Flames of Mars (Celestial Shifters Book 2)

by Tjalara Draper

  Violet hid a smirk. She’d never known someone so obsessed with cheese, although she supposed Lazareth’s multiple awards justified the obsession. Not to mention his famous fig-and-lychee cheesecake.

  Dawn pecked Lazareth on the cheek before sending him on his way, then had Violet sit on the edge of a nearby examination bed. “How’s your hand?” she asked, pulling out a digital thermometer.

  “It’s fine.” Violet gently caressed the fabric bandage over the webbing between her thumb and pointer finger. “You weren’t kidding when you said Solace’s fangs would sharpen up fast.”

  “Hmm . . .” Dawn frowned. “I’ll need to examine the bite mark again. It’s a little concerning that it’s taking this long to heal. How long has it been again?”

  “Maybe three weeks.”

  Dawn hmmed again as she checked the reading on the digital thermometer. “Your temperature is still a little high, which suggests your immune system is fighting something. I initially thought it might have been due to the vaccination I gave you after the delivery. It isn’t uncommon for people do get cold-like symptoms as they become immune to the injected viruses, but that was at least eight weeks ago. It could just be the common cold, and you’re taking longer than usual to shake it.”

  Violet broke out into another round of coughs, as if to emphasize Dawn’s statement.

  “Thankfully, whatever you have, it hasn’t been passed on to Solace,” continued Dawn. “However, I think it’s best to take a blood test and start figuring out what’s going on here.”

  “Okay.” Violet took another gulp of water.

  Dawn nodded with an approving smile and went to retrieve a trolley from the corner of the room.

  Gus’s eyebrow quirked. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, why?” Violet asked.

  “You did hear the part where Mom said ‘blood test,’ right?”

  “What about it?”

  Gus gave an exaggerated shrug. “Am I the only one who remembers the kicking and screaming last time?”

  “She’s just had a baby, Gus.” Dawn snapped on some latex gloves. “You’d be surprised how much having a child can change a person.”

  He slowly nodded his head. “Actually, I think that explains a lot.”

  “What does that mean?” Violet narrowed her eyes at him as Dawn cinched a tourniquet above her elbow.

  “You’ve been a little . . . how should I describe it?” Gus looked up at the ceiling and tapped one finger on his chin.

  “Grizzly bear is how I’d describe it,” said Autumn, who was now clacking away on her laptop.

  “Yep, I think grizzly just about sums it up,” agreed Gus.

  Violet huffed. “I am not like a grizzly bear.”

  “Oh yeah? What about the time Gus was playing peek-a-boo with Solace?” Autumn countered.

  “What? I was fine.”

  “Right up until he scared her. You practically snatched her out of his arms and chewed him out with a voice from The Exorcist.”

  Violet rolled her eyes. “That was one time.”

  “Okay, what about the time Autumn dropped Solace’s pacifier on the ground?” interjected Gus. “When you realized she was going to give it back without washing it, you practically accused Autumn of giving her Ebola.”

  “Are you saying I’m not allowed to be concerned about germs?” Violet said, putting her free hand on her hip.

  “I’m not saying that at all,” said Gus, “but I think you’re forgetting that Solace is not as fragile as you think she is. She’s tough like her mom, for starters, and my mother has made sure she’s been getting her vaccinations when they’re due. Don’t let the nose ring and hippie facade fool you. My mother is a doctor first and a tree-hugger second. But even with that, it was a drama all in itself for you to let Mom come near Solace with the needle.”

  Violet frowned and shot a sidelong glance at Dawn, who was preparing the syringe and collection of vials. “It’s normal for a new mom to be concerned about the well-being of her child, right, Dawn?”

  Dawn finally looked up from her work to give Violet a tight-lipped smile.

  “Face it, Vi,” said Autumn. “You’ve definitely amped up the aggro. The only person you haven’t abused yet is him”—she pointed to Sagan as he sauntered in—“and that’s because he hasn’t been anywhere near her.”

  Sagan held up his hands defensively. “Don’t bring me into this. I don’t know anything about babies. I’m afraid I’ll drop her or something. And I definitely don’t want to be on the receiving end of ‘Hurricane Violet’ if something like that were to happen.”

  “Okay, I get it.” Violet groaned. “I need to tone it down a little.”

  Autumn scoffed.

  “A little? How about a lot?” said Gus.

  “Fine. I promise to make an improvement.” Violet bit her lip as Dawn wiped a swab over the crook of her elbow. She screwed up her nose, still hating the tangy odor of antiseptic, as the evaporating alcohol cooled her skin.

  “Ready?” Dawn asked.

  Violet nodded and barely flinched at the small sting. Gus was right; she had changed. During her pregnancy, Violet had definitely freaked out any time it was necessary to do a blood test.

  And Dawn was right too; becoming a mother had changed Violet in so many other ways. From the moment she’d heard Solace cry for the first time in the delivery room, her whole universe had realigned—Violet would conquer worlds for her child.

  But she supposed she had become a little over-the-top in the small things.

  Her gaze flicked to the others. As much as she could excuse her behavior by saying she was protecting her baby, she knew full well the others loved Solace too and would never harm her. In fact, if it wasn’t for Gus, Autumn, and their families, neither Violet nor Solace would have a warm bed to sleep in, full bellies, or a safe environment to call home. A twinge of guilt stabbed at Violet’s stomach. When she was Solace’s age, she’d already been passed between several social workers and foster parents.

  “All done.” Dawn removed the last vial of blood and the needle in Violet’s arm before taping some gauze over the small wound.

  “Thanks, Dawn.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Dawn folded Violet’s arm to enclose the gauze in the crease of her elbow.

  “No, really,” said Violet. “I’m really grateful for all you’ve done for Solace and me.”

  This time, Dawn’s smile was relaxed and genuine.

  “Same to you, Gus and Autumn. I don’t know how I would have coped with going through pregnancy and delivery without your support.”

  “Aw, shucks,” said Gus at the same time Autumn said, “You’re welcome!”

  Violet smiled, hopped off the bed, and made her way over to Sagan. “I also owe you a huge thanks.”

  His brow creased. “Why? I haven’t done anything.”

  “Yes, you have. That day on the road at Brookhaven, you distracted the guy with the gray beard long enough for us to escape. At the time, I didn’t know I was pregnant, but if it wasn’t for you, Solace and I wouldn’t be here today. You saved us both.”

  Sagan shoved his hands in his pockets. A corner of his mouth tugged up, and he gave a small nod of his head. “Consider us even. I wouldn’t be here either if you hadn’t found me and driven me here.”

  “What do you mean, found you?” Violet said. “You were standing in the middle of the road. I almost hit you with my car.”

  Sagan smirked. “Yeah, well, it couldn’t have caused more damage than—”

  A distant scream grabbed everyone’s attention. For a second, no one moved.

  “That’s Skye!” Dawn exclaimed.

  In an instant, they all rushed out of the infirmary. Autumn ran ahead, but Violet and Sagan had overtaken her by the time they cleared the gardens and were speeding toward the house.

  Skye’s screams grew louder. Then, suddenly, they cut off.

  A surge of panic and adrenaline rushed through Violet’s core, pushing her to run faster, faster
.

  Whatever was going on, her baby was in there.

  4

  Mouth-Breathing Chihuahuas

  Nathan hit the ground with a grunt as the two Erathi hunters dumped him onto the cold hard floor of his cell. The Metallikite door clanked shut, followed by the whir and beep of the keypad lock—a feature of every cell door in Tempecrest.

  With an agonizing effort, Nathan rolled onto his back. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to quiet his mind, to erase the images of his last battle and dismiss the heaviness weighing down on him—the dense fog of self-loathing.

  He tentatively prodded at his thigh, where four claw marks carved a line from his hip to the top of his knee. His accelerated healing had kicked in while he was in Veniri form in the arena, and the ragged flesh had already begun to scab over. In a day or two, it would be nearly fully healed, but Diamantium always left its mark. He was going to have an epic scar, much like the mottled scarring over his heart from his fight in the lava-lake arena. More and more of their Lycan opponents were now being bestowed with Diamantium-tipped claws.

  The door clanked open again, followed by a thud and an ooph as two more hunters threw Thane into the cell next to his.

  “You okay?” Nathan asked after the hunters left.

  “Yeah.” Thane groaned, gingerly standing and stretching with a pained grimace. “Do those morons think that throwing us around after a fight is doing us a favor?”

  Tio scoffed, leaning against the bars of the cell adjacent to Thane’s. “I’d say they’re acting out on their small-Erathi syndrome.”

  “Small-Erathi syndrome?” repeated Nathan.

  “What’s that?” asked Thane.

  “You know, it’s like small-dog syndrome. They always try to make out that they’re bigger and meaner than everyone else. It’s the same with the Erathi, only they haven’t figured out that on the shifter totem pole, they’re way down at the very bottom.”

  “I would have thought the Yranum were at the bottom,” said Thane.

  “Nope.” Tio shook his head. “They have healing abilities that benefit not only them but also others. That makes them special. The Erathi, on the other hand, have no abilities—at least, none that compare to the rest of us. They’re just a bunch of mouth-breathing Chihuahuas, but instead of picking a fight with a pack of dogs, they’re taking on a pack of lions.”

  “And what about you?” asked Nathan. “Where does your race sit on the totem pole?”

  Tio’s expression turned pious. “Duh! At the top.”

  Both Nathan and Thane laughed.

  “What?” Tio’s face dropped into a frown. “We’re the strongest and the biggest and—”

  “And the most pigheaded and vainest and most destructive,” said Thane.

  “Hey!”

  “It’s true, kid,” said Nathan. “I admire your loyalty, but your race hasn’t got the greatest reputation either.”

  “Whatever.” Tio collapsed onto his cot with an adolescent huff, mumbling under his breath. After a few moments, the murmuring was replaced by an electric crackle.

  Nathan rolled his head to find Tio sitting on his cot in full shifter form. While he’d seen other Jiovis shifters with copper, pewter, or rose-gold colored flesh—even metallic cobalt—Tio’s transformed flesh was a deep gold, riddled with the elaborately designed flesh manipulations typical of his race. His face had been sculpted into an overemphasized skull, with an organic design of whirls and curls accenting his brow and cheekbones. Two tusks protruded from the edges of his mouth. Embellished on his bicep was the Jiovis symbol for Jupiter.

  Tio’s forearms rested on his knees, his focus on one of his hands. Bright orange blood dripped from his fingers and collected in a puddle on the floor between his feet.

  “Lost another finger?” Nathan inquired. “What’s that bring the tally to? Eight or nine?”

  “Soon to be fourteen. I’m about to lose a hand.” Tio’s voice was tight with pain. “That stupid mongrel flung an iron sword at me. He heated it up first with one of those wall-mounted flamethrowers, and some of the molten metal fused to my hand. I need to cut out the iron before I get rust rot.”

  “Flame torches and molten metal . . .” Nathan groaned and rocked his head from side to side on the stone floor. “That reminds me too much of the lava-lake arena we did seven weeks ago. Or was it eight weeks? Ugh, I’m losing track. They used to throw us into the arena every three or four weeks. Now it feels like once a week.”

  “Yeah, that lava one was brutal,” said Thane. “The rainforest theme for this one wasn’t too bad, although it wasn’t all that great when my opponent decided to scurry up a tree like a little spider monkey.”

  A loud crackle of lightning erupted again in Tio’s hands. He didn’t cry out, but his features twisted in obvious severe agony. The ability to regrow his limbs like an axolotl had become a convenient talent for Tio since his arrival at Tempecrest. He’d boasted he could even add extra limbs and appendages if he wanted to, contemplating whether it would aid or hinder him in the arena.

  The Jiovis flesh was called Metallikite—the same material the hunters used for their chains, handcuffs, and prison bars. Metallikite could only be described as a “living metal”—and its properties were astounding. It gave the Jiovis the ability to mold their flesh into highly decorative sculptures, an extremely painful process similar to how some Erathi Pacific Islander and African cultures adorned themselves with tribal tattoos and scarification. It was even possible to trade colors to enhance decorative features. Nathan couldn’t help shuddering when he spotted a few different-colored accents in Tio’s decorations. The equivalent would be him grafting someone else’s flesh onto his, just for aesthetic purposes.

  Tio’s flesh was as intricate as a baroque frame. Along with the skull-like features of his face, his torso had been molded to look like armor, with elaborate patterns mixed with three-dimensional moldings of skulls, teeth, spikes, and bones. Based on the warmongering culture of the Jiovis, Nathan knew the design was meant to terrify onlookers.

  One standout feature of Tio’s design—Nathan had observed it on every Jiovis—was a solid neck shield, also highly decorated. But the shield wasn’t golden like the rest of Tio’s skin; it was silver with a light green tinge, very much like the green-tinged bars that held them all captive.

  Unfortunately for the Jiovis, the Erathi hunters had found their own depraved uses for Metallikite. They would flay their Jiovis captives, peeling back layer after layer of the living-metal flesh until their victims died a prolonged and agonizing death. The Erathi had discovered that once the Metallikite was cured, it would fade to a silvery green and become nearly impossible to destroy. Even a Jiovis could not damage cured Metallikite.

  After about half a minute, Tio extinguished the lightning and admired his handiwork, wiggling his new fingers. From fingertips to wrist, his skin was now smooth and polished like a golden mirror—not a single sculpted adornment remained.

  Tio sighed. “I’d only just finished this hand’s new modifications yesterday. Now I’ll have to do it all over again.”

  Thane snickered. “Typical clanger. Losing a hand isn’t a problem, so long as you look pretty doing it.”

  “Shut up, slith.” Tio grinned, his metallic gold skin darkening back into the rich obsidian of his human form. Once he’d fully hazed, he cocked an eyebrow at Nathan. “Oi, Nathan? You still alive?”

  A corner of Nathan’s mouth twitched up into a half grin. “Yeah, kid. I’m still alive.”

  “Are you going to lie there all day?”

  “Maybe.” Nathan shrugged. “It’s just as comfy as the cots.”

  “You’re right about that. How much damage did you cop this time?”

  Memories flickered through Nathan’s mind’s eye. “Almost a little too much.” He hefted himself up into a seated position. Every muscle screamed in pain. “Not sure how much more of this I can take.”

  Thane stood up and gripped the bars that separated them. �
��Don’t say that,” he said in a hushed voice. His wide eyes gave away his panic. “You can’t give up now. Not after all we’ve been through. We’re getting out of here. You hear me?”

  Nathan nodded. “Yeah, I hear you. I’m not as young as I used to be, that’s all. You and Tio are still nimble and spry. It’s taking me longer and longer to snap back, especially with the frequency of these battles.” He dragged his hands down his face. “We’ve gotta figure out how to get out of here. Before they kill us. We came too close to fighting each other this time. One day our luck is going to run out, and they’ll toss just the three of us in the arena to battle it out.”

  “If I had access to a computer, I could get us out.” Tio gestured to the digital locks. “I’d only need five minutes to override the system and unlock this whole facility.”

  Nathan quirked an eyebrow.

  “Sure you could, kid.” Thane rolled his eyes.

  “Of course I could! I could also get us all new IDs and passports and any other paperwork so these Erathi scum would never find us again.”

  “Anyway”—Thane cleared his throat and turned back to Nathan—“just promise me you won’t give up.”

  Nathan nodded but didn’t voice any guarantees. It wasn’t worth telling Thane what he really thought their chances were. Not when Thane still had the hope to continue on.

  He pushed himself onto the edge of his cot and rubbed at an itch on his shoulder. A jolt of fear clutched at his chest as his fingers brushed over a glassy texture. He’d discovered the small patch of crystal a few months ago. It had started out as just a pinprick but was gradually getting bigger—first growing to the size of a flat thumbtack, then a postage stamp, and now bordering on the area of a playing card.

  He quickly checked the other patch he’d found on the back of his calf. It too had grown, and it looked like another was starting to form on his ankle. He rotated the joint, and the crystallized skin sparkled as it captured the overhead light.

  Nathan sucked in short, shallow breaths. What’s going on? What do these patches mean? Am I sick? Is it nothing? Whatever it was, he wouldn’t be able to hide it for much longer. It was a wonder no one had mentioned anything about the crystal patch on his shoulder yet.