savage 07 - the dark savage

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  Adira's lips thin, her almond eyes sprouting a furrow between them. “Why? What's going on?”

  “If I interpreted Ulric correctly, someone has taken over the clan.”

  Her chin jerks back in obvious surprise. “That doesn't make sense.”

  “Does to me,” Jim says, his eyes scanning a furtive swath through the woods leading to the clan. “Too many roosters in the hen house.”

  Adira rolls her eyes, folding her arms. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “There can only be one Alpha,” Ulric comments softly, though his words are difficult to discern. He's gorillan, and Jim knows that the entire vocal construction of his face makes speech heard as though through water—guttural.

  “So Brom?” Jim asks, more for confirmation than in question.

  Ulric nods slowly. “He was tasked with overseeing the clan in my absence, so that Tab and I could secure Adira's safety.”

  “Hey,” Jim thumbs his chest, what about me?

  Ulric ignores his insult by omission.

  Geez. “What does this mean, if Brom—what, they see extra footprints and immediately assume it means he's taken over?” Adira looks between the three.

  “Two plus two equals four.” Jim throws up his hands, angry over shit he can't control. Story of his life in this world full of little disaster islands. “I don't know what the catalyst was to motivate Brom to make his move—only that he chose to.” Jim looks at Ulric, who nods.

  “Brom was displeased that I made the effort for only two, though one was a female—and one we assumed couldn't shift.” Ulric's gaze falls to glitter darkly on Adira. She's smart for once and lowers her gaze. Trying for demure. What a crock of shit that is.

  “Stay in human form, Adira.”

  Her eyes jerk to his. “I'm vulnerable.”

  “You're more vulnerable if Brom has indeed tried to master the clan in Ulric's absence, and he finds that you are a female of the clan,” Tab says.

  “This is awful,” Adira says, folding her arms.

  “Yes it is,” Jim says. He turns to Ulric. “So what's the plan, grand poobah?”

  Ulric brow knits. “We secure the females, and make sure the elders remain unharmed.”

  Jim feels like he's missing something. “And then?”

  Ulric swivels toward Jim, his left hand already on a nearby vine. “If we cannot come to peaceable terms, Brom dies.”

  Alrighty then.

  Chapter 29

  Ulric

  Perhaps Ulric can reason with Brom.

  Tabben gifts him with a sidelong glance between the spaces of branches that says clearly, no, Brom cannot be reasoned with.

  Once in a great while a dissenter turns up in the ranks of the Clan of the Tree. Ulric can think of a many things that are bad about Brom's plan, if indeed there is such a scheme. Tab and he conferred, their thoughts were unanimous: Brom's scent of intent to do harm covers the area near the springs with a carpet of layered scents. As does the scent of anxiety from the guests his clan harbors. The male of the Band, Philip, and his counterpart, Adahy—also scent heavily of protection.

  Ulric tries not to give too much thought to the possibility that Brom has harmed the females, Elise and Calia. He cannot be absolutely sure. But no natural Tree Man would deliberately harm a female. They couldn't.

  However, the abominations that Adira created had been without that particular precept.

  The situation is grim. However, Ulric has prevailed against other attempts at usurpation in his lifetime. His mind swings to thoughts of Natasha's welfare, his emotions running to the visceral. Ulric told her there was no chance of them coming together. Though he appears to be the first male to gain her trust since she was lifted from the Fragment's clutches. Now that Brom is possibly trying to take over the clan, her security remains paramount. Ulric's not sure why thoughts of Natasha plague him. Certainly he wants her—as a mate. But his concern is unfounded. Brom would not hurt a female. Especially that one. However, the thought that she is in vague danger cannot be shaken, it lingers like a foul odor in the crevices of his mind.

  The idea of Brom's temper as a potential problem had run through his mind before. Ulric had actually contemplated the possibility of anarchy as he pursued Jim and Adira. Since the attack by fire from the clansmen of the sea, things between him and Brom had progressively grown more strained. It was as though the event had awoken a need within Brom to be in charge of everything, large and small.

  What Brom cannot comprehend, is being Alpha is more than wielding power over others. A leader is equal parts compassion and a need to do what is best for the group you lead, rather than progressing a selfish agenda.

  From what Ulric had witnessed before going after Jim and Adira, was Brom did not wish to be tasked with saving two of dubious origin, when he could stay at the clan and plot against Ulric.

  He does not want to kill Brom. But Ulric will if he must. The health and unity of the First Species must be maintained through all means.

  Even those of blood.

  *

  Elise

  Elise's shoulders ache, having grown numb long ago from the bindings.

  Adahy had not taken being bound lightly.

  He wears the evidence of his resistance on his face. Every part bruised and swollen from the long and dangerous reach of the tree men.

  Elise's hate swells her chest to bursting. Containing that much emotional energy takes a toll on her body, causing her stomach to be tight with anxiety—her unspent adrenaline is frozen in stasis. She feels sluggish.

  The only thing Elise can do is lean against Adahy's tied hands. His broken fingers warm her.

  “Adahy,” she whispers.

  “Yes,” he replies in Iroquois, the one word muffled.

  Elise had gotten a look at his wounded face before they had tied them to the trunk of a tree opposite each other in the quarters they had shared before the calamity of Brom occurred.

  “Let me heal you,” Elise entreats quietly.

  The seconds keep rhythm with her heartbeats.

  “No hurt, Elise,” he finally answers in English.

  Elise rubs her raw wrists together, shutting her eyes. “I cannot heal myself—only others.” Elise turns her head, just making out his black hair, totally undone from the tie at his nape.

  “One of us should be whole.”

  Another beat of silence moves between them.

  He gives reluctant answer. “Yes.”

  “I will try to reach you.”

  Elise can hardly hear him breathe. When she begins to heal his injuries, she will feel the extent of what happened as the healing commences.

  Elise was not beaten, but received rough treatment. Her knees are abraded from being tossed onto the ground, and she is roughly tethered.

  Calia had actually killed two of the tree men before they knocked her into unconsciousness. Philip had suffered more.

  Unfortunately, Elise does not remember everything that befell them. She was too busy concentrating on defense and what was happening with Adahy to give much thought to their companions.

  If Elise can scrape together enough healing energy to right the physical wrongs by which Adahy suffers, there is a chance they might slip away. Or at least be in a better position. Not to mention how terrible it is Adahy is so badly hurt.

  Elise can barely feel her fingertips.

  However, she stretches, inch-worming her hands to the side of the pole. As it is, she can feel Adahy's flesh, his tied arms cage her bound hands.

  Elise wiggles her body in one direction, using her rear to scoot around the tree in a circle. Her shoulders scream with the tension, and Elise pants from her efforts.

  “Elise—do not,” Adahy pauses, taking a painful breath then continues, “do not hurt for Adahy.”

  “No,” she agrees, squirming another inch. Her eyes bounce to the rail, hoping the tree man who had left them for a few minutes might be gone long enough for her to accomplish this physical mercy for Adahy.

/>   Finally, she finds herself at the most extreme point at the tree trunk next to Adahy. Their arms can go no further, bound as they are and they line up.

  But it is her fingers that uncurl, tentatively touching the flesh she can reach.

  Images of what she heals sweeps into the cracks of her mind.

  So much.

  Elise breathes through the horrible wounds she innately senses, and begins with his fingers. Straining, she partially winds her index finger around the circumference of his bound wrists. It is all she can manage.

  It is enough.

  Three broken knuckles and a broken pinky finger. She feels the heat of healing, like an open flame as the searing fire runs from her finger, and slides into the damaged knuckles.

  Adahy groans in relief.

  The instant they are mended, Elise seeks the next injury. Feeling deep bruising between his shoulder blades by repeated blows, she repairs the broken capillaries and deep tissue damage. Moving forward, her gift of healing whips out like silken fronds, seeking—seeking.

  When Elise senses the injuries of Adahy's face, she sucks in a quick inhale. It is so extensive she is uncertain she has the ability to overcome such physical distress.

  Try. Elise squeezes her eyes shut.

  Thoughts of healing Adahy from before, flood her mind. How distrusting he had been. How terribly injured, body and soul, from both the present, and the events of the past.

  Elise concentrates first on his distorted eye socket. When that is blooming with new bone, she moves to the eye, restoring eyesight lost from a well-placed strike.

  “Adahy see,” he states softly.

  Elise cannot reply, her healing energy continues to flow through Adahy's body like water. Healing a broken leg up high. Elise knows this is the hardest bone to break.

  The Men of the Tree had stomped on her beautiful man until the leg collapsed beneath them. Adahy had laid in a pool of his own blood and vomit until they drug him off.

  Elise imagines the way the bone would be if it had not been broken. She makes it so again.

  The healing energy retreats, coming back to her slowly, still seeking as it goes backward from whence it came. Contusions, scrapes and minor injuries are smoothed as it rolls toward her.

  Blackness sinks into the edges of her mind like stubborn teeth.

  Elise has never given so much of the very essence of what allows her to do what she just did for another.

  She utters a choking cough. Small pinpoints of blood land on her front.

  Adahy is well. Elise smiles as though in a fog.

  Adahy starts, voice strong, “Elise!”

  She feels the bindings suddenly tighten with more tension than what she can stand. Mayhap cutting her very hands apart. Then they fall away.

  Elise slides to the side, her face moving to meet the floor.

  Instead, a hand is there as a pillow instead of bare wood boards.

  Elise knows no more.

  Chapter 30

  Jim

  Mother pus-bucket.

  Not good—the entire clan is as silent as a tomb. At night.

  Ulric chirps once. Be watchful.

  Hell yes, he didn't need birdie communication to figure that bit out.

  Tab releases Adira before letting go of a vine, and she lands softly beside him.

  Jim wasn't volunteering to give Adira a little piggyback ride. Deceitful wench. Jim figures he'll keep the grudge of her bullshit until forever.

  He glances up at his small tree fort in the sky, wondering if all his med shit is still in his pack, or if Brom rooted around where he didn't belong?

  Not that it matters, even if he could somehow locate his integral disc how could he return to his earth? Like an ape? Gorilla—whatever the hell he is now. Of course, if Jim could read the sample he took from himself finally, he'd have sufficient genetic info, and go from there. But no.

  There's some kind of revolt happening. Marvelous.

  Then there's the need to protect the females. If Jim could just stop running around Hell's half acre for more than three seconds, he'd be able to come up with a plan.

  He speculates that Elise, Calia, Philip and Adahy did just that. They probably cooked up a plot to take off while Ulric was committed elsewhere.

  Jim can't blame them.

  They're not apes. So what's to stop them from hightailing it outta here? Nothing. Calia's mom's cheese had slid off her cracker—Edwin is dead. Philip was her guy, and Adahy never did like being a part of any of this. If Jim's right, Adahy just wants to take Elise and relocate to wherever Chasing Hawk and the rest of his tribe is now—what's left of it.

  Jim's not gonna cry in his Wheaties just yet, but he'd love to have some options. Like not being an ape guy all the time—or, he glances at Adira—somehow getting her to squire them both back to their earth. She is a Dimensional, after all. Jim wants to work that.

  But he needs to find a way to be human again. Though this—he looks down at his gorillan form and snorts—will get some attention on his earth. And everyone on his planet is a little done with genetic manipulation. Jim had to love genetics to want to enter that field. After the Helix Complex, and their bullshit screwing with all the kidsʼ genomes and sprouting markers better left untouched—hell, Jim's choice of profession was not met with enthusiasm.

  Jim still loves genetics. What makes every being what it is. Fascinating. Now he's in the thick of it. Not loving that.

  “Jim.”

  Jim turns to Adira. “Yeah?”

  “Listen—I'm sorry.”

  “Uh-huh.” Whatever.

  “They're here.”

  The other tree people? Yeah.

  Jim nods.

  “Where are they though?” Adira asks quietly, clearly looking around for them.

  “Just hanging around, waiting to ambush us.”

  “Jim,” Ulric chastises quietly.

  “Fuck this.” Jim flings his head back, letting go of a primal roar so deafening, the leaves bend with the weight of his yell.

  Let's get the ball rolling, fellas.

  Tree Men fall from the sky like gorillan raindrops.

  Dangerous. Like Jim.

  The part of Jim that's always of the Tree now, recoils. Not in fear, but a lust for control.

  That's new.

  “Ulric,” Brom says, turning to face his leader.

  “I get that I'm not popular, Brom—but couldn't you have handled all this better?” Jim asks, shifting his weight—legs planted wide apart.

  “Ulric understands that making more of the Tree from humans who are not from our world is wrong. You are an abomination.” Brom points at Jim.

  Kinda a rude bastard. Jim isn't interested in his thoughts. He's tired. Just fucking weary over this beating of the chest bullshittery.

  Adira backs up Jim's ass and he sighs. Then there's her.

  “And what kind of Tree Man are you to jerk around when Ulric isn't around to defend himself. And why should he need to deal with this?”

  Brom's eyes find Jim's.

  “You have no right to speak here.”

  “Jim does.” Ulric folds his arms.

  That's it, Ulric—put the screws to Brom. He looks around, taking in the silent tree men. “Is this a democracy? Because Brom hasn't said he's taking over. We're all just assuming he wants to.”

  Brom's smile is wide. “You assume correctly.”

  Great.

  Ulric tenses, Tab—the dude from another clan for shit's sake—moves to his side.

  Brom's palm whips up. “We can come to terms.”

  Tab growls. “You are in no position to proclaim terms. You are not Alpha.”

  Brom eyes Tab. “And you are here from another clan.”

  “A clan that I have no worry over leading upon my return.”

  “Guys,” Jim says. So off topic.

  They regard him with eerie sameness. “Brom—leave. If you don't like the way Ulric runs things—then no one's making you stay.” Jim spreads his hands like c
atch a clue, pal. The sphere world is the most violent place. Can't they talk it out? Hell—hug it out.

  Jim considers. Nah, these guysʼ hugs would be boa constrictor-worthy.

  “I do intend to leave—or Ulric can leave.”

  Ulric, so silent during this tense interchange, moves forward. “I will not leave the clan of my great-sire. We are the first clan of all. You do not own the rights of leadership to this clan.”

  Jim tenses. This is it.

  Brom smile is tight. “Then you will not mind if I take who will accompany me, and begin again?”

  Jim doesn't like it. Too easy.

  Ulric did make Jim an ape. But at the end of the day, Jim digs being alive. And Ulric seems like a practical guy. Jim likes practical. It works.

  Brom seems like he's out for Brom.

  Ulric crosses his arms, widening his stance. “Yes. I am a fair leader. Those that would leave would not recognize that.”

  Brom's gaze slivers. “I am fair.”

  Ulric's face probably looks like Jim's about now. Suspicious. But Jim only has eyes for Brom at the moment.

  “Those are your only terms?” Ulric asks in a low voice.

  Maybe we can get out of this yet.

  Tab says, “He cannot make terms, Alpha—”

  Jim looks between he and Tab.

  “He can if I allow it. I would rather not kill Brom.” Ulric smiles.

  Jim sees how truly frightening Ulric can be. He's not smiling with friendliness. It's more like, I might let you live, ya bug.

  Brom's eyes darken beneath his protruding brow ridge—fangs extend.

  Ulric's do as well.

  Nope—not out of the woods yet.

  Then a woman he's seen before hovering around Ulric, comes into view.

  She gives one look at Ulric and his fangs retract.

  Interesting.

  Brom jerks her against him and Ulric's fangs reappear, punching out like a saber tooth tiger's.

  Oh—shit.

  “This one will be one of the females who joins my new clan.”

  Ulric's gorillan form seems to swell—becoming more before Jim's eyes.

  “No,” Ulric says in a low voice.

  The female's chin rises slightly. “You do not want me, Alpha.”