“No,” said Florence thoughtfully. “The Mother’s been looking for a source of nightfire for years now.”
The redhead turned to face Jack, her eyes alive with hope. “You realize what that is, Jack? A weapon. Someone has laid out a means of destroying the wights.”
Jack blinked. “You mean they can’t be killed any other way?”
“No way that we know of,” Florence replied. “We have a friend down here somewhere. That’s good to know.”
“Yeah, well, could be a trap,” Jack warned.
Florence rolled her eyes but said nothing.
Jack knew he had scored a point. “Let’s keep moving,” he said. “I think we should follow the lamps.”
“And finally we agree on something,” Florence muttered as she fell in behind him. “I’ll ask the mayor for a ticker tape parade.”
The pair made their way north through the incredibly dark tunnel. The nightfire was highly visible but it didn’t cast much light. The intervening distance between lamps was in near complete darkness.
“I could see better if I was germed,” Jack said irritably.
“Yeah, well, you might get that chance soon,” Florence promised. Jack found it irritating that she acted like she was calling the shots. It was a joint mission. No one was leader. Still, he kept his mouth shut as he turned a gently sloping corner and spotted a wide chamber around three hundred yards ahead.
“Stay sharp,” he barked as he crept closer, all his senses on full alert.
“Don’t need to tell me that, asshole,” Florence muttered from behind. Jack ignored her and slowed as he reached the entrance to the chamber. The interior was not lit by nightfire. Jack inched his way into the darkness, his eyes slowly adjusting to the lack of light. He growled instinctively as a horrible smell assailed his nostrils.
“Stay back, Florence,” he said, holding out a protective arm.
“Get out of my way, Jack,” she hissed, ducking underneath him and kneeling to cobble stones slick with a dark substance. There were several objects strewn randomly on the floor. Bodies. Lycan corpses. Jack knew the smell and it always made him want to gag. He suspected the particular lycan smell triggered an emotional response.
“How many?” he asked, determined to keep emotion from his voice.
“Eight, I think,” Florence said in a thick voice. She was clearly trying to do the same but with less success.
A movement by the far doorway drew Jack’s attention. He growled and felt his body tip over into the germ. Within seconds he was a good two feet taller and rippling with lycan muscle. He tasted blood in his mouth and his mind was flooded with a sea of information from his heightened senses.
“There was nothing I could do,” said a clipped, educated voice. Jack knew instinctively that the figure wasn’t a threat but he allowed his razor-sharp claws to flex. His clothes had all but fallen to the floor, torn to shreds. For the moment, Florence remained in human form, but didn’t seem to mind that Jack had succumbed to his spirit beast.
“We’ve all arrived too late,” she said in a soft voice. Jack wondered why she sounded so amiable, then he recognized the figure by the door. It was Julian Banes,the filthy rich aquilan they’d meet recently. The one who’d been sniffing around for lycan secrets. Jack didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him. The bird man liked to put on a noble act that seemed to melt Florence’s defenses. Luckily, Jack was immune to Julian’s charms. There was no way his presence here was a coincidence.
“These lycans were killed more than two weeks ago,” the aquilan said with a searching look at Jack. “I’ve already checked the bodies.”
“Well if you don’t mind, we’ll be checking them again,” Jack said defiantly.
Florence sighed as Jack went about his grisly work. He picked through the corpses with a heavy heart, finding no reason to doubt what Julian had said.
“Did you set those lamps down?” Florence asked the aquilan. “The nightfire?”
“I did,” Julian responded. “I figured you’d need something against the wights.”
“Have you seen one yet?” Florence asked.
“No,” Julian said. “I felt a cold presence as I was navigating the tunnels. I believe one passed close by.”
“We should leave, Jack,” Florence said urgently. “There’s nothing else we can do.”
Jack nodded, finishing his difficult task. “I’ve identified all of them,” he said tiredly. “Dalton, Amelia, Cassia, Emerson, Lorenzo, Ash, Paul, Cole. All lycans, all dead.”
These last words he said in a faint voice, the enormity of the situation hitting him. The Society hadn’t lost so many operatives since the Dark Ages. It was as if he’d entered another world, a world full of danger and mortality for lycans. The cocky sense of invincibility he’d felt all his life was quickly evaporating.
“There’s something I should mention,” Julian ventured. Florence raised her eyebrow.
“I’m no expert in these matters, but it’s likely these lycans were tortured before they died. Mentally, I mean.”
Jack’s brow furrowed as he stepped forward.
“How, exactly?”
“The aquila have researched the various behaviours of the wight,” Julian replied. “They are known to keep their prey alive for days whilst they prey upon their memories.”
A cold dread ran down Jack’s spine. What had these lycans been forced to endure before they died?
“I found another chamber further to the east,” Julian said. “Full of humans, pinned to the wall. I could do nothing but burn them all.”
Silence filled the circular chamber as the lycan pair digested this. Jack felt his rage rise like a king tide.
“Thank you,” Florence said to the aquilan. “We owe you a great deal.”
Julian waved her away politely. “The aquila remember their responsibilities,” he said evenly, looking Florence in the eye. “We’d like to think we can work together with the lycans. Like we did during the last Flux Age.”
Jack snorted before he knew what he was doing. His body was ready to germ back into human form but something held him back. There was something about Julian’s heroic manner, his expensive utility suit, his majestic wings, hell, even his French cologne, that really got under his skin.
“I think we all know why you’re here,” he said roughly. “This is a political move to buy our friendship. Our trust.”
Julian’s face darkened, but just for a moment. His blue eyes regained their equilibrium almost immediately.
“We’re reaching out,” he said calmly. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you should fuck off and let us look after our dead in peace.”
“Jack, lose the germ,” Florence said with a scowl. “Might curb your aggression.”
Jack looked at his partner with eyes of violence. He hated being told when to germ.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, standing over Florence. Much to his annoyance, she didn’t flinch at all. “I decide when and how to germ. Got it?”
Before Florence could reply a cold wind swept through the chamber. It passed right through Jack’s body and seemed to clutch at his bones.
“From the north passage,” Julian said quickly, pressing himself against the wall adjacent to the entrance. “They’re coming for us. They want to feed.”
Jack fixed his gaze on the dark passage. He could hear Florence leaving through the south entrance.
“What the hell …?” Jack grunted.
“She’s retrieving some nightfire,” Julian said impatiently.
“Are you scared?” Jack spat venomously, regretting it immediately.
“The aquila aren’t suited to cramped spaces,” Julian said with quiet dignity. “I will attack when the moment comes.”
Jack nodded. It struck him that the bird man was vulnerable down here in the sewers, with nowhere to run if things got hairy. He grudgingly let a little respect seep into his perception of the man.
At that momen
t an eerie white light appeared far down the north passage. Fear gripped Jack’s heart as a wight shuddered its way down the passage toward them. It was both ethereal and horrible, its skeletal form and tattered clothing sending plumes of ice into Jack’s werewolf heart. He crouched low, ready to pounce, ready to unleash his fury. The way the wight moved made his skin crawl. As the infernal thing approached, Jack was gripped by a peculiar sensation. His mind tore him away from the dangerous present and into a long repressed memory. He was standing in the middle of a dirty village that smelled of wood smoke and cow dung. His family and friends had gathered in a circle around him and were gazing at him in horror. With a shock he realized he was naked, but that wasn’t the worst thing. He was slick with blood and covered with the entrails of some kind of animal. Something told him it was his first kill and it had shocked him as much as it had everyone else.
Jack dropped to his knees, his gaze drawn to his crying mother. A mother who was now looking at him like he was a freak, an alien, something to cast away at the first available opportunity. Jack screamed as the memory dissolved all around him, the very fabric of it incinerated in blue flame. He was prone on the cold floor of the lower sewer tunnel, a pile of crystal dust scattered before him.
Catching his breath, he allowed himself to be drawn to his feet by the aquilan whose name he couldn’t remember for now.
“Fall back, before more arrive,” barked a tawny werewolf further back in the darkness. Florence Underwood.
“The wight,” Jack said with slow realization. “It was drawing a memory from me.”
“Florence smothered it in nightfire,” Julian explained. “Quick, we have to go.”
Jack saw the sense in beating a hasty retreat. He wasn’t going to be able to tear these wights limb from limb - the reality was painful but he was a realist at heart. He followed the others through the south passage, collecting nightfire lanterns along the way. A sickly white light illuminated the chamber behind them.
“Go!” Jack shouted. “I’ll protect the rear!”
Several wights pursued the trio through the labyrinthine passages. Luckily Florence was able to follow the nightfire lanterns Julian had laid down earlier.
The wights made ground even though Florence had set a rapid pace. Their stuttering movement made Jack feel decidedly queasy. Heart in his mouth, he waited until the leading wight was barely twenty yards away. He felt his mind bending to the will of the horrible creature.
“Have a taste of this,” he growled, hurling one of his lanterns at the wight. It struck the creature flush in the chest and the blue flame enveloped bone and flesh hungrily. Within moments all that was left was a trail of dirty white crystal.
Howling with rage, Jack hurled a second lantern, then a third. The passage was awash with flame, an inferno that brutally engulfed the wights. The creatures screamed in agony as they died, a sound that threatened to topple Jack’s frayed mind from its hinges.
“Jack!” came a strong voice. It was Florence, hurling the rest of her lanterns into the maelstrom. Wight after wight was vaporised before their eyes and a bitter, acrid smell filled the passage. As Jack jettisoned his last lantern strong hands lifted him through a hole in the roof. It was Julian.
Florence must’ve been lifted moments before, because she stood awkwardly to the side, looking at the aquilan strangely. It was no mean feat to haul two fully grown werewolf like that.
“Which way?” Jack asked quickly.
“Follow me,” Julian said, disappearing into the murk. The lycan pair followed Julian through more familiar cobble-stoned tunnels. Jack saw no hint of further pursuit by the wights. They must have killed at least a dozen down in the lower tunnel.
At length they emerged into a service tunnel with regular manholes in the ceiling. Julian selected one carefully, hauling himself through first.
Jack followed after Florence and found himself in a dingy alleyway somewhere in Manhattan.
“This is where I leave you,” Julian said, almost apologetically. “I have reports to make, as I’m sure you do.”
“Wait,” Florence said, grabbing Julian by the arm. Jack felt a surge of anger. He and Florence were still in werewolf form and needed to make it back to the Society straight away.
“Go on without me,” Florence said. Jack blinked at her with amazement. Surely she wasn’t going off with this creep?
“You can’t trust this guy,” he said angrily. “If you reveal anything to him, I’ll …”
“What, Jack?” Florence taunted, backing away alongside Julian.
The aquilan smiled infuriatingly as Florence climbed onto his back. Jack could barely watch as the aquilan extended his magnificent wings.
“Fine,” Jack eventually breathed, crushing his anger into a little ball. “Have it your way, Underwood. I knew I was wrong to trust you.”
4 - Julian
New York City, USA
Julian almost laughed as he spiraled between two high office buildings. To leave Jack Foley on the ground like that was cruel, but the man had it coming. He seemed brash and over-confident, and Julian wanted him to see how imposing the aquila were in full flight. He hadn’t been able to do that down in the cramped sewers. A throaty chuckle floated across his right shoulder. Florence was holding tight but enjoying every second on his back. She still hadn’t shifted back into human form, so her claws had dug somewhat painfully into Julian’s shoulders. Still, the impromptu flight was worth the pain, as it had the double effect of sweeping Florence off her feet and making Jack really pissed. He hadn’t intended to drive a wedge between the lycans but it made good sense to split them a little, make them uncertain. The less solidarity the Lycan Society had, the greater the chance of an alliance with the aquila.
Once Julian had reached the top of the Brandis Engineering building he allowed himself to be pressed by a downdraft that saw them glide safely to a tree-lined boulevard on the west bank of the East River . As ever, no New Yorkers seemed to notice Julian’s landing. It was amazing how brazen he could be in a world where people kept their eyes on the ground.
Florence slid from Julian’s back and looked at him with dark, unfathomable werewolf eyes.
“I still need to shift,” she said. “I’ve stashed clothes at a few locations across the city, I can—”
“No need,” Julian said smoothly. “I know where we can go. Just give me a second.”
Julian crouched to the ground and winced in pain. Florence turned away, sensing a shift. The sun was very low to the west and had cast an orange glow to the Brooklyn skyline across the river. By the time she turned back Julian was standing again. His wings were no longer visible.
“You were in human form when we first met,” Florence observed. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“We ‘germ’ into our spirit creatures, just like lycans do,” Julian said, with special emphasis on the last bit. “We’re all naturebound.”
“Well, not really,” Florence said. “Naturebound species are those who shift into actual animals, not mutations like werewolves or the aquila.”
“Then most lycans are naturebound, yes?” Julian countered. “Not all are werewolves like you.”
“You know quite a bit about us,” Florence commented as she fell in alongside Julian. She seemed self-conscious being out in the open - she would need to shift before someone got a good look at her. Luckily, there weren’t too many folks out here late on a clear, cold afternoon.
“We can talk more about this later,” Julian promised, taking Florence by the hand. He looked her in the eye. “That wasn’t an evasion, by the way. I intend to tell you my story if you’ll hear it.”
Julian hoped that she very much wanted to hear it. Seeing potential trouble, he suddenly pressed her into an alleyway and covered her with his tall frame. A gaggle of school kids wandered past, oblivious to the pair. Once they’d gone Julian took Florence out into the street. The light was fading fast, providing the werewolf with a little more cover. Not far to go now.
J
ust half a block to the west Julian stopped outside a boutique clothing store and dashed inside. He instructed the floor staff to turn aside before returning to Florence. He led her across the shop floor and directly into a fitting room.
“I know the owners,” Julian explained sheepishly. Florence seemed relieved to have a safe, private place to germ.
“Now let me see,” Julian said, assessing Florence theatrically. “Street casual with a trace of rebel?”
Florence giggled, swatting him away. “You choose,” she called after him. “Just get the sizes right.”
Julian grinned as he selected a pair of designer jeans and a leather jacket. He hesitated at the underwear. Regular? G-string? Three quarter? One of the shop assistants shook her head as if to say ‘don’t go there’. Wise advice. Julian shrugged and delivered the clothes.
“I’ll have to owe you,” Florence said from the fitting room.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Julian said. “Consider me logistical support to your mission.”
There was a moment of silence before Florence replied. “I should probably head back and report on what we saw.”
“I’m sure Jack Foley has that well and truly covered,” Julian said hastily. “If your superiors required you I’m sure you’d know about it.”
“True,” Florence said after a pause. Julian smiled inwardly - his hunch had been correct.
The fitting room door swung open and Florence appeared in human form. Julian was momentarily lost for words. Florence looked a little dishevelled in her new casual gear, but that only enhanced her charm. Her shoulder-length red hair was ruffled and windblown, her pale cheeks flushed and radiant. The light in those hazel eyes somehow warmed his heart, made him want to go out and leap tall buildings. It was a strange sensation but one that he could work with.
“You … look beautiful,” he stammered.
Florence rolled her eyes. “Get out,” she said dismissively, although her eyes told him she welcomed the observation. It seemed Florence Underwood was not adverse to a little romance. Julian got the feeling she was sexually active but that didn’t mean she had been swept off her feet. Julian had known many women in his life and he knew the type. Gregarious, confident, strong. Too strong for some men. So strong that she’d settled into a routine of one night stands and other casual encounters. Maybe she’d forgotten what it was like to be swept away by the moonlight, to be lavished with the attention that she truly deserved.
The Lycan Collapse (The Flux Age Book 2) Page 4