The Lycan Society (The Flux Age Book 1) (16 page)

For a moment it pawed at the grass as it gathered its immense strength for a frontal assault. Doubt crept into Tomas’s mind. How was his plan possibly going to work? It was reckless and stupid.

His toxic thoughts were broken when the chimera unleashed a scream and hurtled its way towards them.

Tomas scrambled up the statue of Neptune, standing on the outstretched palms. He made eye contact with the tawny werewolf.

“Put the girls in front,” he yelled. The beast frowned but did as he asked. He assumed she would pull them away at the last moment.

Time seemed to slow down as the chimera approached in a lather. With amazing power for something so heavy it leapt into the fountain where, as Tomas predicted, it skidded on the slime coating on the bottom.

The tawny werewolf fulfilled its end of the bargain, stealing the girls away and shoving them behind the statue. Tomas grabbed hold of the cable loops he’d created earlier.

The chimera shuddered into the statue with a meaty crunch, cracking the marble in several places. Tomas leapt off the statue and found himself crouching on the chimera’s back, which was for the moment immobile. With a desperate lunge he looped the cables around the monster’s neck before being flung into the air.

His landing was both awkward and painful. His right shoulder struck the edge of the fountain and for a moment he thought a bone had cracked. Pain lanced down his arm and across his shoulders, enough to block out the world for several seconds.

When he finally opened his eyes he saw, to his immense relief, exactly what he’d planned - the werewolves, quick to respond, had taken hold of the cable at the back of the statue and were strangling the chimera with all their might.

Four werewolves and two girls, their hands red raw from tugging at the grappling cable. Pinned to the statue, the chimera thrashed and shrieked, its limbs flailing in all directions. There was something tragic about its fight for life. The statue lilted and threatened to fall - if that happened the werewolves’ hold on the thing would be relinquished. Tomas held his breath, praying that the old marble was strong enough to bear the strain.

The desperate chimera dashed it’s red-eyed goat head repeatedly against the marble, doing itself great damage in the hope of escaping. The three werewolves held their line, yanking viciously on the cable at the dark one’s signal.

The chimera stiffened, it’s horrible arms splayed, then it shuddered one last time before slumping into a sitting position. Its breath diminished in the cold dusk air. Silence settled on the Britzer Gardens. Gradually Tomas became aware of the muffled gasps from the respectable German couples who thought they’d take a pleasant, bracing walk before dinner.

Now that it was all over, Tomas’s body ached and throbbed with pain. His damaged shoulder screamed at him. Two of the werewolves made their way back toward the Hotel Grand Ferdinand.

“The Berlin Club,” he called out. “That way is dangerous.”

The charcoal werewolf’s eyes burned with anger. “We don’t leave anyone behind,” it snarled.

Tomas wasn’t about to argue the point. Instead, he felt himself gravitate toward the platinum-haired girl, the one Herr X wanted in the first place. She was checking on the tawny werewolf, who seemed to be undergoing some kind of transformation. He averted his eyes, sensing he wasn’t welcome.

The diviner appeared beside him like a ghost. Her lingering gaze was unnerving. Despite the recent battle, she seemed amazingly calm all of a sudden.

“Who’s that girl?” he found himself asking her.

The diviner smiled cryptically. “Your mother,” she breathed quietly. She looked up at the freshening moon, bright above the stark elm trees. “Night falls. Go ask her if you can play.”

The diviner laughed coquettishly. Tomas got the impression she was laughing
at
him.

“Let’s go,” said a clear female voice. It was a flame-haired woman, transformed from the tawny werewolf.

Not thinking, Tomas moved to follow her, but she held out an arm.

“Not you,” she said firmly. It seemed her trust only ran so far. The red head and the other girls followed where the other werewolves had gone.

“Mother,” Tomas called feebly, feeling desperate and frustrated. What was causing him to feel this way? Surely it wasn’t just the trauma of battle.

The white-haired girl stopped and walked back to Tomas. The look on her face suggested she knew something he didn’t. She looked upon him with eyes of deep sadness, caressing his cheek briefly.

He felt a jolt of something indescribable, a feeling that something dark and beautiful was flowering in his soul. It was a rush of adrenalin, fear and profound understanding. Right then, looking into his ‘mother’s’ eyes, he
knew
. He
knew
who he truly was. Whatever he’d been up to this moment was just a shell. The person he saw reflected in this girl’s eyes was far, far more than that, and it felt
wonderful
.

The slight girl standing before him was his leader. He realized he’d walk the ends of the earth for her if he had to. She seemed to realize it too.

“I know you,” she said wistfully, her eyes bright in the gathering darkness. “I’ve always known you.”

Tomas was about to speak when the red head pulled his spirit mother away. The werewolf threw him a concerned glance, this one softer than the last.

“I’ve read your file,” she said. “You’re Tomas Verdano. You’d better go see to your family.”

The world rushed back into Tomas’s consciousness as the women walked away. He did indeed have a family, and that werewolf was giving him a warning.

Herr X.

Tomas ran. Harder than he’d ever run before. Longer. He’d never known such stamina. The night seemed to envelop him, feed him strength. He couldn’t explain it, but the darkness seemed like a natural habitat.

The streets became a blur of light and motion, a silver causeway leading to his destiny. He couldn’t remember riding the elevator in his hotel but there he was, standing in the corridor. He approached the door to his suite, and somehow wasn’t surprised to find it unlocked.

The room inside was red. Blood had spattered the walls and formed a slick across the carpet. A small, robotic part of his brain noted that Herr X hadn’t spared his children. The Berlin Club played for keeps.

Tomas turned away, unwilling to absorb the details of the scene lest they burn themselves in his memory forever.

In a way it all made a sense. There was symmetry here. The night he gained a mother, a beacon in the darkness, was also the night he lost everything from his old life.

He knew the grief would come. He knew there would always be a gaping wound across his heart. He knew he was in such deep, paralyzing shock that normal emotion wasn’t a possibility right now.

His family had been killed because he had betrayed his masters. He had helped the werewolves kill the chimera. Helped them escape. His life as a human was worse than worthless. He had to get away.

The next half hour he spent watching the city slide past from the backseat of a taxi. His body and mind were completely numb, but he could feel his new self operating at a subconscious level, controlling his movements, keeping him safe.

He found himself wandering through Berlin Schonefeld airport, shrinking from the bright, sterile light.

His ran his gaze down the fluttering list of departing flights, his bloodshot eyes resting on one in particular.

Flight 873 to Bucharest, Romania.

As worthy a place as any to begin again.

A place where he could grieve in peace.

A place where he could learn more about life, death, and everything in between.

Berlin, Germany

YASMIN HELD THE diviner’s hand as they trudged in the wake of the werewolves. Night had fallen and the Britzer Gardens were lit only by intermittent lamps along the central path.

Far behind them, the dead chimera sat slumped against the statue of Neptune, fountain floodlights casting watery patterns over its hideous body. Quite a crowd had amassed to witness the unspeakable sight, hanging back lest the creature’s lifeless form rise to wreak havoc again. The red-blue flash of a squad car, the local
die polizei
, could be seen through the trees to the west.

Yasmin didn’t know why she was holding Mischa’s hand. It just felt right. They’d both been through an extremely violent experience, so it was only natural that they share the common bond of survival. The werewolves had shifted back into their human forms and were keen to see to their fallen comrades.

Jack, Florence and Max were sullen and intense. Aside from being worried about their friends, Yasmin guessed there must be some kind of come down after shifting. A human body must struggle to handle the level of endorphins and adrenalin that flowed through a werewolf’s body.

Jack found Paulie lying against a gnarled oak tree. His body had been pulverized in several places. Ashen-faced, Jack knelt to check his pulse. He was alive, but only just. Jack lifted his friend and carried him across his shoulders.

Adam was lying at an awkward angle near the smashed front entrance to the Grand Ferdinand. Nothing could be done for him.

“One for the Berlin cercarium,” Jack muttered. He wasn’t being disrespectful - to be laid to rest in a werewolf cercarium was a great privilege.

A van pulled up outside the hotel. Yasmin felt a twinge of alarm.

Four figures in civilian clothes tumbled out and took Adam’s body away. Neither Jack nor Florence did anything to stop them - they were local werewolves and had every right to claim their dead. Now that the operation was over and Herr X remained alive, Mother Udaan was probably desperate to keep a low profile.

A slight figure came stumbling over the smashed glass inside the hotel foyer. It was Nightjar. She looked badly injured. Yasmin remembered the chimera crashing through her as it charged through the glass wall.

Though she could barely speak, she motioned to Florence as she was helped into the van by her comrades.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to breathe. Florence shook her head as if to say that none of this was Nightjar’s fault. The van disappeared into the night.

The werewolves formed a protective ring around Yasmin and Mischa as they wandered the wrecked foyer. After all, the place had been crawling with Berlin Club goons less than an hour before.

The place was deserted. Possibly due to the defeat of the chimera, Herr X had lost the stomach for a fight.

Eddison’s body was found under a pile of woody debris. Jack’s face went white when he checked on him - Eddison, so enthusiastic, so intelligent, was dead.

Yasmin wanted with every fiber of her being to go to Jack, to wrap him in her arms, to comfort him like she knew she could. In the harsh light of the foyer she could see a deep gash across his face where the chimera had struck him. It looked extremely painful.

But she held back because it wasn’t the time. She could see the negative emotion welling inside Jack like a volcano. He’d lost a good friend. He was in a mood to destroy, not caress. She wished she hadn’t come to Berlin. Things had gotten messy indeed. She tried not to think about the diviner’s reaction to her.

Max hefted Eddison’s corpse over his broad shoulders and the party made their way through the quiet streets back to their hotel. Florence handed over a wad of cash for the night porter to look the other way.

Back in their suite, Yasmin sat by the window and looked down over the low city, tears flowing freely. Jack and Max had gone to organize the private transportation of Paulie and Eddison back to the States. Yasmin could only guess at the prohibitive cost of such an exercise, particularly given they wanted to avoid the authorities. Then again, she’d heard the Lycan Society had
very
deep pockets.

Mischa had disappeared into Yasmin’s room to be on her own. Yasmin suspected the girl hadn’t had a good sleep in days. To pass the time she lost herself in the tail lights of passing traffic outside, anything to slow her mind down.

She still couldn’t quite grasp what had happened that afternoon. What did it all mean for her future? Mischa’s reading of her spirit beast seemed inconclusive, but deep down Yasmin knew she wasn’t a lycan. She was something else, something that inspired great fear in Mischa at the time. The diviner had been friendly enough since then. She seemed to forget about her readings not long after giving them, possibly as a defense against going crazy. Hell, she probably already
was
crazy.

Of course, all it would take was a quick look at her phone to translate what Mischa had said. To put it beyond doubt once and for all. But Yasmin couldn’t bring herself to do it. She desperately wanted to identify as lycan - anything else was a bitter disappointment.

If she wasn’t lycan, would Jack still want to see her? There was no way of knowing for sure. She knew nothing about lycan customs and social boundaries. Her instinct told her that there would now be a wall between them. The strength of their attraction would determine whether that wall came tumbling down.

Would Yasmin and Jack re-connect when they got back to New York? A creeping sense of dread suggested it would be difficult. A fresh tear squeezed itself over her long eyelashes. She was glad to hear the door opening - Florence had returned.