The Lycan Rebirth (The Flux Age Book 3)

by Steven J Shelley

  “Assemble everybody in the courtyard,” she ordered crisply. “Including Mischa.”

  Minutes later the task was done - some forty Maramurians stood in the cold of dusk along with the slight, sickly-looking diviner from Berlin.

  Yasmin eyed them with a severe look to let them know their situation was perilous.

  “Friends,” she began. “Even though we have just built our home, there is no time for peace. The world will not let us do that. Instead, we rush headlong into war. The Berlin Club plans an all-out attack on a major city. We suspect that city is New York. Thousands of ghouls and who knows what else. What we do know is their leader is not Herr X, as first believed. It is someone far more formidable.”

  The Maramurians stirred at the news, murmuring in agitation.

  “I do not expect you to travel with me, Maramurians,” Yasmin said with genuine affection. “This is your home and this is where you will always stay. I do however, expect you to go with Mischa. Escort her to every town, every village on this side of the mountains. I need an army. You will help our diviner provide one.”

  There was much nodding of heads and general agreement. Yasmin smiled.

  “Prepare your wagons,” she yelled. “Bring as many supplies as you need.”

  The vampire queen summoned Mischa as the Maramurians went about their work.

  “You understand the task at hand?” she asked the girl.

  The diviner nodded nervously. “I will do as you wish, queen.”

  “I know this will fatigue you,” Yasmin said. “You will rest after this is done. I don’t plan on taking you to New York.”

  “Vampires only, Yasmin?” Mischa asked.

  Yasmin paused.

  “Vampyra, succubi, fades, night wraiths,” said Tomas, joining the conversation. Yasmin smiled, glad to have him back and fully engaged.

  “You will develop a sense for night creatures, Mischa,” said the Doktor. “Do not fear them. They are kin to us.”

  The diviner bowed her head. “I will make you strong again, queen.”

  Yasmin wrapped the slight girl in her pale arms.

  “I know you will, Mischa. I always did.”

  Yasmin and Tomas stayed at the castle while Mischa and the Maramurians scoured the wild countryside for recruits. In theory, the wilds of Northern Romania would hold a high percentage of vampires and other night creatures. It was simply a tradition that went back several millennia.

  Yasmin used the time to hone her skills. She knew vaguely what her various abilities were but she had yet to explore them fully. Over the next few days she exerted her bat, mist, strike, dread and devour skills, alarming herself and impressing Tomas with what she did. It seemed her power had grown far beyond any normal vampire, and she planned to unleash it all in New York.

  On the fourth night after the recruiting team had been dispatched, Yasmin watched with bated breath from the outer ramparts as Mischa and a bedraggled Maramurian escort appeared over the southern bluff. The poor girl sat astride a supply wagon, utterly exhausted. Yasmin allowed the party to pass underneath her. She could talk to the diviner later. At that moment she was more interested in the figures now approaching from the south. Around fifty figures emerged from the dark, the moon’s silvery light giving definition to tall, thin frames and deathly white skin. Yasmin instinctively knew most of these folk were vampires. Her skin grew cold as she sensed other entities crossing her threshold. Several fades materialized in the lower courtyard before disappearing again. Their skin and clothing was torn and tattered, their cries despairing, mournful. Yasmin made a mental note to ask Tomas what fades could bring to a battle scenario. A cloud of ethereal forms passed over the ramparts like torn black kites. Their exposed bones twinkled hideously in the moonlight. A collective hiss pervaded Yasmin’s bones and stirred each of her senses. Night wraiths, one of the noblest of night creatures. And finally, riding the strong northerly wind and delighting in all the activity below, a clutch of succubi wheeled and whooped their way into the belfry for a well-earned rest.

  Short of being terrified, Yasmin felt bolstered, strengthened. It was like someone had suddenly fitted her with the finest armor. Ever since she’d become a vampire the creatures of the night had become folks she both understood and respected. It was amazing how much instinctive emotion changed when a person found their spirit beast. Old prejudices died immediately to be replaced by new, exciting passions.

  Unable to kill her grin, Yasmin wandered down to the courtyard to be with her new recruits. She spent two hours chatting with them, memorizing their stories, their hopes and dreams. She reminded herself that these creatures were humans most of the time and had ordinary, human concerns. They had chosen to join her cause even though she was a complete stranger to them. Such was the incredible pull of sharing the same identity, the same skin. The Flux Age promised to draw people into distinct tribes. Yasmin was determined to make hers as inclusive as possible.

  After Yasmin had reached out to all the new additions in her retinue and ensured they all had a place to sleep the following day, she went up to see Mischa.

  The poor girl was so exhausted that she could barely keep her eyes open. Yasmin made brief eye contact with her, but it was enough. She could tell that Mischa understood her immense gratitude. The diviner extended a tired hand from underneath her thick, velvety blankets. Yasmin took it and sat by the bed, watching over the young woman as she fell asleep.

  Yasmin spent the following day holed up in her dark sanctuary, quietly ticking off the things she needed to do to get her army to New York. She instructed Tomas to make arrangements without any regard to cost - they could worry about that later. Happily, several of the new volunteers had made donations to her cause. Better still, the Odessa siblings arrived at dawn and insisted on donating a significant sum to the upkeep of Yasmin’s small army. The vampire queen was savvy enough to recognize the benefit of such patronage and resolved to explore recruitment options in first world cities like London, Paris and Berlin after she returned from New York.

  When Yasmin surfaced from her daily hibernation she found Tomas assembling the ‘dark troops’ in the courtyard. Many of the creatures liked to shift as soon as night fell so they could enjoy their full powers and abilities. Yasmin saw that this was a particular thing with night creatures because they were forced to flee underground during the day.

  Yasmin was as surprised as everyone else when Tomas informed everyone that he’d secured a private flight to New York from Bucharest. To get to the Romanian capital he had hired a convoy of four wheelers. As their arrival was imminent, many of Yasmin’s army were forced to shift into human form so they could fit safely into the vehicles. Yasmin found the situation faintly ludicrous, but then the transition from 21st century technology to the Flux Age wasn’t going to be a smooth one.

  The trip to Bucharest took seven hours. The convoy made good time but Yasmin could feel tension building in the back of her mind. She felt they would only be allowed to travel where the Berlin Club let them.

  The dark army boarded their private charter with minimum fuss and by sunrise they were up and away across the Atlantic. Tomas had secured Yasmin a private chamber at the back of the plane, for which she was grateful. She took a few hours to gather her thoughts and anticipate what they might find in New York. She had half a plan forming in her mind but it remained sketchy at best. She was just about to venture out into the main cabin when Tomas knocked and entered.

  “A minute of your time, queen,” he said in a strangely strangled voice.

  “Of course, Tomas, always,” Yasmin replied. “What can I do for you?”

  Tomas’s expression was as pained as she’d ever seen it.

  “I’ll come straight out and ask the question,” the Doktor said. “Is this about protecting the lycans or is it about Jack Foley?”

  Yasmin looked at Tomas sharply, but couldn’t bring herself to anger. She had asked herself the same question many times and was satisfied with her motives. She genuinely
loved the Lycan Society because they actually stood for something other than power and domination. She was happy to admit her admiration for the ancient race and model her own organization on the Society. It just felt right.

  But Tomas’s emotions did not allow him to see any of this. The poor man had become hopelessly conflicted in his feelings toward her. Now that she gazed into his despairing eyes, she tried to pinpoint when all this might have begun. She supposed it had something to do with being the one to draw Yasmin into the delicious darkness of being a vampire. It was Tomas who had scouted and purchased Frica. It was Tomas who had assembled the Maramurians to rebuild the castle. It was Tomas who had lit the beacon that had drawn Yasmin across an entire ocean to find him. And finally, Tomas had been the one to first receive Yasmin’s vampire kiss.

  Knowing the inherent sensuality in such an exchange, Yasmin could almost understand how Tomas had come to feel the way he did about her. It was a fierce love, she could tell. A protective love. Yasmin felt stifled by it even though she felt safer with Tomas around.

  “You’re eating yourself from the inside,” Yasmin finally said, her hand involuntarily caressing Tomas’s glistening cheek. “You need distance.”

  Tomas nodded slowly, holding Yasmin’s hand to his face as if it were infusing him with life itself. And then he was gone as quickly as he had come.

  Yasmin was left alone in her cabin. She realized that she had effectively cast Tomas away, but also knew it was for his own good. Perhaps some small part of him had been hoping for a miracle, that she would reveal her undying love. But that love was reserved for someone else. Someone she hoped to save when she reached New York. That needed to be her focus now.

  New York City, USA

  The plane touched down at a private airfield out of New Jersey. A convoy of private cars with bulletproof windows whisked Yasmin’s small army to NYC. She had to admire Tomas’s efficiency, even if the doktor could barely look at her now.

  The convoy pulled into the Mandarin Oriental, a five-star Manhattan hotel. No expense would be spared now, and Yasmin didn’t need to rely on Tomas’s life savings anymore. She had been receiving substantial donations ever since Mischa’s recruiting drive. A vast sum had come from the Odessa family, but there was a surprising amount of old money in the wild mountains of Romania. Yasmin suspected there were ancient treasure troves there that only the Maramurians knew about.

  Once Yasmin’s small army were comfortably installed on the tenth floor she reached out to Lionel Talbot, the city mayor, and received an interview almost immediately. The mayor came to Yasmin, his sweaty, pallid face revealing the stress he had been under.

  “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to see you here, Yasmin,” he said. “There’s something cooking here in New York, we can all feel it.”

  “You know what I am, don’t you?” Yasmin asked.

  The mayor lowered his eyes and nodded his head. “I know you’re a friend of the lycans, and that’s enough for me.”

  The mayor sat opposite Yasmin and looked at her urgently.

  “I’ll level with you, Miss Silver,” he said. “Since the lycans were all killed we’ve felt particularly vulnerable here. There are rumors of ghouls marching through the tunnels under the city. Tunnels that the lycans used to patrol.”

  The mayor’s eyes had welled up with tears. Yasmin could empathize with the man’s desperate situation. Flux creatures would soon be tearing up the whole city. It was imperative that she reassure the mayor.

  “That’s why we’re here,” Yasmin said soothingly. “I’ll put my people on the streets to get a feel of the city. Once we’ve done that we can set up a defensive line. I’ll advise you on that later. In the meantime I want you to pool all state troopers and bring them into Manhattan. This is important, Lionel.”

  The mayor sat back in his chair and sighed heavily. “You expect some kind of attack in the next few days?”

  “You can bank on it,” Yasmin said confidently. “Work with the police commissioner and make sure there’s plenty of protection in the city.”

  “I can do that,” the mayor said tiredly. “Are there any, you know, lycans left?”

  “One that I know of,” Yasmin replied. “I’m hoping to see Jack Foley quite soon.”

  The mayor’s eyes lit up momentarily. Yasmin couldn’t help but smile, glad to bring a little warmth to his cold, lonely job.

  “Lycans make good figureheads,” Lionel said by way of explanation. “I respect them, the police revere them, and most importantly of all, the people fucking love them.”

  After Yasmin had exchanged details with the mayor and seen him to the door, she took a moment to sit quietly and send a message she’d been thinking about for days now.

  She keyed in Jack’s cell number and typed in the following - NEW YORK. COME.

  It was simple but effective. No one had been able to risk cell phone communications since the Lycan Society had been attacked. In this day and age it was simply too easy to trace. With Jack and Florence in such vulnerable positions, there was no way for Yasmin to see if they were OK, and that killed her. She was thrilled to receive an immediate reply from her lover - C U SOON X.

  Yasmin chuckled out loud, delighted at the playful sign off. Now that they all knew - hopefully - where the Berlin Club would attack, the risk of communicating with Jack had decreased. Still, Yasmin wished she had more time and opportunity to talk to the man who had won her love. There was no doubt she wanted to do more than kiss him when they finally caught up with each other.

  Stretching in the dreaded morning sunlight, Yasmin commanded the curtains to draw together and crawled into bed.

  As she drifted off into the restorative sleep of the vampire, she ticked off all the things she’d need to do on the morrow.

  Her first task was potentially the most difficult - reclaim the lycan chapter house.

  Surely there was no better base for her dark army.

  7

  Grand Providence, Bahamas

  Gustav and his hideous detachment of arachne guided Florence’s ragtag party through thick, sweltering jungle. Though she was glad to be surrounded by creatures that didn’t want to kill her immediately, Florence had a sinking feeling that the arachne weren’t going to play nicely. Already she’d heard a number of threatening hisses from the large spiders, and without their leader being present she had no doubt that they would wrap the lycans in thick, tenderizing silk and store them for slow consumption later. From what she remembered of her studies, the arachne method of disposing of their prey was both repulsive and cruel. Every fiber of her being lurched with nausea when she glanced at their new captors scuttling through the jungle foliage. The arachne had a certain way of moving that inspired dread and disgust. Keeping her focus on the jungle ahead, Florence turned her mind to more pressing matters. Would the arachne help them? What was their relationship like with the aquila? She guessed they would know soon enough. One thing was certain - her trainees had a lot to learn about etiquette.

  Florence wasn’t used to playing the diplomat, but she was forced to manage her trainees and convince them that this situation was a lot better than the previous one. Their natural instinct was to growl and spit at the large spiders, behavior that was returned in kind. But there was a delicate balance at play here and it was crucial that everybody kept a cool head.

  The surrounding terrain became darker and steamier. The foliage hung low and limp. Thick tendrils snaked their way down and clung to the werewolves’ fur. More than once Florence slapped a bug or tic and hoped she hadn’t been poisoned.

  And yet the thicker the vegetation became, the more she relaxed. After a while the canopy became so thick she couldn’t imagine the aquila being able to penetrate it. Gustav pushed through a thick curtain of vines and held them aside for Florence to follow. She gasped as she emerged into a huge, bowl-shaped hollow filled with mossy rock platforms and sliced by a burbling stream. As Florence’s eyes adjusted to the light she realized there were hundred of spiders
here in varying sizes, shapes and colors. Tiny red spiders. Spiders with a glowing blue streak on their abdomens. Long, spindly spiders that rested on incredibly beautiful and intricate webs that spanned the entire hollow. She was both awestruck and humbled. It seemed that the arachne preferred to spend most, if not all their time, as their spirit creatures.

  As she moved through the dark, cool hollow Florence realized it was lit by millions of tiny seed husks drifting through the thick air. They emitted a faint orange glow that gave the scene a welcoming glow and went some way to reducing the threat of the larger spiders.

  “Head down,” Gustav murmured as he disappeared between two rocks. Florence did as she was told, picking her way down a winding path and ended up in a cool glade by the stream. Far above, Gustav emerged on a flat rock. With a lurch of anxiety Florence realized he was about to address his kin. She gathered her trainees around her and held Julian’s hand. The aquilan was sweating down here, unused to such thick heat. He also seemed a little confused and unsure of himself. Florence gave him a reassuring look, but in truth she was worried.

  Gustav broke her reflections when he spoke in a booming voice.

  “Kin of the Hollow,” he began, getting everyone’s attention immediately. “The runes tell us that our ancestors were persecuted at every turn. Two millennia ago we were pitted against humans by forces far greater than we could ever imagine. During the last Flux Age we were hunted by humans at every turn because they thought we carried plague and disease. The spider’s lot has been a wretched one for a very, very long time.”

  Several spiders sitting around the hollow murmured their agreement.

  “And now,” Gustav intoned, his voice rising slightly, “we find ourselves at a crossroads. Unlike these lycans here, we are not idolized by humans. We are seen as rank, unwholesome beasts. The only good spider’s a dead spider. Right?”

  The assembled arachne muttered their disagreement.