the great roofs of the crematoria were gone, and the cranes were lifting out the cremation ovens, putting an end to the constant smells of burning hair and flesh, and death, that permeated the camps... that permeated everything.

Ivan understood little of what the Russians were saying when they arrived, but he could plainly see that they were unmoved by the smell, or the remnants of gas chambers and crematoria. This was not because of any unusual cruelty on their part, though genocide was not unfamiliar to them. No, this seeming indifference stemmed from the fact that they had already seen gas chambers before, the first time nearly three years earlier. They did, however, seem surprised to find so many prisoners still there, for despite the exodus that had occurred, over 7,500 survivors remained... including Ivan Karolyi.

IVAN KAROLYI! IVAN winced at the sound of his name, mangled by the Russian tongue speaking it. The others with him, all struggling to help the Russians suppress the fires that had raged for days, threw questioning stares his way. It would be difficult for many to move beyond the urge to distrust... For so long, a summons from a work detail of any kind was a sign that one among you may be a turncoat. Now, however... Ivan handed off the bucket in his hand, and silently followed the Russian soldiers to the temporary office that Koniev had established in the hospital.

Ivan loathed entering that hospital again. It had been weeks since he set foot in the building... since that last interview with the doctor... and the smell of it turned his stomach inside out and sideways. He hoped that the wave of nausea that swept over him didn’t manifest on his face as an expression of disgust... The last thing he wanted was to get on the bad side of his Russian minders.

Marshal Koniev smiled tightly and gestured for Ivan to sit across