Fury and disgust raged on both Harold and Brecker’s blue dripping faces, yet neither made any movement toward him. Instead, Brecker stabbed his finger at the touchscreen. “Oh, you’re gonna get yours.”
Before Nathan could react, the Aphrodite beam engulfed him; the strength of both light and sound that raced through his body ignited into overdrive.
This time he had no chance of refusing to haze.
Shards of crystal sliced through his insides and punctured his skin, spearing up from his collarbones and sprouting along his shoulders and neck. Blades burst from his elbows, extending all the way to his wrists. Protrusions from the center of each knee grew to a quarter of the length of Nathan’s thighs, and smaller crystals spired out of the rest of Nathan’s body in his own unique pattern. His flesh rippled and molded into iridescent teal and dark gray scales, which glowed—as if from an inner illumination—at the bases of the larger spikes. His feet and toes elongated several inches, morphing into prehistoric raptor feet armed with glittering Diamantium talons.
Nathan’s inner eyelids shuttered open and closed, adjusting to the intense exposure of the condensed Venusian beam. A tingle in his skull intensified into painful vibrations as smaller shards of Diamantium sliced through his scaled head, adorning his brow bones, cheekbones, and chin. His canines and premolars lengthened and sharpened. After a moment, his forked tongue slashed out between a triple set of protruding fangs.
Nathan’s jaw locked open in a long guttural roar. His body writhed and flayed, the chains his only tether to the world.
At last the transformation ended.
Nathan waited for the relief that usually came after his body hazed, but the onslaught of evil continued, promising no end to his suffering. The world became nothing but a blur of pain. Excruciating pain. He wished and prayed it would all end. That he would end.
Then, miraculously, Aphrodite flicked off.
Nathan sagged against his bonds. A glitter of rainbow light reflected off his crystal spires and onto the blue puddle below.
Although his closed inner eyelids fogged his vision, his tongue fumbled outward instinctively to taste and assess his surroundings. His mind, however, repelled any comprehension beyond a vague sense of movement before him—two blurry figures.
He blinked a few times at the pair of grinning faces speckled with blue liquid.
They were speaking, but to Nathan’s ears their words were unintelligible. He shook his head, then immediately regretted it as a wave of nausea collided into him
He strained his remaining concentration until he understood some of the words.
“. . . gonna start with this one.”
The speaker held up what looked like enormous scissors. Or were they oversized nail clippers?
Odd sounds issued from both figures—some kind of gurgling. After a moment, Nathan realized it was laughter. The smaller figure clamped the oversized nail clippers on a Diamantium shard jutting from Nathan’s collarbone.
A stab of pain jolted through Nathan’s body. His eyes widened, and the world crashed back into focus.
“That’s it, Harold, get a good grip on it.”
Harold tugged on the spike. A hoarse groan escaped Nathan.
“Careful now, you don’t want to cut into it yet. What you want to do is yank hard and see if you can get a few more inches before you break it off.” Brecker tapped the center of Nathan’s torso. “Put your foot up here for some leverage.”
Nathan grunted as Harold adjusted his stance without easing his hold on the spike. A cold, slick boot pressed into Nathan’s stomach.
“Ready?” said Brecker.
“Yup.”
“Now yank as hard as you can.”
Harold grunted with the effort, his boot ramming into Nathan’s diaphragm.
Nathan’s scream was futile, almost soundless. It may as well have been a gust of wind or an unseen ghost crying out to the living. Pure agony radiated from the shard in Harold’s grasp, the pressure unendurable. The shard’s hold on Nathan’s internal skeleton was on the verge of breaking.
Harold’s laborious grunts ended abruptly, interrupted by the dull thud of metal hitting flesh.
Brecker collapsed in a heap.
“What the . . . ?” Harold didn’t have time to turn before Sagan struck him across the back of the head with a metal bar. Like a marionette with cut strings, Harold’s limp form joined Brecker’s on the floor.
Sagan stepped over the bodies, retrieving the cutting tool from Harold’s hands. Nathan blinked sluggishly.
Sagan raised the cutters. In quick succession, he cut both of Nathan’s wrists free.
Nathan’s arms fell to his sides, and his fingers flared torturously as the blood rushed back into his hands. He eyed Sagan, trying to read his expression.
Sagan held up Matthias’s phone.
Relief washed over Nathan after he read the text message on the screen.
15
Greedy With The “Crazy” Title
Violet pulled her blanket off the bed, jumped onto the window seat, and threw it over the curtain rail. The room dimmed to a sepia glow, soft beams of sunlight still creeping in at the edges of the window frame.
“Thanks for agreeing to this,” she said. “I would have asked one of the others, but they’re all busy today.”
“No problem,” said Thane, “happy I could help. So, what’s your class project again?”
Violet tugged on the edges of the makeshift drapery until all sunlight was blocked. “It’s about capturing emotions in photos.”
“Cool. So all you need me to do is smile and frown and cry, right? Fair warning—I can’t make any promises on the crying part. Unless you’re planning to kick me in the groin or something.”
Violet laughed and jumped down from the window seat. “No plans for any groin kicking.”
“Great.”
Warm incandescent light bathed the room when she turned on the desk lamp. “I need to put together a folio of different emotions. The idea is to capture the feelings in ways other than just facial expressions. We need to incorporate elements like posture, lighting, hands, and props to create an emotional story.” She pointed to the floor in front of the window seat. “I’ll need you to stand there for me, please.”
When Thane was in position, she turned to rummage in the top drawer of her desk, pulling out some scissors and a necklace with a vintage pocket watch pendant.
“What’s next?” asked Thane.
Violet clipped out an image from a department store catalogue. “I just need to finish making this prop. And then I’ll need you to . . . um . . . I’ll need you to . . .” Her voice dropped to a mumble.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that last bit. You need me to what?”
Violet tore off some tape and rolled it sticky side out as she gave an uncomfortable cough. “I need you to take off your shirt.”
She refused to look at him, training all her focus on attaching the tape to the back of the catalogue clipping, but she swore she could feel Thane’s amused expression boring into her back.
“The lady hasn’t even bought me dinner, and she’s already asking me to undress.” He chuckled.
Violet bit her lip to hide a grin. When she was satisfied with her improvised prop, she turned back to Thane.
“Here. We’ll start with this.” She held out the necklace. The pendant dangled down from her fingertips, the embossed filigree pattern on the watch cover capturing the light as it gently swayed.
She hated having to use her desk lamp. It was tacky compared to the better, more expensive lighting equipment available, but at least it could still create the light and shadow contrast for what she had in mind.
Thane eyed the watch as he undid the last few buttons on his shirt. The light from the lamp washed over his bare skin from the waist up, creating shadows that accentuated the rippled muscles on his arms and down his abdomen.
Violet sucked in a breath. Keep cool, Violet. Don’t go making a fool of yourself.
“Um, it was . . .” Violet shifted a little on her feet, avoiding eye contact. “A friend gave it to me.”
He pressed the button that released the cover, revealing the watch face. On the inside of the cover was a baby photo she’d clipped out of the baby clothes section of the department store catalogue. After a pause, he said, “Hmm, interesting. So, do you want me to put it on or hold it? How do you want this to go?”
She let out a breath of relief and smiled at him. “Here, let me.”
She reached out for his right hand and entwined the chain around his fingers, leaving the watch to dangle a few inches from his wrist. Then she rested his hand on his chest, just above his heart, and positioned the pendant so that both the watch face and the image of the baby were visible.
Thane kept quiet and pliable, allowing her to form the vision in her mind.
She took a few shots with her camera on the tripod, then tried a few close-ups. The regular clicking of the camera shutter barely drowned out the pounding of her pulse in her ears. The angry pixies in her chest were raging.
“What kind of emotion are you trying to capture?” Thane asked.
“I’m not totally sure yet,” Violet confessed. “I had this image in my mind when I was given the assignment, and I just thought I’d run with it and see how it turns out.”
Thane nodded. A few more clicks of the shutter filled the short silence.
“Do you mind if I make a suggestion?” he asked.
Violet looked up from the viewfinder.
“I mean, only if you want me to,” he quickly added. “I don’t mean to take over or anything.”
Violet smiled. “It’s fine. What do you have in mind?”
He reached for her hand, and she let the camera dangle from the strap around her neck as he drew her closer. Spicy hints of his aftershave hovered in the air. Unlike the heavy musk of those typical spray-on deodorants, his scent was earthy and rich.
“This may or may not work, but I’m happy for you to be the judge of that.” He laced his fingers in hers and hugged her hand to his chest.
She sucked in a breath, trying desperately to ignore the intense fluttering in her ribcage and stomach and—
“What do you think?” he asked.
She cleared her throat. “This is actually pretty great.” With her free hand, she took a few shots, then scrolled through the photos she’d taken. Her eyes widened at the stunning images on the digital display screen. Thane had terrific instincts for this kind of thing. She imagined the final photos in black and white. Or was that too cliché? Maybe sepia?
“So, this friend of yours, the one who gave you the watch. Does she go to college here too?” asked Thane.
Violet paused her scrolling. “No, she, um . . . she . . . passed away a few years ago.”
Passed away. Violet hated that term. It made it sound as if Lyla had just slipped off peacefully in her sleep. She may as well say something like “An angel flew gracefully down from the heavens and enveloped Lyla in a holy embrace to escort her to the hereafter.”
Yet, words like died or death were just too brutal, too callous. Too final.
She shuffled her feet, gluing her attention on her sneakers, waiting for the questions. How did she die, Violet? Why can’t you remember what happened, Violet?
“She was special to you. Wasn’t she.” He said it like a statement, not like a question. His thumb stroked small circles on the back of her hand.
“Yeah,” she said, the word nearly a whisper. “She was my best friend in the whole world. I know it sounds cliché, but she saw me when . . . when I was invisible.”
Thane edged closer. She could almost taste the sandalwood in his aftershave. He placed a hand on her cheek, and she sucked in a breath, averting her gaze.
“Violet, look at me,” he said, his voice low and flowing like liquid silver. He tilted her chin up. The flecks of gold in his eyes were mesmerizing—holographic against the brown of his irises. “You’re not invisible to me.”
A flutter stirred in her chest, and she bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes. His thumb stroked her cheek, then moved down, tracing the corner of her mouth, the edge of her bottom lip.
When she opened her eyes, his gaze was locked directly onto hers. She could drown in the molten gold of those eyes.
His hand stilled. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, her gaze once again falling to the ground. “Yes. It’s just . . . I’ve never . . .”
He angled his head, trying to recapture eye contact. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”
She looked up. The glow of his eyes had intensified—almost as if it were radiating out and around him.
“Whoa,” she said in a soft voice. “You look . . .” Even after rubbing her eyes, the golden light was still there. It started to dance around him like an aura of glitter, like fireflies.
She unlaced her hand from Thane’s and took a few steps back, her gaze swiveling around the room. “You can see this too . . . right?” Maybe this was all in her head. Great! She was in her room with the hottest guys she’d ever met, and she was going crazy. Was this her way of fleeing from the first sign of commitment? She had developed a knack for switching foster homes back in the day.
Thane’s brow furrowed, his confusion clear. But the bafflement wasn’t directed at her, Violet noticed with a flood of relief. He craned his head around, also looking at the light.
“Yeah.” He gave a slow nod. “I can see it. Is this some kind of fancy lighting effect? I thought that was done in the editing stage.”
Violet shook her head and glanced at her desk lamp. “It’s not me.”
So many questions raced through her mind. Her head was freaking out—yet she didn’t feel in danger. In fact, the lights seemed almost calming. Reassuring.
Thane was looking down at himself, inspecting his arms, his chest, and the air around him. “It can’t be . . .” he murmured.
“What? What is it?”
“I . . .” He glanced at her and grimaced. “To be honest, I don’t really know.”
One of the tiny flecks was hovering a few inches in front of Violet’s face. The closer it got, the more she wanted to reach out and touch it. What would happen if she did? Would it burn her? Zap her? Would it hurt at all? She didn’t think so. Again, her instincts told her it was safe.
The little light flickered and sparked as it drifted closer.
“Wow, it’s so pretty.” Violet reached out a hand.
“Wait,” said Thane. “Don’t touch it. I don’t know what it does.” But before he’d finished speaking, the golden fleck landed on her palm and soaked into her skin.
He rushed forward and grabbed her hand, inspecting where the fleck had landed. The other lights trailed after him.
“It didn’t hurt,” she assured him.
“What is going on?” Thane said, more to himself.
“Have you seen anything like this before?”
Thane shook his head, eyes wide. She smiled at his expression of wonderment, his awe toward what was happening.
If there was one thing Violet could tell for sure about the lights, it was their source. Thane. The tiny luminous particles kept multiplying, appearing like small halos against his bare skin, then gently drifting off to hover around them both, much like the swarm of bubbles from their first date.
She looked down at the camera still in her hands. “Hmm, I wonder . . . Stay still for a second.”
Violet stepped back, then snapped a few shots. She alternated between looking at Thane through the viewfinder and over the camera, trialing and testing a few angles and perspectives.
After a few more photos, she noticed Thane start to twitch and rub at his skin.
“Are you okay?” She lowered the camera. “What’s wrong?”
He scrubbed at his face. “I don’t know. I feel kind of tingly.”
“Well, I may have noticed something in the last few minutes.” As he spoke, his hands were still scratching at his face, his hands, his abdomen. Eventually, he settled for massaging the area around his eyes. “I may be at risk of sounding a little crazy, but I think I can feel you looking at me. Like, actually feel your gaze on me.”
Violet raised an eyebrow. “Umm . . . what?”
Thane chuckled sheepishly. “I know, crazy, right?”
Violet shrugged. “Maybe? There’s an easy way to find out.” She put a hand over her eyes. “How do you feel now?”
After a few heartbeats, Thane clicked his tongue. “Believe it or not, it’s stopped.”
“What? No way.” Violet dropped her hand. “You’re totally playing me.”
Thane shook his head and started running his hands over his face again. “Ha, if I was playing you, this would be a totally weird prank to pull.”
She couldn’t argue with that. “Okay then. Cover your eyes.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it.”
Thane laughed and did as she said. “Okay.”
“Good. Now, tell me if you can feel this.” She fixed her gaze on the hand covering his eyes.
“Yep, pretty sure I can feel it.”
“Where?”
He pointed to the back of his hand.
Hmm. Lucky guess. She looked at his chin.
“It’s here now.” He scratched at his chin with one finger.
Violet frowned. She looked at his elbow. He pointed to his elbow. Next, she looked at his shoulder, and without hesitation, he pointed to his shoulder, right at the spot where she was focusing.
You’ve got to be kidding!
“You’re totally peeking,” she said.
“I swear I’m not,” he said on a laugh.
She frowned, then a smile tugged at her lips.
Violet slowly moved her gaze from his shoulder along his collarbone. He traced the path of her eye with his finger, following it to the hollow of his neck, then down the center of his torso.
“Violet, what are you doing?”
Shards of Venus Page 13
