savage 04 - the savage vengeance

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

A large man came out from behind the trees and Calia pivoted to the left, but his arm shot out and he wrapped her hard against him, covering her mouth.

  Her chest tightened in recognition.

  Band.

  She rolled her eyes up and they met those of Daniel's, the green flecks floating in his irises like the moss hidden by the snow at her feet. He gave a minute shake of his head as the first of the fragment ground up the hill and circled the two.

  Calia made a small noise in the back of her throat, looking at Lyle's face, his nostrils bubbling blood and mucous in a pulsing beat with his heart, his face a dark mask of rage.

  Trained on her.

  “Get out,” he hissed at the others. He took the broad end of a belt, an article of clothing unseen in the spheres, and tore it from the loops of his pants, the cloth singing in response to the struggle of leather against denim.

  One of the fragment asked, “What about Tucker? He isn't gonna like this.”

  Lyle's eyebrows slunk down over eyes that were a muddy brown, his greasy and unkempt hair a helmet of filth atop his head. “He doesn't have to know, but she's gonna be tamed. Here, in this spot, with no witnesses.”

  Calia's breathing stopped. She could take a beating better than most men, but the other... Calia did not know if she would survive that.

  If her soul could survive it.

  Lyle stared at her, taking off his strange breeches as he did, the evidence of his arousal plain for all to see.

  Impervious to the elements.

  Humanity.

  Everything.

  *

  Clara frowned. She thought it was taking Edwin overlong to fetch Calia and Philip.

  The better question was: where, pray tell, was Daniel?

  She swiveled on her horse to look behind her then around, noting the woods which hedged them in at all sides.

  Very like a juggernaut.

  Matthew cocked an eyebrow, his deep blue stare piercing her. “What say you?”

  Clara paused, then firmly collecting her thoughts she said casually, “It does not seem reasonable that they tarry overlong.”

  Bracus stopped and turned, his brows furrowing. Clara elaborated saying all she dared and Bracus gave a short laugh. “My dear Clara, I do not think that Philip and Daniel will beat each other into pulps, whilst Edwin stands in attendance and we make haste to your sphere. Which even now, may have a breach of its defenses that we are unable to mend.”

  As if Clara needed reminding of the demise of her sphere? She folded her arms across her chest, the tunic shifting stiffly and Maddoc came beside her horse, giving his sister's arm a squeeze. “It is better to expect the worst of circumstance than to be taken unawares.”

  Bracus' eyes went to the younger of the Band. “Do you imply that I care not about the welfare of my own?” His eyes remained steady on Maddoc.

  “No, I do not. But I compliment my sister in that she has some experience with anticipation... defense. She has proven to be a stout defender in situations without room, without latitude. That I would need to remind you of such says that you may have strayed from the task at hand.”

  Bracus swung down from his mount even as Rowenna fell into place beside Maddoc. Bracus approached Maddoc and Evelyn rushed Bracus. “Do not, Bracus, he defends Clara,” her small hand landed on Bracus' huge forearm as he clenched his jaw in anger. He shook her hand off. “Not now, Evie,” he said, stepping around her. Clara watched as loose hands became fists on her brother as he saw Bracus dismiss Evie so readily. Then Evelyn made the fatal mistake and stood in front of Maddoc, her head reaching his chest.

  “Do not discipline him for reminding you that Clara has sound judgment. It matters not that she is female, she is clever beyond measure yet you dismiss her experience. For what? You are male and she is not?” She placed her hands on her hips and Maddoc said from behind her, “I do not need you fighting my battles for me. Step aside. If Bracus feels he can offer discipline to one that would remind him of sound conduct... let him come.”

  Bracus did.

  On a run.

  Clara slid off her horse to interfere and Matthew picked her up off the ground the instant she landed. “No, Clara. This be the way of it.”

  No! Clara screamed in her head. Do not let Bracus hurt her brother.

  Clara swung her head to Rowenna, who stood calmly beside Maddoc as the raging bull that Bracus was came for him.

  Were they mad? Clara thought, Matthew's hands securing her against him.

  Maddoc gently pushed Evelyn aside and when Bracus was nearly upon him he grabbed what he could and used Bracus' momentum against him, both males crashing to the ground and rolling on the snow, the crush of it underneath their bodies like shredded glass against flesh.

  They grappled and as Bracus went to strike the first blow, a bloodied and gray Philip broke through the woods, his body held in the steely embrace of Edwin, Briar Rose bringing them closer to the group.

  Edwin's grave eyes flicked to the group then to Clara's. She felt Matthew's hands loosen even as he sprinted to the horse.

  Bracus stood, the ruckus amongst males of the Band forgotten. His brother lay bleeding out on his mount.

  Edwin came off the horse and allowed Philip to slide slowly as Bracus and Matthew caught him gently on top of the bedroll that Clara had thought to bring.

  Rowenna scowled. He was wounded most oddly and by whom? Those thoughts were nary first before the second had struck her: where was the select and the half-breed, Daniel? She assimilated these facts in streaming moments of reason.

  “Bracus?” she called his name.

  Bracus was tearing the skin from the hasty dressing even as Matthew was getting fresh cloth from a battle kit they kept at the ready for just this sort of injury.

  “Yes?”

  “Where are Calia and Daniel?”

  Where indeed? Clara wondered.

  The silence stretched and Bracus' eyes met Edwin's. “Where is your sister?”

  “I know not.”

  Philip met Bracus' eyes, his were hazy with pain but steady. “She has been taken by the fragment I am sure. But not before she caused this injury to me.”

  Rowenna laughed. Philip's eyes shifted to hers, a frown taking residence in his features, mixing with the pain. “What has happened?”

  Philip haltingly told everyone the events of the woods, through the pain of being moved and having the wound cleaned with what they had available.

  Grapes. The nectar of the vine. As the flask was opened to provide sterilization to the wound, Clara raised her hand to cover her nose, her eyes meeting Matthew's. He knew what the smell meant to her. It was the very worst of memory triggers, transporting her to moments past that she never wished to revisit.

  Rowenna paced. “I do not find it amusing that you were stabbed. Only amusing you assume that a warrior of her caliber could not strike true when she was poised, out of the heat of battle. Think on it.”

  They did.

  Matthew strolled to where Philip was, having gone to stand beside Clara when she had the filth of her memories cover her momentarily. He looked down at his prone Bandmate. “Aye, she speaks true. Why would Calia wound you? Then leave?”

  Philip knew not. However... “Daniel was not taken as was she. I believe...” Dare he postulate and provide hope that may not be true? “She may be provided with some assistance from Daniel. Methinks the leader of the fragment thinks Daniel has been hiding amongst us in plain sight.”

  “As a traitor that we did not see?” Matthew asked.

  Philip nodded. “Tucker does not understand that Daniel is your kin. His greed and very nature have disallowed his introspection. He must believe that Daniel is an ally.”

  What part did Calia have in wounding him? Philip glowered, rising to a seated position. Blood loss and shock slipping away with the healing of the Band, he steadied himself against Briar Rose as he stood. He needed food.

  Bracus stood and looked at Maddoc. “Let us put aside our differences for th
e moment. If Philip but eats and sits atop Briar Rose for a time, he may be nearly well when we reach the sphere.”

  Clara thought it amazing. Even as she watched she saw color returning to Philip's face. Only a meal and a slow ride atop Bracus' steed would return him his full health? Surely not. But then she remembered the meadow from almost two years past and how he had the wound in his side which had left no scar. Perhaps it was possible. Her own injuries of late were healing in a way they never had in the past whilst in the tender care of Queen Ada.

  She shuddered and Matthew gave her a piercing stare of inquiry. Clara gave a subtle shake of her head in return. His stare turned to Philip. “Let us be on our way.”

  Rowenna stopped her frenetic pacing, her gaze swinging to Matthew. “We cannot leave a select unprotected! We must reacquire her.” Her eyes held accusation, flying from one to the other of the Band.

  Matthew shook his head. “I will not endanger Clara. As with all that are here and the health of the sphere to chase her. Daniel is there, we meet our brethren at the junction.”

  “Aye, we do?” Rowenna frowned.

  Bracus nodded. “I asked James to rendezvous with Sarah...” he trailed off, looking at the sun's position, low on the horizon, winter negating height, even at midday.

  Philip nodded, “'Tis true. There was a pigeon sent to Bowen and his nuclear clan. They will spare who they are able and meet us.”

  Clara's heart lightened. There would be more clan, they would scout for Calia and Daniel amongst the few of the fragment who remained. As a point-of-fact... “How many could there be, Bracus?” Clara asked, then continued before he could respond, “that young boy killed many...”

  “The sorcerer?” Matthew clarified.

  Clara nodded reluctantly, she felt there was something off in that description. Surely, his power to manipulate death was not natural, but was he a witch? She thought not. Clara had felt... he was brave and noble in his own way. His own world certainly very different than hers, but not insomuch he could not choose his own path.

  “I think it was thrilling, and timely indeed,” Evelyn commented.

  “I would not say it was exciting in the least but I was most happy for their excellent interference,” Maddoc agreed with reluctance.

  Philip grimaced as he mounted Briar Rose once again. “It matters not that she wounded me with intent. Calia is select and as such deserves due diligence.” His eyes swept those gathered, “However, I am not daft. I was not cognizant when they took her. I am without count. I know not if the fragment numbers fifty or five. Yet, I would take her with more Band at my back than less. Let us be about it.”

  Rowenna handed him the last of the pheasant, lightly salted for preservation and he tore the flesh from the leg, chewing slowly as he pressed his heels into Briar Rose's sides. She moved forward smoothly, navigating the slippery ground with care, her hooves shod with special shoes for the winter, an invention of Jonathan's.

  The Band followed, Evie and Clara on the other horse. The mood of the group having fallen into the pits of a limbo none were comfortable with. A female select taken by the fragment, her only shield one man who could claim only partial blood.

  Would it be enough? Time was more the enemy than the fragment.

  Or, would they come upon the pair in an embrace of post-torture culminating in their death?

  Clara moved forward, Matthew's sun-kissed hair within touching distance, the roll of the horse underneath her body an abiding comfort.

  If there be a female that could survive the attentions of the fragment it was she.

  Calia.

  ****

  Caleb's world

  “Come on, Archer,” Jonesy said looking around, his eyes two points of light in the darkness of one of the highest security buildings ever built.

  Graysheet territory, Caleb thought, his chest squeezing painfully with the knowledge of what they were doing.

  Archer looked at Jonesy. “Mark, this is a controlled environment, I can't rush things because of your anxiety.”

  “Oh for eff's sake, can it and get us in there!”

  Archer smiled, turning away and palmed the pulse-pad, his skill as a Lock-Manipulator unlocking whatever stood in his way.

  “Parker said the material would be here for us,” Caleb said, wishing Clyde was here to offer... back up or something. It was one of the first times Caleb could remember wanting a zombie around before they magically appeared at the worst times (or the best, depending on how ya look at it).

  The door slid open with a whisper, the circular metal pegs sliding away from the holes they'd been fitted into moments before. Archer, turned, his perfect face in profile. “We're in boys, let's get what we came for and leave.”

  “Good plan, Lewis,” John said, striding forward and entering the narrow opening, the door having slid open just wide enough to allow a single person through.

  “Don't like this creepy-ass place,” Jonesy muttered, sliding through the opening sideways, the door at least a foot thick of brushed stainless steel, glowing softly from the interior LED-fueled pulse lights, which backlit the work spaces.

  Caleb's eyes roamed the interior of the room. Then he found a file cabinet. It was built into the wall, of the same material as the door. In fact, the whole damn place was stainless.

  “These guys dig their metal,” Alex said from the back. Caleb turned to see him struggling through the door. He got stuck.

  “Nice, muscle-head,” Jonesy said and Alex shot him the bird from the one arm that wasn't jammed against the side. He laced his fingers together and flat-palmed the door, pushing slightly and it gave under his manual pressure, moving another foot. “Who the hell can fit through that!” he huffed and John scowled. “Quiet. Just because Parker gave us an engraved invitation to bring down the Graysheets doesn't mean we should ring the dinner bell.”

  Right, Caleb thought. He nodded. “Let's get that file and get outta here.”

  Archer went to the file cabinet and pressed his thumb into the pad. Apprehension washed his features. “They're going to know I was here,” he said, staring at his hand.

  “Nah,” John said and approached Archer. “Here, let me,” and he put his thumb over the top of Lewis'. They had their thumbs stacked on the pulse-lock when everyone heard the internal tumblers move, sliding against each other and releasing their hold.

  The file cabinet popped open.

  Archer looked at John. “What... did you?”

  “Yes,” John sighed. “It's my first illegal act.” He looked into Caleb's eyes. “It better be worth it.”

  Caleb nodded. “Listen, pal, we get the goods on the Graysheets, save the dome world and find out whether we've got donkey DNA...”

  “Monkey, dipshit,” Jonesy said without a trace of humor.

  Caleb smiled. “Yeah, whatever; genes we shouldn't have.”

  “Too late now,” Alex said, flexing the huge muscles of his arm, preternaturally strong from his genes.

  “But it's time we do something other that reacting to these morons. We don't want them perpetuating their bullshit on any more kids.”

  “Biggish word for you Hart,” Archer noted.

  Caleb winked. “I have my moments. Besides, I've worked really hard to distract everyone from the fact I'm the genome scientist's kid.”

  The Js rolled their eyes. “You can't hide brains, Hart.” Jonesy said.

  “And you can't fix stupid,” Alex added.

  “But people keep trying,” John remarked, puzzled.

  “There is that,” Archer agreed, reaching into the file cabinet to extract the file, its credit-card size perfect for their purposes.

  It read: Genetic Integration Project- Zondorae.

  Caleb pulled the fake out of his pocket, handing it to Archer. He grasped it smoothly and slid it into the glass slot marked with a G.

  “That seems too easy,” John said, palming his chin.

  “Yeah,” Caleb said.

  “That's okay, some chaotic shit will spr
ing up and take out our gonads, guys. It's inevitable.”

  “So cheery, Mark,” Archer said dryly.

  Jonesy scowled at him. “You haven't been part of the group long enough to know how things go, Archer.”

  “I'm getting that.”

  Alex clapped Archer on the back and he took two involuntary steps forward. “There's time.”

  The group smiled as they left the facility.

  Caleb turned around once, noting the building was a big square block of reflective glass, no sign, incognito.

  No one would know it housed government secrets and that a bunch of teens were trying to save them from themselves.

  From their experiments based on greed and exploit.

  The Graysheets were consistent as hell.

  But so were they.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Clara's world

  Lyle's eyes flicked to Daniel. He didn't have a sense of him. Tucker had said on occasion he was good in a battle. But in trading, he'd remained quiet, letting Tucker negotiate.

  He wasn't important, Lyle decided. Damn, he'd have to share the golden-haired select. She'd be a feisty one too. He gingerly touched his face, grimacing at the soft contact.

  The bitch had broken his nose. He hadn't seen it coming. She fought like a male but was built like a woman.

  He grinned, the motion brought a fresh stab of pain.

  Decision made, Lyle motioned half of his group to stay behind. It'd take two to hold that one down. Maybe... if Daniel knew what was good for him, he'd get his turn with the female too? If they didn't put too many marks on her, and they were quick with it, Tucker need not know.

  These thoughts flew through his brain in moments as he stepped forward, two of the fragment that he could depend upon for the rape and abuse of females already with him.

  Calia knew the look on the fragment's face even if she had not seen evidence of his plans in his nethermost region. She knew enough to understand Daniel would not partake in this abuse. But were they enough against three? She took in their bearing and her gut knotted. They were of the largest specimens of the fragment. Sometimes, nay... mostly, she would be fortunate when she incapacitated or killed men of the fragment, nary bigger than her. Unfortunately, they be of mixed lineage, making the consequence inconsistent. They were not large like the Band but bigger and stronger than her.