The Lycan Society (The Flux Age Book 1) (20 page)

Florence thought of Julian Barnes, so gracious, so effortlessly respectful. She simply couldn’t see how someone so inherently
good
could be an enemy.

“And if we refuse them again?” she asked.

The Mother looked Florence in the eye, a nervous tic flaring on the side of her neck.

“Then we must prepare to defend ourselves,” she said with dark, dark resignation.

Bucharest, Romania

THE PINK AND beige lights of Bucharest Airport winked in the near dawn.

The plane touched down despite heavy turbulence, the passengers sighing with relief when the 747 rolled to a halt within sight of the terminal.

Tomas waited patiently for the cabin doors to open. His mind was now operating on a skeleton crew. All the neurons that triggered feelings and emotions had left the building. In the dark, heavy haze of his soul he concentrated on one key objective - not thinking about his family. His blood-red, massacred loved ones currently strewn across the Hotel Brandenburg in Berlin.

He snapped his mind back to his physical surroundings. It was a jolt he was used to performing now - he’d done it a thousand times on the two hour flight.

One thing he did wonder about was Herr X. Why had the old man let him walk? Perhaps it was part of a general retreat. After all, their secret weapon, the chimera, had been killed by the lycans. It was the Berlin Club’s style to melt into the shadows and wait for another opportunity to attack.

There were two other possibilities. One - Herr X simply wanted to ruin his life for betraying the cause, killing his family but letting him live as punishment. Two - the old German actually believed Tomas, suitably chastened, would simply come back to the fold. The second scenario, as ridiculous as it sounded, fitted the sociopathic profile of the mysterious German.

Whatever the case, Tomas was now in Romania, contemplating strange forces within his body. He’d been divined by that filthy girl in the foyer of the Grand Ferdinand. What did it all mean?

All he knew was that he’d been drawn to the one with the platinum hair - Yasmin Silver was her name. The intense emotion he’d felt when he saw her couldn’t simply be put down to the adrenalin of battle. It was a feeling of the strongest deja vu, as if he’d known the girl for a
very
long time.

And now? Now there was some kind of power drawing him on, moving his arms and legs even though he just wanted to curl up into a ball. The passengers spilled from the cabin and Tomas found himself trudging through the garish lights of the terminal.

He noticed the ink of night slowly melting away. The prospect saddened him. His physical body actually felt a little weaker with the dawning of the new day. Shaking his head at all these strange new sensations, Tomas submitted to customs. He was detained by security personnel for no other reason than he looked like a vagrant. Deep, dark yellow pits under his eyes. Disheveled clothing. Clammy, unhealthy pallor. He couldn’t blame them.

A tiny voice in the back of his mind screamed at him to at least find a hotel and have a shower. Once he cleared customs, Tomas checked in at the Express Air Hotel. It was a modest 3-star affair but was clean and quiet. Tomas sat under the shower for a long time before surfacing for an instant coffee. His instincts told him to crawl underneath a blanket and rest until nightfall.

The terminal outside was awash with yellow light when he finally parted the heavy drapes. He checked his watch. 7.07 PM. Ordering a plate of sausages and a proper coffee from room service, Tomas showered again and sat down at the small business table by his bed. He made a list of everything he would need before he left Bucharest.

Perplexed, he considered the list - what was he planning exactly? What dark force was directing his thoughts?

He searched his feelings, employing a mindfulness technique he’d learned as a stressed student many years ago.

There didn’t
seem
to be any alien presence in his mind. What he had listed were items he would need in the purchase of property in Romania. Passport, travel documents, financial statements. He wasn’t sure why it made so much sense to settle in this country for the next, indefinite portion of his life, but it felt like a natural way to progress.

Tomas was effectively homeless after all - he couldn’t go back to the labs or his old apartment in Poltava. They’d be crawling with Berlin Club men.

It made sense to purchase property in a place where official documents could be forged and manipulated. A place where he could establish a base without attracting too much attention. A place where he could devote all his time to the study of
vampyra
.
His
people. A place with enough wildness to hide his true identity.

Besides, living out of hotels was the quickest way to blow his life savings. He’d amassed quite a pile of money. He couldn’t deny that Herr X had paid him well. The original plan was to send his children to an exclusive boarding school in Switzerland. Now he would use the money on property.

He couldn’t imagine a competitive housing market in the back blocks of Romania. He summoned a map of the region on his phone. The Carpathian mountains to the north were wild and sparsely populated. His mind set on a course of action, Tomas settled his hotel bill and wandered off into the night.

He caught a cab to the
Bucuresti Nord
train station. The next train to Piatra Neamt didn’t leave till morning. Tomas found a suitable bench in a dark corner and fell asleep surprisingly easily.

Morning sunlight was like a dagger to the scientist’s eyes. He felt weak and wretched as the sun pinned him to the bench he had slept on. Glad to see his provincial train roll in, Tomas practically crawled into the rearmost carriage and huddled in a shadowy corner.

The old train didn’t leave immediately, but within the hour it was clattering alongside verdant fields of corn and sunflower. Ominous clouds built over the course of the day, allowing Tomas to peek outside without being assaulted by the light.

The slow, steady train took an interminably long time to cross the southern plain. It was late afternoon when the terrain changed, the flat farmlands replaced by rugged foothills. Tomas was relieved to find that civilization was sparse here.

Along with the gathering darkness, he felt a lot safer. Well enough to sit up and smooth his hair back at any rate. He knew he looked unruly but it couldn’t be helped. If all went to plan he’d soon have a sanctuary where he could be left alone.

After a short stop at Onesti, the train climbed the Tatras Range through the night. The train’s central heating failed and a menacing chill hung in the carriage. Tomas realized he was the only person in his car, wondering if he’d scared anyone away. He couldn’t imagine how - all he was doing was minding his own business.

The night seemed to confer energy and vitality upon Tomas’s tired body and mind. He was able to think clearly and with deep insight. The view outside was pitch black to any normal human, but Tomas could see incredible detail. Tall pine forest bordered the track on both sides. If they avoided snowdrifts, he calculated their destination was only hours away.

Sitting bolt upright and making notes on a crumpled sheet of paper, Tomas made a checklist of things he would need if the property he purchased was ‘less than habitable’.

Dawn saw the train sigh into the terminus at Piatra Neamt - the end of the line. Tomas climbed down the ladder, his breath visible in the frigid mountain air. Rustic locals unloaded their baggage from the other carriages. Tomas smiled. These people were mostly Maramurians - mountain people who had stoutly defended their land for centuries. They dressed in tough leather dyed with vibrant traditional colors.

Tomas knew they were a hardy bunch, wary of outsiders. He also sensed they were fiercely loyal to people like him. He didn’t know how he was sure of that. Usually he required some kind of evidence, but his instinct told him he would find allies here.

Even better, the cloud cover was so oppressive at this high altitude that one might be forgiven for thinking the sun was dying a slow death. Just the way Tomas liked it. He marveled at his sudden aversion to UV light. A part of him wished he still had access to his lab in the Ukraine. He could think of hundreds of tests to conduct on himself.

Barely feeling the cold, Tomas trudged down the platform and up a steep, muddy hill into the town proper.

Piatra Neamt was a typical town in rural Romania. Some faded and peeling high rise apartments and that was about it. Tomas inquired after a property agent at a general store and was directed to a rude office on the east periphery. The grubby man who answered his knock called himself Nico and proudly proclaimed representation of most property owners in the district.

“I need somewhere private,” said Tomas. “I don’t mind having to renovate.”

Nico nodded understandingly, pulling a sheath of dirty folders down from an over-stocked shelf.

“Let’s see,” the Romanian said in broken English. “I have a hunter’s cabin on the Malorva property. Cheap. No people, just the wind. Perfect for you.”

Tomas looked at the man. “A rental?”

Nico looked sheepish all of a sudden. “Mr. Tomas, you must understand, we have no properties for sale.”

Some vague instinct told Tomas to persist. “None at all?”

The rotund Romanian chewed his lip for a moment before dragging down a second folder. He produced the deed for a run-down, ramshackle property high up in the mountains.

A series of monochrome photographs illustrated the scene. The structure had been a castle once, owned by an obscure Prussian general. It had fallen into disrepair over the last two centuries, and was now overrun with weeds and wild goats. The more Tomas considered this ominous, windswept tract of land, the stronger his resolve grew.

“Name your price,” he said firmly.

“Mr. Tomas,” stammered Nico. “Only a goat herder could want this. Not even the hall is left standing.”

It was true. There wasn’t a single room Tomas could shelter in.

“So I’ll buy a tent,” Tomas countered, his mind made up. “Show me where to sign.”

Nico looked at Tomas shrewdly, sensing a trap. Seeing none, he smiled broadly and grasped the scientist’s hand.

“Finally, we have a lord once more,” he gushed.

Tomas wasn’t sure what he meant, but was glad to have somewhere to go. There was much work to do.

The general store provided a rucksack, a tent and enough supplies to last three weeks. Tomas engaged one of the local farm hands to guide him to the shoulder of Mount Brasev.

Actual ownership of the property wouldn’t be finalized for two weeks, but Nico hadn’t objected to Tomas’s immediate residency. After all, the scientist had paid overs for what was basically a ruin. Tomas didn’t mind at all - the purchase had barely raised a ripple in his bank account.

The trip up the mountain took several hours. Gustavo, a rangy boy all of fourteen years old, guided Tomas through a steep pass choked with gorse and briar rose. It snowed briefly as they crossed a high plateau sprinkled with imperious pine and elm. Tomas didn’t mind a bit - the harder it was to reach his new palace, the better.

It was early afternoon by the time they reached a flat stretch of stony ground beyond which stood the ruin Tomas had just purchased blind.

Gustavo grunted his goodbyes before heading straight back down the mountain.

Tomas lay his rucksack down and took a moment to drink in the view. Low, scudding cloud had for the moment trailed into the south east, leaving a clear view over the Tatras range to the west.

Distant pillars of sunlight broke through the veil of cloud to kiss the peaks of smaller mountains. This was amazing country, rugged and inhospitable.

This was wild and woolly Europe, the dark heart of a continent. The best part was the lack of civilization. There was not a human soul to be seen for miles. Occasionally a wolf let loose a blood-curdling howl.
This was the place
. This was
always
the place. He didn’t know how, but his spirit beast had instinctively guided him here. Where a great story, long forgotten, could begin again.

With a grin he realized what his role in all this would be. Everything had recently been taken away from him, and he still needed to grieve. He hadn’t completely lost his humanity.

But what he had now was a grand purpose. He looked up at the ruin. Like the penny-pinching Romanian property agent had said, it was a decrepit place. There wasn’t much evidence of its former glory.

Luckily, many of the original stones were strewn across the weed-infested ground. His guide Gustavo had told him that locals avoided this place out of respect for the former owners. Tomas grinned again. Was it respect … or fear? He couldn’t wait to begin learning again. In a way it was like going back to school.

Tomas’s first task was the re-construction of the main hall. He produced some rudimentary mortar with a bag of cement, a little dirt and plenty of fresh water from a brook that ran the eastern boundary of the property. Under the weak, unholy sun of the Tatras mountains, Tomas began to build a wall, brick by brick, stone by stone.

He gathered momentum as the day died early at four in the afternoon. One of the many benefits of these mountains were six hour days. Tomas worked with unbelievable strength and stamina through the night. As he discovered on the train from Bucharest, his night vision was now superb.