“I suppose I could start with a blood test,” Gus finally said. “That’s all I can think to do at the moment, unless Mom comes up with a better idea.” He frowned. “Hopefully she’ll be here soon.”
He asked Violet for permission to draw some blood. When no flames flared from her still-open eyes, he took it as an okay. He disappeared from the room, then returned a few minutes later pushing a trolly stocked with medical supplies. After putting on some latex gloves, he wrapped a tourniquet around Violet’s arm. “Okay, Violet, here comes a little pinch.” He angled a needle into the crook of her elbow.
A thought struck Nathan just as a small metallic ting rang out.
“What the . . . ?” Gus held up the snapped tip of the hypodermic needle. Mumbling something about cheap equipment, he reached for a new one.
“Actually,” said Nathan, “I just remembered. Based on the scales and Diamantium spikes, chances are needles won’t be able to pierce Violet’s skin anymore.”
Gus’s jaw dropped. “That’s . . . crazy. How am I supposed to—”
“Give me a second,” said Sagan. He rushed out of the room, then came back a minute later with a small needle in his hand; its tip glittered under the lights. “Try one of these.”
Gus’s eyes widened. “Do I want to know why you have a diamond-tipped needle with you?”
“Old habits.” Sagan shrugged. “Just try it.”
Nathan glanced down at the impression of a hunter’s amulet hidden beneath Sagan’s shirt. No need to guess as to what “old habits” referred to.
This time, the needle glided smoothly into Violet’s arm, like a skewer testing a perfectly cooked cake. Thane let out a small hiss as blood immediately gushed into the attached glass tube.
“Hey, it worked,” said Gus.
“Ugh,” said Tio. “I think I’m going to be sick. Tell me when it’s over.” His hand clamped over his mouth as he rushed out into the hallway.
Nathan shook his head. The Jiovis shifter could handle having his arm cut off and regrown, but pull out an itty-bitty needle and he was running for the exit.
After a couple minutes, Gus finished filling the last vial, then held a sample up to the light. “There’s something about this that already seems a little unusual.” He narrowed his eyes. “The color is . . . different.”
He handed the vial to Nathan, and Thane and Sagan crowded around for a closer look.
Nathan’s eyes grew wide. The liquid inside was a rich magenta swirled with a vibrant teal. Only upon closer inspection did Nathan spot a tiny vein of crimson.
“What is going on?” Thane asked. “What’s happening to Violet?”
Nathan floundered for an answer. “I . . . can’t even begin to guess. Sagan, any ideas?”
Sagan looked just as clueless as the others. “Can’t say. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like this.”
“Hopefully”—Gus plucked the vial out of Nathan’s hand—“in a few hours, the blood test results will be able to shed some light.”
9
Trouble Written All Over
Violet blinked. Finally, the paralysis was starting to wear off. If only she could move her hands to rub her dry eyes, but no luck on that front yet. Blinking would have to do for now.
Boy, was Sagan going to get the tongue-lashing of his life once she regained the ability to speak.
“Here, Violet, I got you an extra blanket,” said Gus. “It’s starting to get a little chilly.”
Warmth covered Violet’s body. She tried to at least murmur her thanks, but still, only her eyelids would obey her command.
Her panic had mercifully died out, especially after Dawn shooed everyone out of the infirmary room a few minutes ago. Now, Gus was filling his mother in about what had happened. From her prone position, Violet couldn’t see Dawn’s face, but she could imagine the doctor tapping her lips with one finger as she processed the particulars of Violet’s new condition.
They didn’t say so in as many words, but Violet could tell the two of them were a little fearful as, in hushed voices, they began brainstorming ideas to discover what was wrong with her: X-rays, MRI scans, tissue samples, ongoing observational tests. Some of the procedures they mentioned sounded painful—maybe even a little extreme.
Hello? Violet tried to say. I’m still here. I can hear you, you know? Didn’t she have the right to be part of the conversation? It was her body, after all.
As she waited, immobile on the bed, turmoil and rage and helplessness seeped into every corner of her conscious thoughts. She hadn’t been able to save her daughter—couldn’t even try to look for her now that she was gone. In the one way she’d promised she never would, she’d failed Solace, and on top of everything, Violet was morphing into some kind of unknown, dangerous monster. Everything—even her own body—had spun out of her control.
And now, of all the freaking places on the planet, Nathan and Thane had shown up here.
Blue flames flared from her eyes, and her breathing doubled in speed. It was the only outlet she had for the writhing fury that fought against the drug paralyzing her body.
“It’s okay.” Dawn stroked Violet’s hair. “You’re safe.”
Safe? Thane was here. Thane, who had kidnapped her and her best friend, Lyla, when they were sixteen. He’d been there when Lyla was murdered and Violet was left for dead. And then the sicko had tracked her down and invaded her life when she was in college, all while keeping his true identity hidden. Only after she’d fallen for him had she seen that damned tattoo and unlocked the truth.
And as for Nathan . . . ?
Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
When Lyla died, Violet’s only tether to this world, to this life, was ripped away. But Nathan had taken her under his wing. He’d offered her a place to stay when no one wanted her. He’d helped rebuild her shattered existence, not just by giving her a home but by teaching her self-defense so she could overcome her fears and leave her trauma behind.
When the nightmares of her captors plagued her, he’d always assured her she was safe. Even at her lowest, he was there, as a shoulder to cry on or just a silent, calming companion as she coped with her grief. Nathan was her anchor.
Violet had always hated the term father figure. It made her think of cheap knockoffs, like bootlegged movies or fake designer purses with the brand name spelled incorrectly—the original, authentic version could never be beaten. Violet didn’t know who her real father was, but when she imagined what the best father in the world would be like, Nathan came pretty close.
But the day she found out who Thane really was—the day she’d fled to Nathan, only to find him standing in the kitchen with the man who’d kidnapped her and allowed her best friend to be murdered—all of that was dashed to pieces.
An endless stream of tears ran down her face. Someone dabbed them away with a tissue, then tucked the blanket tighter around Violet’s body. A few moments later, Dawn’s face appeared in Violet’s periphery.
“Violet, I’ve just sent Gus on an errand, but I’ve realized it’s been a while since I checked on the mothers and their babies.” She placed a hand on Violet’s cheek, her fingertips resting on her temple. “I’ll return as soon as possible, all right?”
Sure, I’ll be fine, thought Violet, hoping her blinking somehow communicated the mental reply.
Dawn smiled. She gave Violet a peck on the forehead and disappeared.
Immediately, Violet regretted Dawn’s departure. There was nothing left to distract her from the turbulent fire stirring deep in her core. Thankfully, the burning wasn’t as intense as it had been; it was as if the towering flames of her anger had died down to a slow molten churn, just waiting for the next eruption.
The air around her shifted. Violet couldn’t see, but she could feel that someone had entered the room and was standing near her bed. Whoever it was, they didn’t step into view, remaining still and silent.
A patter of footsteps came in a few minutes later, followed by a feminine voice
Violet didn’t recognize. “Oh, there you are, Thane.”
Thane? What is he doing here? Violet scowled. Oh, hey! I can move my eyebrows.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” said the female voice again.
“Well, you found me.” Thane’s voice was monotone, very different from what Violet remembered about him. A silent second passed. “What do you want?”
“Just wondering what you’re doing.”
Thane didn’t answer.
“So, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Thane’s sigh dripped with disdain. But disdain for what? For the woman he was talking to? Or was he just not in the mood for talking? “I’m not sure I want to know what you’re thinking, Nika.”
Nika? That was the name of the girl that new guy, Tio, was talking about.
“Well, think about it. Have you seen anything like that happen? I know I haven’t. And if you ask me, that shifter—or hybrid or whatever that thing is—has trouble written all over it.”
“She. Not it,” said Thane, a dangerous edge in his tone.
“Whatever. The point is, something needs to be done before this all blows up in our faces.”
Violet’s heart began to thud faster. She didn’t like where this conversation was going. With a surge of desperation, her fingers twitched.
There was a scuffle of shoes, followed by a loud thud against the wall and a feminine ooph!
“And what is it you think ‘needs to be done,’ Nika?” Thane hissed.
“Careful, Thane. Don’t forget it’s because of me that you’re not still rotting in Tempecrest.”
Thane growled. “You think I owe you? Is that it?”
Nika’s hard tone matched Thane’s. “I’m not cashing in, if that’s what you’re worried about. But what you should be worried about is that shifter on the bed.”
For a few moments, no one said anything. Violet kept flexing her fingers. Sensation had started to creep into her toes, so she began to wiggle those too.
“Let me make this crystal clear,” Thane said. “If you ever go near Violet, if you even look at her in a way I don’t approve of . . . I will end you.”
Nika scoffed. “You can try, slith. But I’m telling you, whatever is going on with that shifter, it’s not right. So don’t come running to me when all hell breaks loose. And another thing”—a crack of skin smacking against skin resounded through the room—“don’t ever touch me again.”
Heavy boots stomped out, then faded down the hall.
Silence.
For a moment, Violet assumed Thane had left with Nika, though she still hadn’t regained enough mobility to move her head to check. Fingers, toes, eyebrows . . . ugh! That wasn’t enough! She needed to get out of here.
Once again, anger and frustration ignited the teal flames in her eyes, covering her world in a wash of light blue.
“Don’t worry, Violet.”
Startled, Violet extinguished her flames. He’s still here?
“No one is going to hurt you. I’ll make sure of that.”
10
Unfamiliar Soul-Trails
Nathan had assumed he’d be relieved to finally reach Maple Shire, especially after trekking from what felt like one side of the country to the other.
His profound elation at seeing Violet had twisted into crushing guilt the moment she’d looked in his direction. Nathan couldn’t shake the memory of the mighty rage in her eyes. When she’d bolted across the driveway, he’d been certain he was the target of her fury, but she’d sailed right past him to pummel Thane instead. Nathan hadn’t known whether to feel relieved or wretched. In the end, shock eclipsed all else when, after just one call of her name, her wrathful eyes had turned to him, and she’d hazed.
She’d hazed.
But she didn’t just have crystal shards and scales; she had magma and fire.
How could that be?
The blazing eyes and hands were a telltale Magneii ability, yet Violet’s flames were teal, not magenta. Nathan couldn’t even begin to imagine how Violet had acquired dual abilities. It was unheard of. Impossible.
When Nathan left the infirmary, Sagan had filled him in on the Magneii attack that had resulted in four murders and the destruction of Maple Shire’s peace. When Nathan had demanded Sagan take him to the scene, the young Erathi led him back to the gravel driveway next to one of the community houses.
Sagan pointed. “Four days ago, this is where—”
“Don’t.” Nathan held up a hand. “Give me a chance to get an impression of what happened first.”
In reply, Sagan gestured for him to proceed, then planted his hands in his pockets.
Nathan inspected his surroundings, just as he’d done for countless crime scenes when he was a detective. Scuff marks, tire treads, and long grooves of what may have been finger drags were still visible in the gravel, and small clumps of upturned earth marred the grassy area on one side of the drive, perhaps caused by a scrimmage. Several yards away, beyond the grass, Nathan spied a gouge mark in the trunk of one of the garden trees. The straight, unsplintered score suggested it wasn’t made by a claw but rather a knife or blade.
Nathan’s tongue whipped through the air. The remaining scents were a little stale, but he would make do.
Though the daytime sky hid the stars beyond, his tether to Venus remained strong. Closing his eyes, he angled his face toward the planet and tuned in to the melodic hum of energy that radiated from above. His body quickly responded to Venus’s beckoning, and thin inner membranes slid over his still-closed eyes.
When he opened his outer lids, the world remained the same. Then he lashed out his Veniri forked tongue, and it completely transformed.
A variety of neon, smoke-like trails mingled in the once-empty air over the lawn and driveway. Just as the phosphorescent tendrils began to fade, he flicked his tongue again, and they pulsed back to life. Nathan immediately registered the essence of a few unfamiliar soul-trails among the flavors. They coursed from the house and along a garden path until a large concentration collected over the lawn by the driveway. The soul-trails briefly tangled with another, but there was something amiss. Something didn’t quite add up, almost as if there was a void among the entanglement.
Nathan zoned in on the collective mass of soul-trails. He heaved in a lungful of air, then expelled a foggy puff of Venusian energy. The subtly glowing cloud dispersed among the phosphorescent wisps, latching on to the strongest emotional echoes of the past.
With another gust of energized breath from Nathan, the mist revealed a frozen image: a woman, her arms wrapped around . . . nothing. But her fierce expression and the angled formation of her body suggested she was trying to drag something—or someone—away.
Violet!
The void was Violet. Of course Nathan couldn’t track her. Years ago, unbeknownst to her, he’d put Veniri poison glands in her lower back to act as a shield, to protect her from being tracked by any Veniri.
The luminescent scene before him began to fade. He flicked his tongue and it pulsed back to life, allowing him to study it further.
It was clear the woman was determined to keep the void—Violet—from reaching the remaining soul-trails of a man walking toward the van. In the man’s arms was—
“A baby?” Nathan spun around to stare at Sagan in shock.
“Yeah.”
Nathan’s gaze flitted between Sagan and the void in the misty impressions of the woman’s arms. “And Violet? She’s . . .”
“The mother. Yes.”
Nathan scrubbed his face with his hands, then locked his fingers together on top of his head. “How is this possible?”
Sagan quirked an eyebrow. “I’m not going to explain the birds and the bees to you.”
“No, I mean, who . . . ?”
In answer, Sagan’s lips pinched into a thin line.
Nathan groaned. “Thane. But . . . if he’s the father, that means”—his knees almost buckled—“the baby is Veniri.”
Sagan slow
ly nodded.
“Does Violet know?”
“She knows.”
How did it come to this? Nathan had failed. He’d failed to protect Violet, to shield her from the world he’d tried to leave behind. All that effort to keep his true self hidden from her, and now . . . “She must’ve lost her mind the first time the baby shifted.”
“Not really. It was a surprise, yes, but it wasn’t the first time she’d seen a Veniri in shifted form.”
Nathan looked up. “What?”
Sagan filled him in on what had happened after Violet found Thane in their kitchen and fled, how she’d discovered Sagan standing in the middle of the road, and together, they’d escaped a trident-wielding hunter and a Veniri.
Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose. That Veniri must have been Kronan. Too bad that scum hadn’t met his demise in Tempecrest.
“I’m not sure if I should’ve told you all this, especially since Violet can’t speak for herself at the moment. I figure she’d want the choice whether or not to reveal who her daughter’s father is.”
“Daughter?” Nathan’s eyebrows shot to the sky. “Are you sure?”
“Definitely.”
“But Veniri females are—”
“Rare. I remember you telling me.”
Turning back to the phosphorescent trails, Nathan scratched at the stubble along his jaw. “A Veniri girl changes everything.”
“I thought it would. Can you track her?”
Nathan lashed out his tongue again. The soul-trails from the pair who’d left in the van streamed down the long driveway and faded out of sight. “It would be complicated. For starters, we’re dealing with Magneii. Even if they hadn’t left in a vehicle, they’re not as easy to track as the Erathi. Besides, I haven’t actually met . . . What’s Violet’s daughter’s name?”
Flames of Mars (Celestial Shifters Book 2) Page 11
