savage 07 - the dark savage

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  Tab slides him a look of pure envy, and Ulric shrugs. “You know we must try to turn every female. Regardless the cost.” Females can sometimes perish during a try for the turn. It's not common, but it has been known to occur.

  Tab nods slowly, eyes riveted on a female of their kind. It is the goal of every clan to have enough women to proliferate. Unfortunately, it's not the reality.

  Ulric inhales deeply, tasting the field beyond them on the mild breeze—and the unique smell of the female. It is she.

  Adira.

  But how?

  Neither male rushes out to Jim and Adira inside the pastureland. Ulric's senses are heightened—his instincts on alert.

  Tab's brow ridge lowers slowly as he studies the environment surrounding the pair. “We do not meet them?”

  Ulric shakes his head. “No.” His eyes move to Tab. “Do you smell the others?”

  Tab nods, his mouth a grim line. “Yes. I smell their deaths upon Jim.”

  Ulric's puzzlement deepens.

  Jim raises his hand, easily sighting them, barely veiled by shadow. Adira tries to wiggle away and Jim jerks her by whatever piece of clothing she wears, and even Ulric can detect her ire.

  When Jim is halfway through the field, about a dozen Men of the Tree bleed to the perimeter, surrounding them.

  Adira makes a sound of pure fear. It pierces Ulric—as it's meant to. There is no Woman of the Tree that a male counterpart would not attempt to save, or protect.

  Adira is no different. Yet males of his species clearly wish them harm.

  “They are false—they are not changed by pure blood.”

  Ulric frowns. He turns in Tab's direction and they share a moment of understanding. “They have been turned by a female.”

  “No ancient memory transference,” Ulric says.

  “They do not have the directive to protect our females.”

  “Absent,” he agrees gravely.

  “As the Fragment, but built as we. Vacant.”

  Tab nods.

  Jim puts Adira behind him and she struggles.

  Ulric tenses, uncertainty filling him for the first time.

  Why did this female—whose blood he senses among the changed Fragment—choose to turn them to begin with—and also hold her own change secret?

  Before Ulric can make a final decision, Jim throws Adira on his back and charges toward him and Tab.

  Tab wraps his forearm on a lone vine and a pure battle cry trembles between them.

  There will be much death.

  And the whisper of demise can be heard from the approach of their own kind.

  Chapter 24

  Jim

  These guys never quit. Kill a bunch, and the next group of bananas peels right in.

  The half-dozen Fragment move forward on Adira's command, and Jim leaps to his feet, spinning and lowering his long powerful arms. A vital emotion roars through him like a brush fire, and his knees nearly buckle at the power of the physical compulsion.

  Protect.

  Jim sways on this feet. This can't be happening.

  Adira, the back-stabbing, Pathway-stealing, Fragment turning, witch-on-wheels cannot be making him a meat shield. Sure enough, one foot propels him forward after the next.

  Jesus. Really?

  Jim squares off with the six that used to be Fragment. Shells of their former humanity linger like broken cobwebs. If Jim looks hard enough, (which he doesn't) he can almost see through their half-forms to the humans they were.

  But he finds his give-a-fuck stopped working along the way.

  He figures most of them don't have martial arts down pat either. Jim (gently) shoves Adira behind him, latching onto the first powerful heel aiming for his jaw, twisting the foot midair while bringing a downward arcing chop to the thigh.

  Breaking the femur of his enemy.

  Jim's smile is somber. That'll slow him down.

  The creature howls, trying to yank his broken leg out of Jim's grip. Jim shoves him back by the broken appendage, driving the socket into his pelvic region with instant results.

  The bastard falls back with a gurgled shout as two more ape guys fall on him.

  Jim strikes with his hand and head simultaneously, jabbing his oversized knuckles in a neck longer than a human's while his awesome brow ridge brain taps the asshole next to him.

  Yoo-hoo!

  Adira screams, and that instinctive pulse goes off like a sliding migraine in Jim's head. The pain staggers Jim in her direction. He wheels about, and literally takes the head of the last ape like unscrewing a lid from a jar.

  Their numbers should have easily kicked Jim's ass but the thing is, he's bringing it.

  They fall like dominoes.

  Then there's Adira. Oh joy.

  He grabs her by the back of her top and jerks her to her feet. She's taller in this form but still only reaches his chest.

  “You pain in my ass!” Jim yells.

  Her eyes widen.

  Jim ducks, clocking the half-ape behind him like a gnat. “These hairy fuckers!” Jim shouts, dragging an agitated Adira behind him.

  “God—damn!” he shouts at no one.

  The handful who are left back away. “That's right gorilla-nuts,” and by God, Jim is really on the verbiage about now, “take a fucking long-ass hike!” He kicks one in its ass that tries to scuttle past, and it takes an impressive snout dive.

  Jim hauls Adira behind him, moving into the open field while thanking everything that's holy the dumb sun finally went down so he stopped baking, when he catches sight of the boys.

  Ulric, and that Tab dude. Reinforcements.

  Finally, some reasonable people.

  Jim frowns as Adira squirms. Not really people, he supposes. His eyes constantly scan the area in case the three stooges reappear.

  Adira picks that time to pitch a fit and he shakes her.

  Suddenly, his hand freezes up, her terror-filled eyes are so wide he can see the whites.

  Protect.

  God, this gets old. So even if he wanted to give her a good beating (which sounds pretty good about now, he knows he can't perform), there's like this wall in place so he has to protect, not harm. Basically reduced to a bodyguard while she's around.

  Perfect.

  Jim waves at Ulric like save my ass.

  He and Tab stand there.

  Jim begins to slow. What the hell?

  Adira makes a noise of profound fear from deep in her throat.

  Jim heaves an exasperated sigh. “I'm not going to hurt you—even though you've been a royal pain, with all the double-cross and....”

  Adira mewls, trying to yank away from Jim, but her gaze is behind his shoulder.

  Jim slowly turns to where she's looking.

  His eyes see them but Jim doesn't believe. Like witnessing an UFO about to land and figuring it's like—a low flying cloud.

  Nope.

  There's quite a few reinforcements beyond the three Jim should have dispatched instead of letting scurry off.

  Shit.

  The compulsion steals his breath.

  The hell with this.

  He tosses a struggling Adira on his back and sprints for the woods. Jim figures he's got way better odds against the ape brigade if Tab and Ulric are with him.

  Dirt makes a distinctive sound when it's excavated through movement. Jim listens as the scattered earth lands behind him, and the others follow. The ground hollows out with the punch of fists smacking soft earth and ripping it up by the roots from the field of wheat—Adira a solid weight warming his back.

  Jim arrives at the treeline and reaches back, grabbing Adira's arm, he launches her toward a group of vines tangled like worms of cloth.

  She hits the middle, grasping for frantic purchase.

  Jim shares a split-second's look with Ulric and Tab, then the Fragment is on them.

  Chapter 25

  Elise

  Elise has known Calia only for as long as she has been either wounded or ill.

  Now
, she is well.

  The color of health blankets her cheekbones with a high fine pink, her golden eyes sparkle above a mouth that smiles on occasion.

  Her full lips do not smile at present.

  Elise shrugs helplessly. “Jim is gone. I saw his abduction with my own eyes.”

  Philip's hand runs absently down Calia's back, though his fingertips trail off when she begins to pace the small space of their tree dwelling. He watches her with troubled eyes.

  “The Fragment have a plan. They would never leave two women behind. Never.” Calia punches her right fist into the palm of her left, her eyes flash like dimmed suns in the interior gloom of the tree dwelling.

  The soft patter of spring rain descends all around them, lighting on, and coating everything beneath a deepened emerald. The branches bow to the weight of the water, seeming to pray to the singed forest floor below.

  “I agree,” Elise says, and Adahy strokes the delicate skin of her nape, the only place left uncovered in the chilly weather. “It is what we all know of their character.” Elise spits the last word out.

  “Careful, Elise.” Philip's eyebrows hike. “ʻCharacterʼ may be too light a term.”

  He is right. The Fragment lack a moral compass, as Jim would say.

  Jim. Elise's guilt looms large inside her.

  “Jim is good,” Adahy says. His hand squeezes her neck gently. Green eyes regard Elise from a face that is broad, square and good.

  True.

  “Yet, Jim would understand that we would never take our women Outside in search of him. He sacrificed nearly as much for your safety without the reward of you as potential mates,” Philip says with more than a little bewilderment, and a good deal of grudging respect.

  Calia lifts her eyes to the flat wooden ceiling. “Be that as it may, Philip,” she walks back to him, and his hand takes up residence between her shoulder blades once more, “Jim is a Traveler—” Calia's shrewd gaze stares her down.

  Elise shakes her head. “A Traveler no longer.” Her eyes touch on each face. “Ulric changed Jim—healed Calia.”

  Elise stands, her hand covering her stomach. “And gave me hope where there was none.”

  Adahy's fingers threads with hers. She leans back against his broad chest, his forearm encircling her upper chest.

  “You want this?” Calia asks. “You know that there is much danger between here and Clara's sphere.”

  Elise straightens and Adahy's arm falls away. “Yes. But I can live a life with Adahy, perhaps with his tribe. And if they cannot be located, we could manage within the confines of the Kingdom of Ohio.”

  Calia shakes her head softly. “I am unsure if that be the right path.” Her head lifts, and her eyes are glossy with unshed tears. She slides her arm around Philip's waist, tucking herself underneath his arm. He rests his chin on the top of her head.

  “You would not seek your mother's insane clan by the sea,” Elise comments quietly.

  Calia shakes her head. “No, they are dead to me, literally and figuratively. Vaughn—the rest of that Band. They let whatever my mother commanded of them... rule their decisions.”

  “And pride,” Philip remarks in a dry voice, his voice quiet.

  Calia cups the side of his face, her eyes soft. “Definitely that. They could not bear someone from another clan having a Select. So they thought to force their own choice upon me.” Her eyes glitter like citrine gems captured within a face made tight with her anger. “Mayhap they be wrong.”

  Elise nods, adding, “Let us go before Ulric returns. I do not wish to move into a verbal war of wits. He will find every tangible reason for us to remain.” Elise waits for the men to deny them.

  Finally, Adahy stiffens. “I no like Elise hurt. But no hurt is no happy.”

  “What?” Calia asks, her brows drawing together as distrust colors the word.

  Elise has a hard time translating, for her heart is too full. “He means that I might be safe here forever, but I will never be happy.”

  Calia's hands reach for Elise's. “I should have never let Edwin bully me into returning, and sating my curiosity has caused immeasurable grief to all.”

  Philip wraps his arms around her, and her hands leave Elise's to wrap Philip's strong forearms, clinging to him like he is the last solid thing in her world. Elise knows exactly how she feels. “Nay. Do not lay blame. You simply wished to be with your clan of origin. Now we know it to be one of vileness, and contemptible.”

  “We shall never return.” Calia vows, shutting her eyes at the words.

  Elise understands, though she does not say—that goodbyes—though left sometimes unsaid, are felt forever.

  *

  “Where are you going?” a voice calls after Elise, and she starts.

  Calia remains steady. “We go to bathe at the hot springs.”

  Brom shakes his head. “No—wait until the morrow,” he replies, using the terminology of their language perfectly.

  Elise swallows her fear, certain that Brom can anticipate—no—intuit her unease. Too many years with the Fragment have caused her to anticipate a violent reaction, but Brom simply stares unnervingly at them, awaiting their response.

  “I have not been able to make time for a proper wash,” Calia says.

  Brom tilts his head, regarding her. Seconds sweep by in agonizing slowness.

  Calia remains still, behaving as though barely tolerating his delay of them.

  He sets the weapons he was working with aside, standing. “Fine, I will accompany you.”

  Elise blanches. “We do not wont for the company of males.”

  Brom smiles.

  Elise notes it is slightly toothy, as though his beast has peeked out from behind his humanity. Or what passes for such amongst the Men of the Tree. No hint of fang is revealed, and Elise's breath eases out of her lungs once more.

  Calia turns to Elise with a contrived laugh of lightness. “Oh it be fine—Brom wishes only to see us safely there, and when we finish with our bath, he will return to fetch us.”

  Her expression challenges Brom to dispute her presumptions, her words are meant to calm Elise's fraying nerves.

  Brom's face does not change. Sternness rules his features. “Of course, that is what I meant.” His eyes travel Elise, and she suppresses a shiver at his bold perusal. “Why do your men not travel with you?” he asks suddenly, and Elise notes the quick, deep flare of his nostrils.

  He shifts slightly, her sharp eyes making out the slightly elevated features, the seemingly swelled physique. If Elise were to guess, she would say that perhaps Brom had altered only a small bit of himself. Making himself slightly more—what did Jim refer to it as? Ah, yes—ape. Yet Ulric claims they are more closely aligned with the exotic gorilla.

  Then there is the matter of sharp fangs.

  Calia continues feigned casualness. “We are not mated, it would not be seemly to have our future mates about while we were in a position of vulnerability.”

  Elise blinks. She could never fashion such real-sounding lies. She wishes she could have before. It might have saved her atrocities too numerous to count.

  Her hand begins to hover at her stomach but Elise forces it by her side again.

  Brom grunts, but turns toward the narrow pathway that leads to the springs.

  Calia gives her a pointed look of barely contained triumph, and strides after him.

  Her footsteps trail after those of Calia. Disquiet guts Elise, with no apparent reason she can discern. Brom accompanying them is not ideal, yet Calia smoothly mastered the intrusion.

  Without sufficient warning, Elise prays that Philip and Adahy heed the subtle scent of an extra body moving toward the springs where one was not anticipated.

  Chapter 26

  Ulric

  Ulric and Tab silently part as Jim neatly bisects their position. Once again, Jim surprises Ulric with his newly acquired instinct.

  He will need it, because on his heels rides a loathsome shadow of the Men of the Tree.

  Fl
at eyes of beady interest, and the luster of death shine dully back at Ulric as the first one drives toward him.

  Ulric takes the lead false Man of the Tree who reaches toward him, driving his hand down into the elbow joint, crippling him instantly.

  The bizarre screams follow Ulric as he tears into the next with fangs that have lengthened to their full size. A length unobtainable except during battle with his own kind. He uses those delicately-honed weapons as they were meant to be employed.

  As killing tools, though Ulric has never had need of killing his own kind. The wrongness of the act doesn't negate the necessity.

  Fangs sluggishly press from the roofs of the mouths of his enemy. Stubby and undersized, they cannot hurt Ulric. Talons that are not as strong, sharp and deadly as his—ineffectively bat at Ulric's deliberate thrusts and shredding.

  Tab and Ulric work through the false brothers as they pour into the forest. The urge to protect the one female pounds through the blood of them all.

  At least the three Tree Men who are natural.

  Turned—born—but not made. Made by a female no less.

  Tab tosses the last of the insane Fragment of turned males, and without a thought, moves to one who still writhes, the bulge of his eyes begging for the mercy his severed tongue is unable to utter.

  “What's that?” Jim shouts, hopping beside him, hand canted behind his ear. “Fuck it! I'm deaf as usual.”

  All eyes go to the failing Fragment, his fangs retract, talons torn off at the nail bed as he bleeds brokenly at their feet.

  “Time to feed, Jim,” Ulric invites softly. He watches Jim's fangs retract to feeding size.

  The three of them fall on their last victim like locust.

  After the false Tree Man is a husk of chilled whiteness, Jim stands, flinging his arms wide and howls. “That! That was awesome!”

  Ulric says nothing, his eyes searching for the female. He finds her clinging to the bundle of vines Jim tossed her within.

  Tab joins him in his perusal.

  Jim slowly turns to stare at her as well. “No thanks to you, Adira,” he comments, giving her a slim-eyed glare.

  “I told you—they forced me.”

  Forced. Ulric walks underneath of her position. “Drop. Now.”