Shards of Venus

by Tjalara Draper

  Nathan clenched his fists by his sides. Sagan was the one who’d chosen the car. Why would Sagan help him escape only to see him captured again? Unless Sagan didn’t know about the tracking device.

  “Let him go.” Nathan jutted his chin toward Thane. “You’re not here for him. I’m the one you want. So let him go.”

  “What? And miss out on a nice little bonus with this month’s paycheck? Not likely.” The hunter’s face twisted into a menacing glare. “You’re both coming with us.” His gaze lowered, and he grinned wide and pointed with his machete. “Now, that’s what I like to see.”

  Nathan glanced down. Both his elbow blades were extended, glittering in the sunlight. Once again there had been no warning, but this time he didn’t care. He glared back at the hunter.

  “Come on, slith.” The hunter’s grin dripped with malice. “Let’s play.”

  Nathan leaped, soaring into the air with startling speed. The hunter’s eyes widened, his cocky grin vanishing. Before the man even had a chance to raise his machete, Nathan sliced his own Diamantium blade clean through the hunter’s forearm. The severed hand and crystal machete landed on the ground at the same time as Nathan’s feet.

  Agonized screams filled the air. The hunter’s knees buckled, and he toppled to the ground, clutching the remainder of his arm. A shower of red covered his face and remaining hand.

  Nathan held himself back from gaping at the scene. He’d never heard of anyone, Erathi or shifter, moving with the speed and agility he’d just shown. He glanced up. Thane and the other two hunters wore similar stupefied expressions.

  For several heartbeats, no one but the screaming hunter moved.

  Nathan grinned, hazing the remainder of his body into Veniri form. His scales rippled into existence, and his numerous Diamantium spikes glittered specks of light over the hunters’ faces. Their expressions twisted into scowls, and as one, the last two hunters dove for Nathan.

  Thane kicked out a leg, tripping one of the hunters; Nathan braced himself for the other.

  The hunter slashed and swiped his two Diamantium tomahawks, but not one of the strikes landed anywhere near its mark. Nathan weaved around the aggressive attacks, just as fast and nimble as before. Or was he faster now? He had always felt more natural and capable in his Veniri form.

  He smiled. Despite the situation, he was enjoying himself. His grin aggravated the hunter even more, and the man’s attacks sped up, sloppy with desperation and rage.

  Nathan would have loved to continue teasing this hunter with his newfound abilities, but an anguished cry from Thane brought him back to their dire reality. He blocked the tomahawks with his arm blades, then came in with a counterstrike, driving his knee into the hunter’s abdomen. His knee spike sliced up and into the man’s heart.

  Life faded from the hunter’s eyes as he crumpled against Nathan’s knee. The crystal tomahawks clattered to the ground.

  Nathan shoved the hunter off, then turned to Thane, who towered above their remaining enemy. Thane’s victim writhed on the ground, clutching a gaping wound in his neck. Though Thane remained in human form, his scales hazed in and out of view, rippling up his arms and under the sleeves of his dark gray T-shirt. His chest heaved as he clutched at one of his shoulders; rivulets of teal blood seeped out from between his fingers.

  “You okay?” asked Thane.

  “Never mind me,” said Nathan. “Where’s Violet?”

  Thane shook his head. “Gone. She drove off before I could catch her. She headed down the main road out of town. These beasts showed up just as she left.”

  A branch snapped behind Nathan, and he swiveled. A figure was lurking in the trees on the other side of his yard. Despite the foliage, there was no question it was a Veniri in full shifted form. Nathan’s eyes widened with recognition, and his stomach lurched.

  “Kronan.” The name was a whisper on Nathan’s scaled lips.

  “What? Are you sure?” Thane moved to stand next to Nathan.

  Nathan slashed his tongue out. “I’m deadly sure. I’d recognized his stench anywhere.”

  The air was pungent with cinnamon, a remnant of the hunters’ and his own lust for murder. But the other flavors on the wind confirmed what Nathan suspected. Every Veniri from Nathan’s hive knew the soul-scent of Kronan, Queen Idalia’s cousin. It still held the flavors of malice and cowardice.

  Nathan hadn’t seen Kronan since escaping the hive. And for years Nathan had evaded detection from his race. Yet, here at his house . . .

  The Veniri intruder hissed, and his own forked tongue whipped out. Then, in a flash, Kronan scurried over the fence, cutting through the neighbor’s yard and out of sight.

  Nathan narrowed his eyes. If Kronan was here, then the queen had sent him. And that meant . . .

  “Get him,” said Nathan. “He’s after Violet.”

  Like twin bullets, they shot across the yard after Kronan, but a second before they reached the fence, Thane suddenly disappeared out of Nathan’s periphery. Before Nathan could register what happened, pain sliced through his leg. He bellowed. His leg was yanked out from under him, and with a resounding thud, he landed hard on the ground. A Diamantium-tipped barb attached to a wire line had pierced straight through his calf.

  He and Thane were dragged backward by their tethers, directly into a new group of hunters.

  Nathan gritted his teeth as the barb tore into his leg. Thane grunted and thrashed in his own agony, sending up clouds of dust.

  They came to rest a few feet away from the hunters. Relief flooded Nathan as the tugging ceased, but the barbed bolt still sent spasms of torment through his leg. Two men—one with a brown goatee, the other with red hair—controlled the devices that had reeled them in. Between them stood Matthias, his triumphant expression more arrogant than ever. A cluster of other hunters on either side of him trained their weapons on Nathan and Thane. One held a modernized crossbow. Two others wielded what looked like bazookas on their shoulders.

  Fear inundated every cell in Nathan’s body. Fear for Thane, and fear for Violet. He needed to get them to safety. Come on, Delano. Think!

  He scrambled to his feet.

  “Stay down, slith,” ordered Matthias.

  The hunter with the goatee yanked the wire, bringing Nathan crashing to the ground. He bit back a grunt of pain. Thane moaned, clutching his leg.

  “Stay with me,” said Nathan in a low voice only Thane could hear. “We need to get through this, you understand? For Violet.”

  Thane caught his gaze. With his jaw set, he gave Nathan a curt nod. “For Violet.”

  “You take out the ginger.” Nathan stared directly at Matthias and, in a louder voice, said, “I’m gonna start with the ugly one.”

  Matthias grinned, his eyes glittering with bloodlust. He raised a hand and curled his fingers at Nathan. “Come at me, slith.”

  Nathan focused his remaining energy and sprung. As before, his speed was shocking, but this time it wasn’t enough. While he was still in the air, the two hunters with the bazookas took aim, one at him and the other at Thane. They fired.

  Nathan flailed uselessly as the projectile expanded into a net, which wrapped around him on impact. Once again, Nathan slammed into the dirt.

  His spikes would cut him free. Diamantium could slice through almost anything—

  Nathan’s body shuddered as a shock of electricity pulsed through the net, sending explosions of pain through his very core. The combination of his and Thane’s roars and the high-pitched electric buzzing almost shredded his eardrums. Then, in an instant, the electrification stopped. Numbness tingled through his extremities—except for his barbed leg, where the pain had intensified.

  He and Thane both groaned. Nathan tried to turn his head, but the net allowed only a few inches of movement before it hugged tighter to his face.

  “So what now?” One of the hunters kicked Nathan’s ribs. “We taking these back to be harvested?”

  Matthias rubbed his jaw. “Nah, I think I got a better idea. It�
�d be a waste to harvest them so early.” He pointed to Nathan. “I want to see this one in action.”

  The ginger shook his head. “But this slith is marked. The client said that this slith in particular—”

  “I know what the client said.” Matthias’s eyes narrowed in warning, and the other man dropped his gaze, his lips pursed. Placing his hands on his hips, Matthias turned back to Nathan, his shark grin wide. “Besides, we can delay the transaction for a while and make a bit of extra money in the meantime.”

  “What about this one then?” asked another hunter as he kicked Thane.

  Thane bared his teeth, but the net kept him pinned.

  Matthias cackled. “Bring him along. He’s got enough fight in him to be a good bait dog at least. Where’s Axel?” he called over his shoulder.

  “He’s still out looking for Sagan” came the reply.

  Matthias pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hopefully he returns soon. And hopefully with that boy skewered on his trident.” He groaned in frustration. “In that case, one of you go and get the tranks from the vehicle. The last thing I want is one of these sliths thinking they can escape. Again.”

  One of the hunters took off.

  Nathan wrestled against the net. No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening. He needed to get to Violet. She needed him.

  “Hmm, while we’re waiting for the tranks . . .” Matthias’s eyes glittered way too much for Nathan’s liking as he gestured for the remaining hunters to huddle closer. He spoke in a voice too low for Nathan to decipher, but judging by the malicious grins on the hunters’ faces, it didn’t bode well. As one they swaggered away, leaving only Matthias and the two controlling the electrified nets.

  Nathan’s heart raced.

  Matthias crouched down beside him, his hands resting on his knees. “I’ll admit, you’ve been a bit more trouble than I expected.”

  A bright orange light lit up in Nathan’s peripheral vision. He turned just as the aroma of petroleum and smoke seared his lungs. One of the hunters was dousing Nathan’s porch with gasoline from a red plastic jerrican. Another lit a fuel-soaked rag and threw it onto the porch.

  No! No! No!

  But there was nothing Nathan could do. Flames blazed up instantly with an audible whoomp, engulfing his beautiful timber home. He strained against his bonds. He needed to stop the fire. He needed to save all of Violet’s framed photos that lined his hallway. He needed to make sure the flames didn’t reach her room—the safe place she could always come back to. He just had to—

  “Time to go, boys,” said Matthias.

  Something sharp bit into Nathan’s thigh. He growled, fighting harder to free himself. He ignored the throbbing ache in his calf, the intense heat of the flames, and the rancid smoke in his lungs. But a new numbing sensation took over his body, tingling from his fingers to his toes. If only he could—

  A black shadow encroached on the edge of his vision. His legs and arms began to relax. His vision blurred and his mind grew groggy.

  No! Fight it! Stay awake! Stay awake! Stay . . . a . . .

  The blackness consumed him.

  25

  Diamond Smeared With Blood

  Violet slammed on the breaks, and the jeep veered off the road and onto the shoulder, its tires crunching deep into the gravel. Her body whipped forward and back as the car jerked to a stop and the engine stalled to silence. For a moment, her racing pulse hammered in her ears.

  What the hell just happened?

  She checked the rearview and side mirrors, but the road behind her was empty.

  Please tell me I didn’t hit them.

  She should get out and check if they’re all right. But a small part of her remained cautious. She swiveled in her seat and looked out the back windows. Nothing. She couldn’t see anything.

  Except . . . Was that . . . ?

  A figure was lying on the ground a few yards away on the other side of the road. They were still alive. Even from this distance, Violet could see the rise and fall of their chest.

  Her switchblade was still in her hand. She gripped it tighter, then got out of the jeep. Her shoe scuffed a stone, and it clacked a few times along the road.

  The person turned their head at the sound, and Violet’s jaw dropped.

  “Sagan!” The stark blond hair and sea-blue eyes were unmistakable. She sprinted over and collapsed at his side. “Are you okay? What were you doing in the middle of the road?”

  Sagan’s eyebrows shot up. “Violet—” He sucked in a few gulps of air. “Violet, you’re here, and you’re . . .” His features hardened into a frown. “You can’t be here. You have to go.”

  She inspected his grazed skin and fresh bruises. His lower lip was split, and blood trailed down the side of his face from a cut at his hairline. Her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh no! I did hit you.”

  With a groan and a wince, Sagan propped himself up on his elbow, his other arm clutching his abdomen.

  “Stop. Don’t move,” said Violet. “I’ll call an ambulance. Oh, Sagan, I’m so sorry.” She dug into her jeans pocket for her phone, then realized it was still in the car.

  Sagan latched on to her wrist. “Go!” he yelled. “You have to get out of here!”

  Violet froze at his sudden ferocity. “What? No. I can’t leave you here. I just hit you with my car. Just let me—”

  He shook his head, then grimaced. “No. It wasn’t you. It was”—he dragged in a ragged breath—“Axel.”

  “What? What do you mean it wasn’t me? I . . .” She ran her eyes once more over his injuries, this time noticing that the blood on his face was dark and caked, obviously not a fresh wound. “Sagan, what happened to you? Who’s Axel?”

  A twig snapped. They both looked up.

  A towering man slunk out of the forest behind them. He looked directly at Violet, his face cracking into a menacing grin. A tingling sensation crawled over the back of her neck and skittered down her spine.

  Sagan’s grip on her wrist went from tight to bone breaking. “How the hell did that thing find us?” His voice was so quiet she almost didn’t hear him. “No. You can’t have her.”

  The man let out a high-pitched laugh, like a witch’s cackle.

  The handle of Violet’s switchblade dug into her palm as her thumb found the button to release the blade. But she paused, eerily transfixed, as the man turned his face to the sky.

  Before Violet’s eyes, he began to transform.

  The smooth texture of his flesh roughened into scales that shimmered in the sunlight, and sharp crystal spires burst through his clothes. A second set of lids flickered over the eyes he now fixed back on Violet. His malefic smirk deepened—right before a forked tongue whipped out from between three sets of fangs.

  “Violet, run!” Sagan roared.

  She heard his warning, but her body refused to move. This man—or rather, this creature—was horrifyingly similar to the monster that had killed Lyla. Her mind screamed in physical and emotional agony as the reinstated memory burned through her consciousness.

  The thing sprang toward her and Sagan, its powerful legs propelling it high into the air.

  Violet sucked in what she assumed would be her last breath and did the only thing that came to mind. She threw herself facedown on top of Sagan. Every muscle, fiber, and cell tensed as she anticipated the fatal impact.

  Instead, a shriek pierced her ears, and the sensation of warm rain splattered her back. Something heavy thudded to the ground a few yards away and skidded over the asphalt. Violet dared to peek; the creature was writhing and wailing in the middle of the road. Blue liquid sprayed from one of its thrashing limbs.

  Another man with a bushy gray beard emerged into Violet’s view and casually strode over to the creature, a glimmering trident in hand. A few other weapons, including one that looked like a crossbow, were strapped to his person.

  The creature paused its thrashing as Gray Beard drew close, then it charged him. The two locked into a vicious battle—man and crystal trident versu
s vengeful beast.

  Violet saw her opportunity. “Come on, Sagan. Get up.” She ignored his protests and pulled him into a sitting position.

  “Wait, I need my bag.” Sagan snatched a black bag by his thigh, which Violet immediately yanked off him and slung over her shoulder. She grabbed hold of Sagan, wrapping one of his arms around her neck to help raise him from the ground. He groaned and winced but quickly gave up fighting her efforts to help him. She stumbled a bit under his weight, but they managed an awkward shuffle in the direction of her jeep.

  “Sagan, I’ve seen one of those things before. It . . . it killed Lyla.”

  “I know.”

  “What? How—”

  The pained wails of the creature grew more gargled and desperate. The battle was clearly going in favor of Gray Beard.

  “I don’t think that thing is going to last much longer,” said Violet.

  “Hmm,” grunted Sagan. “We still got to get outta here.”

  They sped up toward the jeep. The ferocious roars and clangor behind them began to die down.

  “Hurry,” said Sagan.

  Three more steps to go. Then two.

  A final shriek tore from the beast, then silence.

  Another surge of adrenaline rushed through Violet. She didn’t risk looking back. Instead, she yanked open the passenger side door, threw the bag in, and helped Sagan climb into his seat. He closed the door behind him as she ran around the front of the vehicle and climbed into the driver’s side. Her phone, now in the footwell, blared its shrill tune again, but she ignored it.

  Thankfully she’d left the keys in the ignition. The engine started with a flick of her wrist. She glanced in all the side and rearview mirrors, and her heart skipped a beat.

  The deceased creature was lying in the middle of the road, but the man who’d killed it was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where is he?”

  A quick two-tone whistle came from Sagan’s window. They both turned to find Gray Beard grinning at them, the crossbow-like contraption in his hands.

  “Now, where do you two think you’re going?”

  Violet’s body went rigid and her eyes widened; the crossbow bolt was trained directly on her.