Shards of Venus

by Tjalara Draper

  Jude sometimes dropped him home after he picked up his dinner, but most of the time, he was more than content to walk the few blocks back to his place. It was a good excuse to bask in Venusian beams—to renew the Veniri energy stores that revitalized him to his very core.

  He searched for the melodic hum that showed him the direction of Venus’s celestial position, acknowledging the gentle tug as it beckoned—never compelled—his Veniri side to the surface. Unlike what was so often depicted in fairy tales and teen novels, werewolves and other shifter species, such as his own, almost always had the choice to haze into their shifter forms or not. Their associated planet or moon was a source of needed energy, not a curse.

  As Nathan cut through a park toward his street, his instincts abruptly pricked, along with the searing pain in his elbows.

  Something wasn’t right.

  He hadn’t survived this long, in either the Veniri or the Erathi worlds, by ignoring his intuition. He should reach for his gun—it was what an Erathi would do, especially an Erathi detective—but a strong impulse led him to raise his face to the inky sky and Venus’s beams.

  A tingle under his tongue intensified.

  He flicked out his forked tongue once, then twice, tasting the night’s air. The wind picked up. Leaves rustled from the trees, and a swing in the playground squeaked as it rocked back and forth.

  He stifled a curse when he scented cinnamon.

  Not good.

  To basically the entire Erathi race, cinnamon was a pleasant flavor, but to every Veniri it was detestable and meant one thing: someone’s intention to murder.

  Nathan pulled out his phone and pressed a number on speed dial, the same number he’d called after leaving the Branstone’s house. It rang twice.

  A twig snapped. He swiveled to the right, and an electrical force punched directly into his face, snapping his head back. His body plummeted to the ground. The plastic bag of Chinese food scattered everywhere, seeping sticky juices into the dirt.

  Nathan’s face and neck were numb. His phone lay just out of reach, a faint voice emanating from the speaker.

  Several figures came into view. From head to toe, they were clad in black, almost perfectly camouflaged against the darkened sky. They circled him, their silhouettes blanking out the stars above.

  Nathan’s tongue lashed out again, testing the emotions and intentions of his assailants. Cinnamon was still pungent, but he now sensed it was laced with salt. Interesting. Salt meant restraint. His attackers wanted to kill him, but for whatever reason, they were holding off for the moment. Maybe he could take advantage of that.

  He released his crystal blades from his elbows and swung his arm at the nearest pair of legs. His blade caught fabric, flesh, and then bone. A muffled cry broke the quietness.

  Nathan struck his blades out for another attack, but something sharp bit into his chest. He grabbed at whatever had punctured him, his fingers circling around a small glass dart tipped with a Diamantium needle.

  One of the black figures removed its mask, revealing the face of a young male with white-blonde hair, his eyes a piercing pale blue. Nathan’s vision blurred, but not before the youth’s face contorted into a scowl that dripped poison.

  11

  No More Psycho Crazy

  Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Violet swiped her student card once more at the front door of the library’s photography wing. Again, the keypad beeped its angry red light and flashed an error code.

  “What is wrong with you?” Violet growled. She’d only just picked up this new card from the student help desk after misplacing her last one a few days ago. She swiped again and the keypad beeped, again! “Why won’t you let me in?”

  In her periphery, someone leaned on the wall by the door. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

  Violet closed her eyes and drew a long breath, wincing as pain lanced through her still bruised ribs. “Go away, Autumn. I’m not in the mood.”

  “Come on, Vi. It’s been three days. You can’t ignore me forever.”

  “Don’t underestimate my stubbornness.”

  “Can we please work this out?”

  Violet ignored her and swiped her card again. Surely it would work this time. The keypad beeped; this time it asked for an authorization code.

  “Damn it!” Violet kicked the door.

  “Give me that.” Autumn snatched the card, kneeled down on the ground, and pulled her laptop and another device out of her bag.

  “Oh my gosh, Autumn. Do you seriously walk around with a card reader in your bag?”

  Autumn cocked an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised how handy this thing is.”

  Violet huffed and leaned on the wall as Autumn swiped the card and clacked away on her laptop.

  “Ah, there’s your problem,” said Autumn. “The looney who gave you this card forgot to activate it.”

  Violet groaned. “This can’t be happening. I don’t have time to wait in line for another half hour. And student services is all the way on the other side of campus.”

  “Chill, this won’t take long,” said Autumn, still typing on her laptop. “Aaaaaand done.” She packed away her computer and card reader, then stood to give the card back to Violet. “Here you go. All activated and authorized to the highest clearance level. If you wanted to, you could have lunch in the faculty lounge. On Thursdays, they have a great spread of pastries and Danishes. Oh, and in future, if you’re asked for an activation code, just type in your birthday.”

  “What?” Violet took the card from Autumn and frowned at it. “How do you know my birthday?”

  “It’s on your student file.”

  “How do you know what my student file says?”

  Autumn answered with a smile.

  Violet looked down at Autumn’s bag with the laptop in it, then shook her head. “Unbelievable. You hacked my student file?”

  “Please don’t be mad. I only did it to find your schedule.”

  “Great!” Violet threw her arm in the air. “Now you’re stalking me?”

  “Only because you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

  “For good reason, moron. I’m pissed at you!”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. Please, Violet, will you please, please forgive me? Gus and Bessie have.”

  “That’s because they’re idiots.”

  Autumn shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, maybe. And I might have given them Katy Perry tickets and a new PlayStation game.”

  Violet rolled her eyes. “Is that why you’re here?” She held up her student card. “To buy my forgiveness?”

  “Well . . . no . . .” Autumn dropped her gaze to the ground, scuffing her shoe on the pavement. A few charms in her hair tinkled as dreadlocks fell over her face. “You’re right. I screwed up. I should never have put you guys in that situation at the club. I do mean it when I say I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. I hate that you’re mad at me.” She peeked at Violet through her dreadlocks. “Please, Vi, tell me what to do to make you not mad anymore.”

  Violet was about to let out a sigh, then remembered her sore ribs, so she hugged her torso instead. “How about you start with an explanation. What the hell? Who the hell? And why the hell?”

  Autumn winced. “Uh . . . You sure you don’t want a box of cinnamon doughnuts instead?”

  “Explain.”

  “I would . . . but I can’t.”

  “Damn it, Autumn! If you don’t start talking, I’m going to march over to student services and demand they switch me to a new dorm room.”

  “I’ll just switch it back.”

  Violet gave her the filthiest look she’d used on the worst of her foster parents.

  “Violet, I mean it. I can’t tell you. As in, it’s best that you don’t know—”

  “Don’t give me that crap.” Violet crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “You owe me way more than ‘it’s best you don’t know.’ And what about Gus? He’s lucky he got away with only a mild concussion.”

  �
�Yeah, I know. But he’s fine now. That campus doc did a great job treating him. I mean, let’s face it, she’s probably had a lot of practice with concussions from all the drunken frat guys.”

  “I’m not kidding. Someone could have been seriously hurt.”

  “I know, I know.” Autumn fiddled with the end of one of her locks.

  “I still think we should go to the cops, or at least—”

  “No!” Autumn cut in. “No cops. Please, Violet. I’m serious. I just . . .” Her shoulders slumped. “I should never have dragged you guys along. I’m sorry. Just please, Violet, please don’t go to the cops. Let me deal with it, okay?”

  One thing in Autumn’s expression Violet recognized clear as day. Fear. It contrasted completely with the confident, carefree rulebreaker Violet had come to know in the past few weeks.

  “Believe me,” continued Autumn when Violet didn’t answer, “if I could tell you, I would.”

  Violet huffed out a sigh. “Can you at least tell me who that guy with the green dragon was?”

  Autumn shook her head. “The less you know, the better.”

  Violet tutted and couldn’t resist rolling her eyes.

  “But seriously,” said Autumn, “I had no idea that guy was going to turn psycho on me.”

  Violet’s gaze fell to the fading bruises on Autumn’s neck. Guilt rose in her chest. She’d been so angry for the last few days she’d forgotten Autumn might still be hurting from her attack. “How’s your neck?” she asked, her tone soft.

  “It’s a lot better now,” Autumn said, shrugging it off. “How about you? How’s your head?”

  “It’s fine. I had a bit of a bump, but it’s my ribs that are still sore.”

  Autumn winced. “Sorry to hear that.”

  Violet offered a small smile, and Autumn smiled back.

  “So . . . are we cool?” asked Autumn, her eyes full of hope.

  “Yeah,” Violet answered after a moment. “We’re cool.”

  “Promise me no cops?”

  Violet snorted. “For now. But I swear if anything else psycho crazy happens, I will be calling Nathan in an instant.” Although for her to tell him anything, he would have to start returning her calls. For the past few days, he hadn’t even replied to her text messages. It was a little unusual. He was probably just getting super tied-up with work, but still, she was starting to get a little worried.

  “I promise, no more psycho crazy.” Autumn’s grin lit up her whole face, and in a flurry of dreadlocks, she bombarded Violet with a hug. “Thanks, Vi. You’re the best.”

  “Yeah, and don’t you forget it.”

  “So,” said Autumn when she finally released her, “should I assume you don’t want these then?” She pulled a box of cinnamon doughnuts from her bag.

  “You sneak!” Violet laughed and raised a finger. “Never assume I don’t want cinnamon doughnuts. Give me one of those.”

  Autumn opened the box and they both took one. Violet bit into the soft dough, her teeth crunching on the sugar crystals.

  “So, when’s Bessie going to the Katy Perry concert?” Violet asked before taking another bite.

  “The tickets were for Gus. Bessie’s the gamer,” said Autumn around a mouthful of doughnut.

  “Seriously? Gus?”

  “Yep. He’s making a ‘will you marry me’ sign as we speak.”

  Violet laughed and reached for another doughnut.

  “Uh, Violet?” said a male voice.

  Violet turned to see who Autumn was gaping at. “Thane, what are you doing here?” She dropped the doughnut back in the box and dusted the sugar from her fingers. “I mean . . . Hi, how are you?”

  He smiled and dug both his hands into his jeans pockets. “I’m fine. I’m sorry to bother you at college. I know you must be busy.”

  “No, not busy. Not busy at all,” said Violet, wondering how her voice had suddenly become so squeaky.

  “Okay, great.” He flashed his gorgeous smile. “I just . . . um . . .” His eyes darted to Autumn.

  Violet followed his gaze and cringed. Autumn’s eyes were bugging out of her head, and if her jaw dropped any lower, it would be bringing back souvenirs from China.

  “Oh, right.” Violet gestured to Autumn. “Thane, this is Autumn.”

  “Hey,” said Thane. “So you’re the roommate Violet’s been talking about.”

  “What? Me? She’s been talking about me? To you?”

  Violet struggled to hold back a facepalm as Autumn obviously checked Thane out, making no attempt to hide her appreciation for what she saw.

  “What the hell, Autumn?” Violet said in a stage whisper.

  “I think I should be the one asking ‘what the hell?’” replied Autumn, also in a stage whisper. “How come you never told me about him?”

  Thane cleared his throat, and both girls turned back to him.

  “Sorry,” said Violet, her cheeks growing warm.

  He chuckled. “It’s fine.” He pulled something from his pocket and held it out to her. “Here, this is yours. You dropped it last time at the café.”

  She recognized her old student card. “Oh, wow. Thanks,” she said, hiding her new card behind her back and taking her old one from him. “You didn’t have to go out of your way.”

  He shrugged. “It’s no problem. I figured it was something you might be needing. I’m just sorry I couldn’t get it to you sooner.”

  “It’s fine.” Violet’s mind raced for something else to say—something light and relaxed, like the stuff they would talk about during their catch-ups at the café. But Autumn’s ogling was setting her on edge.

  Thane raked a hand through his hair. “So, uh . . . I can see you’re busy.” He pointed to the Student Photography Lab sign on the door—the one Violet had kicked earlier. “So I . . . guess I’ll see you around, Violet.”

  “Oh, okay,” said Violet, hating this door even more now. Her shoulders drooped. The word bye was on her lips, but she didn’t feel right saying it.

  Thankfully, she didn’t have to say anything. He waved at her and she waved back. Her gaze dropped to the ground as he turned to leave.

  “Actually, there’s something else,” Thane blurted, swinging back to face her.

  Violet’s stomach flipped; the familiar sensation of angry pixies banging on her insides returned, much like the first day she met him. “Sure, okay. What?”

  “I know we have kind of a ‘you buy coffee, I buy coffee’ agreement, but I came across this”—he reached into his jacket and pulled out a crumpled flyer—“and I was wondering if you’d, maybe, want to join me.”

  Violet took the flyer. It advertised the annual city carnival, promising various thrill rides, circus acts, live music, market stalls, showbags, carnival food, and “much, much more!”

  “This sounds like a lot of fun,” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  He half squinted one eye. “It’s not too corny for a first date?”

  Violet gaped. “A what?”

  Thane’s mouth hung open for a moment, and his neck started to flush. “I mean, did I say . . . ? It doesn’t have to be considered a date. It could just be, you know, two people going out at the same time, to the same place, and maybe doing the same things. You know, like . . .” His face screwed into a wince, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “. . . non-date-like things.”

  She looked down at the flyer again. A date? What would Lyla say if she could see her now? If there were such things as ghosts, then Lyla was likely poking her in the ribs and shouting, “Hurry up and say yes, Vi. What are you waiting for?” Although if Lyla’s ghost wasn’t heckling her, then there was a good chance Autumn was about to.

  “I’d love to go with you,” she said in a rush.

  Thane’s eyebrows shot up, and he dropped his hand from his neck. “Really?”

  Violet nodded.

  He smiled. “Great! How about I pick you up?”

  Her cheeks grew warm at the sparkle in his eye, and fo
r the first time in her life, she gave a guy her phone number and address.

  After he left, Autumn’s smirk was full of greedy curiosity. “Tell me everything.”

  12

  Cheap-Ass Steak Knife

  Aches in Nathan’s shoulders and wrists drew him slowly and excruciatingly out of unconsciousness. The more his awareness grew, the more the pain throbbed.

  A boot scuffed on concrete. Instinct told him to keep his eyes closed and assess the situation with his other senses. Nearby, he could hear the subtle rhythm of someone breathing. Captor or captive?

  He waited a few seconds, but other than his own thumping pulse in his ears, no other sounds became apparent.

  He took stock of his body. A chill crawled up his arms, torso, and legs; he’d been stripped down to his boxer briefs. The weight of his body hung from metal cuffs around his wrists, which spread his arms wide above his head. His legs slouched beneath him, but thankfully, his feet were able to touch the ground.

  How long had he been dangling like this?

  He hesitated for a few heartbeats, reluctant to announce his return to consciousness by standing, but the pain was swiftly becoming intolerable. Finally, he flattened his feet on the ground and pushed himself upright, letting out a deep exhale of relief as the tension on his wrists and shoulders slackened. A chink and a rattle above his head confirmed his wrist restraints were attached to the ceiling with chains.

  Boots shuffled on the concrete, followed by a high-pitched squeal of rusty hinges.

  “Go tell the boss the slith’s awake.”

  Nathan raised his head and tilted it from side to side, cracking his neck.