Tomas wasn’t about to argue the point. Instead, he felt himself gravitate toward the platinum-haired girl, the one Herr X wanted in the first place. She was checking on the tawny werewolf, who seemed to be undergoing some kind of transformation. He averted his eyes, sensing he wasn’t welcome.
The diviner appeared beside him like a ghost. Her lingering gaze was unnerving. Despite the recent battle, she seemed amazingly calm all of a sudden.
“Who’s that girl?” he found himself asking her.
The diviner smiled cryptically. “Your mother,” she breathed quietly. She looked up at the freshening moon, bright above the stark elm trees. “Night falls. Go ask her if you can play.”
The diviner laughed coquettishly. Tomas got the impression she was laughing at him.
“Let’s go,” said a clear female voice. It was a flame-haired woman, transformed from the tawny werewolf.
Not thinking, Tomas moved to follow her, but she held out an arm.
“Not you,” she said firmly. It seemed her trust only ran so far. The red head and the other girls followed where the other werewolves had gone.
“Mother,” Tomas called feebly, feeling desperate and frustrated. What was causing him to feel this way? Surely it wasn’t just the trauma of battle.
The white-haired girl stopped and walked back to Tomas. The look on her face suggested she knew something he didn’t. She looked upon him with eyes of deep sadness, caressing his cheek briefly.
He felt a jolt of something indescribable, a feeling that something dark and beautiful was flowering in his soul. It was a rush of adrenalin, fear and profound understanding. Right then, looking into his ‘mother’s’ eyes, he knew. He knew who he truly was. Whatever he’d been up to this moment was just a shell. The person he saw reflected in this girl’s eyes was far, far more than that, and it felt wonderful.
The slight girl standing before him was his leader. He realized he’d walk the ends of the earth for her if he had to. She seemed to realize it too.
“I know you,” she said wistfully, her eyes bright in the gathering darkness. “I’ve always known you.”
Tomas was about to speak when the red head pulled his spirit mother away. The werewolf threw him a concerned glance, this one softer than the last.
“I’ve read your file,” she said. “You’re Tomas Verdano. You’d better go see to your family.”
The world rushed back into Tomas’s consciousness as the women walked away. He did indeed have a family, and that werewolf was giving him a warning.
Herr X.
Tomas ran. Harder than he’d ever run before. Longer. He’d never known such stamina. The night seemed to envelop him, feed him strength. He couldn’t explain it, but the darkness seemed like a natural habitat.
The streets became a blur of light and motion, a silver causeway leading to his destiny. He couldn’t remember riding the elevator in his hotel but there he was, standing in the corridor. He approached the door to his suite, and somehow wasn’t surprised to find it unlocked.
The room inside was red. Blood had spattered the walls and formed a slick across the carpet. A small, robotic part of his brain noted that Herr X hadn’t spared his children. The Berlin Club played for keeps.
Tomas turned away, unwilling to absorb the details of the scene lest they burn themselves in his memory forever.
In a way it all made a sense. There was symmetry here. The night he gained a mother, a beacon in the darkness, was also the night he lost everything from his old life.
He knew the grief would come. He knew there would always be a gaping wound across his heart. He knew he was in such deep, paralyzing shock that normal emotion wasn’t a possibility right now.
His family had been killed because he had betrayed his masters. He had helped the werewolves kill the chimera. Helped them escape. His life as a human was worse than worthless. He had to get away.
The next half hour he spent watching the city slide past from the backseat of a taxi. His body and mind were completely numb, but he could feel his new self operating at a subconscious level, controlling his movements, keeping him safe.
He found himself wandering through Berlin Schonefeld airport, shrinking from the bright, sterile light.
His ran his gaze down the fluttering list of departing flights, his bloodshot eyes resting on one in particular.
Flight 873 to Bucharest, Romania.
As worthy a place as any to begin again.
A place where he could grieve in peace.
A place where he could learn more about life, death, and everything in between.
10 - Yasmin
Berlin, Germany
YASMIN HELD THE diviner’s hand as they trudged in the wake of the werewolves. Night had fallen and the Britzer Gardens were lit only by intermittent lamps along the central path.
Far behind them, the dead chimera sat slumped against the statue of Neptune, fountain floodlights casting watery patterns over its hideous body. Quite a crowd had amassed to witness the unspeakable sight, hanging back lest the creature’s lifeless form rise to wreak havoc again. The red-blue flash of a squad car, the local die polizei, could be seen through the trees to the west.
Yasmin didn’t know why she was holding Mischa’s hand. It just felt right. They’d both been through an extremely violent experience, so it was only natural that they share the common bond of survival. The werewolves had shifted back into their human forms and were keen to see to their fallen comrades.
Jack, Florence and Max were sullen and intense. Aside from being worried about their friends, Yasmin guessed there must be some kind of come down after shifting. A human body must struggle to handle the level of endorphins and adrenalin that flowed through a werewolf’s body.
Jack found Paulie lying against a gnarled oak tree. His body had been pulverized in several places. Ashen-faced, Jack knelt to check his pulse. He was alive, but only just. Jack lifted his friend and carried him across his shoulders.
Adam was lying at an awkward angle near the smashed front entrance to the Grand Ferdinand. Nothing could be done for him.
“One for the Berlin cercarium,” Jack muttered. He wasn’t being disrespectful - to be laid to rest in a werewolf cercarium was a great privilege.
A van pulled up outside the hotel. Yasmin felt a twinge of alarm.
Four figures in civilian clothes tumbled out and took Adam’s body away. Neither Jack nor Florence did anything to stop them - they were local werewolves and had every right to claim their dead. Now that the operation was over and Herr X remained alive, Mother Udaan was probably desperate to keep a low profile.
A slight figure came stumbling over the smashed glass inside the hotel foyer. It was Nightjar. She looked badly injured. Yasmin remembered the chimera crashing through her as it charged through the glass wall.
Though she could barely speak, she motioned to Florence as she was helped into the van by her comrades.
“I’m sorry,” she managed to breathe. Florence shook her head as if to say that none of this was Nightjar’s fault. The van disappeared into the night.
The werewolves formed a protective ring around Yasmin and Mischa as they wandered the wrecked foyer. After all, the place had been crawling with Berlin Club goons less than an hour before.
The place was deserted. Possibly due to the defeat of the chimera, Herr X had lost the stomach for a fight.
Eddison’s body was found under a pile of woody debris. Jack’s face went white when he checked on him - Eddison, so enthusiastic, so intelligent, was dead.
Yasmin wanted with every fiber of her being to go to Jack, to wrap him in her arms, to comfort him like she knew she could. In the harsh light of the foyer she could see a deep gash across his face where the chimera had struck him. It looked extremely painful.
But she held back because it wasn’t the time. She could see the negative emotion welling inside Jack like a volcano. He’d lost a good friend. He was in a mood to destroy, not caress. She wished she hadn’t come to Berli
n. Things had gotten messy indeed. She tried not to think about the diviner’s reaction to her.
Max hefted Eddison’s corpse over his broad shoulders and the party made their way through the quiet streets back to their hotel. Florence handed over a wad of cash for the night porter to look the other way.
Back in their suite, Yasmin sat by the window and looked down over the low city, tears flowing freely. Jack and Max had gone to organize the private transportation of Paulie and Eddison back to the States. Yasmin could only guess at the prohibitive cost of such an exercise, particularly given they wanted to avoid the authorities. Then again, she’d heard the Lycan Society had very deep pockets.
Mischa had disappeared into Yasmin’s room to be on her own. Yasmin suspected the girl hadn’t had a good sleep in days. To pass the time she lost herself in the tail lights of passing traffic outside, anything to slow her mind down.
She still couldn’t quite grasp what had happened that afternoon. What did it all mean for her future? Mischa’s reading of her spirit beast seemed inconclusive, but deep down Yasmin knew she wasn’t a lycan. She was something else, something that inspired great fear in Mischa at the time. The diviner had been friendly enough since then. She seemed to forget about her readings not long after giving them, possibly as a defense against going crazy. Hell, she probably already was crazy.
Of course, all it would take was a quick look at her phone to translate what Mischa had said. To put it beyond doubt once and for all. But Yasmin couldn’t bring herself to do it. She desperately wanted to identify as lycan - anything else was a bitter disappointment.
If she wasn’t lycan, would Jack still want to see her? There was no way of knowing for sure. She knew nothing about lycan customs and social boundaries. Her instinct told her that there would now be a wall between them. The strength of their attraction would determine whether that wall came tumbling down.
Would Yasmin and Jack re-connect when they got back to New York? A creeping sense of dread suggested it would be difficult. A fresh tear squeezed itself over her long eyelashes. She was glad to hear the door opening - Florence had returned.
Even for a werewolf she looked a little haggard. Negotiating the secret removal of two comrades, one dead and one near-dead, can’t have been easy.
Florence ordered room service, but Yasmin wasn’t really in the mood to gorge herself with pastries or coffee. Mischa, too, only nibbled on a single piece of toast.
“We’re leaving at dawn,” Florence offered as she collected her things. “You two should try and get more sleep. Take my bed, Yasmin.”
Mischa looked somewhat sheepish.
“What’s on your mind?” the female werewolf asked.
“I’m not coming with you,” Mischa announced in her strange, lilting voice.
Florence stiffened but gave Mischa room to explain herself. Yasmin could tell she desperately wanted to take the diviner back to New York. The strategic benefits of doing so were obvious. Diviners were as rare as hen’s teeth and would be invaluable in the coming Flux Age.
“This is my home,” Mischa began, eyes buried in her coffee cup. “Old Europe is returning. This is where I need to be.”
Yasmin reached across the table and gave her hand a squeeze. She was a strange and unsettling presence, but Yasmin could at least understand her need to stay where she was comfortable.
Florence nodded grimly.
“I understand, Mischa,” she said. “Before you go I need to know one thing. Did Herr X force you to use your skill?”
Mischa looked away, uncomfortable. She was obviously sensitive to her memories, keeping them locked down whenever she could. Yasmin concluded that the process of divining not only traumatized the girl but damaged her mind.
“The one with silver hair,” Mischa began in a shaky voice. “He asked me to divine lots of men.”
Florence’s eyes widened, kneeling before Mischa and clasping her hands in support. “Go on, Mischa,” she said. “It’s important we know this.”
“The old man made me sit in a room somewhere under the hotel,” Mischa continued. “I could only do one every hour. He became very angry. He said I was too slow.”
Tears slid freely down the diviner’s cheeks. Her powers had been abused and the effort had taken a lot out of her.
“Was the result always the same?” Yasmin found herself asking. It made sense that Herr X would try and build himself an army he knew how to control. Florence nodded, acknowledging her perceptive question.
Mischa looked straight at Yasmin with fear-filled eyes.
“They were all the same,” she whispered. “They were all ghouls.”
Yasmin’s blood went cold. In her time at the Public Library in New York she’d read about ghouls. One of the key players in the last Flux Age, ghouls tended to work very well together and relished the taste of human flesh.
Like vampyra they weren’t at their best during the day but were capable of super fast movement at night. If Herr X had gotten himself a band of ghouls, the Lycan Society was in for a torrid time.
“This Herr X is no fool,” Florence said thoughtfully. “He probably has the genome for ghouls and was able to recruit candidates after performing a simple DNA test.”
“At least he doesn’t have Mischa anymore,” Yasmin pointed out.
“Yes, but for how long?” Florence countered. An awkward silence descended, no one knowing what to say. Mischa had made her decision and Florence had no choice but to respect it.
“Are you staying in Berlin?” the werewolf asked her.
Mischa shrugged. Yasmin’s heart went out to her - she seemed completely lost, rudderless. Frowning, the diviner stood and walked to the door.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” she said with obvious gratitude. “I won’t let them find me again.”
Florence nodded. Yasmin believed Mischa - she was clearly a woman familiar with the underground and all it contained. Perhaps she could even find a safe place to lie low. If the wrong person discovered her abilities, she could well be abused again and again. Yasmin gave her a hug before she left. Florence shook her head and locked the door.
“Get some sleep,” she said curtly. “I’ll guard the door.”
Yasmin prepared to do as she was told, trying to ignore the vaguely disdainful tone in the werewolf’s voice. Was she angry with her for some reason? Perhaps something to do with her spirit beast?
Yasmin suppressed a wave of anxiety. She knew, deep down, what Mother Androska would soon be telling her. That she wasn’t fit for the Lycan Society.
One final tear wet Yasmin’s pillow as she finally found sleep. She felt as though she’d run a marathon only to be tripped over within sight of the finishing line.
She didn’t feel any better in the morning. Florence was civil enough but there was definitely a barrier between them. She couldn’t blame Florence - she had fulfilled her duty and that’s all she was professionally obligated to do.
But it still hurt. Yasmin had looked forward to some kind of sisterly relationship with this woman. Instead she’d somehow lost Florence’s trust. She felt like yelling that it wasn’t her fault she had the wrong spirit beast. But what could she do?
The Lycan Society was famously secretive and insular, despite their protection of humans. Yasmin doubted she’d find friends amongst them now. And then there was Jack …
She shook herself back to reality. To take her mind down that path was too painful. Florence passed her some travel documents as she sipped her coffee.
Jack and Max met them outside at the shuttle. Jack looked particularly disheveled, as if he hadn’t gotten any sleep. Again, Yasmin resisted the impulse to wrap him in a bear hug - he still had the look of a haunted predator. It seemed like she was the last thing on his mind.
She gazed idly at passing traffic as the shuttle wound its way to the airport. Florence asked Jack if their ‘bird’ had flown - he nodded. Yasmin assumed they were referring to the special charter for the injured/dead lycans.
Apa
rt from that brief exchange the bus was morosely quiet. What had the Lycan Society gained from this mission? Herr X was still at large and she was a huge disappointment. Yasmin just wanted to crawl into a cave and stay there.
The only way Yasmin could describe the flight was ‘numb’. Florence ensured she was ensconced in a window seat and protected from all sides. Though she was grateful for the consideration, she knew that Florence was only doing her job.
At least she didn’t have to talk to anyone. Florence seemed content to watch the news package and Yasmin was fine with that. All the European feeds were about the ‘horrific’ monster found dead in central Berlin. Witnesses described ‘wolf-like beasts’ skirmishing with the chimera before ‘heroically’ strangling it.
There was rampant speculation on the identity of the wolf creatures. They’d captured the imagination of the European public. Yasmin pondered this. Now that the Flux Age had begun, would the Lycan Society be able to remain underground, the way it preferred? She doubted it very much.
Surely all the Lycan Chapters around the world would need to work together to protect humanity. Especially with the Berlin Club doing their very best to sow discord and chaos wherever they could.
Yasmin drifted into sleep with thoughts of fantastical beasts and monsters. The descent into New York woke her from a troubled slumber.
New York, USA
Florence and Jack seemed as aloof as ever at the airport. Yasmin was shuffled into an unmarked car and whisked away at high speed. She noticed their different route to the Chapter House, this time a wharf on the west side of the East River where they dropped through an old maintenance hatch. Ten minutes of cold, dark tunnel and they were in lycan territory.
Yasmin wasn’t given much time to prepare for her inevitable meeting with the Mother. She knew the werewolves would report first, so she waited in an anteroom outside the Mother’s office. She felt as though something in her had died.
Sure, she was a little jet-lagged and it had been a long day. But the longer she waited, the harder her heart became. She could feel a strange anger building inside her. Its ferocity was something she’d never felt before.
The Lycan Society (The Flux Age Book 1) Page 12
