Though they had the same moral outlook as lycans, they hadn’t always seen eye to eye. Florence read about a bitter disagreement over something called ‘dark tissue’. She looked over the next pages in confusion - someone had torn pages out. All information about ‘dark tissue’ had been removed. She resolved to ask the Mother about the concept at the next opportunity.
Still frustrated, Florence joined a few human friends at a Japanese restaurant in Soho. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t quite relax. Her appointment with the aquila representative was scheduled for 10 AM the next day.
Sleep was adequate if a little restless. Florence knocked on Jack’s door at 9 sharp. He was dressed and ready to go, acting as if Florence had kept him waiting. She rolled her eyes as they made their way to the foundation tunnel.
The day was clear and cold, but it was only a few blocks to their destination.
Florence was surprised to find she was slightly nervous. The aquila rep was none other than Julian Barnes himself, self-made millionaire and chairman of Seed Pod Technology. From humble origins the company had grown into a trans-Atlantic leviathan. Florence caught Jack checking himself out in the multi-faceted surface of the bullet elevator.
A bevy of high-heeled women greeted them on the top floor. The decor was subdued yet tasteful. Florence hadn’t had much time to read up on Seed Pod Tech but knew it was considered one of the hottest up and coming renewable energy companies in the world. The werewolf pair were ushered by the Amazonian women into an office the size of a warehouse.
Which was nothing out of the ordinary, except it was one man’s office.
Julian Barnes rose with a smile from a polished rosewood desk, buttoning his double-breasted suit with an urbane flourish.
He was tall, very tall, with sleek blond hair, high cheekbones and vivid aquamarine eyes. His open face was the type that immediately elicited trust whether you were inclined to give it or not.
Florence could’ve sworn Jack give a low growl from his position at her shoulder. Men were so ridiculous sometimes.
“Thanks for coming at such short notice,” Julian purred, shaking their hands firmly. “I’m aware how busy you must be.”
Florence looked at Julian closely. What did he know about the Flux? Well, that depended on whether he was genuinely in contact with the aquila. Florence supposed the avian species must have stores of knowledge and learning of their own, tucked away since the Dark Ages.
“Please,” Julian urged, gesturing to a sunlit balcony. “Let’s relax on the deck.”
Florence sat down to fresh croissants, cream, jam, and deliciously creamy coffee. The view from the deck was stunning, encompassing much of Staten Island to the south west.
“I didn’t expect you to be so young,” Florence said in a huskier voice than usual. She noticed Jack squirming uncomfortably in his chair. Bullseye.
Julian smiled charmingly. “You must be Florence,” he said musically. “Mother Androska told me to look after you.”
The lingering smile made Jack cough none too discreetly. “Perhaps we should get down to business,” the werewolf said gruffly.
“Certainly,” Julian said. “The reason you’re here is quite simple. My clients have re-emerged into the world. The faces are different but the ideology is the same. They are aquila. They seek not only to survive the coming Flux Age, but to flourish. We feel there are golden opportunities for everyone.”
Florence nodded, lost in Julian’s eyes. It was only wise that she study this impressive man - it was what the Mother wanted her to do, right? He was incredibly charismatic, magnetic even. She suspected her strong pheromones had a part to play here too.
“Why Seed Pod Technology?” Jack asked in a suspicious tone. “What’s your link to the aquila?”
“Money,” Julian said immediately. “Power. The aquila had secured untold wealth by the end of the Dark Ages. Ever heard of the Vevestri family?”
“They run the biggest mining conglomerate in the world,” Jack answered before Florence could. “One of Italy’s oldest families.”
“Well, I don’t mind telling you that the Vevestri family are single-handedly responsible for protecting aquila lore and wealth. They stood guard while the ancient race died out. They knew the aquila would one day return.”
Florence had to admire such loyalty and devotion. Lycans had never been served so well by humans.
“So the Vevestris are moving away from mining and toward renewable technology?”
“It’s the sensible play,” Julian said, stretching his arms complacently. “Fossil fuels won’t be around forever.”
Florence considered her opulent surroundings. The aquila, backed by the Vevestri family, must be sitting on a veritable mountain of wealth. Jack caught her gaze, clearly thinking the same thing.
“The lycans welcome old friends back into the fold,” he said with a hint of theatricality. “It’s been a while.”
“It has indeed,” Julian said smoothly. “My masters have instructed me to open negotiations immediately.”
Florence exchanged another glance with Jack.
“Negotiations?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual. “An alliance is on the table, if that’s what you mean.”
“Yes, an ‘alliance’,” Julian said carefully. “We’d like to talk about something more specific if you don’t mind.”
Julian must have noticed Florence’s confusion, because he leaned forward and squeezed her hand. She found his touch electrifying and she hated herself for it.
“Oh, I don’t expect you to be completely informed,” he said cryptically. “It wasn’t exactly the lycans’ finest hour.”
“You’d better tell us what you want,” Jack said, obviously tired of wordplay. Florence had to agree.
“I’ll give you two words to bring back to the Mother Androska,” Julian said casually. “Dark tissue.”
Hundreds of neurons began firing in Florence’s mind. Dark tissue. A censored topic in all the lycan tomes. This representative to the aquila was referring to a centuries-old argument between lycans and the avian race. An argument that would now play out in the 21st century.
Florence glanced at Jack, warning him not to ask any more questions. They’d pushed enough, and it was time to find answers from their own kind. From the Mother.
She stood and held out her hand. “It’s been a pleasure, Julian,” she said brightly.
The industrial magnate shook their hands with a gracious smile.
“Look forward to seeing you again, that’s for sure,” he said with a lingering look at Florence. And a brief glance at my booty, if you don’t mind.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for my next appointment. Pontabo doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Pontabo Plastics?” Jack scoffed. “They’re based in Jersey. You’ll never get through traffic.”
“Thankfully,” Julian drawled, strolling over to the balcony rail, “Traffic is somewhat light today.”
And with that, the tall, gorgeous man crouched low, tucking his arms in. His body seemed to tremble, then expand. His expensive fine linen suit dropped to the floor, split at the seams. Eventually he stood in all his glory and Florence gasped.
Julian’s body rippled with soft feathers in a thousand variations of gold. Sunlight winked over his wings as he spread them imperiously to either side. Ribbed with powerful cartilage, those beautiful wings were at least seven meters in diameter.
Florence caught herself gaping as this inexpressibly handsome eagle winked at her before hooping himself over the rail. He sank without trace for several seconds. Florence considered rushing forward when Julian appeared again, only now he was half a mile away, soaring on an up-draught between two office towers.
When he’d disappeared altogether, Florence picked her heart off the floor and looked at Jack, who’d managed to recover his usual scornful expression.
“That’s what I call an exit, Foley,” she said with huge satisfaction.
“Yeah,
well, I’d like to see how he goes in a tight, cramped space,” Jack spat venomously. “Seems like all style, no substance to me.”
“Spoken by a man with his face re-arranged by a chimera,” Florence returned, annoyed at Jack’s constant negativity. “Let’s go, handsome.”
The trip back to the Chapter House was heavy with Jack’s stony silence. Florence felt like shaking him out of his funk, telling him the way he felt was his own damn fault. As they climbed down the high ladder behind the Korean dime store, her irritation got the better of her.
“Face it, Jack, Yasmin is the one that got away.”
Jack was quick to pounce.
“What would you know about relationships, Underwood?” he asked indignantly. “You’re personal life is a train wreck.”
“The hell you say …?” Florence leaped the last few rungs and stood waiting in the cold foundation tunnel while Jack finished his climb. She was onto him in an instant, pushing him firmly in the chest.
“Where do you get off telling me about love, Jack?” she snarled. “You only feel bad about Yasmin because she left before you could dump her yourself.”
A direct hit - Florence could see the anger flare in Jack’s eyes. He rushed forward and barreled Florence to the ground. The wind knocked out of her, she gasped as Jack approached.
“You want the truth, Underwood?” he said in a voice flat with rage. “The truth is you’re a lazy, undisciplined bitch who should never run with real werewolves.”
Florence reacted instinctively, grabbing Jack’s leg and pulling on it viciously. He landed flat on his back, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. Now it was her turn to stand over him.
“And you’re an arrogant pig, Jack,” she spat. “The complete opposite of what real werewolves stand for.”
She took a few steps toward a distant bonfire, one she knew would lead her to the Chapter House door. She paused.
“Oh. And fuck you.”
The Mother was in her office, pale and nervy.
“Is the foundation entrance secure?” she asked Florence. Jack barged in sulkily and sat next to the red head. Getting to the Mother first was a somewhat infantile victory, but a victory nonetheless.
“The usual precautions were taken, Mother,” Florence said carefully. “Has anything happened?”
“Not yet,” the Mother said, kneading her temples. “The mayor is up in arms over this whole wight business. The citizens are getting restless, protesting in Times Square. People are scared and need reassurance.”
“The truth is,” Jack sneered, “That this fair city will be a smoking ruin in fifty years. The Flux Age will see to that.”
“In the meantime,” the Mother said irritably, “we need to save as many lives as we can.”
“This isn’t the Dark Ages,” Jack shot back. He was clearly in the mood to get certain things off his chest. “Protecting humans in the 21st century won’t be as easy as it was then. Enemies are rising on all sides.”
The Mother looked away, essentially conceding that Jack was right.
“Then, for the love of the old Gods,” she said, “tell me the aquila are looking for friends.”
“They are, in a sense,” Florence said. “They mentioned negotiations for dark tissue.”
The Mother looked blankly at Florence before resting her face in her hands. Florence squirmed in her chair uncomfortably. The mention of ‘dark tissue’ couldn’t have impacted the Mother more if Florence had slapped her in the face.
“I knew this moment would come,” she said eventually. “But not so soon. The aquila are organized and hungry. My guess is they have found a diviner and know how to test for the aquila genome.”
The Mother’s eyes became shrewd. “The Society has no choice but to roll back and protect the Chapter Houses at all costs. There are too many enemies rising against us. I will talk to the other Chapters immediately.”
The Mother turned her attention to a data screen inlaid on her desk. Florence and Jack had been dismissed.
“Mother,” Florence murmured, careful not to anger the old woman. “Can you tell us what dark tissue is?”
The Mother’s head jerked up, immense stress bubbling over. “The means by which lycans are the sole survivors of Flux Ages. All lycan cercariums are made from dark tissue. It feeds us, heals us, revitalizes us, and has prevented us from dying out at the end of each Flux Age. Our secret has been closely guarded for thousands of years. Until the aquila discovered our dark tissue during the Dark Ages. They politely requested we share it.”
“And we refused,” Jack said flatly. “Letting our closest allies die.”
“Not our finest moment,” the Mother said crisply. “And the aquila have not forgotten. What happened must be written in their histories. Material the Vevestri family have preserved since that time. All the emergent aquila will now believe lycans are their natural enemies.”
Florence thought of Julian Barnes, so gracious, so effortlessly respectful. She simply couldn’t see how someone so inherently good could be an enemy.
“And if we refuse them again?” she asked.
The Mother looked Florence in the eye, a nervous tic flaring on the side of her neck.
“Then we must prepare to defend ourselves,” she said with dark, dark resignation.
12 - Tomas
Bucharest, Romania
THE PINK AND beige lights of Bucharest Airport winked in the near dawn.
The plane touched down despite heavy turbulence, the passengers sighing with relief when the 747 rolled to a halt within sight of the terminal.
Tomas waited patiently for the cabin doors to open. His mind was now operating on a skeleton crew. All the neurons that triggered feelings and emotions had left the building. In the dark, heavy haze of his soul he concentrated on one key objective - not thinking about his family. His blood-red, massacred loved ones currently strewn across the Hotel Brandenburg in Berlin.
He snapped his mind back to his physical surroundings. It was a jolt he was used to performing now - he’d done it a thousand times on the two hour flight.
One thing he did wonder about was Herr X. Why had the old man let him walk? Perhaps it was part of a general retreat. After all, their secret weapon, the chimera, had been killed by the lycans. It was the Berlin Club’s style to melt into the shadows and wait for another opportunity to attack.
There were two other possibilities. One - Herr X simply wanted to ruin his life for betraying the cause, killing his family but letting him live as punishment. Two - the old German actually believed Tomas, suitably chastened, would simply come back to the fold. The second scenario, as ridiculous as it sounded, fitted the sociopathic profile of the mysterious German.
Whatever the case, Tomas was now in Romania, contemplating strange forces within his body. He’d been divined by that filthy girl in the foyer of the Grand Ferdinand. What did it all mean?
All he knew was that he’d been drawn to the one with the platinum hair - Yasmin Silver was her name. The intense emotion he’d felt when he saw her couldn’t simply be put down to the adrenalin of battle. It was a feeling of the strongest deja vu, as if he’d known the girl for a very long time.
And now? Now there was some kind of power drawing him on, moving his arms and legs even though he just wanted to curl up into a ball. The passengers spilled from the cabin and Tomas found himself trudging through the garish lights of the terminal.
He noticed the ink of night slowly melting away. The prospect saddened him. His physical body actually felt a little weaker with the dawning of the new day. Shaking his head at all these strange new sensations, Tomas submitted to customs. He was detained by security personnel for no other reason than he looked like a vagrant. Deep, dark yellow pits under his eyes. Disheveled clothing. Clammy, unhealthy pallor. He couldn’t blame them.
A tiny voice in the back of his mind screamed at him to at least find a hotel and have a shower. Once he cleared customs, Tomas checked in at the Express Air Hotel. It was a modest 3-star
affair but was clean and quiet. Tomas sat under the shower for a long time before surfacing for an instant coffee. His instincts told him to crawl underneath a blanket and rest until nightfall.
The terminal outside was awash with yellow light when he finally parted the heavy drapes. He checked his watch. 7.07 PM. Ordering a plate of sausages and a proper coffee from room service, Tomas showered again and sat down at the small business table by his bed. He made a list of everything he would need before he left Bucharest.
Perplexed, he considered the list - what was he planning exactly? What dark force was directing his thoughts?
He searched his feelings, employing a mindfulness technique he’d learned as a stressed student many years ago.
There didn’t seem to be any alien presence in his mind. What he had listed were items he would need in the purchase of property in Romania. Passport, travel documents, financial statements. He wasn’t sure why it made so much sense to settle in this country for the next, indefinite portion of his life, but it felt like a natural way to progress.
Tomas was effectively homeless after all - he couldn’t go back to the labs or his old apartment in Poltava. They’d be crawling with Berlin Club men.
It made sense to purchase property in a place where official documents could be forged and manipulated. A place where he could establish a base without attracting too much attention. A place where he could devote all his time to the study of vampyra. His people. A place with enough wildness to hide his true identity.
Besides, living out of hotels was the quickest way to blow his life savings. He’d amassed quite a pile of money. He couldn’t deny that Herr X had paid him well. The original plan was to send his children to an exclusive boarding school in Switzerland. Now he would use the money on property.
He couldn’t imagine a competitive housing market in the back blocks of Romania. He summoned a map of the region on his phone. The Carpathian mountains to the north were wild and sparsely populated. His mind set on a course of action, Tomas settled his hotel bill and wandered off into the night.
The Lycan Society (The Flux Age Book 1) Page 14
