The Savage Blood (Savage Series, Book 2)

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  She dropped her gaze, her breathing picking up again. If she did not regain control of herself this moment she would be unconscious and at the mercy of this insane man.

  Dear Guardian? What to do? Who were these people that Frederic spoke of? Where was the Band?

  Then they came out of the trees like insects, swarming about she and Frederic like a black plague.

  Fragment.

  She knew who they were without much inspection. The disheveled appearance, the lack of women. They had a different appearance than the clan-dwellers or the sphere-dwellers.

  One small girl struggled in the arms of a tall man in the middle.

  Evelyn.

  Dear Guardian no. Clara slumped in Prince Frederic's arms. Could nothing be salvaged?

  Evelyn struggled violently, flailing and working out a way to bite when the man casually cuffed her and she bleated out a scream that echoed in the meadow.

  She held her head where he had hit her and glared up at him. He petted her like feisty livestock that he had disciplined.

  Evelyn's gaze locked with Clara's. Her eyes were sorry and hopeless and Clara sighed.

  Another man came forward and addressed Charles, “Is this the girl?” Clara noticed his speech immediately, definitely fragment.

  Charles nodded. “My future queen.”

  “Ah-huh, whatever you say.”

  Frederic's eyes narrowed upon him. “She is queen of all in the Kingdom of Ohio, heathen. You best remember that.”

  He smiled in a chilling way. “We don't follow your ridiculous code of royalty, prince,” he grated out, his enunciation clipped and harsh. “We only want what you've promised us.” He wore strange clothing fashioned like breeches but of a soft blue material. Clara could not take her eyes off of it.

  “Like what ya see?” he said to Clara directly and she blushed fiercely, embarrassed. “Look at her, so innocent. She'll be fun to play with.”

  “You shall not have her. She is not part of the agreement. But the other women are yours as promised.”

  “What?” Clara turned to him horrified.

  “Do not fret, my beautiful flower.” Clara cringed from his touch.

  “How dare you promise our women to these...people!” Clara spat at him, her fury overriding all sense of self-preservation.

  Clara realized too late her error as his fist connected with her face. She flew the few feet backward, landing at the feet of the man that had addressed Frederic.

  He crouched down beside her. “It seems to me that we'll have exactly what we want. Now that we have the precious royal, the kingdom is ours.” He moved her face to one side then the other and she yelped when he laid his hand upon the side that Frederic had hit.

  “You did not tell me she was of savage blood?” he asked Frederic.

  “She is not savage. She is royal, fool,” Frederic said, exasperated, crossing his arms across his chest.

  He shook his head. “I know one of the savages when I see one. She is of savage descent.”

  Charles looked at Clara, prone on the ground then smiled. “Is this possible, Tart?” Clara shook her head, not understanding all this talk of savages. Her head ringing from the blow.

  “See, she knows not of which you speak. Her mother, now deceased,” Prince Frederic smiled, relishing in the memory of her demise, “was also of royal blood, from the Kingdom of West Virginia. King Raymond's line is royal to the Kingdom of Ohio. Are you daft? Have I not thoroughly explained the lineage?”

  The man glowered then said, “She is savage and I'll prove it.”

  He drug Clara to her feet and she swayed, looking frantically at any that may rescue her. The men stared at her with various expressions on their faces. None were good.

  “We will go to the river and I will prove to you what she is.” His hand encircled her upper arm and he drug her after him. She stumbled, still dizzy from the blow and the procession followed after him.

  He was rough with her, disregarding her as a female utterly as she allowed herself to be drug to the river's edge. The noise of it overwhelming their strange speech as they spoke amongst themselves. The water rushed over the stones and deep pools of water vibrated, fish that were foreign to Clara hopping and frolicking in the depths.

  “What, pray tell, do you propose to show us, Tucker?”

  What sort of a name was that? Clara wondered.

  He wrapped his fist into her hair and used it like a handle, shaking her and she screamed despite herself.

  “You are hurting her!” Evelyn screamed and was slapped for her trouble.

  “Are all the women like this?” another male asked, looking critically at Evelyn.

  Frederic looked to her, then at Clara. “Most are not as spirited but these two appear to be very much alike in that regard.” He folded his arms across his chest.

  Tucker looked at Frederic in triumph. “Another attribute of the dreaded savages. The temperament is obstinate.”

  He smiled evilly at Clara and drug her to the water's edge, announcing, “Through this river saltwater runs at its mouth. If she is of pure enough blood, she does not require air!”

  His grip became unbearable for Clara, tightening mercilessly and she was plunged into the icy water face first, taking a small breath at the last moment.

  She could hear muffled arguing, even though the water was muting the sounds. She opened her eyes, her lungs beginning to burn with the need for oxygen. She struggled and found another hand clamped to her back, she bucked and fought, her need for air her only thought.

  She opened her mouth and the water dove into the recesses of her mouth and lungs, filling her. Her vision began to dance and swim before her.

  She was drowning.

  Suddenly a searing fire began in her throat, different than the burning of her lungs. Deep gashes licked their fire like stripes along the planes of her throat. The pain so fierce she forgot her fight. She drew in more water and as she did the flesh of her throat burst apart, slashes opening and precious oxygen filled her body. She gulped greedily as her body righted itself.

  Clara was torn out of the water by her hair, her body arching at an uncomfortable angle, her back pressed against her captor.

  It was Evelyn's eyes that she looked into first. They were shocked and wide, trained on her face.

  On her neck.

  Prince Frederic took a shocked step back and pointed at her. “You are a monster, an abomination!” he stuttered.

  It was at that moment that her body rejected the water that had been forced inside her. She spewed the water out of her mouth. A geyser that evacuated her in a noxious stream and she was released to fall to the muddy riverside, her fingers biting into the moist bank.

  She opened her eyes, dry heaving at the waterline. The calm waves lapping quietly in front of her.

  Clara looked at her reflection.

  She had gills.

  Beautiful, shell pink gills adorned the sides of her neck, delicate slashes that opened slightly with her breathing.

  She fainted.

  CHAPTER 8

  Clara was moving rhythmically. At first, she did not know where she was and opened her eyes slowly. As her vision adjusted she was looking at the ground, upside down.

  She was on horseback.

  All the memories rushed back to her, assaulting her consciousness. She was as the Band, yet not. She had gills. She breathed underwater. She had been captured by the fragment who were in collusion with Prince Frederic.

  Even now they made their way back to her home sphere to capture the women and do Guardian knows what.

  Her hands were bound as were her ankles.

  “She's awake!” the man she recognized as Tucker bellowed to someone beyond her line of sight.

  A male of the fragment came running alongside the horse and said to Tucker, “Stop, you jack ass!”

  Tucker slowed the horse, then stopping, swung down from his mount. Clara craned her head to the right to see them in conversation, the sore side of her face prote
sting against the horse's flank.

  “We need to keep her alive, Tucker. That fool of a prince thinks that you'll keep to the bargain. Question the girl and kill that idiot as soon as we get to their sphere.” He planted his hands on his hips and Clara took in their strange attire of blue breeches and strange shirts which buttoned almost to the throat, leaving the hollow exposed. They spoke strangely and were clothed just as strangely.

  “Don't tell me you give a crap about this girl. That you're feeling sorry for her?”

  “No, Tucker. But think of the information we need to infiltrate their sphere. I want to get in and get out. Take the women, raid their goods. That's our strength; numbers and speed.”

  “You do not have integrity, that much is clear,” Clara said in a low voice from her vulnerable position on the horse.

  Tucker came and jerked her off the horse by her wrists, letting her fall to the soft grass of the prairie. “Shut up, Princess,” he raised his fist and she looked at him defiantly. He would not break her with his abuse. She had had enough and would not be cowed again.

  The other stayed his hand mid-swing. “Even you shouldn't beat a woman bound. Beside,” he looked at Clara in a speculative way that caused unease to rear its head again, “she may be of some value later. How many are like her? She may be quite unique...” he let it trail off and Tucker's fist fell. Clara gave a relieved exhale of the breath she had not realized she held.

  The other male of the fragment gently picked her up and cut the ties which bound her as Frederic bound up beside them. “Why do you untie her?”

  “She's awake now. Tucker wants to get some answers, Frederic.”

  “Prince Frederic to you,” he corrected.

  The other male narrowed his eyes on him. “I'm not playing that game, Fred. You need us. So shut up and go along for the ride.”

  Frederic huffed, “Which ride? Do not speak in riddles you imbecile. Speak plainly so we may all understand.”

  Tucker sighed. “Daniel, remember...1890.”

  “Huh. What I'm saying is we're in charge here and you will do it our way until we get to the sphere, then you can negotiate. Do you understand that? Clear enough for ya?”

  Frederic glared at him, then looked at Clara. Finally, he said, “I understand you do not communicate properly and it underscores my assumptions about your intellect in a most satisfying way.”

  “What does all that mean, Prince?” Daniel asked.

  “He's saying you're stupid,” Tucker restated.

  Frederic smiled. “Very good as translations go, Tucker.”

  Daniel's fists clenched and a vein throbbed at his temple. “I think it'll be lesson time for you soon, Fred.”

  “Prince Frederic,” Frederic repeated.

  Daniel moved toward the prince and Tucker interceded with a hand on his chest. “Humor him. Soon, we will make arrangements that make everyone agreeable. Right?” he looked into Daniel's eyes significantly and Clara was instantly afraid.

  “Right, Tucker. Fine, Prince Frederic,” Daniel said.

  “I am so pleased you see reason,” Frederic said.

  Daniel glowered and turned on his heel, walking off with Tucker. He left Clara in the company of Prince Frederic which was not much better.

  The prince met her eyes and she backed away until her back was against the horse.

  “Do not be so, Clara. If you would but comply, I would not have to be so harsh in my treatment.” He shrugged his shoulders reasonably.

  “The facts remain, Prince Frederic, that you are my mother's killer and my attempted rapist,” Clara watched his face darken but went on where she should not have, “Not to mention the beatings that you administered so thoroughly in the past. Forgive me if I take pause,” Clara said sarcastically, the flat of her palm resting on the mount behind her.

  Frederic approached and she shrunk further against the horse who neighed nervously, stamping its hooves. The prince's eyes flicked to the horse and Clara understood he was nervous around horses. Interesting indeed.

  She moved subtly about the rear of the horse, keeping her hand on the animal so it would not be startled by her presence as Bracus had taught her. She had an idea forming.

  As she moved, the prince followed with a puzzled expression painting his face. “Come here! You will see reason. Mayhap something can be salvaged as those revolting gills disappear when you are not immersed in water,” he said conversationally.

  Presently, the absence or not of her gills were of little concern. Surviving was. And she was certain that she would not survive with extended exposure with the likes of Frederic.

  She turned and ran, swatting the rump of the beast as she passed. As she had hoped, it flung its hind leg backward just as Prince Frederic raced to capture her, landing a hoof squarely in his chest and he flew backwards, the wind momentarily knocked out of his body. Clara ran, her copper hair streaming behind her.

  Daniel looked up and saw the princess running and Tucker's mount charging away. What in the blue hell? Where did she think she was going?

  He signaled to a few of the others and they closed in around her.

  Daniel was struck again by her fragile beauty. She was a tiny thing, huge, sea-colored eyes in a lovely heart-shaped face and deep red hair. It shined like burnished copper. He jogged to where the men tried to find a place to hold onto her that she wouldn't kick them.

  He would have her for himself.

  That stupid prince was nothing but a wolf in sheep's clothing. He loathed Tucker, hated his existence amongst the fragment. Why did he have to atone for the sins of his ancestors?

  They'd better figure it out soon. Even though their number was at forty, it would take only a handful of their Band to put a hurt upon them all.

  She was shrieking, “Unhand me!”

  Her fear pierced him and he shoved it aside, knowing to bury any sign of weakness or his brethren would be upon him like vultures.

  “Let her go! She won't go anywhere.” He gestured about him to the open prairie. The forest border to the north.

  “You! Go get Tucker's damn horse,” he told Robert who shot off after the horse. Daniel noticed the prince lay still in a very unroyal-like heap a dozen yards away and he chuckled. He saw the princess' eyes narrow on him.

  She tore her arm out of the grasp of one of his men and said, “There is nothing that is remotely humorous at present.”

  Fascinating speech, Daniel thought. It was as if he was living a slice of history. He had heard about the sphere-dwellers but had never had the experience in the flesh. She was beautiful, her whole demeanor on fire. He felt something integral slip in that moment, her eyes regarded him like startled jewels in her face.

  He inhaled deeply, exhaling on a rush, collecting himself. “Did you cause Tucker's mount to strike Fred?”

  Clara had to control her expression, his use of the nickname so unexpected she almost laughed in the midst of her anger. The foolish nickname somehow suited the prince and she found herself critically appraising this man of the fragment. He seemed somewhat different in a way she could not pinpoint.

  “I engineered it,” she admitted, waiting for an unknown punishment.

  He took a step nearer and she fought not to move back from his advance.

  He saw the subtle flinching of her eyes and stood his ground. “Why?”

  She looked to either side at the male that still held one arm. Darrel's eyes flicked to him and he dropped them. She smoothed out her wrinkled blouse and straightened her spine. “He has brought me much harm. I cannot be in his company,” she answered simply.

  That is not what the prince had relayed to them when he was found half-starved and wandering aimlessly Outside. As a point of fact, Tucker had taken a liking to him right away. Daniel hadn't. There was something off about him. Something beside his inflated opinion of himself.

  “Tell me,” Daniel said, brooking no argument.

  Clara did. When she hesitated over Frederic's attempt to rape her in the well of the sphere
she looked up at Daniel, expecting lasciviousness but found a glimmer of compassion instead.

  Daniel became angrier with each successive tale that built one on top of the other. The prince was far more than a bad seed.

  He was crazier than a loon. A violent offender. The likes of which were common amongst the fragment.

  Another thing to thank the Travelers for, he thought with an abiding anger.

  Robert returned with Tucker's horse's reins in his hand, sweaty and out of breath. “What a hassle,” he said, wiping a hand on his forehead.

  Clara's brow shot up.

  He saw her puzzlement. “It was difficult to get the horse.”

  She crossed her arms. Their strange way of talking was almost another language. She would have to be about paying close attention.

  “Okay, so no excessive time with Fred,” Daniel said

  Clara felt the corners of her mouth turn up and put a hand to cover her smile and Daniel saw the gesture and grinned at her.

  She could not believe that any humor could be found in this horrible situation but at least one of the fragment was not terrible. Her eyes immediately sought Tucker, her scalp still stinging from proving her savage.

  Mayhap her status as select was not such a mystery after all. It may be as simple as being savage.

  Being of savage blood.

  Clara instinctively looked to the forest's edge. Where was the Band? They were not amongst the dead. The Royal Guard of her sphere dead. A dreadful sadness stole inside her heart with the knowledge that more of her people were dead. Charles had been more right than she had believed.

  Mayhap staying in the sphere, the mystery of her lineage a permanent unsolved puzzle piece would have been better than the predicament she found herself in.?

  Daniel followed her eyes as they traveled the forest border. What was she looking for so diligently? The fragment had found only her guards, now dead, and the one that she called Charles. His unease grew as he studied her expression, laced with a melancholy edge.

  He would find out more about her. After all, they had many days before they reached her home sphere.