The Lycan Rebirth (The Flux Age Book 3) Page 2

  “Mmm,” Alita murmured. “That’s a bad one, but I think I can help you.”

  Julian tried valiantly to stifle the hope that clearly surged through him. His eyes blazed fiercely as he looked down at the beaming healer.

  “What needs to be done?” he said in a tight voice.

  “That aquilan cartilage is tricky, but I believe I can stretch some of the surrounding filaments and then coax the regeneration of the flesh. Your feathers will come back too. Eventually.”

  Florence found herself relaxing immediately. Alita’s tone was so utterly reassuring that there seemed little doubt that she could help the tall aquilan.

  Julian, too, looked satisfied with the explanation. But only for a moment. His eyes narrowed.

  “Forgive me for asking,” he said. “But how do you know about aquilan physiology?”

  Alita didn’t bat an eyelid. “Two years ago I had a lone flyer. Said he was from the Rockies. I treated him for something much the same, only his was on the edge of the wing and much easier to heal.”

  Julian nodded slowly, apparently accepting Alita’s story. But Florence’s interest had been piqued. She suddenly realized that all this had been too easy. Alita’s calm, welcoming presence, her unquestioning availability, her confident reassurance.

  “Sorry to be rude,” she said with what she hoped was a winning smile. “But we need to leave Nassau tonight. Are you able to work on Julian today?”

  Alita’s smile faded for an instant before reappearing. This time Florence could tell she wasn’t smiling with her eyes.

  “I don’t have the right materials,” she said smoothly. “The soonest I can do this is tomorrow. Say, why don’t you stay in one of them fancy hotels?”

  Florence looked at Julian, who glanced back doubtfully. His expression was wretched, like a dream had been crushed for good. Florence felt her heart reach out for him. She just wanted to wrap him in her arms.

  But something needed to be done first. Florence considered the woman standing before her, a woman so good at what she did that she had almost fooled the pair of them. Florence had no doubt that she was a healer. The problem was, she reeked of working for the enemy. For the aquila.

  If Florence and Julian had stayed in a hotel, as suggested, she doubted they would live to see the morning.

  The aquila were a rich and well-resourced race. They probably had spies all over the world. Unfortunately, Florence and Julian had been drawn to one of them.

  Florence cursed under her breath. The only positive in this situation was that Alita didn’t know where St Claire was. Even so, it was only a matter of time before Hector Caliri had all his aquilan troops combing the island of New Providence. That spelt lethal danger for Florence and her fledgling wolf pack.

  “What should I do with you?” Florence asked Alita. The question was so matter of fact that even Julian seemed to find it chilling.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” Alita said with valiant confusion.

  “Pity, a healer might have been nice to have,” Florence said wistfully before spinning on her heels and leaving the room. She could hear Julian trailing behind her.

  “Shouldn’t we at least take her with us?” he asked. “She’ll be on the phone as soon as we’ve gone!”

  Florence spun around and looked Julian in the eye.

  “It was clearly a mistake to come here,” she said. “That’s our fault, not hers.”

  Julian considered that for a moment, then grimaced. “Fine, I see what you mean,” he grumbled. “But if you asked me, lycans are too damned honorable.”

  “Lucky no one asked you,” Florence said, resuming her quick pace from the store.

  The next few days were tense. The obvious question was whether Emmaline had known about Alita’s true allegiances. Florence chose to confront the diviner directly and let her instinct lead the way.

  Emmaline was angered when she listened to Florence’s story, but she didn’t show any exaggerated embarrassment or concern. Florence judged that she was still an ally. Which was just as well, because they would desperately need the diviner in the coming months. Not just for new recruits, either.

  The reality was that Emmaline knew the Bahamas intimately. Every island, every bay.

  Florence quickly arranged a meeting with Julian and the diviner. They talked in the velvet darkness of the orchard as moths darted in and out of their lantern.

  “We can’t just jump on a flight,” Florence said bitterly. “The aquila will be watching every exit.”

  “Same with the larger cruise liners,” Julian pointed out.

  “Travelin’ by sea would be a death sentence,” Emmaline drawled. “Too easy to trap you.”

  “Then what?” Florence asked in exasperation. Normally a creative type, she really was out of ideas.

  “There’s a saying, where I come from,” Emmaline said cryptically. “Jungle on the double.”

  Florence looked at the diviner thoughtfully. “You know people in the deeper jungle, don’t you?” she asked.

  “I might,” Emmaline replied. “They’re beasts, just like you. And I think they’re on our side.”

  2

  Bucharest, Romania

  The helicopter took Jack as far as Bucharest - bad weather was settling in and the pilot was hesitant to go any further.

  Jack thanked the man and went to pay him, but was told that Yasmin Silver had already taken care of things. Jack smiled, wondering if Yasmin was busily building an empire of her own here in Eastern Europe. If anyone could make a vampire army work, she could. He’d heard that vampires weren’t really team players and liked to do things alone. It was one of the reasons they’d never really been able to dominate the lycans even though they had a powerful array of skills. It didn’t matter now anyway - as long as Yasmin was alive, the vampires would, in theory, be on the right side.

  Jack prowled the streets of Bucharest in the late afternoon. He decided to secure a hotel room so he could ponder his next move. He used the false identity that Yasmin had given him. It was useful for everyday things like hotels, but it wouldn’t fool enemies like the Berlin Club. Which was why Jack needed to be on the move.

  That night he made a list of places he thought Florence might have gone to. Not for the first time he wished he could contact her via cell phone, but it was simply too dangerous. He couldn’t put her at risk, especially if she had other lycans with her.

  So what were the options? As far as Jack was concerned, all roads led to New York City. The streets there would be hot with enemy activity, but he felt he was best placed to find some answers in his old stomping ground. Besides, Florence might have left some kind of clue as to where she had gone.

  Glad to have some kind of plan, Jack slept well and woke early. He booked the next available flight to NYC and endured a tense trans-Atlantic flight into JFK airport.

  New York City, USA

  The first thing he did on touching down was book a cheap hotel to act as his base of operations. It saddened him that he couldn’t simply stroll back to the chapter house like he had for so many years. Mixed in with the sadness was anger. There was a blood debt to be paid and however long it took, he was going to pay it.

  For the moment, Jack contented himself by walking the streets of downtown New York. He wore his favorite hoodie and made sure he was low key at all times. He found it instructive to see what was happening at street level. The vibe there usually hinted at larger patterns. Along the way he was able to catch up with people he trusted. Hot dog vendors, homeless people, the odd street cop. Many of them reported increasing violence and unrest in the city at large. As expected, more and more people were discovering their spirit creatures, causing widespread fear and confusion.

  On the positive side, the wights, for so long a scourge of the New York underground, had not been seen for a while. It seemed that their nest had been smashed and any survivors had fled the city. The other positive was mounting evidence that the aquila had been at war with Berlin Club ghouls. This piec
e of information made Jack grin from ear to ear. He had no doubt that the Berlin Club had double-crossed the aquilans and taken all the lycans’ dark tissue for themselves. This would’ve incensed the aquila, who were probably pushing back hard. Except the Berlin Club, along with the dark tissue, was now safely dispersed throughout Europe.

  It was good that the aquila were now an enemy of the Berlin Club, but that didn’t suddenly make them allies to the lycans. That bridge had been well and truly burnt. The only good aquilan was a dead one.

  In fact, now that he was back on American soil, Jack felt an irresistible need to go after the aquilans. He didn’t know where Florence was hiding, but he did know where he could find some information on the aquila.

  Heading down Fifth Avenue, he looked up at a sleek, imposing skyscraper - Brandis Engineering. The place where he’d met Julian Banes for the first time. He was certain the tall aquilan was still with Florence. Last time he checked they were always within yards of each other. Sickening. If Jack could somehow locate the aquilan base, hopefully he could determine Julian’s location. He strode confidently through a stark, corporate foyer, knowing that each step would be captured on camera and fed to people who would recognize him. He didn’t have much time. He rode the bullet elevator right to the top.

  Julian’s executive assistant was sitting at her desk looking bored. A pair of removalists huffed past carrying the chesterfield lounge from the waiting area.

  “Moving house?” Jack asked casually as he approached Tilly.

  Her eyes flashed. “Sir, Mr. Banes isn’t here. You really should-”

  “Search his office,” Jack said with his most charming grin. “Thanks, I will.”

  “Sir, please,” came the urgent reply as Jack marched straight into Jack’s penthouse.

  There were more removalists in here. Jack felt the familiar stirrings of the lycan germ as he ascended the spiral staircase to the second level.

  Security would already be on their way and he needed to be able to deal with them.

  Jack’s main objective was to search Julian’s bedroom before the removalists got to it. As expected, it was plush and spacious. Jack crouched low as the final stages of his shift send a wave of pain shuddering through his body. Germing into a werewolf wasn’t particularly pleasant and he was glad he didn’t do it too often. All things considered, once every couple of days was probably enough.

  Ignoring the elaborate bed and the modern decor, Jack checked a small writing desk in the corner and found several hand-scrawled notes but nothing useful.

  Raised voices back on the ground floor drew his attention. Security had arrived, and in their bumbling oafishness had announced their arrival.

  “Idiots,” Jack said through bared teeth. Still, he would need to be quick and he still hadn’t found anything. He flicked through a leather bound journal and found plenty of interesting information about the corporate backing enjoyed by the aquilans, but there were no recent entries.

  Cursing under his breath, Jack tossed the journal away in disgust.

  “You’re gonna have to come with us, sir,” said a firm voice behind him. Two security guards hung uncertainly in the doorway. Jack grinned - it sounded weird for a human to call a werewolf ‘sir’. Weird and wonderful.

  “Come on, fellas,” Jack drawled. “Let’s not make this experience unpleasant.”

  The guards hesitated. They’d clearly come across Flux beasts before, which explained why they weren’t running a mile in the other direction. Jack guessed they’d only seen eagle folk.

  And then he saw it. A framed picture on the wall by Julian’s bed. It showed a verdant valley of pine and spruce. Jack had traveled enough over the centuries to recognize the terrain. The Rockies. He thought he knew the general area the shot was taken. His keen werewolf instincts suggested that the place was special to Julian. And that could only mean one thing - an aquilan hideaway. It was time to leave.

  “Listen,” Jack said reasonably. “You’re gonna let me walk on out there and hurl myself from the balcony. Your supervisor will understand, right?”

  The guards looked at each other nervously. “We’d advise against that, sir,” the front one said.

  “I’d rather not pull bullets from my hide,” Jack said, approaching the guards calmly. “That can be really, really irritating.”

  Leveling his gaze, Jack picked his way between the guards and casually headed down the hallway.

  The guards followed as he stepped onto the sun-drenched balcony and perched himself on the rail.

  “The perp looked like a wolf,” Jack said, grinning back at the overweight guards. “Before we could do anything, he disappeared without a trace. The last thing he said was strange. He said ‘The lycans are on your side.’”

  And with that, Jack saluted and let himself tumble over the rail.

  “Sir, no!” bellowed one of the guards.

  Jack let himself fall for several hundred yards before leaning into the side of the building. He grabbed hold of a descending platform carrying three window cleaners and almost pulled it down with him. The platform slowed his fall, and his heightened strength and flexibility prevented his arm from being torn from its socket.

  The amazed window cleaners gaped at Jack as he politely asked to be set down at street level. He thanked them profusely as he disappeared into a side alley, noticing the police cars pull in outside the Brandis building. It was a theatrical exit, sure, but Jack enjoyed a touch of drama. Still smiling, he went underground and allowed himself to germ back into human form. Before anyone could spot his naked form and call the police, he accessed the maintenance hatch that served as a lycan ‘TD’, or thread drop. He found a pair of denim jeans and a faded Harvard University t-shirt inside. No shoes. Sloppy. With a pang of grief he remembered that there’d be no one to replenish the thread drop anytime soon, perhaps ever.

  Jack rode the Hudson line line all the way out to Port Authority Bus Terminal. From there he jumped on a westbound bus to Easton. He wandered through the murky dawn, his stomach growling. Eggs, toast, bacon and coffee from a roadside scratched that itch. Jack hung around for a few hours until the local department store opened, where he purchased a bland hoodie to restore his anonymity.

  A second westbound bus took Jack all the way through to flat, farm country of Ohio.

  Checking into a depressing motel, Jack bought a six-pack and sipped beer by the front door. He watched as bugs whirled in a frenzy around a nearby light.

  He had never felt more alone than he did at that moment. He’d wandered the world several times over, often going solo for months at a time, but this felt different. Up until a few weeks ago he’d always had the Society to go back to. His family. Now he had nothing. There was Florence, but she seemed unobtainable, a distant mirage.

  Right there, out front of that motel in Wheeling, Jack may as well as been the only person in the world. He employed a meditation technique to become at one with the silence, not spooked by it. He finished his beer and slept fitfully, certain that there was more blood on the horizon. He just hoped it wasn’t his.

  Tired of buses, Jack risked his alternative identity and hired an old, beat-up jeep from a local dealer. He wanted to return it but knew deep down that it was probably going to be a one way trip. He made a mental note to repay the dealer. If he got out of the Rockies alive.

  Rocky Mountains, USA

  Enjoying the freedom of his own vehicle, Jack headed southwest for the famous mountain range that straddled several states. He made Big Timber in quick time and reached the foothills of the Rocky Mountains as the sun turned orange.

  Deciding the time for hotels was past, Jack slept in his car that night and woke with a stiff neck. He purchased a detailed mountain map and some trail mix from the general store. Hiking through the pine forest, he scaled Mount Elbert before noon and rewarded himself with a few nuts. Looking at the map, he had a fair idea where he needed to go.

  If he was aquilan, he’d want to set up a base in a spot that was diffic
ult for non-aquilans to reach. Namely, a high, enclosed valley. Jack could think of three such valleys in the area, but there was only one that had any buildings in it. He remembered once staying at a property called Pinehaven at the turn of the century. If the aquila were as dependent on creature comforts as Jack believed they were, Pinehaven was their new hideout.

  Or so he hoped. If he was wrong, this was a hell of an effort for nothing. It took Jack three hours to scale St Joseph, the next peak. Underneath the sweat and the dust he could feel his body tensing for battle. He knew he was on the right trail. As he moved through a gully of dense thorn bush, he got a glimpse of a large object soaring over the next peak. Far too big to be a regular eagle. The sighting finally tipped Jack into shifting. He howled in momentary agony as his human form made way for something far, far more powerful.

  Within a minute he was prowling through the undergrowth with purpose. He made sure he was deep under an emerald canopy of pine so he couldn’t be seen from above. On the top of the next ridge he should see his destination. He scrambled up the dusty slope and crouched low on a bed of pine needless at the top.

  Lucky Valley stretched out to the south, so named because it had avoided forest fires throughout its long history. At the far end the discreet wooden facade of Pinehaven beckoned.

  Jack grunted and pushed on down the ridge, his senses on high alert. It wasn’t likely that Hector had dispatched ground-based patrols, but Jack liked to be prepared. He moved through the forest with minimal disruption, the perfect marriage of elegance and power. He made sure he approached Pinehaven from the east, knowing there was a helipad to the west and thus greater security.

  His senses running wild, Jack moved smoothly through the trees. Knowing he was very close, he spotted a sentry by an old well. The man was presumably aquilan but showed no sign of germing. The dangerous thing about aquilans was they could shift in less than five seconds.

  Jack crept up behind the sentry with the kind of stealth learned over centuries of being where he shouldn’t. From there it was a simple matter of snapping the man’s neck like a twig. Jack felt no remorse at all - all he had to do was picture his friends being slaughtered by hundreds of ghouls. An attack sanctioned by the aquilans. There was nowhere these folk could go - he would punish them all.