The Lycan Rebirth (The Flux Age Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

he lifted himself through the small opening. He gratefully stepped on a small ledge that wrapped itself around the main building.
    The day was fading fast as Jack inched his way around the outside of the building. The drop to the grass below was no problem for a werewolf, but Jack wanted one final look at Hector’s office.
    He pulled himself around the corner of the building and found himself standing in front of Hector’s largest office window. The aquilan leader was now seated at his desk with his back to Jack. A polished wooden box the size of a lunch pail sat in front of him. Hector fingered the box as if deciding whether to open it.
    On impulse Jack lifted himself up, swung back hard and smashed the window with both feet. Ignoring the shower of glass, he landed a hard right foot at the back of Hector’s head. The force wasn’t particularly great for a lycan, but more than enough to knock a man unconscious. Hector slumped over the box, out cold.
    The first thing Jack did was bolt the door. There were already shouts from the hall - it was only a matter of time before the aquilans broke in.
    Jack took the box and felt a surge of elation when he found that Hector had actually disengaged a digital lock mechanism. Flipping open the lid, he drew a hand to his mouth in a reflex action. The smell was horrendous, but wonderful. There was no smell like that in the world.
    The box contained a small amount of dark tissue.

3
     
    Frica, Romania
     
    Yasmin knew she shouldn’t be hauling buckets of mortar in her condition, but she wanted the final brick to be laid by sunrise. Already the shadows over Mount Brasev were being killed by the emergent light of the day.
    “Grăbiţi,” she extolled the Maramurians who worked alongside her. They were hard, faithful workers and responded with a burst of speed. Her band of Maramurians, an ancient, scattered mountain people, had grown accustomed to working at night. It was when their master was strong, and their master made them strong.
    Yasmin was only just beginning to understand her unique relationship with these rural Romanians. They weren’t vampires, no. She was beginning to suspect that they were plain folk who simply remembered. Remembered who their old landlords were. Tomas had recently discovered that those landlords had almost certainly been vampires.
    These Romanian mountains had seen a number of vampire lords come and go. The last, of course, had been during the Dark Ages, during the last Flux Age.
    And now, as the twenty-first century was gathering speed, a vampire queen had returned to take care of her flock once again.
    Yasmin stood back and watched with pride as her people worked feverishly on the final tower of the outer wall.
    The castle had finally taken shape. What had once been a rambling ruin, fit for mountain goats but little else, had becoming an imposing castle in the Gothic style. The main hall had been built first, then two stately wings to either side. A second level above the hall to include Yasmin’s private chamber. A belfry from which the vampiric beacon shone through the night. And finally, the stone rampart that would, in theory, keep her enemies at bay. Once an uninvited guest crossed a vampire’s threshold it fell under that creature’s considerable power. The outer castle wall had now become Yasmin’s threshold, Tomas assuring her that she would be nigh impossible to beat when at home in her castle.
    The doktor joined Yasmin on the rampart and eyed the eastern sky warily.
    “You should rest, queen,” he murmured. He insisted on using the title even though Yasmin found it strange.
    “Yes,” Yasmin said absently, stroking her belly as she so often did now. She was well into the first term of her pregnancy and had resisted all of Tomas’s attempts to bring her to an obstetrician. She could understand his concerns but she knew that everything was OK. Her senses were alive to the new presence within her. She often wondered how her transformed