by L. S. O'Dea
Jason spoke but Jethro’s mind couldn’t process the words. All he heard was his heart pounding. All he smelled was his own fear and excitement from the crowd. The faces became a sea of images. He found Indy again and focused on his friend and then there was pain. Excruciating pain as the nine knots hit his back. His mouth opened, but he held back the scream as the crowd gasped. Another lash fell and his muscles bunched and twitched. His knees gave out, leaving him hanging by his arms. His body twisted, trying to dodge the whip but there was no escape as another lash hit and another. He fought the blackness that called to him, promising freedom from the fire on his back. He couldn’t pass out. He wouldn’t pass out. He stared at Indy—anger, sadness and disgust marred the Guard’s handsome features. Another lash landed and another, the pain never ceasing, just surging through him in wave after wave. He gritted his teeth. He didn’t deserve this. He’d done nothing wrong. He hadn’t forced her. He’d loved her and she’d betrayed him.
Anger flared in him, overcoming the pain. The crowd gasped again as he grabbed the cord tying his hands and pulled himself up until he no longer hung from his restraints but stood straight and tall—hatred and power surging through him. He looked at the crowd, curling his lips in a snarl as he stared down his enemies. Those closest backed away. The lashes continued to land and they continued to hurt, but that wasn’t important. Only his vengeance mattered. As soon as he was free, he’d kill the Grunt who whipped him and anyone he could catch. He scanned the crowd, choosing his prey. His eyes stopped on the professor. Him. Conguise would be the first to die.
The professor watched with a look of pride on his narrow face. Conguise’s gaze met his and the professor took a small step backward, his face paling before he turned and left. Jethro jerked on his restraints. His prey was escaping. He yanked again, but the cords were tied tight. The crowd murmured and those closest moved backward a little more. The lashes continued as he stared after Conguise’s retreating form until it disappeared. It didn’t matter. He knew where the professor lived.
Someone stepped close and started unhooking his hands. The whipping had stopped but the pain still throbbed through his body. Blood was in the air and he wanted to kill someone. The professor was gone but the Grunt was still there. He’d have his vengeance on someone today. His hands dropped to his sides and his knees buckled from the pain in his shoulders and arms—the pain of freedom. He tried to turn and attack the Grunt, but his body refused to obey. Rex and Indy lifted him under his arms, careful not to touch his back, but the movement pulled at his skin and darkness once again threatened. He couldn’t pass out. Not yet. He wasn’t safe. His enemies still surrounded him. The other Guards moved forward, making an opening through the crowd. He leaned on Rex and Indy as they led him to a waiting carriage.
“You did good,” said Rex. “I’ve never seen anyone walk away.”
His legs were like jelly but he was walking, trying to keep his head high. The Guards helped him into the carriage, placing him on his stomach. Indy handed him a bottle of whiskey and he tipped it to his lips, swallowing in great gulps. A lot of it ran down his face and chin as the carriage took off, but he didn’t care. It’d take the edge off the pain.
“We’ll be home soon,” said Indy.
He had no idea where home was, but anywhere would do. His fear and anger had subsided, leaving only agony. He wanted to sleep, to die, anything to get away from this hurt. The carriage stopped. He handed the bottle to Indy and tried to stand. A groan escaped his lips.
“Get his arms,” said Rex.
Indy dropped the bottle and grabbed his top half. Jethro moaned, snatching the bottle from the seat and chugging. Taking the edge off the pain wasn’t enough. He wanted to pass out.
“We need to get him inside and get his wounds cleaned.” Rex grabbed his feet and began to drag him from the carriage. “The beating hurts but they don’t die from it. The infection...that’s what you have to worry about.”
When they carried him into the house, Tee was waiting. She led them to a room where they put him on a bed.
“Drink this.” Tee tipped the whiskey bottle to his mouth.
He chugged the liquor and coughed, turning his head as lightning ricocheted through his spine.
“Soon, you’ll sleep.” Tee ran her hand through his hair and the three left the room.
There were whispers and mumbles from outside his door. They moved farther away. The soft sound of running water and the clanking of dishes drifted into the room. He seemed to be drifting too. The throbbing in his back subsided to a dull ache. This he could handle. He closed his eyes wanting nothing more than to sleep but Indy, Rex and Tee came back into the room.
“Hold him down,” said Rex.
“No!” He tried to sit up but strong hands grabbed his arms and he was too weak to resist.
“It’s okay.” Indy tightened his grip. “We need to clean your wounds.”
Tee sat down on the bed next to him, her slight weight barely shifting the mattress. She placed her hand on his forehead. “He’s hot.”
“Always hot,” he mumbled, his tongue thick from the whiskey.
Her fingers caressed his scalp. “We’re going to clean your wounds and it’s going to hurt.” She held a bottle to his mouth. “Drink.”
It wasn’t the whiskey. He turned his head away. It stank of fish, earth and something vile.
“You should drink,” said Rex. “This won’t be pleasant.”
He frowned but took a gulp. It tasted like death and the flavor lingered on his tongue. He dropped his head to the bed, fighting nausea. “Fine now.”
“He should have more.” Tee put the bottle back to his lips, spilling some into his mouth.
He considered spitting it out but it was easier to swallow. However, he did shove his face into the pillow so she couldn’t pour any more of the nasty concoction down his throat.
“Leave him be,” said Indy. “He’s made his choice.”
“A bad one,” said Rex as he tied Jethro’s feet to the bed.
When they raised his arms, Jethro moaned as pain sliced through his drunken and drugged haze.
Once he was secure, Tee began cleaning his wounds. He bit the pillow to stop his screams. This was worse than the beating. He should’ve had more liquor, or even more of her liquid-death. He had to forget what they were doing. Think past the pain. He imagined Trinity’s face—her lips red from his kisses. She stood naked before him, waiting for him, wanting him. He reached for her, wrapping his hands around her throat and squeezing. Her eyes pleaded with him but he had the power now. He had control. He loosened his grip on her neck and kissed her as he slipped into darkness.
CHAPTER 6: JETHRO
JETHRO DRIFTED ON a dark wave of semi-consciousness as shivers of pain ebbed through his back. He should drag himself awake and have more of Tee’s vile drink, but waking meant moving and moving meant pain—real, constant pain. He relaxed letting the remaining drug carry him away from this place and to a world where he was whole and healthy, running in the woods, hunting and mating. He was naked with a willing female in his arms—he refused to focus on her face for fear he’d recognize who his subconscious craved—when a sound interrupted his dreams, tapping like a woodpecker on a tree. That voice. It was familiar. Hated. He sat up. The pain in his back was nothing compared to his desire to kill. He jumped from the bed and flew across the room, his fist connecting with Conguise’s nose in a loud crunch. He shoved the professor against the wall as he pummeled the older Almighty. His back screamed for him to quit moving but he ignored it. This man had betrayed him. This man had caused him to be beaten and publicly humiliated. This man must die.
“Jethro, stop!” Indy grabbed his arm, but he shoved the Guard away.
Tee ran from the room, screaming for help. It didn’t matter. Conguise would be dead in a moment. He followed the professor to the floor his fists never stopping. Indy wrapped his arm around Jethro’s neck, pulling him backward. Conguise started crawling away, blood dripping fro
m his face. His prey was escaping. He threw his elbow back, connecting with Indy’s gut. The Guard grunted but clung to him like a leech.
“I’m not letting you kill him.” Indy growled in his ear as he tightened his grip around Jethro’s throat. “He’s not worth dying for.”
His vision was going black from lack of oxygen, but he couldn’t shake the Guard’s hold. He still had a few minutes before he passed out. He could attack Indy or finish what he’d started. He dragged himself and Indy across the room, grabbing the professor’s foot and stopping his escape. He hit Conguise in the kidney as three other Guards rushed into the room. One kicked at his face, but he latched onto the Guard’s foot when it was only inches away and yanked, sending the Guard to the ground. The other two joined Indy on the floor, pulling him off Conguise and across the room. He thrashed and bucked, not caring who he hit. He’d kill someone today, maybe all of them. The Guard he’d knocked down jumped on top of them, helping the others. He squirmed and growled but it was no use. He was prone on the floor, Indy’s arm loose around his neck and the other three Guards on top of him.
“Tie him up,” gasped Conguise. “But don’t hurt him.”
“Don’t hurt me?” He struggled harder, knocking two of the Guards off him for one fast moment. Hatred, hot and fluid, raced through him. “You did this to me!”
He lunged for Conguise, his fingers scraping along the man’s pants but unable to get a hold as the Guards shoved and pulled him toward the bed. A moment later his arms and legs were tied.
“Traitor.” He growled when Indy finally let go of his throat. He’d thought the Guard was his friend. He’d been wrong again.
“I’m sorry, but this is for your own good.” Indy stood, panting and eyeing the ropes as if he feared they wouldn’t hold.
Conguise’s three Guards lifted him onto the bed and secured him to the frame. Tee crept into the room and started tending to Conguise’s wounds. They were all traitors. He glared at everyone who’d meet his gaze. His body screamed from frustration and pain. The idiots had put him on his back, but he’d die before asking any of them to roll him to his front. He was done asking anyone for anything.
“Leave us,” said Conguise.
He was at the other man’s mercy. Conguise was going to finish him off, but he refused to let anyone see his fear. Tee sent him a sympathetic look but left with the professor’s Guards. Indy hesitated, staying near the bed.
“Now.” Conguise hobbled across the room—his face battered.
Jethro smirked. The professor was holding his side. His ribs were cracked if not broken. He could only hope Conguise was bleeding internally. That’d be a slow, certain death.
Indy didn’t move. He kept glancing at Jethro as if for a command. Perhaps, the Guard was loyal after all.
“Help Tee get those Guards out of my house.” He almost spat the words.
Indy still didn’t move.
“It’s all right. I’ll yell if I need you.”
Indy nodded and left. They both knew the Guard would wait right outside the door.
“Your recovery is remarkable.” Conguise moved closer. “I came here the first day—”
“The first day? How long have I been out?” It felt like only hours had passed.
Conguise used a handkerchief to blot some of the blood away from his eye. “This is the second day. You shouldn’t be able to move but...obviously you can.” There was a hint of humor in his voice. “How do you feel?”
This was familiar. This was the professor he knew, kind and caring. Gone was the man who’d wanted him punished. “Hurts a bit.”
“Not enough.” The professor stared down at him a slight smile on his face. “That came out wrong. What I meant was that anyone else, even those in the other classes, are in so much pain for at least a week that they can’t move. We usually drug them so they can sleep.”
“You drugged me?” Betrayal surged through him again.
“No.” Conguise sat on the side of his bed. “I came here yesterday to give you something for the pain, but you didn’t need it.”
“How kind of you to think of me.” The hypocrite had done this to him.
“I’m sorry this happened, Jethro, but it was for your own good.”
“That’s Gruntshit!” He surged upward, straining the bonds around his wrists.
The professor inhaled sharply but didn’t move.
He yanked on his ties once more and then settled back down. Struggling wasn’t going to work. The Guards had secured him too well.
“Your punishment was fair, but you seem to be blaming me and I’m not sure why.”
“You pushed for this. The others wanted to let me go with a warning.”
“Who told you that?”
“Does it matter?” There was no point in tattling on Jason.
“Council decisions are private. A majority has to agree or the decision is not handed down.”
That wasn’t how Jason had told the story.
“I shouldn’t tell you this, but I won’t lie to you.” Conguise glanced toward the door and lowered his voice. “I did vote with those who wanted the punishment, but I wasn’t the one who suggested it.”
“Then who did?” It wouldn’t surprise him if Jason had deceived him but he didn’t understand why.
“That, I can’t tell you. It’s against the rules.” He looked contrite. “I will say that I’m sorry for agreeing with the punishment. Although, my vote either way wouldn’t have mattered. The vote was five to two so even if I had disagreed, you still would’ve been punished.”
“Will you tell me the names of the two?” He had to know if Jason had been on his side.
“That’d reveal the names of the five. I can’t, especially after seeing how you reacted with me.”
“That was because it was you. I wouldn’t do that to the others.” Except perhaps, Jason. His gaze locked with the professor’s. “I didn’t know them. Trust them.”
The professor reached for the rope that secured Jethro’s hands to the bed. “Is it safe for me to untie you? I’d like to take a look at your wounds.”
He still wasn’t sure how he felt about Conguise. The man had admitted he’d voted for the flogging, but he’d also admitted he was sorry. Jason had said the punishment had been Conguise’s idea, but Jason wanted something from him and he had no doubt the Supreme Almighty would lie to get what he wanted. “I won’t attack you again.”
The professor untied him and he sat up, rubbing his wrists. He could kill Conguise now. It’d only take a quick snap of the man’s neck, but he wouldn’t. He may never forgive the professor, but he couldn’t kill him.
“Amazing. Truly amazing.” The professor examined Jethro’s wounds.
His back was tight and sore, but all things considered, not too painful.
“You’re almost completely healed.” The professor’s fingers traced Jethro’s spine. “Some wounds were reopened during this struggle, but most have mended.”
He shifted, stretching his muscles. There were stabs of pain as his skin pulled over his cuts, but it was nothing that’d keep him down. He had too many things to do, starting with capturing Trinity. His blood heated. He couldn’t wait to bring her here. He’d make the others leave. It’d be just her and him.
“You need to keep this a secret. Stay inside, pretend you’re resting.” The professor untied Jethro’s legs.
“Why?” That’d mean delaying his revenge and that wasn’t going to happen.
“Differences are often worrisome to those who don’t understand.” The professor walked to the door and retrieved a sack, pulling out two syringes. “Some may even want to take advantage of your abilities.”
“How could someone take advantage of my ability to heal quickly?”
The professor came back to the bed, looking around the room. “This is a nice house.”
“Thank you.”
“Be careful of Jason’s gifts. His presents come with a price and he always gets more than he gives.”
He’d already agreed to the price for Tee and the house, but Conguise didn’t need to know that.
“Give me your arm,” said the professor.
“Ah, Gruntshit.” It was time for his shot and that meant more sleeping. His revenge would have to wait a few days.
“I’m afraid so.” The professor smiled sadly. “I was concerned about giving it to you today because of your injuries.”
“Why? It makes me sleepy. I’d think you’d want me to sleep in order to heal.”
“That’s true, but the medicine changes your system a bit.”
He’d pretty much guessed that, but he’d love to know the science behind it. “How?” He kept his arm by his side. If he could delay the shots, maybe he could stop taking them one day.
“It’s hard to explain.” The professor sat down next to him. “As you know, I take your blood before and after each shot.”
He nodded.
“I analyze the samples and regulate this serum accordingly.”
“My blood is changing every month?” That didn’t make sense, but it did explain a few things like how he was stronger and faster than he used to be—than any other Almighty and most Guards.
“Yes. I have hopes that it’ll stabilize and you won’t need the shots any longer.”
“What happens if I stop taking them now? Will I lose the ability to walk?” To mate? That was the big question. Anything else he could handle.
The professor hesitated before answering. “I don’t believe so.”
Relief surged through him. “Then, I don’t want the shot. You can continue to monitor my blood and I’ll take it again if I have to, but without the shots I’m stronger. I heal faster. I can see, run, hear, fight, do everything better. After the shots, I’m weak.” Just like all the other Almightys and he needed to be more to capture Trinity.
