Finishing her hot dog, Yasmin decided to cross the road and patrol the facade of the building. After several minutes of pacing up and down she simply sat against the wall and watched people come and go.
She was lost in a rumination on ancient dire wolves when she saw a flash of blond hair in the crowd. Could it be …?
Yasmin sprang to her feet and darted through the throng. Her sharp new instincts told her this was the boy. She forged through the press even though she’d lost sight of the target. She was rewarded with a good look at the courier as he scooted off on his bicycle.
He was the one all right, but was now rapidly disappearing in traffic. Yasmin sprinted up the sidewalk, bumping into more than one disgruntled pedestrian. She ran and ran, marveling at her lung capacity. Shouldn’t her lungs be burning right about now? At the corner of Fifth and 30th Yasmin slowed to a walk, not quite out of breath but keen to establish a visual.
Nothing.
She slapped her thigh in frustration and leaped on top of a bin to scan the traffic. Where had she learned that move? No sign of the blond mop of hair. Yasmin was cursing her luck when she chanced a look down a side alley. The courier’s bicycle was chained to a pipe on the wall.
Rejoicing quietly, Yasmin headed down the alley and stepped into the dark doorway just beyond the bicycle. Weirdly, her eyes adjusted to the light immediately. The place appeared to be some kind of shop. Junk, mostly, the sort of thing only tourists could want. Miniature Statues of Liberty, Mt Rushmore snow domes and the like. Yasmin stepped amongst baskets of cheap plastic gifts to reach the rear of the store.
Flanked by display boards of gaudy jewelery, an old Korean woman was reading the Chosun Ilbo behind the counter.
“Hi,” said Yasmin awkwardly. “Did you see a guy pass through here?”
The woman took a few moments to drag her attention away from the paper.
“Boy? Oh yeah,” she said suddenly, jerking a thumb out back. “That way.”
Yasmin nodded and tentatively made her way down a dark hallway. Ignoring a gritty restroom, she passed through to an enclosed cobblestoned courtyard. A weathered wooden bench stood in the corner under a Jacaranda tree. A bubbling stone fountain occupied the north wall. Puzzled, Yasmin made her way back to the dime store.
“There’s no way out,” she said.
The wizened store keeper didn’t seem to hear.
“Excuse me,” Yasmin persisted. “I said there doesn’t seem -”
“He jump wall,” the woman said flatly.
Yasmin blinked. “He jumped the wall?”
The old woman lowered her paper impatiently. “He know you follow, he jump wall.”
Yasmin considered this. Was the boy trying to lose her? How on earth had he seen her following? And why would he leave his bicycle in the alley?
Whatever the case, she sensed she wouldn’t get answers from this woman.
“Thanks,” she muttered before retreating.
Yasmin felt like letting air from the courier’s tires. But she had other fish to fry. The Public Library beckoned. She instinctively knew she wasn’t finished with the strange dime store or it’s belligerent owner. She could always come back later that afternoon.
Her mind still turning over the puzzle of the disappearing courier, Yasmin hurried along Fifth Avenue. The crazy rush of morning peak hour hadn’t abated, and there was a throng of people waiting for the Library to open. When the doors were finally flung open Yasmin made sure she was one of the first in, paranoid that her book might be taken by someone else. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the crimson spine on the shelf.
Finding a secluded corner of the Reading Room, she settled in for more tales of ghouls and vampires.
She found the 19th century English easier to read this time round. The middle chapters explored the ravaging effect of the Flux on central Europe in the eleventh century. A nest of vampyra emerged in the Kingdom of Hungary to fight a stronghold of lycans in Poland.
Of all Naturebound species, the lycans had the strongest social conscience, and defended vulnerable humans when they could. Despite their best efforts, several aggressive species, led by the vampyra, stripped humans of wealth and influence.
By the turn of the twelfth century human civilization had all but collapsed. Yasmin was amazed by the author’s vivid descriptions of rude, muddy villages choked with filth and disease. It seemed that the Flux caused humans to lose all self-dignity. It look lycan dedication and centuries of careful rebuilding to emerge from the ruins of the most recent Flux age.
As Yasmin was reading about lycans of the deep, dark European forests, she sensed a presence nearby.
“You have something to say?” she asked without turning around.
A familiar voice floated from the general gloom.
“You’re back for more,” said the gaunt librarian from the previous day. “Impressive.”
“It does have a certain charm,” Yasmin said, cradling the huge book protectively.
The librarian nodded, falling silent. Just when the vibe became awkward he opened his mouth again.
“So you believe?” he asked in a voice that might’ve crumbled into dust at any moment.
“In the Flux?” Yasmin asked. She sensed the strange man was sweating on her answer, and would know if she was lying. “I do.”
The librarian flashed a set of chipped, decaying teeth.
“Then you’re one step ahead of most,” he intoned. “Things are changing rapidly.”
Yasmin closed the book, now more interested in the man shrouded in shadows.
“What’s going to happen?” she asked, her heart suddenly in her mouth.
The man’s face darkened. “I think about it all the time. Do you have family?”
“My parents are in New York,” she blurted.
“Spend time with them while you can,” said the librarian darkly, turning back to his trolley.
“Wait,” Yasmin said. “You can’t just leave. I’m like you. I feel something.”
The librarian stiffened, released his firm grip on the trolley and approached Yasmin with long strides. She resisted the urge to shrink back as the man’s skeletal face peered down at her from close range.
“What exactly do you feel?” he breathed.
Captured within the librarian’s intense gaze, Yasmin felt obliged to be completely honest.
“I have wolf’s blood in me,” she began. “I don’t know, I just feel alive. My senses are sharper. I feel stronger. Like there’s a well of energy within, just waiting to be released.”
The librarian’s eyes widened. “Yes. You sensed me in the darkness. Nobody has ever done that. You could be Naturebound.”
Yasmin’s heart lurched wildly. This creepy librarian was giving voice to the secret fantasy she’d held ever since opening the book. One she barely dared to admit to herself.
“Naturebound,” she repeated, loving the sound of the word. “Do you think I could be a shifter?”
“If you are, you’ll know for sure within days,” came the reply. “The first step in any transformation is knowing the beast inside.”
The librarian’s words triggered something Yasmin had read.
“Prakow believed that every human has a spirit beast,” she said urgently.
“Waiting to be released by the Flux,” said the librarian with a trace of bitterness.
Yasmin looked into the man’s dark eyes. “Do you know your spirit beast?” she asked gently.
The librarian shook his head with untold sadness. “If I did,” he said thickly, “I wouldn’t be stuck in here.”
At that moment Yasmin’s understanding of the Flux took a leap forward. It seemed that although everyone had a spirit beast, the tricky part was knowing how to reach that beast. She felt a pang of sympathy for the man - to not be able to find your spirit beast was a chilling prospect.
Frustration was only a small part of it. Yasmin guessed that humans would soon be extremely vulnerable to … other things. Knowing how t
o transform into a spirit beast was probably the best defense a person could have over the next few centuries. The next few centuries. The full ramifications of the impending Flux Age made Yasmin’s head spin.
“Is there anyone you can see about this?” she asked the librarian.
“If there is,” he said slowly. “I have no way of finding them.”
The tall man began trudging off into the darkness, his trolley squeaking.
“If I learn more I’ll find you,” Yasmin called after him. It wasn’t an empty promise. She felt a certain kinship with this strange man. After all, he was the only person she’d come across who had any knowledge of the Flux. If she could help him find his spirit beast and release him from his mental torture, she would.
She checked her watch - mid afternoon already. It was amazing how the book sucked her into its world.
It was time to hit that Korean dime store again. Delving into the book was one thing, but finding the courier that delivered her wolf’s blood was critical.
Winter sunlight bathed the streets. Yasmin walked briskly, stopping only for a hot pretzel and a bag of chestnuts. She promised herself a proper meal when she’d made progress on her quest.
She was glad to see the courier’s bicycle still chained in the alley. She entered the store with a firm plan in mind.
“Mind if I sit in the courtyard?” she asked the old Korean woman innocently.
The woman looked up and held her gaze for a moment. Yasmin smiled inwardly - it was a strange request, sure, but the store keeper couldn’t exactly say no, not after being so casual about it that morning. Eventually she grunted her assent.
Chuffed with her psychological victory, Yasmin padded out to the courtyard.
At that moment the sun was playing on the fountain, making the water sparkle. Yasmin took a seat on the bench and let the details of the scene sink into her skin. She was certain the courier hadn’t vaulted the wall - that simply didn’t make sense. No, there was something unusual about this courtyard and she was going to discover what that was.
Breathing deeply, Yasmin calmed her mind, enjoying the brief sunshine. The air was fresh and bracing. She lost herself in the cobblestones, tracing all the various gaps and cracks in her mind. Judging from the accumulation of dirt and grit between the stones, the courtyard was very old.
Moss was growing in some crevices. Yasmin cast her mind back to her environmental studies class at high school. Most mosses needed shade and moisture to thrive. She considered the angle of the winter sun. That moss would be baked by the sun for most of the year. It didn’t quite make sense.
Curious, Yasmin knelt on the cobblestones and picked at the moss. It came away freely, but there was no soil beneath it. What Yasmin held beneath her fingers was some kind of rubber. The moss was fake.
“Clever girl.”
Yasmin flinched, her heart skipping a beat. Standing in the doorway was a man in his late 20s. He was leaning against the door frame with a serious expression. Yasmin blinked.
Her first involuntary thought was that he was damned fine. He stood well over six foot and seemed quite muscular under his Knicks hoodie and designer jeans.
What Yasmin really liked were his large brown eyes. They conveyed a mountain of emotion, much of it dark. Judging from the shaved scalp and faint scar across the nose, this was a man of action.
What was there to say? This guy had caught her picking at fake moss in a private courtyard. In the end she simply got to her feet and straightened her coat. There didn’t seem any point in apologizing.
“Trapdoor?” she ended up asking, just to fill the amused silence.
“Trapdoor,” the stranger confirmed. “Though it’s probably a little more advanced than that.”
Yasmin remembered to breathe out, her mind coming to terms with the possibility that this infuriating puzzle was just the beginning of several more. She felt a wave of giddy excitement.
“You look like you need to sit down,” the man said. “Name’s Jack, by the way. Jack Foley.”
Yasmin stepped forward and thrust her hand out, immediately feeling a little foolish.
“Yasmin Silver,” she squeaked.
“I can’t pretend I don’t know your name,” Jack said. “You’re quite famous amongst my friends.”
“… famous?” Yasmin repeated stupidly, overwhelmed.
Jack laid a large hand on Yasmin’s petite shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Being an asshole comes naturally, I’m afraid.”
“It’s ok,” Yasmin stammered, not wanting to appear vulnerable. “A few answers would be nice, though.”
“Then we’d better get that door open.”
Her brain in thick fog, Yasmin watched Jack as he plunged his hand into the fountain. Whatever he did caused a square portion of the courtyard to descend a few inches and slide underneath the adjoining cobbles. A metal ladder disappeared into darkness.
So - it was all about to begin. Ever since she left hospital Yasmin had known she’d find her man one way or another. She realized with crystal clear certainty that the man now shaking water from his hand was the anonymous blood donor who saved her life. She didn’t know how she knew - she just did. Months of pent-up pain and trauma threatened to spill over right there in the courtyard.
Jack must’ve seen the tears in her eyes because he frowned at her. The only way she could short circuit the landslide of emotion was to hear the words straight from his mouth.
“I have your blood in me,” she blurted. She hadn’t meant it to sound that way but she didn’t care. She’d been dreaming of this moment for what seemed an eternity.
Jack’s frown disappeared, replaced by sadness. Yasmin sensed he wasn’t disarmed easily, but she’d somehow just managed it.
“Yes,” he eventually said quietly. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Yasmin couldn’t help but laugh, her tension dissipated. It was the perfect response. Jack looked immensely relieved. She threw her arms around him, her tears flowing. They were light, happy tears, the weight on her shoulders finally lifted.
“Thank you,” she said into his muscular shoulder. “Thank you so much.”
Jack accepted her embrace, rubbing her back softly.
“No problem,” he said. “It’s what we do.”
Yasmin separated herself from her savior, looking up into his eyes with fresh curiosity. “We?”
Jack’s eyes became shrewd. “You’d better come with me.”
He gestured to the ladder. Yasmin pondered the opening with wonder. What did she have to lose? She’d come this far and wasn’t about to back out now. Taking a deep breath, she went in first, making sure of each foothold.
At first she was consumed by darkness. It was unnerving to lower herself into so much gloom. The trapdoor far above closed over automatically, snuffing out any remaining light.
“Just keep going, Yasmin,” called Jack.
Yasmin simply concentrated on coordinating her movement so she didn’t fall. That would be embarrassing. After a couple of minutes that seemed like hours she spotted an orange glow. A fire in a wide expanse of dirt. She quickened her pace, glad to have a marker to focus on. She could feel the warmth of the blaze as she made the short drop to the ground.
She approached the fire warily, hearing Jack’s boots crunch against the dirt behind her. The bonfire illuminated a huge brick wall some thirty yards away. Truly immense, it extended into the gloom to her left and right. Explosive, colorful graffiti adorned much of its surface. The was a faint blue glow far to the south and an occasional dull boom. After a moment she realized she was listening to the ocean.
Yasmin guessed this part of New York was almost as old as the first settlers.
Jack noticed her wide eyes and nodded proudly. “Most New Yorkers don’t know what’s under their feet,” he said.
“What is this place?” Yasmin asked.
“The foundation to the city,” Jack replied, beckoning her to follow him. “And the doorstep to a bunch of
well-intentioned lycans.”
Yasmin felt her heart flutter as she followed Jack along the gargantuan wall and into more darkness. She gasped as figures emerged from the gloom. Homeless, shambling figures muttering under their breath.
“They’re harmless,” Jack said, perhaps sensing Yasmin’s trepidation. “Better than that, they’re the perfect alarm system.”
That may have been true, but Yasmin made sure she stayed close to Jack as they headed towards another distant bonfire. The steady crash of the Atlantic Ocean was louder now, seemingly right over their heads. Yasmin supposed the epic sound of the ocean was amplified by this huge tunnel which ran right underneath Manhattan.
A humble scarlet door was set into the wall not far from the second fire. Jack pressed his palm against the wood before turning the brass knob.
With bated breath Yasmin followed Jack into a high-ceilinged hallway. She was surprised to find plastered walls and polished floor boards. It was surprising to find such a well-appointed place this far below ground.
The floor squeaked as Yasmin padded after Jack. She couldn’t begin to guess how old those boards were. Her host opened an adjoining door and ushered her into a sumptuously cozy room. A fire roared in an ornate hearth. Tall bookshelves lined the walls. Hundreds of leather-bound tomes had been arranged with loving care.
Jack flopped into a Chesterfield armchair and activated the recliner.
“What a day,” he mumbled in satisfaction. He looked over at Yasmin. “Take a load off, Yasmin Silver.”
Yasmin buried herself in the luxurious leather of an armchair, enjoying the coziness of the room. She could feel Jack’s curious eyes on her.
She had a million questions, but there was one that kept undermining all the others.
“Why me?” she asked quietly.
Jack sighed again, as if he knew this question was coming.
“If you’re asking why we saved you, well, that’s what we do. We help people. If you’re asking why you’re here, that’s not something we can just chat about by the fire.”
Yasmin let Jack’s words sink in. He was so serious. Was she in trouble of some kind? But then, they hadn’t exactly forced her down here.
The Lycan Society (The Flux Age Book 1) Page 5