Devastate Me: A Next Door Neighbor Romance

by Emma Castle

  “Don’t touch . . . him!” she gasped, choking on her own blood as the men lifted up her beloved husband. “Don’t . . .”

  Then they came for her. She was already slipping away. Such a funny thing, dying. Once the pain faded, all that was left was quiet silence, like falling asleep on a sunny Saturday afternoon. But it wasn’t easy, letting go—not when she left her child behind.

  Adroa Okello held his rifle loosely, a canvas bag of gold slung over one shoulder as he stood inside the crashed plane. Others had carried the bodies in and set them in the chairs. But the boy, the helpless child, wouldn’t be parted from his mother. He sat curled on her lap, one hand resting on her lifeless arm, his body trembling as he murmured, asking her to wake up over and over.

  Adroa wanted to help the boy. He was no killer, but he’d been paid good money by his boss, the Englishman called Archibald Holt, but who he called Death Eyes in Swahili when he was out of hearing. Adroa had a wife and his own children to feed and he couldn’t risk crossing Holt.

  The child sniffled, his vivid dark-blue eyes so wide and full of tears that Adroa could not bear it. He was the last of Holt’s men inside the plane now. No one would see what he was about to do. He swung the canvas bag off his shoulder and removed one of the gold trinkets they’d stolen from the cave—a gold circlet of leaves like a crown. He held it out to the child. Holt would never know a piece like this had gone missing. And perhaps the gold would distract the child for a little while.

  “Be good now,” he told the little boy in English and patted the child’s silky dark hair. “Stay inside, you hear? Someone will come for you.” He didn’t want to lie, but what else could he do? Save the boy, and Death Eyes would kill him. Kill the boy, and Death Eyes would kill him.

  The boy gazed up at Adroa mutely, his tiny fingers curling around the leafy golden crown. A sudden eerie feeling stole through Adroa. He felt the presence of his ancestors in the shafts of light penetrating the canopy above. Many thousands of years ago, his people had lived in this jungle. They’d built great cities among the trees, and the cave had held their sacred treasure. All of that had been a myth to Adroa until he’d set foot in the cave with Holt and the others a few weeks ago. The glint of gold beneath their pale flashlight beams had almost blinded him. And he’d sensed the anger of the ancient ones in the cave, felt their righteous fury deep within his blood and bones. But they were dead, dead and gone, and had no use for treasure now.

  Perhaps it was his imagination, or perhaps it wasn’t, but he was sure that he heard a whispered warning among the trees as he left the crashed plane. The whispers murmured that a ghost would rise, crowned in gold, a lord of the jungle returning to avenge his family.

  Adroa stumbled back and raced into the jungle to catch up with Holt and the others. He tried to banish the image of that child from his mind, but he knew it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

  Chapter 2

  Half a mile away from where the Haywoods’ plane had crashed, a band of gorillas paused at the rush of strange noises in the distance. The rapid sounds were harsh and violent to their ears. Their leader, the silverback Mukisa, had been far ahead of them, scouting the unfamiliar area to ensure their safety. But Mukisa had not returned.

  Keza, a young adult female, carried her new infant Akika, one of Mukisa’s children, in one arm as she followed the others, trailing Mukisa’s scent.

  The smell of blood now drifted to them on the wind, and the band grew agitated. Keza held her child tight, ready to run or climb to protect her baby. They continued to track the scent deep into the jungle until they came upon Mukisa’s body. He lay facedown, one black palm reaching out in the dirt.

  Keza was the only one brave enough to approach her mate’s body. She touched his fingers, feeling the coldness, the unnatural stiffness already settling into him. She prodded at his shoulder next, but she knew, as all animals did, that her mate was gone. Their leader was dead.

  Sunya, one of Mukisa’s younger sons, came forward and grunted softly, declaring himself the new dominant male. He faced no opposition. He led them forward, in the direction Mukisa had been taking to reach the river, where they could find water.

  Strange new smells filled Keza’s senses—an animal she did not recognize, along with an acrid burning scent that left her jittery and anxious for the safety of her infant, Akika. They soon entered a clearing where a great white shape lay in the underbrush.

  A sharp cry came from within the white mass. Most of the gorillas stepped back, pressing their knuckles hard against the ground, ready for an attack. The cry came again, and something deep in Keza’s breast tightened. This was the cry of a child. A cry for help. Her mothering instincts were strong with her first child, and she would respond to any call in need. She approached the white shape alone, still cradling her sweet Akika to her chest. When the cry came again, Keza pushed her way carefully into the dark hole.

  Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she halted as her nose picked up the scent of death again, and that strange animal smell she didn’t recognize. She moved closer. It was a sound of distress, not unlike her own babe’s feeble cries.

  A white-faced creature was looking at her, its eyes blue like the sky. Keza tilted her head, puzzled. She had never seen a creature like this. It had no hair covering its body, just some on the top of its head. The babe held out something that glinted in the dying light, but that object held no interest to Keza. She hooted softly at the baby creature and reached a finger toward it.

  The child dropped the shiny object and curled tiny fingers around her thick black digit. In that instant, Keza bonded with the strange child. She reached for him, curving her other arm around his small body, and nestled him beside her little Akika. The child shifted, sniffled, and then grew quiet. She could hear his belly growl with hunger.

  Sunya might not wish for this infant to stay in their band since he was not Sunya’s child, but she was older than Sunya and fierce with a mother’s love. She would kill him if he tried to harm either of her sons. Even across species, a mother and child could love without question. There were many harsh rules that governed Keza’s world, but one ruled above all, and that was a mother’s love.

  Thorne clung to the mother gorilla, his belly growling. He didn’t understand why Mummy and Daddy did not wake up, no matter how much he asked them to or cried. But the black beast from his favorite book had answered his cries.

  G. Gorilla.

  The gorilla had crept toward him, and he’d stopped crying. He nuzzled his face against her dark bristly hair and gazed wide-eyed at the baby gorilla next to him. The baby’s reddish-brown eyes were wide as he gazed back at Thorne.

  As Thorne was carried into the jungle, his ears took in the rustle of leaves and the buzz of insects, the exotic sound of birds and monkeys. The blend of sounds turned into a gentle symphony that lulled him to sleep between the warmth of Keza’s chest and the humid jungle air.

  The band of gorillas stopped after several hours and settled in a safe, dense spot to feed and rest. Mist rolled in around them, thick and cooling to the skin. Thorne was kept within reach of Keza, who set Akika down beside him.

  The little human boy watched the gorilla who had carried him to safety, her black and silver fur blending to a burnished bronze at the top of her head. In that moment she was beautiful to him, more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen before.

  She was his mother now; he understood a mother’s caring touch as she brushed her fingers over his head, and his tiny heart filled with infinite love for her.

  Keza puzzled over her new child’s tiny fingers, similar yet not quite the same as Akika’s. She ruffled a hand over the dark hair on his head. It was soft, far softer than her own. She plucked gently at his ears, checking for mites. He made a gurgling noise, baring his teeth, but it didn’t seem threatening to her.

  She curled her lips back, showing her own sharp white teeth, and he clapped his tiny hands together. The little smacking sound was odd. Keza wondered if he
was trying to show his strength at so young an age. She curled her fist and gave a powerful smack to her chest. The noise startled the child, and he grew still. But after a moment, he curled his own fist and slapped it against himself in imitation. Keza hooted in approval. He learned quickly. That was good. The jungle held many dangers, and the quicker this hairless ape could learn, the safer he would be.

  The other gorillas in the band warily watched the young child. Sunya snorted and bared his teeth, but one quelling look from Keza and he came no closer toward them.

  “I’m Thorne.” The child spoke with a strange tongue. She grunted at him.

  He tapped his chest. “Thorne.” Then he climbed up her legs and perched on her lap and tapped her chest, gazing deeply into her eyes as though waiting for her to respond. She seemed to understand that he wished to know her name.

  “Keza.” She spoke in her own language, and he repeated the sound. Then he gently placed a hand on Akika’s tiny arm, his questioning eyes so full of yearning that Keza became spellbound by him.

  “Akika . . . brother . . . friend.” She spoke to him in her tongue, and he replied, imitating her. Though their sounds were merely a pleasant noise to Thorne at first, the thoughts behind those noises grew ever clearer. In time he would learn their language more clearly than the one he had been born into.

  He was quick to learn a dozen words that first day. She taught him which plants to eat, like stems, bamboo shoots, and fruits. He favored fruits the most, and she let him eat those. At first he was not strong enough to hold on to her back like Akika, but after a few weeks he could curl an arm around her neck and hold on just as well as her other son.

  As the days passed, Keza settled into her life as a mother to her two children. The band of twelve gorillas she lived with were always tolerant, and often indulgent to both Akika and Thorne.

  It soon became clear that Thorne had deft control of his hands and could peel bark on trees and could climb with the ease of the younger apes. He was slow to grow and did not prefer to walk on his knuckles, but Keza let him do as he wished. She saw in her own way as he grew stronger that his balance was better when he was upright. Every now and then Keza would walk upright with him, holding Thorne’s tiny hand in her right and Akika’s hand in her left.

  Joy filled her whenever she saw her children playing together, wrestling and growling. She hooted and huffed in encouragement. Akika, the child of her body, and Thorne, the child of her heart. She could not be happier.

  When Akika was nearly a year old, he fell climbing and a nasty set of spines from a bush below were embedded in his arm. Keza could not pull them free. But Thorne, with his slender fingers, stroked his knuckles over Akika’s face and head in a gentle, soothing motion before he began to ease the spines from the distressed gorilla.

  Akika watched his pale-skinned brother with soft, loving eyes, and Thorne bared his teeth in the way that Keza now understood was not a threat, but his way of showing joy. Keza knew she had made a good decision taking the hairless ape into her arms that day, and her love for him became infinite.

  Thirteen years later

  Thorne stood at the edge of the still pool that fed into a small waterfall below. His family drank handfuls of water hesitantly at the edge. Gorillas could not swim easily and kept well away from it for fear of drowning, or the other dangers that might lurk within it. But Thorne did not fear the water. He was drawn to it, fixated by the way the canopy of moss-covered trees reflected perfectly in its glassy surface.

  He crept up to the shore of the pool and peered into the water, glimpsing his face reflected back at him. This was not the first time he had looked into the water, but it was the first time he truly noticed how different he looked compared to his family.

  Thorne’s face was narrow, with a thinner mouth, and his eyes were the color of an evening sky. A scruffy layer of dark-brown hair grew around his jaw and his loins but not over the rest of his body. His limbs were sleek, his muscles defined and yet so different in so many ways from his brother.

  Thorne studied the different shape of his fingers compared to Akika’s. Even his feet were different. He’d never been able to grasp things with his toes as gracefully as his brother could. He’d been too afraid and ashamed to compare his body to the others. He knew what they called him in their grunts and huffs. The deformed hairless ape.

  Perhaps he was not deformed after all. Perhaps he was formed as he should be, and he simply was not an ape? The idea, once formed within him, gave him a greater curiosity, a need for answers. Some nights when he lay alone, a little way from the other gorillas as they slept, he let his mind wander, and strange dreams came in that moment just between sleep and waking. Dreams of apes who looked like him, their voices soft, full of love . . . and other strange dreams of a world that in this lush jungle land seemed impossible.

  Perhaps they were dreams born of fevered nights when the humidity threatened to choke him and he sought refuge high in the treetops, thrusting his head above the canopy to feel the wind on his face.

  One truth that always came back to him, no matter how much it hurt him to think about it, was that he had not always been a gorilla. Once, long ago, he had been something, someone else.

  Thorne touched the surface of the water, creating ripples that distorted his image in the pool. A quivering took hold of him as for the first time in his young life he accepted that he was truly not like his family.

  G. Gorilla . . . A soft voice spoke to him through the mists of time. The forest around him almost seemed to hum in response.

  He knew that he was something else. But what? Thorne’s heart grew heavy with shame at not being Akika’s true brother, but there was a glimmer of curiosity that defined his species—though he did not yet know he belonged to that species.

  Thorne stared at the surface of the water.

  If he was not a gorilla, then perhaps he could swim the way he’d seen the leopards do when they crossed rivers and lakes. They moved slowly, sleekly through the water, pawing their front legs in forward circular motions and kicking with their back legs. Thorne was not as big or as heavy as his kin, so perhaps he could do the same? He’d noticed he had a different mobility in his body, so it was entirely possible that he was capable of swimming. There was only one way to find out.

  He flung himself recklessly into the pool. Keza’s scream of terror was muted as Thorne sank beneath the surface. He opened his eyes, seeing the murky depths of the watery world around him. His bare feet touched the bottom of the pool. He coiled himself tight and pushed up until he surged into the light and gasped sweet air. He moved his arms, testing their effectiveness, and soon he was pulling himself toward the shore, where his mother was pacing and wailing in panic.

  Thorne, a little weary after such a new activity, crawled out of the water, breathing deeply. Keza rushed to him, balled a fist, and thumped his side with one hand, her touch gentle even as she reprimanded his behavior. Then she grasped his head and pulled him around, looking him over for injury.

  He hooted in reassurance at his mother and grasped her large solid hands with his own, holding them to his skin. Gorillas thrived on physical touch, they lived for contact with one another, and Thorne was no different. He craved his mother’s brushing caresses over his hair and the light thumps of her loosely balled fist against his chest in greeting.

  He glanced back once more at the pool, and a deep longing for more answers and more truths filled him. But he would have to return when his mother was not there to fuss over him.

  The band finished drinking and worked their way into a group of fruit trees to eat their evening meal and rest. Thorne climbed the nearest mango tree; he alone among his family was still the most comfortable at such an activity. Once gorillas aged, they stayed closer to the ground.

  Thorne plucked some ripe-smelling fruit from a tree and tossed them down to the gorillas below, where they divided the food. But he did not join them. He clutched a pair of mangoes in his hand and climbed higher in a hagenia
tree until he leaned against the thin branches that formed the canopy. He pushed his head through the spreading branches and looked out over the tops of the forest that stretched for hundreds of miles around. Above him the sky was inky black, with a vibrant spread of glittering stars.

  Stars . . . He knew what they were. Well, not exactly, but he knew the word. Stars. The word felt different on his tongue. It was not from the language of the birds, the leopards, or the gorillas. It was a language that was softer, clearer, yet just as beautiful as the languages he spoke now with love in his heart. The word stars remained inside him like a well-kept secret, spreading a warmth he could not explain as he ate his fruit and gazed upon the expanse far above him. There were feelings, not quite memories, that churned within him, calling in soft whispers.

  Remember who you are. Remember . . .

  Thousands of miles away

  Cameron Haywood stood at the window of his study in Somerset Hall, the ancestral home of the earldom of Somerset in England. He held a glass of scotch and gazed upon the same stars, though muted somewhat by the distant city lights.

  Thirteen years. Had it really been that long since his older brother, Jacob, had been lost in the Ugandan forest with his wife and child? It felt like a lifetime ago. He had never wanted to become the Earl of Somerset. He would give everything to have his family back.

  Thirteen years ago, he had done all that he could to find his brother. He had sent search parties, tried to locate the plane, and bribed every official for any information. He’d flown there a dozen times, scouring the impenetrable forest, even calling the names of his loved ones until he lost his voice.

  Cameron went to his desk, turning his back to the stars. The sounds of a party going on in his house downstairs gave him no joy at the prospect of mingling among the powerful men and women of England. Today would have been his nephew’s sixteenth birthday.