The Lycan Rebirth (The Flux Age Book 3) Read online

  As Jack pondered his strange new location, a hunched-over old man entered the tent and began stripping back Jack’s bandage. The werewolf was too tired and sick to argue. With a start he also realized he was butt naked. Probably had been since he hauled himself from the river. Oh well, at least he hadn’t soiled himself… he hoped. The old man nodded in satisfaction and dipped a brush into a bowl of white paste. Humming tunelessly, he applied the paste to Jack’s wound. The werewolf was too experienced to give voice to his ridiculous levels of pain. Instead he gripped the edges of the cot and stared daggers at the healer, who simply smiled.

  “Did you get the bullet out?” Jack managed to croak.

  The healer regarded Jack with twinkling eyes. “It no longer threatens you, wolf,” he said warmly.

  Something about the healer made Jack relax a little, and he was content to drift away while the man applied that corrosive paste to his chest wound. Perhaps Jack would live. The prospect was eminently appealing but the werewolf couldn’t explore it further due to falling heavily asleep.

  The sounds of a vibrant camp at dawn woke Jack from a deep, dreamless sleep. Children were playing somewhere nearby and a dog was chasing a rooster or chicken around. Jack opened his eyes and found the world wasn’t lurching from side to side anymore. He felt a lot better now that his fever had broken. What would’ve taken a human a week to get over he had done with one good night’s sleep. Even better, a clean set of clothes were folded at the foot of the bed. They were strangely rough, like they’d been crafted from natural materials found in that mountain valley.

  His eyes adjusting to the light, Jack ventured out into the campsite. The sun was climbing above the pine stand to the east and the site was bustling with activity. Jack was surprised to see how big the camp was - it stretched for several hundred yards down the west bank of the MacDowell River. Tents had been arranged in very neat fashion so as to conserve space. A larger, circular tent was positioned amongst the trees to the west.

  In this part of the valley the stream looked to have slowed down, making it ideal for water collection and fishing. Considering the natural protection the surrounding mountains afforded, the camp was perfectly placed to support up to a thousand people for quite a long time.

  As Jack threaded his way west through the various tents, the settlers looked upon him with open curiosity. They seemed quite entrenched in their subsistence way of life. Jack was quite impressed with the level of dedication shown in this valley. Uprooting the family to go and live in the wilds of North America couldn’t be an easy choice. Jack wondered of these folk had heard about the Flux Age or knew it existed.

  It was pretty easy to find the leader of the settlement. A large, stout-chested man stood outside the circular tent with an appraising eye. He didn’t seem surprise to see Jack approach, and his grip was strong.

  “Seems I owe you my life,” Jack said by way of thanks.

  “Wasn’t my idea,” said the man curtly. “Damned healer goes walkin’ upriver and has a soft heart.”

  “Well, I’m kinda glad he does,” Jack said drily. “Came to pay my respects and be on my way.”

  “Probably the best thing,” agreed the man. “Don’t see too many silver bullets roun’ these parts.”

  Jack looked sharply at the man, his senses suddenly on red alert. Did this man know he was a lycan? But of course, it was obvious. Jack could well have been in werewolf form when the healer found him.

  But then, there was something in the man’s gaze. Something that suggested that his knowledge ran a little deeper.

  “My name is Jack Foley,” the werewolf offered, deciding it was time for proper introductions.

  “Nate Fincher,” the large man said, his eyes telling Jack to move on without any more questions. “Well, I’m glad we could be of help, Jack.”

  Now Jack’s suspicions were raised to a whole new level. This man was hiding something and he sensed he needed to know.

  “I’ll leave,” Jack said. “But I think you deserve an explanation. I’m one of the last operatives of the Lycan Society. We were slaughtered by an alliance of ghouls and aquilans.”

  To Jack’s surprise Nate spat a gob of tobacco to the dirt. “Damned aquilans been harassing our northern borders for a while now.”

  “That’s interesting,” Jack said. “Now why wouldn’t such a bloodthirsty people just march on in and kick you off this prime real estate?”

  Nate looked Jack in the eye. “Let’s get one damned thing straight, stranger. We don’t fear the aquila or anyone. Having said that, we’re a peaceful folk with no time for fightin’.”

  “I’ve been plain with you,” Jack said. “About time you did the same. This is a shifter community, isn’t it?”

  Nate grimaced and looked like he was about to walk away.

  “There’s nothing here for you, stranger,” he said irritably. “You’d be best served leaving this valley as soon as you can.”

  “Naturebound,” Jack said suddenly, as it all fell into place. He’d heard of these kinds of communities rising up since the Flux Age started. They started off as hippy communities, living off the land, but they slowly became naturebound strongholds. Most of these folk would be conventional shifters. Deer, bear, cougar, snake and centaur were all classic naturebound species. Even though they were straight shifters, with no dynamic powers like the lycans or vampires, the naturebound were extremely strong in their own elements. As entire settlements, well, they were extremely tough to beat. Jack now understood why Hector Caliri and his aquilans had left these folk well alone. Naturebound were only a threat if you poked them too often. Their plan was probably to live and grow in this valley until the Flux Age receded. From what Jack had learned, these collectives weren’t ambitious and generally liked to stay put.

  “You know they’ll come for you eventually, don’t you?” Jack asked the portly naturebound leader. “The aquilans will need this valley sooner or later.”

  “There’s no evidence of that,” Nate sniffed. “We don’t need you stirring up trouble. Please leave.”

  “Fine,” Jack said with a roguish smile. “Already out the door.”

  Jack made a point of heading back through the camp. His “official” intention was to thank the man who had saved his life. He asked for the healer and found the short, bespectacled man helping to repair the northern fence.

  “I believe I owe you a debt,” Jack said seriously. “You have my gratitude.”

  “I wasn’t about to leave you there,” the man said. “Needed help though. You’re a big bastard, even for a lycan.”

  Jack grinned, a little embarrassed.

  “Name’s Leroy Oaks,” said the healer. “You’ve caused quite a stir. Most of these folk have never set eyes on a lycan.”

  “Hopefully I’m not the last one either,” Jack said, seizing the opportunity to push his case. He didn’t know what he wanted exactly, only that he wanted to “enlist” the naturebound to the lycan cause. From the outside they seemed like the perfect allies. Right now, the lycans needed all the friends they could get. Whether the naturebound were up for a fight was another matter entirely.

  “You know, not much news travels all the way out here, but I have contacts in NYC,” Oaks said. “I heard what happened to your kin.”

  “I don’t need your pity,” Jack said firmly. “What I need is your rage.”

  Oaks drew Jack aside, as if their conversation had reached a confidential stage. “Plenty of folks think that what happened to the wolf is a damned disgrace. There’s no love here for the aquila, that’s for sure.”

  “Then do something about it,” Jack said. “Hector’s people are looking to control North America as the Flux Age gathers pace. We need to stop them before they become too powerful.”

  “I think you’re right, stranger,” Oaks said urgently. But there’s no way Nate Fincher will allow the naturebound to take up arms. It’s not our way.”

  Jack screwed his face up in frustration. Then he had the kind of idea that
made perfect sense, a real bolt from the blue.

  “Listen,” he said. “Did you happen to find a box in that river?”

  “I did,” Oaks said. “Old Fincher took it as soon as he saw it. Can’t open it though, it’s code activated.”

  “That’s right,” Jack said, immensely relieved the dark tissue was still intact. “Does Fincher have it in his tent?”

  Oaks nodded.

  “Round up all the settlers,” Jack said. “Leave the rest to me.”

  To the healer’s credit he merely raised his eyebrow and asked no questions. Maybe the older man wanted to believe in the hope Jack was offering. These people had lived in the shadow of the aquilans for years now, and seen them grow slowly more aggressive. Oaks was smart enough to know that the families in this valley would soon be in grave danger. Far better to at least listen to what the strange lycan had to say. Jack suddenly felt a pressure on his shoulders. A lot rode on whether he could persuade these people that he was someone worth following.

  Padding his footsteps without even noticing, Jack rounded the southern edge of the settlement as if he intended to leave on one of the hunting trails there. Instead he slowly flanked the opposite side of Fincher’s tent. The big man was nowhere to be seen as he approached from the rear. No sound from the tent either.

  Crouching low behind a leafy shrub, Jack allowed himself to germ. It came on as painfully as it always did, and Jack waited until his heartbeat had settled before he moved again. There was two ways he could go about this. Create a diversion out front or try a more direct approach. Jack chose the latter, figuring he was only reclaiming his property anyway. Lycan property.

  Using his long, scything claws, Jack opened a long vertical rend in the fabric of Fincher’s tent. Through the slit he saw a makeshift sleeping area. Apart from a few basic possessions there was nothing remotely like the mahogany box.

  Cursing, Jack tried another rip further down the tent. This time he had more luck. The slit admitted to Fincher’s living area, which was adorned with two rough-hewn shelves. Various natural curios had been stored there, including Jack’s stolen box. The werewolf wasted no time stepping in and lifting the thing.

  “What the fuck…?” came the astonished response from the naturebound leader, sitting on a camp chair with a book on his lap.

  “See you outside,” Jack said lightly as he brushed past and out the front entrance.

  It wasn’t hard to find Oaks, who was now standing before over a hundred settlers in the middle of the camp. Jack guessed that many of the naturebound would be out hunting, cleaning and patrolling in the woodland of the higher slopes. Still, those that were present were more than enough. All he needed to do was plant the seed.

  As soon as Jack appeared as a werewolf a hush fell over the crowd and some mothers diverted their children away.

  “Naturebound,” Jack said in a commanding voice as he stood before them. “War will soon ravage this valley and I’m here to offer you an alternative.”

  Shocked silence greeted Jack’s opening salvo. Behind him, Fincher had shifted into a bear and was bounding down the path. Jack turned to face the beast, growling it down. Fincher huffed and spat but did not advance. Shifting into his spirit creature had been a mistake because he had lost the ability to argue. For the moment Jack had free access to the assembled naturebound.

  “Why the hell should we trust you?” a woman shouted from the crowd.

  Jack paused theatrically, milking the pregnant moment for all it was worth.

  “Because I don’t bring death,” he said calmly, wrenching open the lid of the box with all his bestial strength and placing it on the ground. He used one of his terrifying claws to open a ragged gash on his opposite forearm. Many in the crowd gasped in disbelief.

  “In fact,” Jack breathed, watching a torrent of blood spill into the box, into the succulent dark tissue. “I bring the opposite.”

  6

  Istanbul, Turkey

  Yasmin tried to keep her raging thoughts under control as she watched the mesmerizing girl on the floor of the ancient amphitheater. Based on what she’d seen so far, she was terrified that this obviously powerful entity might detect them at any moment and dissolve her with a single look.

  “Preparations,” murmured the slight figure, looking up at Herr X with an unreadable gaze. The effect was no less unsettling for its ambiguity.

  “We are proceeding well, One,” Herr X said in a controlled tone, but it was obvious he was extremely tense. “Our infantry are already making full use of our store of dark tissue. The material has been dispersed so far through Europe that the lycans, in the unlikely event that they should re-emerge, would never be able to recover it.”

  The girl known as “One” lowered her head for an instant in what might have been a nod.

  “Target,” she said, her voice a little deeper, huskier. Yasmin got the impression her very flesh was unstable, liable to transform at any moment.

  “The target is ripe, One,” came the reply. “The citizens have already been shaken up by the wights.”

  The creature on the floor paused, perhaps ruminating on something. Yasmin realized she was holding her breath as she waited. Had they been detected?

  “You will take care of another matter before we leave,” One said. “Leave me now.”

  Herr X shot to his feet immediately and strode through one of the side passages. Yasmin and Tomas waited until One had retreated into the darkness before risking any movement at all.

  Neither spoke until they were under the serene moonlight of the Serkeci district once more. Yasmin breathed in the salty air with relish, glad to be free of the claustrophobic tunnels. The feeling was peculiar considering she was usually drawn to the underground as a vampire.

  She looked over at Tomas, who’s mind was clearly in furious motion.

  “Okay,” Yasmin said as her breathing returned to normal. “What do you think of that, Tomas?”

  Tomas shook his head in amazement. “Obviously unlike any flux creature we’ve come across,” the doktor said excitedly. “That was no trick, Yasmin. Assuming that people are born with only one spirit creature, this ‘girl’ named One appears to possess a number of adapted abilities. Which means her DNA is able to reprogram itself on the fly. Incredible…”

  “What does that mean?” Yasmin asked. “You know, in English?”

  Tomas blinked. “It means that One has taken on the powers of other flux creatures and can shift into them at will. We don’t know how she does this, whether she needs some kind of genetic material or whether loose contact with the target creature is enough.”

  “Sounds pretty hard to beat,” Yasmin said, steering the discussion to more practical issues.

  “Indeed,” Tomas agreed, realizing he’d been veering off on scientific tangents. “There is much to glean from that conversation. First - they are planning some kind of attack. Second - they mentioned wights. Didn’t New York City have a problem with those things?”

  Yasmin nodded. It made sense that the Berlin Club would look to hit New York and hit it hard. The city was a such a beacon of human civilization that any strong attack would be devastating all over the world.

  Plus, New York had been weakened by wights. The prospect of another attack would set them on the back foot.

  “So what do we do, queen?” Tomas asked.

  “We head back to Frica and put Mischa to work,” she said.

  Tomas nodded in relief.

  “And then we head to New York,” she finished, which made the doktor grimace.

  “Is there a problem, Tomas?” she asked coldly. Tomas seemed to shrink before her gaze. Since when had that started happening. The doktor had always seemed like such a strong man.

  “Yasmin,” he said, using her real name for effect. “Is it our fight, or the lycans’ problem?”

  Yasmin stopped short, the breeze from the Bosphorus whipping up her platinum hair.

  “Just to be clear, Tomas, the vampyra - all vampyra - will stand s
ide by side with the lycans. At least while I’m alive.”

  Tomas nodded bleakly, his face screwed up in anguish. “Of course. Queen.”

  Frica, Romania

  Yasmin and Tomas wasted no time in checking out of their hotel and booking a flight for Bucharest. Throughout the early morning flight Yasmin couldn’t help but feel that this ‘One’ character had known she was watching from the top of that underground amphitheater. But what would the consequences be? Yasmin decided to block her mind from those thoughts and concentrate on building an army. She was surer than ever that she was going to need one.

  Touchdown in Bucharest was problematic. The noonday sun beat down on Yasmin as she scuttled across the tarmac into the backseat of a chartered helicopter. The flight north across the Carpathians to Piatra Neamt was unpleasant to say the least. Yasmin felt weak, drained and incapable of coherent thought. Not for the first time Yasmin lamented the vampire’s curse - so exquisitely powerful and alive by night, so ineffective and sluggish by day.

  The helicopter made its landing at around three in the afternoon and Yasmin was glad to be assisted to the castle’s main hall by a pair of Maramurians. Tomas disappeared into his study, perhaps sulking about Yasmin’s determination to help defend New York. On a practical level she could understand his concerns. Moving away from the castle, where the vampire queen was at her strongest, was a very risky move indeed. But there was nothing else for it - she simply had to find Jack and protect him from whatever evil force was looking to stamp out lycans once and for all.

  Retreating into her dark chamber, Yasmin submitted to much-needed sleep. She would need to hit the ground running once night fell.

  The hoot of an owl somewhere outside Frica stirred Yasmin from restorative sleep. She was relieved to hear the steady murmur of Maramurians as they performed various finishing touches to the castle.

  “Horia,” she called, wrapping a night gown tightly around herself.

  “Regină” said the man, his granite face appearing through a crack in the door.