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

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 piece 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 difficult 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.

Dragging the body into the bracken, Jack resumed his approach. Before long he was heading through a ramshackle rose garden and knew Pinehaven itself couldn’t be far away. Through a rather large hedge wall and there she was - an impressive heritage building dating back at least two centuries. Jack knew the cellar door out back would link to the ground floor internally, but there were two sentries stationed outside. Jack pondered the problem for a good two minutes before hitting upon the solution.

Standing behind a tree, Jack made a muffled cry of anguish.

“Stanton?” one of the guards called.

From behind the tree Jack saw the other aquilan shrug.

“Fucker might have gotten a snakebite.”

The first one sighed. “Wait here,” he said.

The guard’s path took him right past Jack’s tree. The werewolf expertly flipped the man to his back and tore his throat out in one fluid motion.

“Gillon?” the remaining aquilan called nervously. “What the hell is going on?”

Before the man could reach for his cell phone or germ Jack was upon him, smashing his head against the cellar door. It swung open on impact.

“Why, thank you,” Jack said as he dusted himself off and strolled straight in.

The cellar was dark and quiet. Jack heard voices from the ground level above. He ascended an old staircase carefully, his senses delivering data at extraordinary speed. The staircase admitted to a polished marble entry hall. A debonair man was sitting at a table opposite a well-dressed woman. Jack wondered if they were part of the aquilan High Council. The pair were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn’t notice the charcoal-grey werewolf climbing the stairs to the top floor.

Jack paused at the first landing to listen for activity. There were a multitude of footsteps on the floor above him and he lowered himself into a crouch, ready to pounce. Three young aquilan men strode with purpose down the hallway that spanned the floor. None looked in Jack’s direction. The werewolf took the opportunity to climb the remaining steps and sneak down the hall in the other direction.

The door to the room at the end of the hall was mostly open. Jack saw the barrel-chested torso of a man standing behind a heavy oak desk.
Hector Caliri
. Finally, a chance to kill the bastard. But a voice screamed in Jack’s head - now wasn’t the time. All Jack would achieve was his own capture. Sure, he could take Hector out, but the aquilan High Council would simply replace him with someone else. Nothing could erase the sins of the past. With these unwanted thoughts in mind, Jack held himself in check.