The Lycan Rebirth (The Flux Age Book 3) (16 page)

“That couldn’t have been sound alone, could it?” Florence asked.

“Did you see the air shimmer around its mouth?” Gustav asked. “My guess is some kind of toxic gas.”

“Great,” Florence said bleakly. “Just great.”

A few of the hydra’s heads looked piercingly down Canal Street, straight at the assembled flux creatures outside the nearby subway entrance.

“We should assume some kind of perimeter,” Gustav said.

“Agreed,” Florence said. “Gustav, you fall in behind that police barrier. “Yas, we may need you down that alleyway so you can flank the hydra when it passes through.”

Yasmin and Gustav nodded. “And you?” the vampire queen asked. “I won’t leave you alone here.”

“Don’t worry,” Florence said, patting her scabbard. “You guys are the ones who gave me the freakin’ sword. Now you’re gonna have to trust me to use it properly.”

11

New York City, USA

Jack took a moment to watch the last ghouls burn. The Berlin Club attack had been ferocious. Hundreds of ghouls had poured from the sewer grates on 135th Street and assaulted the subway station. The naturebound force he commanded had taken heavy losses but had held the line. Doc Oaks had transported a large supply of arrows from Echo Valley. Apparently there was an old-school fletcher in the naturebound community.

Jack had organized for several barrels of pitch to be placed around the subway’s front entrance. The defenders were able to dip their arrows in the pitch and set them alight. The flame arrows had proven very effective against the ghouls. The ghouls that managed to evade the arrows could be knocked over by a front line of bear, cougar and deer shifters. It hadn’t been easy, but the Fellowship force eventually prevailed.

And now, as the corpse fires burned, Jack inevitably turned his mind to the most important women in his life, Yasmin and Florence. There had been signs of battle in central Manhattan but it seemed to have abated.

Deep booms resonated from further to the south, at the other end of Manhattan. Jack contacted Yasmin and was relieved to find she was okay. Both would try and reach Florence as soon as they could. Yasmin was obviously closer and had more chance of impacting the southern battle.

“We head south,” Jack called out to the milling naturebound warriors. “The subway’s down and the streets are chaotic. Look sharp.”

Nate Fincher and Doc Oaks nodded and rounded up the surviving naturebound. The small army made their way south down Central Park West in a tight, disciplined formation. For all their talk of peace, the naturebound had turned out to be effective warriors, determined and unflappable. Jack wasn’t looking forward to counting the cost of the Battle of Manhattan - too many children had lost their parents this night. But one thing was certain - the Fellowship had found themselves a loyal, dedicated faction in the naturebound community.

Further progress down Central Park West was blocked by police barriers. Jack found the police captain and took him aside roughly.

“I need access through these blocks,” he said. “There’s trouble down at Canal Street station.”

A bass rumble rolled across them, drawing everyone’s heads. The first of several hydra heads had sprouted through the asphalt just four blocks to the south.

“What the fuck?” Jack said, his jaw dropping.

The police captain looked completely rattled.

“You have my authority to head through there, but I think you’re crazy,” he said. “These barriers are here for a reason.”

Jack saw that there were several engineers consulting a map over the hood of a squad car.

“What’s going on?” he said, unable to tear his gaze from the emerging hydra.

The police captain grimaced. “If
that
isn’t enough, the damned ghouls have rigged explosives under almost every building in the precinct. They wanna bring the city down.”

Jack nodded grimly. He wouldn’t be able to reach Florence just yet. He turned to his naturebound troops. “We have a new problem,” he said. “For those who are shifted, you’ll need to be in human form. We need to disperse through the foundations of these buildings and help the engineers defuse the explosives.”

Nate and Doc Oaks organized the naturebound into several smaller teams. Jack followed a team of engineers into the Global Bank building and rode the elevator to the lower basement.

The sapper team emerged into a murky corridor lit only by rods of blue light built into the floor. Jack followed the engineers east until they hit a chamber with a large circular column in the middle.

“Critical support column,” one of the engineers mumbled. Jack headed round to the far side of the column and gave a low whistle. “Guys, I think we have a problem here.”

There was around nine bricks of C4 explosive attached to a support strut.

“Encrypted code,” the head engineer said as he knelt before the blinking lights. “I’m gonna need time.”

A low growl emanated from the corridor. “Get to work,” Jack muttered. He took an assault rifle from one of the engineers and left the room.

He was glad he hadn’t allowed himself to shift back into human form after the last battle - there were ghouls in this building, nothing surer.

Jack stepped slowly down the corridor, his senses on high alert. There was a soft scuttling sound beyond the ceiling. He followed it to a steel grate and pressed himself against the wall. Sure enough, the grate was lifted into what must have been an air vent. Two ghoul legs dangled into the corridor.

“Let me help you,” Jack said, pulling savagely on the legs and slamming the ghoul into the ground. One incendiary shot to the head was enough to kill it.

More ghouls dropped through the ceiling vent. Jack peppered them with fire from the assault rifle, splattering the walls with ichor. One of the ghouls combusted in flames. The werewolf wasn’t used to using a weapon such as this, but he had to admit it
did
save time in bruising melee.

Combing the corridors for more enemy activity, Jack silently cursed how long this side task was taking. Had Yasmin reached Florence in time? What the hell were they doing about that titanic creature that just lifted itself through the street?

Jack took a deep breath. This job may not have been glamorous but it was essential nonetheless. The engineers needed a chance to neutralize the explosives without prowling ghouls breathing down their necks. Jack fervently hoped that the other engineering teams were as successful - it would be a tragedy to lose a Manhattan skyscraper.

Satisfied that the area was now clear, Jack rushed back to the engineers and reported in. Job done, he hustled back out into the street and was greeted by a swarming crowd. Ignoring the danger, thousands of people had converged on this spot to watch the passage of the hydra as it headed south. Most faces were white with fear, but some looked like they were actually enjoying the spectacle. Jack spotted the police captain and shook his head in disbelief.

“Sorry Jack, can’t do nuttin’,” said the captain. “You’re gonna have to find another way through.”

Furious, Jack slammed a fist against the wall. With the subway out of commission, the only other way was… Jack looked high, at the distant peak of the Global Bank building. The red, blinking lights of a landing platform beckoned.

Jack rushed back through the marble foyer of the Global Bank building and rode an elevator all the way to the top. A ashen-faced security guard had no problem letting him through to the landing platform.

“Go home to your family,” Jack advised him. The man didn’t need to be asked twice.

Jack paced through to the cold, windswept landing platform and was relieved to find it held a civilian Bell helicopter. A pilot was smoking a cigarette by the chopper. His eyes widened when he saw the aggressive werewolf approaching.

“You run courier jobs?” Jack asked with a twisted grin. The man nodded.

“You got a family?”

The man shook his head.

“You got a wife?”

A nod.

“Then you’re letting me pilot that thing.”

The pilot scowled. “The hell you say?”

“Look,” Jack said, pointing to an adjacent rooftop. The pilot didn’t look.

“Sorry,” Jack said, striking the pilot with a right fist and almost knocking him cold. He dragged the groggy body to safety and climbed into the chopper.

He’d learned how to fly a helicopter once, but most of that knowledge had seeped from his brain over time. He managed to lift the thing from the platform but couldn’t stop it from veering sharply, almost clipping the edge of the platform.

“Settle, Jack,” he said to himself, taking a deep breath. He took a minute to test the sensitive controls and then took the chopper between two high buildings on Broadway. A sharp right and hard left saw him on Canal Street and over the crowd watching the hydra. The monster was several blocks to the east and apparently intent on making a mess of the tiny figures standing outside Canal Street Station.

Gritting his teeth, Jack pressed the throttle forward. The helicopter bowed its head and lurched down the street, barely under control. Unable to prevent the machine from veering from side to side, Jack was vaguely aware of a huge cheer that rose up in the crowd. He managed a small wave as he steered the chopper like a drunk man. A gasp rang out from the crowd as the chopper dipped perilously close the street before accelerating the last hundred yards to the monster. Jack’s plan was both ridiculous and foolhardy. All he wanted to do was crash into the thing and hopefully take a few of its heads with it. If that meant he died, so be it. He’d lived a long and full life. Most importantly he couldn’t bear to see Yasmin hurt. He’d rather be six feet under than see that happen. So he careened into the hydra at full speed, bracing for a sickening impact. The rotor blades shuddered against the tough scales of the monster, almost stopping completely. Jack was thrown around the cockpit like a rag doll. Then, miraculously, a blade neatly lopped of one of the thing’s heads. As Jack was thrown against the side window he saw the long neck and still-gnashing head tumble to the street with a satisfyingly wet sound.

The chopper was dragged into the hydra’s heads through contact with the first one, and now it scythed through three more heads before crashing into the side of a building. Jack was thrown through the cockpit window in a shower of glass, ricocheted against the steel corner of the sleek building and fell fifteen meters to the hard street below. He tried to barrel roll into the fall but the angle wasn’t right. His right leg snapped immediately and he cracked his shoulder blade on the second impact.

To make matters worse, one of the hydra’s heads fell across his legs. They were indescribably heavy, and Jack feared the other leg must’ve broken too. His head was a whorl of pain as he fought to retain consciousness.

He saw a pair of hairy lycan feet stride past at close range. It was Florence, brandishing a glowing sword like some kind of hero in a fantasy epic. The hydra shook and heaved only twenty yards away, still disoriented by Jack’s brutal attack from behind. Jack’s heart sank when he saw the hydra’s heads
healing
themselves. Already a gelatinous membrane was forming over the severed neck wounds and rebuilding the flesh. If allowed to continue, the hydra would be back to normal within minutes. The regenerating ability was something lycans also had, but it wasn’t nearly so rapid. Jack might have applauded the monster if the situation wasn’t so desperate. But Florence hadn’t rushed out from the subway entrance to help Jack. She was now approaching the hydra with crazy bravery. He opened his mouth to call out a warning but he didn’t have the strength. All he could do was watch what would surely be the most one-sided battle in history. Then again, what was that sword she was carrying? It seemed to quiver as she got closer to the monster, almost trembling with anticipation.

The hydra hissed and spat, but only three of its heads were functional. One of them dipped low and hissed loudly at her, but she neatly rolled out of the way. She continued her brazen approach, not showing an ounce of fear. A second hiss and Florence was tumbling forward with the sword, barely yards away now. All three heads lowered themselves to Florence’s level to smother her in whatever toxic gas was pouring from its mouth. The tawny werewolf leaped high in the air, high enough to grab old of one of the heads. She held on for dear life, holding the hydra’s mouth shut through brute lycan strength.

Processed in Jack’s feverish, pain-wracked mind, the sight of Florence grappling with the hydra took on a fairytale quality, a deed of legend. He could only gape as Florence allowed herself to be thrown from the hydra’s head. She was hurled through the air against the thing’s hard, scaly chest. To slow her fall Florence plunged her sword into the monster’s scales. Jack tried to cheer as the weapon sank to the hilt. Florence dragged the sword downward, using the resistance to slow her fall. In the process she opened up the hydra’s guts, which spilled all over the street. Florence was washed out on a slippery sea of putrid fat. She leaped to her feet and bolted back toward Jack’s position. The hydra heads hovered menacingly behind her, but there was less verve to their movement. It was as if Florence’s critical blow was draining it of life.

The tawny werewolf reached Jack and hefted his heavy body over her shoulder.

“You… you slew a fucking hydra,” Jack gasped as Florence carried him up the stairs to the subway entrance.