The Lycan Collapse (The Flux Age Book 2) (16 page)

Once they’d both showered and dressed, Julian took Florence to their first destination - one of the many fishing depots along the waterfront. He purchased a powerful Magellan GPS unit and plugged in the coordinates they’d found in Mother Aurora’s office.

According to the GPS unit, their target was an island 37 miles to the northeast of Nassau. The island was so small it didn’t even have a name on the background maps.

“We’ll need to charter a boat,” Florence said.

“Let’s go have a look,” Julian replied. The waterfront had plenty of charter boats for hire. They were designed to cater for groups of fat US businessmen on fishing vacations.

Florence approached a dark-skinned man leaning against the hull of his 23-foot charter boat, the
Rum Lady
.

“You wanna go get a big-ass marlin?” he asked with a toothy smile.

“No fishing today,” Florence returned. “We’re here to explore.”

Julian handed over the GPS unit with the marked waypoint.

“Hmmm,” the skipper mused, rubbing his top lip. “Tide Island. Kinda tricky around there on account of the sand bars but I think I can do it. Not much there though.”

Julian’s heart sank a little. “Really? No people live there?”

The skipper laughed. “No way. Tides wash over the island every four hours. No trees. Just intertidal platform.”

Julian exchanged an uncertain glance with Florence.

“Let’s go check it out,” Florence told the skipper. “We’ll pay you for an entire day.”

“Sounds fine to me,” the skipper said. “Name’s Sydney, by the way.”

The
Rum Lady
put out from Nassau assisted by a stiff southerly. Julian felt a slight twinge in his stomach as the boat bounced from swell to swell but he managed to keep his breakfast down. Florence didn’t look to be in any trouble at all. Instead, she seemed deep in thought, perhaps wondering what they would find. Julian had to admit he had a growing sense of excitement. There was nothing like a good old-fashioned treasure hunt to bring out the little boy in him.

The
Rum Lady
negotiated a series of sand bars before laying anchor some fifty yards from the island known locally as Tide Island. At that moment all they could see was a thin tract of craggy, porous rock occasionally pummeled by white water.

“Not much of an island,” Florence said with heavy disappointment.

“Told yer so,” said Sydney with a chuckle.

“When was the last time it was dived?” Florence asked.

Sydney shrugged. “I ain’t never taken folks out this way,” he said. “No coral reef here. Which means no fish.”

“Do you have any wetsuits?” Florence persisted.

“Always keep one or two in reserve,” came the reply. “You thinkin’ of goin’ under?”

“I’d like to circle that island if I could,” Florence said. “You coming, Julian?”

Julian nodded eagerly - he’d been on several snorkelling vacations.

Within minutes they were suited up and ready to go. Florence tipped over the side and Julian followed suit. The water was warm and syrupy. Julian luxuriated in the tropical sea for a few moments before following in Florence’s wake. The sandy sea floor was only around seven yards deep here. The dark mass of Tide Island loomed to the north. Julian stroked powerfully, glad for the high visibility through the crystal clear water. Tide Island was much bigger under the sea’s surface than it was above it. Fingers of rock jutted out in several directions.

Despite what Sydney had said, there
was
life down here. Julian peered down a hole in the rock and was confronted with a moray eel. He backed away carefully with a chuckle.

Florence was pointing at something to the north. There seemed to be an underwater cave in the center of the small rocky island. Julian felt a stab of excitement. Could that be the spot that Mother Aurora had recorded?

Impulsively he tore his goggles and airpipe away and let them drift to the surface. He gestured for Florence to stay at the surface and watch out for him. She nodded.

Taking a deep breath, Julian dived and stroked toward the dark, shadowy cave. He was engulfed by colder water as he pushed on into the darkness. The cave became a round tunnel. Julian thought he could see shimmering light down the far end but he couldn’t be certain.

Figuring he had another thirty seconds of air, he pushed on, taking a calculated risk. He hoped like hell he’d be able to breathe at the end of the tunnel because it was a long way back.

Just as his lungs began to feel uncomfortable Julian was able to confirm the presence of the shimmering light. Now it appeared far above him. He had passed through the underwater tunnel and was now able to rise to the surface. His lungs were burning as he broke through, gasping for air. He took a minute to regain his composure and absorb his surroundings. He was paddling in the middle of an underground cavern. The air here must have been trapped for a long time because it tasted a little stale. The best thing was the grate set into the rock on the north wall. There may not be anyone on the island, but there
had
been!

Julian tried to force the grate and it squeaked open in a shower of rust. He ascended a narrow staircase cut into the rock and found himself in a large chamber. The smell was awful here. It was a mixture of rotting garbage and kelp. The first thing Julian saw was a hatch in the rock ceiling and he pushed it open. Sunlight flooded the chamber. He hauled himself through the hatch and was buffeted by the wind. He sat on the edge of the thin island and could see the
Rum Lady
to the south.

“Florence!” he shouted.

“Banes!” came the reply. Florence was just to the south. He leaned over the edge of the rock and saw her lifting herself up to his position.

“We were right,” she beamed, eyeing off the hatch hungrily. “What do you think it is?”

“Some kind of smuggler’s cave?” Julian suggested.

“Possibly,” Florence said, wasting no time in lowering herself into the chamber.

“Amazing,” she said as Julian followed her down. Now that the hatch was open, they could both see to the other end of the chamber. A folding screen had been set up on a rock ledge. Various bits of garbage were strewn around. Twinkie wrappers in particular. Florence wrinkled her nose - the stench was overpowering.

“Florence,” Julian whispered. “I think there’s someone in here.”

“Close the damn hatch will ya?” came a deep female voice from behind the screen. A head appeared over the top. Dark, pockmarked skin. Hair in messy cornrows. Large, expressive brown eyes. Eyes that glared daggers at the intruders.

“Well,” the strange young woman demanded. “Or do yer want to drown in this shithole?”

Julian dutifully closed the hatch, which plunged the chamber into darkness. He could hear the woman muttering to herself as she moved across the ledge. Her corner was bathed in a soft orange glow as she turned on a battery-powered lamp.

“How long have you been in here?” Florence asked.

“Dunno,” said the woman. “Days, weeks, they bleed into each other, eh?”

“My name is Julian Banes,” Julian said, figuring a little social nicety might counteract the weirdness. “This is Florence Underwood.”

“Yeah, yeah, a lycan and a bird man,” the woman said with a horrific grin. “Yer lookin’ at Emmaline Adams.”

She ripped open a twinkie and began eating loudly. Julian glanced at Florence, struggling to contain himself. A diviner! So
that’s
what Mother Aurora had been so assiduously working toward - bringing Emmaline Adams into the fold.

For Florence, the discovery no doubt carried with it a litany of mixed emotions. A diviner might’ve saved the lycans had she been lured back to New York a few months earlier.

For the first time Julian noticed the leather belt, a small burner and a spoon sitting next to Emmaline’s lamp. He cleared his throat, hoping Florence had noticed.

“Come here to die, Emmaline?” the werewolf asked. Julian blinked.
That
was direct.

Emmaline’s eyes flashed anger. “What you know about me, bitch?” she growled. “You can’t come here and pull that shit on me.”

“I’m sorry,” Florence said gently. “It’s just the picture I see.”

Emmaline hesitated. “I guess it don’ look good,” she admitted. “But I never asked for you. I know the Mother’s dead.”

“How can you know that?” Florence asked, suddenly on full alert.

Emmaline looked at Florence with the pity of someone who was on another plane of knowledge.

“You have no idea what it is to divine,” she said contemptuously. “It ain’t just a matter of tellin’ folks what they have inside. I can’t turn it off. I can’t stop seein’ right through every person I meet. But that ain’t the kicker. The people I’ve divined - they stay imprinted on my consciousness. Like I’m linked to them or summin’. I knew Aurora was dead before she did. Felt it too.”

Julian found it difficult to meet Emmaline’s gaze. The diviner projected a fearsome intensity and was now pacing up and down the ledge.

“Did you lose hope when Aurora died?” Florence asked. “Did she promise you anything?”

“Just a better life,” Emmaline said quietly. “She knows my situation. My background.” Emmaline’s eyes lit up. “Did she ever tell you she was from Jamaica? Granddaughter of a governor, she was. Took me under her wing. Away from mah sick excuse for a family.”

“Why didn’t you go to New York?” Julian asked.

“I resisted for a long time,” Emmaline said. “These fuckin’ islands are cursed for me, but they have a pull all of their own. I always thought I’d die here. For the last few days I was certain I would.”

“I can get you clean,” Julian said. “Pay for your rehab.”

Emmaline regarded Julian through doubtful eyes. “I don’ think so, white boy,” she said. “If I’m to heal, it’ll be the ocean that does it.”

Julian let that ride, wondering if Emmaline was religious. Florence glanced at him.

“We have money, resources,” she said to the diviner. “I realize why I’m here now. Mother Aurora wanted me to find you. To help us start again.”

Emmaline scowled as she lit a cigarette. “Raise a brood of happy wolf cubs, eh?” she said sarcastically. “Yer too late. Aurora’s death confirmed I have no stomach for this Flux bullshit.”

Florence breathed in deeply. “I can’t force you to help us, Emmaline,” she said. “But in five years’ time the lycans
will
be building again, and I couldn’t imagine a better family for you to be a part of.”

Emmaline snorted and shook her head, but Julian could see that Florence’s words were hitting the mark.

“Look at me,” Emmaline said miserably. I been here over six weeks. Waitin’ to die.”

“Then you brought the wrong food supply,” Julian said. “Twinkies last forever.”

Emmaline frowned at Julian, then laughed heartily. It was a rough, guttural sound, but welcome nonetheless.

“You must be a slow burner, white boy,” the diviner said. “I reckon I need a hot shower and another hit.”

“Oh no,” Julian said. “That’s not part of—”

“We’ll get you what you need,” Florence said. “On one condition - you phase out your addiction. I need you clean within six weeks. Deal?”

Emmaline regarded the pair of them out of the corner of her eye. “Well, fuck,” she said in resignation. “I suppose so. Only because you’re lycan. Aurora was like a mother to me.”

Julian smiled as Florence’s shoulders sagged with relief. Their mission was proving somewhat fruitful after all. Florence now had a shot at rebuilding the Lycan Society brick by brick. Julian was prepared to commit to that vision if it meant being by Florence’s side.

“Come back to our hotel,” Florence urged. “We can have you clean and dry by sundown.”

“Alrighty,” Emmaline said abruptly, rummaging through her meagre belongings. “Just let me scoop what I have left.”

Julian shared another look with Florence. What exactly were they getting themselves in for? The chance to work with a diviner, that’s what. Hector had once told Julian that diviners were notoriously flighty, aloof, erratic and prone to depression. He suspected there was a rocky road ahead but if he and Florence actually managed to pull off the impossible - keeping this poor woman on the straight and narrow - then the upside was potentially epic. He’d traveled down to Nassau with an open mind. He genuinely thought they’d find something vaguely interesting but nothing would come of it. But now there was suddenly the very real possibility that his future lay here in the Caribbean. Well, at least for the next few years.

Emmaline Adams proved quite adept in the water. After all, she’d grown up surrounded by aquamarine seas. Sydney was shocked to see three people returning to the
Rum Lady
, but wisely chose to accept a little more money to keep his mouth shut.

Florence and Julian nursed Emmaline for the rest of the afternoon. The aquilan was given the dirty task of scoring some local junk for Emmaline to main line. In the end it took him more than two hours - most local dealers took him for a narc and and wouldn’t have anything to do with him. Julian made sure he acquired a week’s worth of product. He didn’t want to facilitate Emmaline’s drug habit every day.