The Death Series, Books 1-3 (Dark Dystopian Paranormal Romance): Death Whispers, Death Speaks, and Death Inception

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  Matthew lowered the sphere-dweller to the pasture grass, his face beet red and gasping for breath.

  Charles put a hand to his throat as he backed away, Clarence behind him. He looked at the other savages, who watched him warily but not aggressively. After all, apparently one of them was all that would have been needed to dispatch the both of them. Good Guardian, they were strong.

  Clara looked up into Matthew's fierce eyes, and she kept staring, seeing a softening around the edges. Finally, his shoulders relaxed, he lowered the dagger to his side, and she let her fingers trail down his chest then away.

  “He is my dearest friend... I must... I wish to go to him.”

  Matthew's heart raced, and he clenched the dagger until the hilt creaked in his hand.

  Clara saw the wildness start to creep back into his gaze and quickly said, “Just for a time.”

  Matthew looked at Charles and nodded reluctantly, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Clara began walking backward, keeping her eyes locked on Matthew and all the Band. Bracus was looking at her most strangely. It was up to her to defuse things. She had ample practice.

  Turning, she threw her arms around Charles. Her relief and love for him was a cloak of intense comfort that she shrugged on, wrapping herself in its embrace.

  Charles had never felt a moment of more intense joy than when he held Clara in his arms once more. Unshed tears of relief burned his eyes, and he held them in check by the barest thread. He breathed deeply, smelling the strange freshness that was Outside: sweat, fresh earth, and beneath it all, his Clara. He stroked her hair and murmured those things you say when you wish someone you hold dear to feel safe.

  Fat tears chased each other down Clara’s face. She cried and laughed, hugging him with such abandon and delight that the Band sheathed their swords. Bracus and Matthew both stared at them with a mixture of irritation and unhappiness.

  He cupped her face. “You look well, my Clara.” His gaze roved over the healing marks upon her face.

  She nodded. “Aye, as well as I can be,” she said through laughter and tears.

  Charles saw that her lovely eyes were healed, the swelling completely gone. Only the horrible bruise in a kaleidoscope of faded green and yellow remained. He could not help his frown, laying a tender finger, the touch of which reminded Clara of when Matthew touched her the same way. But it had been different, very different indeed.

  She backed away, suddenly uncomfortable... aware.

  “It heals,” Clara said dismissively.

  Charles nodded, not wanting her out of his embrace but allowing her distance.

  Clara noticed Clarence for the first time and felt acutely embarrassed. She nodded to him. “Clarence, it is good of you to accompany Charles.”

  He shrugged glancing at the savages, eyes guarded. “Greetings, Princess.” He bowed.

  She curtseyed in her ruined clothing, feeling ridiculous but absolutely compelled to reciprocate.

  Matthew watched in fascination as Clara seemed to become another person. She seemed confident, regal. Perhaps, when she was not being kidnapped and assaulted, she was able to just be who she was.

  Clara became aware of an awkwardness. Everyone in the meadow was battle-weary and beleaguered. She must introduce them. She was the only one who knew both peoples. She must form an alliance in this unlikely place. Their president had said she would serve as a liaison of sorts. Clara frowned, thinking of what awaited her in the sphere. She was not sure that she was the best representative. She shoved those thoughts aside. She looked from Charles and Clarence to the Band. Then her eyes took on the battlefield with bodies of the fragment lying about, lethargic flies buzzing above them for an easy meal.

  Charles followed her gaze and saw the corpses. Violence clung to the meadow, and the metallic smell of blood was everywhere he breathed.

  “What happened here?” Charles asked, and Clarence grunted behind him.

  Charles turned to Clarence, who spread his hands wide. “It is not obvious?” Charles rolled his eyes. Clarence was always rash with his words.

  “Yes, I see the dead. I wish to know why, dolt.”

  Clara covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. It was too somber by far to engage in a giggling fit when they were knee deep in the presence of the dead.

  She looked at the Band, and Bracus nodded once, as if giving permission.

  She began recounting the whole of it, leaving out why she had come to be in this place.

  “So, let me rephrase this Princess.” Clarence paused, pacing a short distance back and forth, tramping down the longish grass in the field. “You found yourself here with these savages, then this fragment appeared and they sought to kill you. Why?”

  Clara corrected Clarence quickly, “They call themselves clan.”

  “Yes, we are not savages, but we can be savage.” A look of vague humor slid into place on Bracus’s face.

  Charles looked around. “We see the evidence.”

  Bracus narrowed his eyes tensely, humor gone.

  “They are a faction of people....” Clara stumbled to explain. She still felt that she knew so little. The clan, fragment, it was all so new.

  Matthew began where she faltered, stepping forward. “They take our women, our meat... anything that we do not guard, they scavenge.”

  James nodded, adding, “They speak not as we do and war with one another, gaining nothing. They are fools and cowards.”

  “They are more than that.” Jacob inclined his head in Clara's direction, bringing her torn clothes to light once again.

  Charles’s face darkened, becoming grim. “Why were you outside the clan then, unprotected? Why was this young girl here abused?”

  Charles tore through his knapsack, finally finding what he was looking for and wrapping it in his large hand. Raising it above his head, he said loudly, “You have taken something most precious to the people of our sphere, kept her from us, then allowed her in harm's way with a people less sophisticated than even you. How dare you!” His breathing sounded harsh while he leaned forward. The veins of his temples pulsated with his anger.

  All eyes swiveled to the crown that glittered in his hand, pearls and Alexandrites winking in the brilliant, late afternoon light. He slowly lowered it, looking in each face. “This is not a game to us. We endeavor to escape something that is beyond our control and the Princess has gone from one untenable and dangerous circumstance into one which appears worse.” He threw a hand disdainfully toward Clara's blouse.

  Clara closed the loose cloth with one hand and turned to Charles. In a low, ringing voice she said, “That is enough Charles. They do not mean harm. They have done their best, hacking out an existence in the belly of their enemies. I was simply caught in the center of it.”

  She searched his face, and he looked back at her. “We must go, Clara. Somewhere safe for all, away from this.” Charles opened his arms wide.

  “I do not think that is wise,” Clarence said, looking at the Band. Clarence sensed that any movement in the wrong direction would disrupt the harmony he sensed hanging from the thinnest of threads.

  Evelyn walked slowly to Clara, slipping a hand in hers. Clara smiled at the young girl. She squeezed her hand with encouragement, thinking that there were some things that were precious and that the sphere was only one thing of many, that there were things bigger than she at work here and her sphere.

  She looked back at the Band who were glaring at Charles and said, “Their President... their leader, President Bowen...”

  “They have no King?” Clarence asked.

  “Quiet, run-the-mouth, let her finish!” Charles said, making Clarence huff and resume pacing.

  Clara smiled. “My taking was a planned event.”

  The men looked at her, mouths agape. “They were not simply passerby, taking an opportunity that presented itself?” Charles asked, looking at the Band from a different perspective, yet again.

  Clara shook her head.

  Bracus said, “The Princess wa
s a choice. We wished—we hoped—she would be a liaison of sorts between our peoples. We needed to make peaceable contact and begin a negotiation. She seemed a good choice.” He rolled his massive shoulders into a shrug.

  Clarence said, “Peaceable, really? Is this peaceable.”

  James laughed. “Perchance he makes sense, Captain.”

  Matthew grunted. “The best laid plans...”

  “Run amuck...” Jacob finished.

  Philip bellowed from his perch on the ground, “Be a good nursemaid, and fetch me another pull of water!”

  Jacob raised his eyebrows. “Duty beckons.” He maneuvered around the corpses and went to Philip. Words such as “nag,” and “simpleton” could be heard. Clara was sure, had Philip been well and standing, there would have been a great deal more interchange of the physical variety.

  “Let us take care of the dead,” Bracus said. “Afterward, we will make a camp and speak more on this.

  Charles's temper seemed to have cooled sufficiently enough to lend a hand. Clara and Evelyn walked to the edge of the forest. She found a mossy area where they could sit. It was most obvious that Evelyn was desperate for some feminine contact, and certainly Clara was. They sat down and began to talk in earnest.

  Clarence and Charles helped haul each member of the fragment away from the border of the forest.

  That got him thinking. “Where are the two Band that I saw leave the clan?” Clarence deposited one body on top of another. It had deep, slashing gouges, which allowed intestines to protrude like glistening worms laying open and shining in the glaring light of the day.

  He used the back of his forearm to wipe sweat off his brow, mindful not to touch himself with hands that handled death.

  James looked across the body at the pair. “Who?”

  “Two males, like you.” Charles pointed at the gills on James’s throat.

  A puzzled expression came over his face. “Captain!” he called, never looking away from Charles.

  Bracus strode over. “What say you?”

  “He said...” His eyebrows raised.

  “Charles,” Clarence said.

  “Charles said...” he nodded, continuing, “that two of the Band left our stronghold some hours past.”

  Bracus's eyebrows met as one. That meant there was trouble and the clan was unprotected. He said as much and the other man, Clarence, spoke, intuiting his expression.

  “They were speaking with a short, stout man, who said there was other Band?”

  “It did not sound as if they were alarmed.”

  “Stephen and Joseph?” James asked.

  Bracus nodded. Why would they feel compelled to leave the clan in the first place? They disobeyed a direct order of protection? It did not make sense. Again Bracus wondered why Matthew and Clara had come to be here. He would get to the bottom of this puzzle just as soon as they were done with the grisly clean up. The wildlife would smell the perfume of death and come this night, scavenging all. He wished to be far from this place before that occurred.

  Bracus glanced to where Evelyn and Clara huddled together and thought of his body’s response to her. He knew that somehow, rare as it was, she was a select. That greatly complicated things. His eyes sought and found Matthew, throwing another body on a second pile of fragment. Mayhap he had been overcome in some way.

  “Captain?” Jacob broke into his thoughts. Then he heard it, horses.

  What now? Deep in thought, Bracus had all but missed the upcoming threat.

  He whipped his head around and saw with satisfaction that Matthew was sprinting toward the females.

  Charles wondered what all the fuss was about, alarmed when he saw the huge male race toward Clara and the girl with golden hair. Charles squinted, and there it was, movement through the forest.

  He heard Clarence exclaim, “Dammit all to Hades.”

  Yes, that was about perfect.

  As the deep purple of the royal flag of the Kingdom of Ohio came into view, Charles’s heart sunk in his chest. The Queen was here. She had followed them Outside.

  Bracus stayed where he was, scanning his men, eyes sharp and ready. They looked at him for direction, and he made an elaborate circle with his finger. Philip rose unsteadily to his feet. Hand at his side, he covered his dressings as he walked slowly to where Bracus stood.

  “Brother, who comes?”

  Bracus shook his head, but Clarence responded, “Our Queen.”

  Philip and Bracus looked curiously at him for his tone was not one of reverence, but one of weary resignation.

  Charles said, “She will wish Clara's return.”

  “Of course. And she shall have it, but not without a space of time to negotiate. This is fortuitous that your Queen is here. We can begin peaceable negotiations now, and Clara can assist in this,” Bracus said.

  Clarence barked out a laugh, and Bracus frowned.

  “Why do you laugh? What is funny here, sphere-dweller?” Philip said with gravel in his voice, thinking Clarence made a joke at their expense.

  “He does not think there will be negotiations with Queen Ada,” Charles said.

  “Why?” Bracus asked.

  “Queen Ada negotiates with no one,” Clarence said.

  Bracus looked at the entourage breaking into the meadow. An elegantly made copper staff with a deep violet flag flew stoutly and was held by a guard. The outline of the sphere was etched into the rich material of the flag. His excellent vision could just make out the symbol of one of their strange sea creatures in the center. His frown deepened.

  “Is she contrary in nature? Is that what you imply? Speak quickly, as I must know how to proceed,” Bracus commanded.

  “She is our monarch. That is all the explanation that we may give you,” Charles responded.

  “Worry not. You will know much inside the first five minutes spent in her company.” Clarence spat out the last word like spoiled food.

  Bracus became uneasy. He did not sense the easy loyalty that the Band shared with President Bowen in the sphere-dwellers’ attitude toward their Queen. It was confounding. He had found Clara to be pleasant and of amicable disposition after she became aware of their purpose.

  The Band spread out in the meadow, and Matthew returned to the group with Clara and Evelyn, while the Queen and her guard stood on the forest's edge.

  They formed a loose circle and watched as the Queen moved toward them. The Band unsheathed their daggers as one, the smooth sound of metal sang in the silent meadow.

  *

  Henry saw the group of five fierce warriors, standing about Princess Clara. Two of the sphere's subjects he had known their entire lives. The troublemaker, now one of his guard, although only a tunnel sentry, Clarence and Charles, companion to the Princess. This was going bad quickly, he thought for the hundredth time. His eyes sharpened as he noticed the daggers in the hands of the savages. The way they held them spoke of easy grace and much use. Henry swallowed a nervous lump in his throat and forged ahead.

  The Queen spied Clara standing like the coward she was in the midst of the strange savages. Ada took them in. Now these were men, real men. Her mouth watered slightly. Ada narrowed her eyes on Clara, taking in the disheveled hair. Her gaze fixed on the torn bodice and blood that covered her upper body. What had happened here? What had the stupid girl gotten herself wrapped up in? No matter, the Queen thought, she would return with the wretched girl, and after she’d been cleaned and scoured, they would determine if she had been defiled. Hmm, the Queen pondered, she had better be pure. She wanted nothing to impact the treaty.

  All of this went through the Queen's drunken fog in seconds as they neared the group, and the horse stopped. She rose unsteadily from her cocoon as if she was in her royal throne room. Purposeful, determined, vital. She would have everything she wished, savages or no.

  She was Queen Ada, reigning monarch of the Kingdom of Ohio. She straightened to her full height.

  Henry hurried over to assist their Queen, but she shot him such a withering t
hat he halted in his tracks.

  Bracus looked at the strange contraption. A half-egg assembly filled with voluminous pillows and a lantern of some kind which hissed with steam, the soft light catching the colors of the cushions within, metallic copper thread a light of its own.

  Ada's First Guard hovered around her elbow, a hammered body armor of some lightweight metal was strung together with leather that ran the length of his torso, armpit to waist. Bracus immediately searched for entry spots in the guard’s armor. He had never fought in a war in which his enemy wore armor. It was disquieting. He could sense the Band searching as he was.

  Clara looked to her side. She was not quite alone. Evelyn squeezed her hand. Clara refocused on the Queen. Rising from her moving throne she stood facing the group as Henry, First Royal Guard, stood loyally at her side. Clara felt sick, she wished to never see Ada again as the Queen gazed upon her with such lack of compassion and concern. Clara admitted, if only to herself, it was crushing to her spirit.

  “Clara,” Queen Ada began, ignoring the Band as if they weren't there.

  Clara curtsied. “Yes, my Queen.”

  “You look terrible. Are you without pride?” Her stare pierced marrow and bone.

  Clara swallowed her despair. No question as to the blood and marks of battle.

  “I... I was a part of a....”

  Matthew was suddenly behind her, and Clara struggled not to show open relief. Only years of training enabled Clara to obscure her emotions.

  Ada flicked her eyes to the huge male who came to stand behind Clara. Most curious, the Queen thought. He lingered about the girl. His whole being seemed poised to take on whoever dared go near her. Ada paused. She did not like this male. He was entirely too concerned over Clara. That would not do. Then her eyes took in Charles, to the left of Clara. She scowled. That dreadful young man was like a weed that came up over and over in the same spot in the hot house. He would need to be dealt with as well. And Clarence. Her scowl deepened. He had obviously been behind the escape from the beginning. Traitor. So be it. Queen Ada liked to solve problems. Why King Raymond never saw the logic of her precepts was beyond her. He was soft. She had always known that of him.