“So, Thane, you think you’re up for it again?” Tio grinned and wriggled his fingers. Little crackles of electricity danced over his skin.
“Why not? May as well add a bit more agony to my day.” Thane sauntered over to the bars between his and Tio’s cells and lay down on his side, facing Nathan.
Tio crouched by Thane’s head. He leaned in as much as the bars would allow. “It looks much better than yesterday.”
“You think it’s working?”
“Actually, I think it might be. We’ve only done about eight rounds, but the colored ink’s almost gone, and the black sections look like they’re fading a bit.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” said Thane, “It’s not like I’ve got access to a mirror. We may as well keep going.”
“How about I try a higher current this time? You know, to try and speed things up.”
Thane waved a hand. “Sure, just get on with it.”
Reaching through the bars, Tio hovered his fingers over the crystal scorpion tattoo on Thane’s neck. “Ready?”
Thane winced. “Yep.”
Tio’s hand glowed a brilliant orange, and golden electricity hummed and sparked between his fingers. Thane hissed as the electricity connected with his skin.
Nathan couldn’t help wincing too, especially once the stench of burning flesh reached his nose. He’d been the victim of a Jiovis shifter’s electricity only a handful of times, and none of them had made him want to volunteer for the experience again.
Back when Thane had come up with this improvised tattoo-removal method, Nathan had thought the idea ridiculous. Getting tattoo ink through Veniri hide was one thing, but removing it would be much more difficult—which Thane had found out the hard way after many failed attempts with the standard Erathi laser removal treatment.
Thane’s groans rose over the fierce crackle of Tio’s efforts. Even from where Nathan was sitting, he could make out small bolts of light shooting from Tio’s index finger into Thane’s neck with a monotonous zap-zap-zap. Tio hadn’t been joking when he’d said he had tight control over his power.
Thane’s grunts of pain grew even more anguished as time went on. His legs writhed, and his knuckles turned white from gripping the bars. Nathan couldn’t help admiring Thane’s determination. Whatever the reason he wanted to get rid of the tattoo, Nathan was certain it had something to do with Violet.
“There,” said Tio after a few minutes. “That should probably do it for today.”
“Finally,” Thane gritted out.
“Hey, you wanted this, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Thane pushed himself up, cupping the area of his tattoo with one hand, and lay back down on his cot with a final groan. “It’s going to itch like a mother tomorrow.”
Just then, a mechanical click and whir announced the opening of the main door to the prison block. All heads turned as a group of hunters—two men and a woman—entered. They sauntered down the hallway of captive shifters until they reached the barred door of Nathan’s cell.
The two males, one bulky and brunet and the other a bit shorter and leaner with light brown hair, leaned on the bars and grinned. Their hunter amulets swayed on black chains around their necks, both with three of the ten vials filled.
“Here he is, Nika—the slith of the hour, in the flesh,” said the brunet hunter.
The young woman pushed her way between the two males and peered through the bars. “He doesn’t look like much.”
The smaller male chuckled. “Don’t let that fool you. This slith made us a lot of money tonight. Right, Quill?”
“Hell yeah. I told you Axel’s mongrel wouldn’t beat this slith. And I told you”—Quill elbowed Nika—“you should have placed a bet of your own. Hestus and I are going to be celebrating with our winnings later.”
Nathan scoffed.
The brunet hunter frowned. “What’re you laughing at, slith?”
In reply, Nathan just shook his head. Gambling was another part of Erathi culture he just hadn’t got a handle on yet. Every Erathi had something to prove and, in their mind, everything to gain.
“So,” said Nika, “does anyone know why Uncle Ty decided to bring sliths into Tempecrest?”
“Nah, I haven’t heard anything,” said Hestus.
“Who cares?” Quill threw his hands up. “Tempecrest has become way more interesting. There’s only so many fights you can watch with mutts before things start to get boring. Uncle Ty should have brought in the sliths ages ago.”
Quill leaned on Thane’s cell door. “This slith’s not too bad either.”
“Yeah, this one’s my favorite,” said Hestus, moving to join him. “Did you see how he sliced the mutt’s head off before cutting out his heart?”
The two proceeded to recap their favorite play-by-play, but the woman, Nika, remained at Nathan’s cell. She quickly glanced at the two other hunters, then gestured for Nathan to come closer.
Nathan narrowed his eyes at her. She may have been a woman, petite and pretty, but he didn’t for a second think she wasn’t capable of slitting his throat just for fun if she wanted to. He dropped his gaze and ignored her.
“Psst.” Her hiss was barely audible over the two, now arguing, males. From the corner of his eyes, Nathan glanced at Thane, who was surreptitiously eyeing the woman while trying not to divert the two guys’ attention.
“Psst.”
Nathan flicked his gaze back to Nika, and again, she gestured for him to come forward. What is this chick’s deal? As casually as possible, he got up and approached her.
She opened her mouth to speak.
“Hey! Get away from my sister!” A hand shoved Nathan back. Quill’s face appeared between the bars, his expression dripping venom. “If you ever come near my sister—”
“Back off, Quill.” Nika gave him an elbow to the ribs. “I can take care of myself, remember?” She held up her amulet in front of his nose. Four vials were filled: silver, teal, magenta, and orange.
Quill scowled down at the amulet and crossed his arms over his hefty chest.
“He’s just worried about you, sis,” said Hestus. “We both are. When you took off, we just—”
“Yeah, well, I’m back now, so you can both drop the ‘protective big brother’ facade. Besides, I just wanted a closer look. I still don’t get what the big deal is.”
Nathan almost laughed out loud. He was about to go sit back down, but Nika’s intense expression held him in place.
“Well, he won’t be a big deal for much longer,” said Quill. “Uncle Ty’s got some decent plans for the slith’s big finale. It’s gonna be so epic that the buy-in price is through the roof!”
Nathan froze. Finale?
“Hestus and I are gonna pool our money,” continued Quill. “Whaddya say, sis? You want in?”
Nika shook her head. “Nah. It’s not really my thing.”
“Seriously? Come on. It’s bound to be awesome!”
“So?” Nika shrugged one shoulder. “Just because crazy Uncle Ty’s become bored with his pets doesn’t mean I have to squeal like a girl about it.”
“Crazy’s an understatement,” said Hestus in a low voice.
“True,” added Quill. “Ever since he’s come back, he’s been all ‘spangle this’ and ‘spangle that.’ I mean, if I hear one more thing about his precious spangles, I swear I’ll—ooph.”
Hestus had elbowed him in the gut. “Shut up, Quill!”
“What? What’d I say?”
“We’re not supposed to talk about what Uncle Ty’s been up to, let alone in front of these guys.” Hestus shot a glare at Nathan, who couldn’t help giving him a knowing smirk.
Hmm . . . spangle. What could that be in reference to? If Matthias Branstone thought they were precious, it was probably something really bad.
Hestus shoved Quill toward the exit. “Come on, let’s go before you accidentally let something else slip.”
“Seriously? It’s not like I gave them the passcode to escape or anything.�
��
“Hey, Nika, you coming?” Hestus called back once they’d reached the main door.
She turned to follow, but not before slipping a scrap of paper to Nathan. When the door finally clanged shut behind the three hunters, followed by the mechanical whir of the lock, Nathan cautiously unfolded it.
Midnight. Be ready. Make sure you and the other slith DON’T MOVE!
5
What Are You?
My baby’s in there! My baby’s in there!
Violet’s sprinted up the garden path leading to Autumn’s home, every beat of her heart flooding her limbs with panicked energy. Sagan appeared in her periphery as he overtook her and disappeared through the back door.
Close behind, Violet leaped over the threshold and skidded to a stop in the kitchen. Her hands flew to her mouth.
Skye lay sprawled on the tiled floor, her eyes open but lifeless. Deep crimson pooled beneath her from a gaping gash in her throat, and a smeared handprint on the wall marked where she’d tried to catch herself before falling to the ground.
Violet’s numb mind struggled to comprehend what she was seeing, only vaguely registering Autumn, Gus, and Dawn as they rushed in behind her. Autumn’s screams were otherworldly. Dawn tried her best to staunch the bleeding, but Violet knew even Dawn’s talents couldn’t bring Skye back.
Cruz lay in his own ruby-red puddle in the foyer, crumpled behind the still-open front door.
Just as Gus ran over to his Uncle Cruz, a loud bang forced Violet’s attention to the hallway. Her whole body jolted as if shocked by an electric surge.
That noise had come from Solace’s bedroom!
Violet shot down the hall, but before she could reach her daughter’s doorway, a man in a black suit sailed out of it. His flailing arm slammed into Violet’s chest as he crashed into the opposite wall, the force of the blow making her slide backward a couple feet.
Sagan exploded out of the room after him. He slammed his knee into the man’s chest, then—before the man could even double over in pain—elbowed him in the face, took a handful of his hair, and yanked. The man stumbled headfirst into the other wall with an incredible crash. Drywall cracked and crumbled to the ground at his feet.
The man pulled his head out of the new hole in the wall, shook off the white dust, and hurled himself back at Sagan, throwing power punch after power punch. Sagan ducked and weaved until a fist collided with his jaw. His head snapped to the side as his whole body spun with the force of the man’s right hook.
The man’s victorious grin was even more eerie beneath the white dust mask. In a blink, he produced an unusual knife with a deep-magenta blade—Violet didn’t see from where.
With an overhead strike, the man sliced the air toward Sagan’s head. Sagan blocked the deadly assault with his forearm and countered with his own crystal dagger. A beam of sunlight streaming through the skylight glinted off the crystal and magenta weapons with each lunge and swing.
Solace’s cries rang out over the cacophony of the vicious fight. Violet scrambled to her feet and desperately waited for a gap in the fierce melee so she could shove past Sagan and run into her daughter’s bedroom.
Her heart stopped in her chest.
A blonde female, also in a black suit, was lifting Solace out of the crib. The glass door leading into the garden was wide open, and a black van waited in the driveway at the end of the garden path.
“Put my baby down!” Violet roared.
The woman threw a glance over her shoulder and sneered. Then she turned and fled out the glass door.
With a speed she didn’t know she possessed, Violet sprang. Reaching out, she latched on to the woman’s ponytail. The blonde’s head snapped back as Violet’s other arm wrapped around her torso, trying to shield Solace from the impact as they all smashed to the dirt.
As soon as they hit the ground, Violet jumped onto the woman’s hips and tried to pull Solace from her arms, but the woman’s grip was relentless.
“Give me my baby!” Violet’s scream barely drowned out the shrill cries of her distressed child.
The woman hissed through her teeth and bucked, clutching Solace even tighter. She was surprisingly strong and agile, even with Violet straddling her and a screaming baby in her arms.
Cold fear flooded Violet when she realized her baby was on the verge of being either crushed or ripped to pieces. What should I do? Should I let go? What should I do?
Without warning, the woman’s head flew forward and connected with Violet’s nose. Tears sprang to her eyes, along with stars and blinding pain, and her hold on Solace began to falter. In desperation, she let go with one hand and reached for the switchblade in her back pocket.
Before the woman could kick free, there was a subtle shnik, and Violet plunged the switchblade into Blondie’s bicep.
The woman’s shriek drowned out Solace’s hysterical cries. Blondie’s iron grip unfastened as she attempted to pull the switchblade out of her arm.
With triumph, Violet pulled her baby free and pressed the precious bundle tight to her chest. “Shh. I’ve got you.” She stumbled up the garden path, still half-blind and a little dizzy from the headbutt. She blinked, hoping to clear her vision, but it only brought another wave of pain crashing through her skull.
Come on, Violet! Now is not the time to lose focus! She needed to get her baby to safety. Who are these people? Why are they trying to steal my baby?
Violet had almost reached the end of the pathway by the time her vision began to clear. But in her disorientation, she’d headed straight for the intruders’ van.
No! She needed to get away! To escape. To hide.
As Violet veered to the side, her own dagger sped past her periphery and embedded in a tree trunk to her left. Instinctively she flinched away, but the sudden movement caused her to trip. Twisting herself in the air, she managed to land on her back. The bone-cracking thud was nothing compared to Solace’s screams slicing through her eardrums. Did I hurt my baby?
Violet looked up, and her eyes widened in horror. The woman was looming over her. Blood dripped from the wound on her shoulder, but instead of crimson—or even teal—it was a bright magenta.
“What are you?” Violet whispered.
Her insides turned to granite. If this woman wasn’t a human, that meant she was a shifter . . . and Violet knew in her soul she wasn’t capable of overpowering a shifter.
The woman’s mouth curled into an evil grin. She raised her hand, palm up and fingers splayed. Pink smoke began collecting in a nebulous bubble several inches above the woman’s hand, and within seconds, the undulating magenta bubble morphed and solidified into the shape of a dagger, much like the one Sagan’s opponent had used.
Fear choked Violet, making it hard to breathe. “NO!” she shrieked. She hated how hopeless, how defeated she sounded. How on earth can I protect my baby against someone who can literally pull weapons out of thin air?
With her pulse pounding in her ears, she scrambled to her feet, turning her back on her attacker to run for her life.
Then she screamed.
Fiery agony sliced through the back of her thigh as the dagger’s blade buried itself deep. She collapsed to her knees. Pain and panic eclipsed her last surge of adrenaline, and her body began to shudder.
“No,” wailed Violet. “Stay away from us. Stay away from my baby!”
The woman stalked over with confident strides.
“You can’t have her!” Violet screamed. “You’re not taking her!”
“I think you’ll find that we are,” said a deep voice at her back.
Violet whipped around to see a pair of shiny black shoes and black trousers. She craned her neck back to meet the eyes of a second man in a black suit. He reached down to Violet’s screaming baby.
“Nooooo!” Violet clung tightly to Solace, but the man’s strength easily surpassed her own. His grip was like iron. Violet wrestled him for a moment, doing her best not to hurt her child, but then Blondie socked her in the face with a hard fist. Wh
ite lights exploded across Violet’s vision, and her baby was wrenched from her arms.
A gurgling cry escaped Violet. I let her go. I let my baby go . . .
The man turned his back to her and strode toward the van.
Violet made to run to her baby, but Blondie had a firm grip on her, dragging her back.
Exhaustion crashed into Violet, and she stumbled to the ground. She couldn’t summon the energy even to try to get back to her feet. Instead she clawed through the soft grass on her elbows and forearms, the sting from the knife still lodged in her leg only a dull hindrance.
The guy opened the van’s passenger-side door, and both he and Solace disappeared inside.
“Give me back my baby!” Violet shrieked.
A cold chuckle came from Blondie. “Pathetic,” she said, stepping over Violet.
White-hot rage ignited in Violet’s core, and her face contorted into a scowl. “I’ll show you pathetic,” she said through clenched teeth. She swiveled onto her side, reached back to the magenta knife in her thigh, and yanked it free. Then she pushed herself up from the ground and pounced onto the woman’s back.
Unleashing all her rage, Violet hooked one arm around the struggling woman’s neck and plunged the blood-red tip of the dagger into her chest. Savagely. Over and over and over . . .
An enraged shriek tore from the woman’s throat. Hot, sticky magenta liquid splattered over Blondie’s chest and coated Violet’s hand.
Blondie latched on to the arm around her neck and tried shaking Violet off, but Violet refused to be thrown—to be defeated. She held fast to the dagger now embedded in the woman’s chest. The blade ground against bone.
“Give me back my baby!” Violet screeched again and again, drowning out the woman’s agonized wails.
Blondie collapsed to her knees.
Violet’s attention whipped to the van as the engine roared to life. With a scream of frustration, she tore the magenta dagger from the woman’s chest and rushed to the van’s tire, burying the blade deep in the rubber. The tire released a sharp hiss when she yanked the knife free.
Flames of Mars (Celestial Shifters Book 2) Page 6