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

Just two days later Emmaline found an independently wealthy car dealer on the edge of Nassau. Richie Collins was shocked to discover his true identity, but recovered sufficiently enough to join the others at St Claire. Florence suddenly found herself with her hands full. Three trainee lycans was no small task!

Miss Garvey turned out to be a werewolf, which meant Florence now had three warriors at her disposal. The trainees were eager to learn, but also eager to fight. Florence had to restrain them from injuring each other, such was their enthusiasm.

The days passed quickly and came to form a pattern. The mornings were spent in quiet tuition. Florence was surprised at how much lore she remembered from her studies, and was more than happy to impart what she knew. She found teaching immensely enjoyable, even though her exploration of lycan lore was tinged with inevitable sadness.

The afternoons at St Claire were often chaotic. The trainees were allowed to spar with Julian and were determined to bring the aquilan down. The eagle received more than a few cuts and bruises but usually won out through sheer experience.

Florence usually flopped straight into bed after each draining day, Julian right by her side.

As for Emmaline, she progressively weaned herself off her drug of choice. The flip side was her increasing abuse of alcohol. Florence had frequent discussions with Julian about the matter, but there wasn’t much they could do. Emmaline clearly needed a vice and for the moment alcohol was less destructive than hard narcotics.

On the positive side, Florence encouraged Emmaline to head out on further scouting missions. She located three more lycan trainees, all of them local Bahamians. Before long Florence was teaching what was effectively a small class. All the bedrooms in the house had now been taken. Extra trainees would be forced to camp on the property. Florence had Julian begin construction on a series of small wood cabins near the pond on the western perimeter. The aquilan threw himself into his work with gusto, but she could tell a tight ball of sadness remained within him.

One cool, pleasant night, when the hurly burly of the day had dissipated, Florence broached the difficult subject as they reclined on the veranda.

“There might be people we can talk to,” Florence said gently. “You know, about your wing.”

Julian shook his head immediately. It seemed like he had shut that possibility off in his mind.

“Too dangerous,” he said. “We shouldn’t expose ourselves needlessly.”

“I know the risk,” Florence said evenly. “I happen to think this is worth it.”

Julian looked at Florence with eyes she had grown to love. She saw pride in there, and also a fresh seed of hope.

“Come with me, then,” Julian said eventually. “Just in case-”

“Won’t happen,” Florence said with a grin. “We can go tomorrow morning after class.”

Florence’s ‘class’ was more a discussion on lycan responsibility. Some of the trainees couldn’t understand why lycans had protected humans for so long.

“People hate the idea of werewolves,” Wilson said emphatically. “There aren’t many hugs out there for the likes of us. Plenty of silver bullets though.”

The other trainees murmured their agreement.

“This goes beyond the petty reactions of human to wolf,” Florence said, taking the floor. “This goes beyond tradition even. What the Lycan Society established was a code. A code of behavior that applied no matter the situation. The ancient lycans worked out that doing the
right
thing by humans brings out all that is powerful in a wolf. Almost as if we were
destined
to protect humanity.”

Florence chuckled, realizing how all that sounded.

“There is no science to it,” she said simply in the end. “As lycans you will just begin to
believe
in humanity as something definitely worth saving.”

No response to that, which meant at least some of her words were sinking in.

“If there’s nothing else,” Florence said, “Julian and I have some business to attend to in Nassau. Feel free to train but do it
safely
.”

The bus to Nassau was as hot and uncomfortable as ever. Julian seemed pensive as they alighted at East Bay Street and headed into one of the cool beachfront arcades. Emmaline had provided the tipoff - there was a woman who ran a giftwares shop here, someone who might possess a unique healing skill. The diviner had only ever ‘glimpsed’ her spirit beast, but she was adamant it was something incredibly positive and powerful.

Florence had to admit to a burning curiosity as she ascended a set of stairs to a mezzanine level. ‘Alita’s Gift Shop’ was located just down the way.

Florence and Julian approached the front counter and asked for Alita.

A homely woman with a warm, round face greeted them with a smile.

“We’d like to talk in private if that’s OK with you,” Julian said.

“Certainly,” came the reply. “Come out back for a cup of tea.”

The pomegranate tea was delicious. For a warm drink in a hot, tropical climate it was extremely refreshing.

“I know why you’ve come,” Alita said once she’d collected the empty glasses. She fixed Julian with a concerned gaze. “You’re in pain, you poor man. May I have a look?”

Julian looked at Florence, who nodded.

Julian turned his back on the women and germed quietly, almost discreetly. He extended his wings, the hole immediately apparent. Julian’s head hung low, almost as if he was ashamed.

“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.