The Lycan Society (The Flux Age Book 1) (8 page)

Jack nodded.

“What is this place exactly?”

“This is the New York Chapter House,” said Jack with an ironic flourish, “of the International Lycan Society.”

Jack almost,
almost
smiled. The near miss was incredibly charming. She showed him how it was done, silently pledging to draw a smile from him. Under that icy, remote exterior, he didn’t seem so bad. For some reason she’d expected a pale, wraith-like figure who shunned human contact. She put
that
down to watching too many movies.

So - the International Lycan Society. The name implied an organized network far beyond anything she might have imagined. It also made Jack’s actions in saving her life less personal, less intimate.

“I do lots of things for the Society,” Jack said gently, again reading Yasmin’s face. “Some things I’d rather forget. But giving you a second chance at life? That’s why I get up in the morning.”

Yasmin smiled, feeling a warm glow in her core. If her new life meant being around
this
man, she wanted to dive in head first.

New York, USA

FLORENCE WALKED AMONG grey columns, head bowed. She rarely visited the cercarium - like many Lycans, she found it grisly and somewhat macabre. And yet it was a necessary part of the lycan life cycle. Those who fell could still serve the pack.

A breath of foul air lifted Florence’s auburn locks. She flinched. She’d never been able to get used to that smell, a mixture of dust and decaying flesh. The truth was it chilled her to the core. There was something other-worldly about a lycan cercarium, as if the walls themselves were alive.

Which wasn’t far from the truth.

Florence forced herself to focus on the twisted figures half-submerged in the grand pillars that snaked their way to the ceiling far, far above. The cercarium was part graveyard, part hospital. Injured and dead lycans were taken here to be ‘given’ to the lycan membrane. The grey surfaces consisted of millions of fleshy, hexagonal cells. When a live lycan was pressed into the sticky substance, it’s body and mind could heal at a very rapid rate. It was even said that limbs could be regenerated, grievous diseases reversed. Florence had never seen it - thankfully no New York lycan had ever needed the cercarium in her lifetime.

No, she was here because of a dead lycan - one that she’d held in her arms only a day before. Dead lycans were absorbed by the membrane on the walls, their vitality transferred to those that needed it. The efficiency of the cercarium was its greatest advantage - they had healed and recycled lycans for several millennia.

No one ever said they needed to be attractive. Or welcoming.

Florence found Martin Halliday’s corpse pressed low into one of the central pillars. Half his face was buried deep in the squishy cell structure, the material already subsuming the Lycan’s bodily essences. Florence kept her eyes locked on her friend even though she wanted to retch.

“May you serve the pack,” she said softly into the gloom.

A tear slid down her cheek.

Naomi said in her ear,

Florence took a deep breath, spending one last quiet moment with her recently deceased colleague.

Her mood was heavy with sadness as she made her way up to the Society’s administration level. The door to the Mother’s office was ajar. Inside she could see familiar platinum hair …

Yasmin Silver, the girl from the hospital.

Florence took her hand. “Florence Underwood,” she said crisply.

Yasmin seemed too overwhelmed to reply. Alongside her, Jack Foley was wearing that sullen scowl of his.

Mother Arena sat behind her desk, resting her head on steepled hands. The old woman nodded to an empty chair.

“You’ve been to the cercarium,” she observed.

Florence nodded. “Yes, Mother.”

The old woman could probably smell that dark place on her. At least Jack’s scowl had disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “About Halliday.”

Florence nodded again and focused on the Mother. She’d never gotten along with Jack Foley. She found him insolent, competitive and arrogant. In essence, the complete opposite of her. They’d been butting heads for years, driving everyone else crazy. She didn’t think she could ever truly grow to appreciate the good qualities he did have.

“I have word on Imogen Read,” the Mother said, breaking the icy silence.

Florence found herself leaning forward in her chair. She’d spent a sleepless night wondering how the Berlin Club could have convinced a lycan child to betray her pack.

“It seems the Berlin Club have stepped up their efforts to break us open from within,” the old woman explained. “How they are doing this is not your concern. The coming battle is.”

Florence’s chest grew tight. Things had been tense around the Society lately, and she knew the Flux was gaining momentum. Not many lycans knew what that meant for the Society. With maximum lifespans of five hundred years, no living Lycan had been around for the last Flux Age.

“Who we fighting?” Jack asked sharply. It was obvious that he had the same war instinct that Florence did. Maybe they
did
have something in common.

Mother Arena remained silent for a moment, collecting her thoughts. Her eyes flicked to a beautiful earth globe mounted in a milky-black onyx harness. The chrome globe was alive with the changing diurnal cycle and weather systems of the earth. As a child Florence used to love stealing into the Mother’s office for long looks at the globe, entranced by the scarlet dots that represented lycan Chapters all over the world.

Yasmin shifted uncomfortably in her chair. The Gods knew what
she
was making of all this.

“I’m sending a force straight into Berlin,” the Mother eventually said. “Herr X has been spotted there with poor Imogen in tow.”

The Mother’s gaze, already somewhat bleak, grew hard and baleful.

“We need to extinguish the flame before it becomes a fire,” she said with a slight tremble in her voice. “The Flux will bring war with all manner of creatures. We can’t afford to be at war with humans too.”

The Mother’s eyes glinted with bloodlust as she looked at each of them in turn.

“We will smash that hateful club once and for all,” she said. “Too many lycans have died by their hand. Martin here in New York. One in Brazil. Two more near our Head Chapter in Rome.”

The Mother let her words sink in. Florence’s grief began to fade away, replaced only by hard, unrelenting rage. Someone, somewhere was going to pay.

Jack cleared his throat, eyes darting between the Mother and the girl. Florence had almost forgotten Yasmin was there at all.

“Yes, yes, the girl,” the Mother said, shooting Jack an irritated look. “Leave us, Jack.”

Florence relished Jack’s sudden confusion.

“Now?” he stammered, eyes on Yasmin.

“Yes, Jack - now. Go and prepare your men.”

Jack left the office reluctantly. Yasmin’s future was to be decided without him. Considering his track record with women, that was probably just as well. On the other hand, the poor girl looked terrified without Jack. Especially when the Mother’s gaze seemed to bore straight through her.

“Florence,” the old woman said, still looking at Yasmin. “You will mentor this young woman.”

Florence felt a wave of anger - somehow she just knew this was coming.

“Mother, with respect, I just want to fight.”

“I realize that,” the Mother snapped. “You will be in Berlin with the others. I need this girl to survive.”

“But Mother, Jack was the one who donated his blood, the one who saved her life -”

“I think we both know Jack isn’t suited to this task,” said the Mother acidly. “And I expect my agents to show some professionalism in front of outsiders.”

A chill settled over the office. The Mother shut her eyes, clearly under a great deal of stress. Florence felt a wave of remorse. Mother Arena had always been very good to her. But the truth was that she didn’t want to babysit the girl through a major confrontation with the Berlin Club.

In the end it was Yasmin who broke the deadlock, speaking with surprising maturity.

“I gave everything away to find the Lycan Society,” she began. “My home, my career, my love. Coming here has been the best thing I’ve ever done. I know this place is my future. But you people talk as if I’m not here. ‘She.’ ‘The girl.’ ‘The outsider’. I don’t know what you have planned for me, and in many ways I don’t care. I’m just glad I found you. But at the very least I think I deserve to be addressed by my name.”

Florence breathed out, looking at the Mother from the corner of her eye.

The girl had spunk, that was for sure. The Mother gave Yasmin a searching look, a hint of respect in her flint-hard eyes.

“I apologize, Yasmin,” she said in a softer tone. “Things are moving quickly. Sometimes we forget the things that make us strong. The things that set us apart from humans.”

Watching the exchange quietly, Florence could see how lycans might be viewed by humans as arrogant. Even though lycans were pledged to protect humans, there was still a healthy streak of elitism in everything lycans did.

“Yasmin,” the Mother said. “I’m glad you had the will, tenacity and passion to find us. These things will hold you in good stead. You’re probably wondering why we saved your life.”

“The thought might have crossed her mind,” Florence said dryly.

“The Society has a long history of altruism,” the Mother said crisply, ignoring Florence. “In general we seek to preserve human life rather than see it wasted. You presented to the hospital with a particular blood condition. We at the Society haven’t seen that condition for several centuries. In short, we believe you have vast potential.”

“Potential?” Yasmin repeated.

“Becoming a Lycan is about being genetically disposed to being one. I’m sure you know by now that every human has a spirit beast. Yasmin, we believe you’re one of us. We’re just not sure yet. Going to Berlin, taking part in this attack, will tell us once and for all where your destiny lies.”

The Mother darted a glance at Florence.

“This is why Florence must protect you.”

A feeling of vague unease loomed in the back of Florence’s mind. Something about all of this didn’t add up. She held her tongue, instead looking over at the ethereal Yasmin, who seemed transfixed by the Mother’s words.

“I’ll do as you say, Mother,” the platinum-haired beauty said evenly. “I look forward to becoming a lycan.”

“Perhaps this will help you along,” said the Mother, producing a simple bronze pendant on a copper chain. A stylized wolf’s head was engraved on one side. Florence found herself touching her own pendant through the material of her T-shirt. Field operatives were usually forced to conceal their pendants to avoid unwanted attention.

Yasmin took the proffered gift as if it were the most precious of gemstones. The girl couldn’t stifle a wide grin as she looped it around her neck.

“I’ll wear it with pride, Mother,” she said, overwhelmed.

“Welcome to the Lycan Society, child,” Mother Arena said with a benign smile.

Florence felt her earlier anger dissipate. It was easy to forget how beautiful the Mother was when she was relaxed and happy. Unfortunately those moments were few now that the Flux had begun in earnest.

Yasmin couldn’t tear her gaze from her new acquisition.

“You may go, child,” said the Mother. “I’m sure Jack has a hundred things to show you.”

“Of course, Mother.”

Still beaming, Yasmin left the office. Which left Florence alone with the Mother. Finally.

“Is it wise to get her hopes up?” Florence asked at length. “We still don’t know -”

“I need her to feel part of the pack,” Mother Arena interjected. “I need her loyalty. For now.”

“This is where you explain to me what the hell is going on,” Florence said, softening her words with a wry smile.

The Mother sighed, again resting her head on her hands. Orchestrating a response to the Berlin Club’s attacks had clearly taken a lot out of her.

“You are right to be suspicious, Florence,” she said. Florence braced herself - the Mother rarely looked so vulnerable.

“The Elders all agree that we are running a huge risk by letting Yasmin know who we are.”

“Who is she exactly?”

The Mother tossed her head in frustration. “We don’t know yet. We do know she responded to lycan blood, which usually points to lycan biology.”

Florence turned the words over, looking for hidden meaning in the Mother’s words. She didn’t find any.

“Seems like an open and shut case,” said Florence warily. “On the surface.”

“I agree,” said the Mother. “If it wasn’t for the blood condition the girl had in the first place.”

Florence cast her mind back.
Of course
. The condition there was no known cure for.

“A condition we haven’t seen for a thousand years,” the Mother said with dark intensity.