For that reason Julian didn’t feel so weird about being drawn to the redhead.
The noonday sun beat down on Julian’s wings as he reached the urban sprawl of the northeast coast. Of course, launching had once again ripped apart a very good suit, one that he would need to replace. He kept his mind on such matters of personal administration as he closed the final few miles of his long journey. The comforting green glow of his company’s logo was now visible in the skyscrapers of Manhattan. The north Atlantic glowed like a huge sapphire jewel beyond the living, breathing city.
Julian needed to shield his eyes from the sunlight reflecting off the multi-faceted upper levels of his penthouse suite. He glided onto the wide platform and made a perfect landing, already tasting that cold drink his assistant Tilly was no doubt already preparing. Sure enough, she was waiting for him in the penthouse, elegant in a black backless dress and scarlet heels. Julian received his drink, a lime and bitters on ice, with a smile as he let his wings settle into a folded position after his long flight.
“Exquisite timing as usual, Tilly,” he said mildly as he collapsed on a chesterfield settee that overlooked the city. “What’s news?”
“More civilians have disappeared,” Tilly said crisply, laying a fresh suit on the edge of the chesterfield.
“Oh, I won’t be needing that,” he said. “I’m heading out into the field shortly.”
Tilly’s eyes widened briefly. The loyal assistant perhaps had some inkling of what Julian was planning but she was too professional to mention it.
“A field suit, then,” she said smoothly before disappearing into a wide closet under the spiral staircase. She emerged with a sky blue utility suit, lightweight but incredibly tough. There were customized slits across the shoulders for Julian’s wings. The suits were hell to climb into but once on they were supremely comfortable and, better still, wouldn’t split with wings extended.
Julian downed his cool drink and took the suit from his assistant.
“Wish me luck,” he said with a cheeky grin.
“I’m hoping you don’t need it, Mr. Banes,” came the reply.
Tilly withdrew to her front desk and Julian prepared himself for action. He would need to walk the city streets for a little while, which always made him anxious. He wasn’t especially aloof like other aquilans tended to be but he did feel exposed on the streets. For starters, only a tiny fraction of the world’s population had discovered their inner spirit beast. There weren’t many creatures out there yet, which was probably a good thing. He could only imagine the chaos a few months into the future when there were more Flux creatures walking around, testing their new powers and abilities.
Of course, Julian could retract his wings and enter “human” mode if he really needed to, but that always drained him a little. It made sense to do it now, and he retracted his wings with a wince. He was still getting used to changing back and forth. Out at the Lodge he often didn’t bother retracting his wings, loving the special kind of sanctuary it provided.
With a strange ache where his wings had retracted, Julian stepped into his personal elevator and hit the ground floor.
The street was hot as he stepped from the cool ground level foyer. His first stop was an obscure glass blower in Little Odessa. The shopfront was hidden away down an alley way. Julian wondered how the Ukranian woman there did business at all. Well, perhaps not conventional business. Julian was there for something more specific, something special. Something that would help him keep Florence Underwood alive.
Bridgita, stooped and lined with age, was sorting through glass bowls when Julian arrived. One look at him over her half-moon glasses and she grinned toothlessly.
“The aquilans are my friends, no?” she cackled.
Julian returned the grin. He wasn’t sure if Bridgita had discovered her spirit beast yet but there was something animalistic about the woman. She was probably naturebound in some way, he was sure of that. Perhaps one day he’d allow her to access Jasmine.
“I’m not here for myself, Bridgita,” Julian said. “I actually need several nightfire lanterns.”
“Nightfire,” Bridgita repeated in wonder. “The flame only a lycan can see.”
“I’m aware of what it does,” Julian explained. “Let’s call it a gift.”
“The handsome aquilan has a big heart,” Bridgita said with glee. “Much room for romance, I see.”
“How many do you have?” Julian asked, quickly changing the subject. Bridgita winked and retired to her back room, rummaging around for what seemed an eternity. She returned with eleven boxed lanterns, shoving them into a hessian sack.
“May the Gods protect you, aquilan,” she said, all humor gone from her voice, her eyes. “There is no mercy where you’re headed.”
Julian nodded and slung the sack over his shoulder. Tilly would ensure that the old woman was adequately compensated.
Without another word Julian made his way back out into the street. The nearest subway was up on West 34th Street Street. Julian glided through the shiny foyer, through the unattended turnstile and down into the lower platforms. At the northern end of platform 14 a service door admitted to a tight passageway through various electrical substations. An old, creaking goods lift whisked Julian to levels no longer used by the general public. Here the bluestone tunnels were crumbling and decrepit, lit only by occasional fluorescent lights that had survived the ravages of time. Julian hustled his way through the cool tunnels, heading north along an ancient rail line that grew gradually darker. Before long he came to a hole in the side wall and hesitated only a split second before climbing through. The passage beyond was almost completely dark. A strange smell assaulted Julian’s senses, setting his nerves on edge. He set down his first nightfire lantern and stepped further into the unknown, darkness clawing at him from all sides.
2 - Yasmin
Mt Brasev, Romania
Yasmin Silver didn’t feel like a queen. The winter was cold and harsh, pressing up against the estate relentlessly. The bad weather had kept the Maramurians away for several weeks now and work on the castle had stalled. At least the main hall and most of the east wing had been completed. That meant Yasmin had access to both the central hub and a series of smaller rooms, one of which she had claimed as her own.
Of late she had given up trying to function like a human being during the day, instead bunkering down in her extravagant four-poster bed. She had no idea where Tomas had found it, just it was one of the doktor’s gifts. He and the succubi had pledged themselves to her and despite the strangeness of having servants it felt inevitable. Her four underlings were happy to rest in the dark corners of the main hall during the day. Occasionally Tomas would disappear altogether, literally spending entire days underground. Yasmin couldn’t blame him in the slightest, often feeling the pull of the earth’s secret places by day.
All in all, Yasmin commanded a crumbling ruin on top of a forgotten mountain in rural Romania. No - she didn’t quite feel like a queen.
The succubi were warming to Yasmin day by day. At first they had shrank away from her, perhaps overwhelmed by her power. In the last few weeks Yasmin had felt a strengthening bond with the succubi, and had even begun sending them on various missions. The castle needed a complete overhaul, which meant acquiring furniture and art. The succubi had proven themselves adept at sourcing such items from the various mountain villages in the surrounding range. Yasmin had no problem with theft, sensing that many of the antiques she gained were once part of the castle’s estate in any case.
As for the doktor, well, he was a curious man. In many ways Yasmin would be forever in his debt. She had been languishing in New York when he had set up the beacon that drew her here to eastern Europe. Things hadn’t gone so well with the Lycan Society and Yasmin was as heart broken as a young woman could be. She had fully expected to join lycan ranks only to be divined as something completely different. She’d always known deep down that she wasn’t a lycan, but had fallen in love with the lycans nonetheless
. One in particular had captured her heart - Jack Foley. The less she thought about him the better. The bastard had turned his back on her as soon as it suited him to do so. Sure, he’d muttered something about hunting her down, but she no longer believed it. She couldn’t allow herself to believe it. The fact was she was a queen mother of the vampyra and he was a lycan werewolf. In what universe could they possibly have a future together? The problem was, the harder Yasmin tried to banish Jack Foley from her mind, the greater his grip on her heart. Despite everything, she felt safe with Jack. With him, she could just be Yasmin Silver. She didn’t need to be anything else. And now, they were on opposite sides of the world with trouble brewing on all sides. She wanted desperately to know if he was OK, but she couldn’t exactly pick up the phone and call him. What would he say? The thought of his disinterested voice at the other end of the line chilled her to the core. No, she had no choice but to make a new life for herself here in Romania. At least here the people seemed to understand who she was. The lycans seemed to recognize what she was, but they had no idea what to do with her. In the end, she was effectively banished from their Society. At least they’d left her future in her own hands.
Which brought her to Tomas Verdano. To a man broken by circumstance and in need of a new purpose. A man who had lost his family to a psychopath in Berlin. A man who would walk the ends of the earth for her. As far as Yasmin could tell, there wasn’t anything sexual about Tomas’s devotion to her. It had more to do with the power structure of the vampyra. Yasmin was a queen and they both felt it. The succubi sensed it too, treating Yasmin with a detached reverence.
Today, Yasmin stepped gingerly from her room as darkness enveloped the castle. The wind howled through the cracks in the wall that the Maramurians had yet to cement over. She’d spent the day lying in a foetal position under several thick quilts. Her inability to function by day was growing worse over time. The dawn was a time to be dreaded, feared even. The sun’s rays were no longer life-giving - they were life-taking. When each day rolled into the light Yasmin just wanted to curl up into a ball. It wasn’t as if she could use the time to think or to plan. Her mind seemed to shut down during the daylight hours, becoming a crumbly, stuttering mess. It was far better just to shut her eyes and block out the world.
The night was another world for Yasmin Silver. It was now her playground, her fire, her inspiration. Her pace quickened as she approached the main hall. She was gathering strength with every step. She stopped to peer through one of the slits that passed for windows in this place. Winds from the valleys were raising snow flurries and pressing the powder right up against the castle. The Maramurians wouldn’t be able to visit for days. Cursing to herself, Yasmin entered the main hall and found Tomas huddled in a damp corner. The tall, broad-shouldered man was gaunt and disheveled. She suspected that he was struggling with the same problem she was - the problem of feeding. Both had the hunger on the edge of their souls, just begging to be satiated. Tomas had supped on Yasmin’s blood when he saw her, which was his right as her loyal servant. Both of them now needed fresh blood in order to regain strength and power. The problem was that Yasmin knew in her bones that human blood was best. It was an instinctive thing, like a human drawn to meat and vegetables. She had an indefinable hunger that needed slaking soon or she would begin to shrivel away. She could see how consuming fresh blood might be possible in the city, provided she could link up with a hospital. But out here in the Romanian wilderness fresh blood needed to be hunted. Tomas looked up at Yasmin with yellow eyes. Yasmin had no doubt that her arrival had probably saved his life. The man now had a focus for his energies. He usually spent his nights working on the castle after the Maramurians had gone home. His energy was amazing to witness. Yasmin had never seen someone go about his duty with such zeal.
At that moment Tomas was looking at Yasmin through eyes slitted with concern.
“You’re so thin,” Tomas croaked. “Tonight you need blood. Please.”
The doktor offered his bare forearm. It was pale and scarred, as if Tomas had experimented with drawing his own blood. Yasmin winced at the sight - the notion made her skin crawl.
But the doktor was right. Tonight was the night. She would leave the castle and hunt, weather be damned.
“Will you come with me, Tomas?” she asked.
Tomas’s face came alive. “But of course, Queen,” he breathed.
Yasmin did not try and correct the doktor. Technically, she was a queen, and the truth was she enjoyed hearing it. The title reminded her of the heavy responsibility she now carried. One that would get heavier every day.
“Then come,” she said. “You will talk to me on the way.”
Minutes later the pair were gliding across the snow in their heavy cloaks. Neither had their hoods drawn. One of the physical changes Yasmin had noticed since being divined was a resistance to extreme cold. That meant she could traverse the frigid mountains at night with little discomfort.
“How do you think we’re placed, Tomas?” Yasmin asked as they moved at an easy, unrushed pace.
“We’re consolidating our resources, ma’am,” Tomas said. “Apart from the two of us, the succubi have settled in well. We have a score of Maramurians to draw on for hard labor and also for sending messages. The main hall and east wing are secure. The rest will be built, winter or no. The succubi are sourcing what wealth is available in these mountains. The beacon is lit.”
The last part was added with uncertainty. The scarlet phosphorous beacon in the belfry tower was designed to attract fellow vampyra to the cause. No one had come in several weeks. Yasmin had to tell herself again and again that nothing was “wrong” at her end. The most likely explanation was that few vampyra had been divined this early in the Flux transformation. That would change over time, and more followers would surely come. The only thing to do about that was wait. Or get a diviner. Not for the first time Yasmin wished Mischa, the diviner she’d met in Berlin, was here in Romania. To have a diviner at her disposal would make the emergent vampyra very powerful indeed. Yasmin had a feeling that the absence of a diviner in her retinue would come back to bite her if she wasn’t careful. She resolved to set her mind to the problem and let it bubble away in her subconscious. As a vampire she found she had an improved ability to conceptualize problems and solve them using her “resting” mind. Which is partly why she needed fresh blood - all her new vampiric abilities seemed to suffer without it.
On impulse Yasmin turned to Tomas as they made their way through lightly wooded terrain. Their movement, already dampened by the thick snow, was near silent as they picked their way through the trees.
“I want to thank you for everything you’ve done, Tomas,” Yasmin began. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. Which is why I want to make you Prime Consort.”
Tomas’s eyes widened in delight. It was obvious he wanted nothing else in life. Yasmin had already considered the danger of trusting Tomas with her life. She hadn’t had a chance to do any research on vampyra but creating such a position for Tomas seemed logical. It was essentially making him her personal advisor in all things. Tomas wasn’t exactly muscle, nor did he seem particularly good with people. What he did have was a wise, logical head and a close affinity with vampire lore. Far better to put his talents to good use.
“It would be an honor, queen,” he managed to breathe. Yasmin hid a small smile - she adored how this man continued to show such enthusiasm when it was clear she was starting from rock bottom. His profound loyalty was exactly why she trusted him - he’d invested too much of himself to be some kind of threat.
Tha pair moved through the solemn pine trees in amiable silence for a while. Yasmin had some idea to head for the hunting cabin the Maramurians sometimes used on the other side of the Pontar Valley. She had no inkling of what she might do when she got there - she had no desire to kill her Maramurians. Perhaps it would be possible to ask them to go get some human blood? Yasmin hadn’t thought beyond that primitive concept.
Another
twenty minutes hike up a reasonably sleep slope saw Yasmin and Tomas to the hunting cabin. The Vampire queen was relieved to see dim rectangles of light in the windows. The cabin was occupied.
Tomas went first, rapping on the door. A filthy fur trapper replied, his frost-burned, toothless smile turning into a leer when he saw Yasmin. These weren’t Maramurians. Probably Hungarian hunters from the north. The one before Tomas grinned wolfishly and beckoned to his unseen comrades. Four hunters paraded through the doorway, axes poised.
“We know something is changing the world,” the leader said in provincial Hungarian that Yasmin somehow understood. “Europe is a wild place once again. Dangerous for those in fancy fur coats, no?”
Tomas looked nervously at Yasmin. In truth, this was unexpected. Over the past few weeks she had grown accustomed to something like awe from the local Romanians. These trappers were belligerent and looked highly dangerous. Worse still, they seemed to think the laws of modern Romania no longer applied to them. Surely the world hadn’t slipped so far, so soon? Yasmin supposed that certain pockets of the world had already become wild places. From the look of these men, they hadn’t yet found their spirit beasts.
The Lycan Collapse (The Flux Age Book 2) Page 2