Flames of Mars (Celestial Shifters Book 2)

by Tjalara Draper

“Where’s Violet?” Nathan demanded.

  Autumn didn’t answer. She’d bundled herself up in a ball on the ground and was rocking back and forth, whimpering and crying a string of unintelligible mutterings.

  Nathan knelt down and shook her shoulders. “Where’s Violet? Was she with you when the explosion happened?”

  Autumn looked up at him, her expression hollow. Tears had carved clean paths through the dust and ash on her cheeks. “Violet? I . . . don’t know.”

  Fear unlike anything Nathan had ever experienced constricted his insides. He’d just turned and begun to sprint toward the rubble he guessed was once Violet’s room when—KA-BOOM!

  The second blast sent him flying backward, and his body slammed into something solid. The ringing in his ears was ruthless. When he opened his eyes, the world spun around him, bringing on a merciless wave of nausea.

  Through the disorientation, a blurry face appeared in Nathan’s vision—a familiar face with an unmistakable shark grin. Matthias Branstone said something Nathan’s befuddled mind couldn’t comprehend, then flipped a bright orange disc in the air and sauntered into the night.

  The darkness swallowed the hunter’s form just as Nathan plunged into the abyss of unconsciousness.

  Hiccupping sobs from someone nearby dragged Nathan from his sleep. As his awareness grew, so did the sheer amount of agony in his entire body. He couldn’t quite suppress a groan as he stretched his aching limbs and stiffly sat up. An instant headache throbbed through his skull, and he immediately collapsed back onto his bed to suppress a wave of nausea.

  All the while, the sobbing never ceased. The stench of smoke, ash, and charred flesh laced every breath Nathan took.

  He rolled his head to the side and cracked open an eyelid. The abundance of computer screens confirmed he was in Autumn’s computer shack, except the desks and equipment had been shoved to one side to make way for a row of cots. Two of En’gorr’s men each sat on a cot, and En’gorr himself was leaning against the wall by the doorway. All three pairs of sorrowful eyes were trained on something behind Nathan.

  Hands on his still-aching head, Nathan sat up. He then registered he was still in Veniri form. How long had he been out?

  Another hiccuping sob and a few sniffles stole his attention. He blinked several times to clear away the fog. Autumn, Gus, and Lazareth were crowded around the cot beside him, and Tio sat on a desk a few feet away. All except Tio sported an array of bandages: Gus had one arm in a sling, Lazareth had an entire arm and his head bandaged, and Autumn’s shoulder was marred by a nasty burn. Their expressions were riddled with grief, and all eyes glistened with tears.

  “What’s going on?” Nathan asked.

  A hand appeared at Lazareth’s hip and gently pushed him to the side.

  Dawn lay in the cot, her face swollen almost beyond recognition until she smiled—a kind smile barely hovering above grief and torment. Each of her shallow breaths came with a raspy wheeze.

  “Dawn?” Too many questions flooded Nathan’s mind—they couldn’t get past his dry lips. He jumped off his cot, the horrific memories of the Maple Shire explosions finally beginning to return to him.

  Dawn’s face screwed up in a wince as she pulled in a shallow breath.

  “A huge beam landed on her, and it looks like it’s caused a lot of damage to her internal organs.” Gus gestured to their surroundings. “The infirmary was destroyed in one of the explosions. We no longer have the medical equipment or the know-how to help her. Some doctors from a few neighboring communities arrived about a half hour ago, but Mom refuses to be treated by them.”

  “It’s all my fault.” Autumn hung her head with a sob.

  Dawn took hold of Autumn’s hand and sucked in another short breath. “No.”

  “But if I hadn’t been so stupid and stolen that spangle from En’gorr, none of this would have happened,” said Autumn. “Matthias would never have come to Maple Shire looking for it, and you wouldn’t . . .” Gus hugged Autumn as she sagged against him, her words lost under uncontrollable weeping.

  “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.” Lazareth shook a finger at her. There was a fierceness—a fury in his tone Nathan had never before seen in Lazareth’s kind, understanding eyes. “That Matthias Branstone is going to pay for what he did. I swear I’m going to tear him limb from limb. When I’m done with him, he’ll—”

  “Peace, Laz,” said Dawn’s calming voice, and she enveloped his shaking hands in her own.

  Lazareth’s face twisted in profound misery. He jerkily nodded, then collapsed to his knees, burying his face in their entwined hands. “How am I going to go on without you?” came his muffled lament. “Please, please let me bring in a doctor.”

  “No.” Dawn’s reply was gentle but firm. She stroked her husband’s hair as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Isn’t there anything you can do?” Nathan asked Gus. “You’ve been Dawn’s apprentice this whole time. Can’t you fix her?”

  Gus’s shoulders hunched, and his face slackened with hopelessness. “No. Her condition is way beyond my capability.”

  Dawn wheezed in a garbled breath, then another. “Not . . . for long.” She gave Gus a pointed look, then gently patted Lazareth’s head. “I’m ready.”

  Lazareth wiped his eyes with his sleeves. “Dawn, you don’t have to.”

  She touched his cheek and opened her mouth to say something, but a vicious cough stole her words.

  “Mom, you should rest,” said Gus.

  She shook her head. “No. Much . . . to explain—” The violent cough returned with extra force, and she covered her mouth with a bandaged hand.

  Nathan’s sorrow grew with each of her rib-breaking coughs. He looked around for something, anything that could help alleviate Dawn’s discomfort. Why did he have to be so useless when it came to the medical side of things?

  “Mom, are you okay? Do you need me to get you anything?” Gus asked.

  Finally, the coughing subsided. Nathan’s eyes grew wide at the blood that coated Dawn’s mouth—the gold blood.

  “Mom, what on earth?” Gus exclaimed.

  “So much . . . to explain. No . . . time . . .” Dawn pointed to Gus and then to herself. “You are . . . I am . . . Pliokai.”

  Gus’s brow crinkled. “I don’t know what that is.”

  Dawn looked between Autumn and Lazareth. “Look after . . . my son.”

  With a heavy somberness, both nodded.

  “Wait, what?” Gus gaped. “Mom, what’s going on?”

  Raising her hand to the side of her head, Dawn pressed her fingers against her temple. Her fingers began to glow a vibrant gold, sending a pulse of illumination under the surface of her skin that looked like the layout of an electrical circuit board.

  “Mom!”

  “Shh.” Autumn laid a hand on Gus’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Aunt Dawn knows what she’s doing.”

  After a few swivels of Dawn’s fingers, a compartment in the side of her face spiraled open. She reached inside and pulled out a golden cylinder; the same illuminated circuit board pattern flickered and danced over its surface.

  Nathan stared, his mouth hanging slightly open. He’d never known that the Pliokai, the Pluto shifters, could do that.

  “Memories . . . everything . . .” wheezed Dawn, handing it to Autumn.

  Gus began to warble out a bunch of confused questions, but Dawn cut him off by reaching for his hand. She smiled at her son and patted her chest with her free hand, then pointed to him. “So . . . proud . . .”

  Nathan hung his head as Dawn closed her eyes and exhaled her final breath.

  Epilogue

  Matthias chanced a few steps closer to the edge of the cliff. The waves rolled and crashed below, their thunderous power rumbling through the earth beneath his feet. He was too high up for the spray to reach, but the air was thick with salt.

  He checked his watch, then turned his attention to the sun setting over the watery horizon. Perfect. They’d managed to arrive a
little early.

  “Are we sure this is a good idea?” Axel scratched his shaggy gray beard.

  “You let me worry about what is or isn’t a good idea,” replied Matthias.

  A yelp came from a few feet behind him, followed by a thump against metal. Matthias turned to find one of his hunters banging on the Metallikite crate with his fist.

  “Shut up!” demanded the hunter.

  Matthias rolled his neck with a crack-crack-crack. The rabble he had to work with these days were becoming more impudent than the creatures he hunted and caged. But being surrounded by useless hunters was still preferable to being around his father. Renard Branstone was an incessant tyrant who had tormented Matthias for years over his fascination with the winged shifters and the possible truths behind their mythology. He’d been floored to discover Renard’s dirty little secret of experimenting on humans. Who would have thought Renard was just as desperate to acquire shifter abilities as he was? But as far as Matthias was concerned, his father was going about it all wrong.

  Matthias reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his newly acquired treasure, flipping the orange spangle over and over in his hand. Even after obtaining five spangles, their beauty never ceased to amaze him.

  Acquiring the opalescent pearl one had been almost disappointingly easy. As much as those peaceful Yranum shifters, affiliated with Uranus, had been a pain to track down, it had taken less effort than opening a bottle of whiskey to overpower them.

  The silver spangle had been a bit of a challenge to start with, but once Matthias figured out which werewolf pack to target, his men had cleaned out and ransacked the ancient Lycan boss’s den in a vicious battle worthy of a Quentin Tarantino movie.

  As for the magenta spangle, hardly any bloodshed had been necessary—sadly. All Matthias had needed to do was take advantage of the Mars shifters’ mercenary culture and negotiate the right deal.

  The absinthe-green spangle had so far been the trickiest to procure. The Sathoi were a touchy bunch, with their creepy bulbous eyes, multiple spindly legs, and pincer mouths. It took only a wrong word or a misunderstood facial expression for one of them to attempt to trap him in their sticky webs or acidic goo. Most of his interactions with the Saturn-affiliated shifters had ended with Matthias needing a new suit and the Sathoi in pieces like a bug crushed underfoot. Then, inconveniently, Matthias would have to start all over again in setting up new contacts within the Sathoi realm. Thankfully, all his efforts had eventually paid off.

  And finally, the Jiovis spangle had been a piece of cake to obtain once he tracked down the escaped Jupiter shifters to that little Erathi village. The explosions may have been a little over-the-top, but he’d wanted to make a point: those metal clangers couldn’t escape from him and expect to find a safe hideout.

  He could almost feel the orange spangle’s power through his fingertips, even though in its current state, it was powerless.

  Soon, very soon, he would have the purple spangle in his possession.

  It had taken him months to even locate the Nephezai, then even longer to set up communications and build up enough trust with a Nephezai shifter to organize a meeting—a meeting with not just anyone but the Nephezai king. He’d only ever heard stories about the Nephezai king and his aquatic race. Well over a millennium ago, when the Neptune shifters were banished to the ocean by the world’s Erathi leaders, the Nephezai became all but a myth, leaving behind only legendary stories of man-eating sirens and blood-lusting mermen.

  Again, Axel began to shuffle his feet. The constant scuffle of gravel and dirt began to grate on Matthias’s nerves.

  “Please keep still,” Matthias said through gritted teeth. “They’ll be here soon.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about,” said Axel. “Even you have to admit we haven’t had much experience with the Nephezai. You’d need to grow gills to become a worthy expert.” He peered over the cliff’s edge. “Why did they want us to meet them here? We’re about fifty stories above the water. If they think I’m climbing down there, they’re dreaming.”

  Another squeal, a bang, and a bellowing curse came from the group of hunters. Turning, Matthias shot a pointed look at his niece, Nika. Acknowledging his silent message, Nika punched the rowdy hunter in the arm and told him to stop provoking the animals. The hunter glared at her but backed off after a sidelong glance at Matthias.

  “It’s a mistake, her being here,” said Axel in a low mumble.

  Not bothering to reply, Matthias studied his niece for a second longer. He couldn’t blame Axel and the other hunters for being skeptical of Nika. Even Matthias had been suspicious of her return. After many months of no contact, she’d appeared at the bunker sans a hunter’s amulet and demanding another. Although she’d hedged around a lot of questions regarding why she left, why she returned, and what had happened to her amulet, she’d made up for it with some valuable information about the ragtag group who’d broken into his father’s secret laboratory. When Matthias, Renard, Axel, and Nika reviewed the Xabat security footage, Nika had pointed out one of the intruders and claimed she was a hybrid shifter.

  Matthias hadn’t believed it at first, not until he himself gawped at the security footage of Violet Chambers—of all people—in all her shifter glory. Unbelievable. Never in his lifetime would he have imagined his late daughter’s pathetic little friend from school would one day not only be a mother to a Veniri female but also develop dual shifter abilities.

  Of course, the moment Renard heard about Violet and witnessed for himself what she was capable of, he’d demanded to get his filthy little hands on her to aid in his experiments. Perhaps she was the link in human evolution, he’d declared.

  Not only had Nika been a key player in apprehending Violet, but it had been her idea to persuade Sagan to make a trade and lure Violet into their snare.

  At the thought of his son, an unwelcome churning developed in Matthias’s gut. The more he dwelled on it, the more the churning grew into fury. After all he’d done for his son, after everything, Sagan had had the gall to choose his mother—that disgraceful woman—over him.

  Matthias clenched his hands tighter around his precious spangle. He wasn’t going to waste his time thinking about her, or about how his son had betrayed him. He would wash his hands of it all and focus on the future.

  He panned his gaze over the sparkling sea, then paused and squinted his eyes, worried they might be playing tricks on him.

  A shadow in the water a few hundred feet away was heading directly toward them at an alarming pace. Soon, more shadows appeared behind it. Then more and more. Matthias guessed twenty, then thirty, before he lost count. A nervous chatter began to ripple through the group of hunters.

  Matthias placed the spangle back in his pocket and buttoned up his jacket.

  The first shadow came to a stop about five yards away from the underwater reef lining the base of the cliff. Moments later, the other shadows halted behind their leader.

  Matthias held his breath. For a few seconds, the newcomers remained still. Then the sea began to bubble and churn. The ferocious waters rolled, forming towers that gushed to the sky—up, up, up—until they were level with the clifftop, each one holding an individual figure. From this proximity, Matthias began to make out some of the silhouettes within the rippling water. Fins, tentacles, thorns, tails—the list was vast.

  Matthias took an involuntary step back as the towers began to bend toward him. Closer and closer. The rush of churning water became deafening, and ocean spray began to sprinkle over Matthias’s face and suit. He allowed himself to draw in a lungful of briny air, but anticipation constricted his airways once more when the waters began to divide, revealing a deadly creature from the deep.

  This would have to be none other than Qozzlotl Nagahld, the Nephezai king himself; the tangle of golden spikes on the creature’s head resembled a crown. Matthias had half expected him to be carrying a trident, as was depicted in marine-related fairy tales, but instead, the Nephezai king held a
weapon made of glowing neon-purple thorns.

  Qozzlotl was humanoid from the waste up. His torso rippled with gills and decorative fins, and his flesh was similar to that of a shark or dolphin, mottled with grays, purples, deep indigo, and splashes of multicolored neon. A series of iridescent fins along his cheekbones and forearms matched the ones on his torso. But of all the magnificent features of the Nephezai, there were none more stunning than the numerous thorns that coated his shoulders and upper arms, most of them close to half a foot long. They glimmered with mother-of-pearl, and droplets of water sparkled at their lethal tips. Despite how ornamental the thorns appeared, Matthias knew of the Nephezai ability to shoot any one of them at will and inject their victim with a paralysis agent, similar to other venomous marine animals.

  Water still engulfed the Nephezai king from the waist down, where, instead of legs, Matthias could make out the shape of a giant sea snake, or perhaps an eel with long fins that rippled down its sides.

  Qozzlotl’s shifted form had no need for any other adornment, yet he still wore an impressive assortment of gold, silver, and jewels. Matthias, however, only had eyes for the purple spangle that hung center-stage around the Nephezai king’s neck. He had yet to bring up the topic of spangles with Qozzlotl. Hopefully, as had been the case with most of the other shifter races, the lore of the spangles had also been watered down, so to speak, among the Nephezai.

  The roaring water tower that held the king came to a standstill about a foot away from Matthias, while the rest of the towers remained over the ocean. About ten other shadows had revealed themselves behind the king—a guard.

  Matthias had to crane his neck to look at the king’s striking eyes, and he struggled to hold back a scowl. These creatures had been defeated and banished long ago by Matthias’s kind; it should be them looking up at him.

  The two Nephezai on either side of the king aimed their weapons at Matthias. “Bow, humans,” one of them said. “You are in the presence of Qozzlotl Nagahld, king of the ocean.”