Shards of Venus

by Tjalara Draper

  Nathan let out a bitter laugh. “According to Queen Idalia, but it isn’t within her power to control, despite how much she and her mother tried by outlawing all talk and teachings about it. It just became exceptionally rare, especially when the breeding program was introduced. But when it happens, it’s a power to be reckoned with.”

  “Wha . . .? How do you know all this?”

  “I’ve seen it twice. Once when I was a child, around the time it was outlawed. An uprising began, led by two Veniri who were bestowed with Seh’Vuthi. The reign of Queen Imoranda almost came to an end. Unfortunately, the Seh’Vuthi couple was captured and executed, and Queen Imoranda brought down her wrath on the Veniri people and rebels alike.”

  “That’s not the version I heard,” said Thane.

  Nathan chuckled. “Yeah, well, the royals would prefer the truth be lost, but there are still too many of us who remember what really happened.”

  “Hmm. So, what is Seh’Vuthi? What does it do?”

  “It’s when . . . Let’s see . . . How can I explain this?” Nathan’s eyes searched the darkness. Why did he have to be the one to give this explanation? He’d rather reveal that Santa Claus isn’t real, or that crab salad actually doesn’t have any crab in it—not this “birds and the bees” stuff. “Uh . . . what you experienced is the beginnings of a, for lack of a better word, ‘soul-bind.’ It’s when you, your soul, has found someone it wants to bind to. Your golden lights were a proposal.”

  “What . . . ? Proposal? As in . . . marriage?”

  Nathan cringed. “Essentially, yes. But instead of white dresses and tuxedos, like Erathi weddings, the Seh’Vuthi is more profound. It’s more metaphysical. Your soul starts to take on broad elements of the other person—what they see, what they feel, and how they perceive things. Anything that helps you understand them on a deeper level. However, the process of Seh’Vuthi is only completed if the other person’s soul accepts your proposal.”

  “Oh . . . so, how do you know if the other person has accepted?”

  “Their lights appear as well, and eventually your souls intertwine. I don’t know if it’s the same for every Seh’Vuthi couple, but things like mental communication abilities are established—maybe special abilities that only one member had is now shared with the other. What used to benefit one now benefits both. That’s the main reason why the Seh’Vuthi Veniri rebels were able to nearly overthrow Queen Imoranda, and why she decided to outlaw it.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Thane, “you said you’d seen this twice. Who was the other couple?”

  Nathan opened his mouth but couldn’t produce an answer.

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” said Thane after a few moments. Nathan couldn’t see Thane’s face, but the shock in his voice was obvious. “But . . . with who?”

  “I’d rather not talk about it.” Nathan closed his eyes, allowing the lull in the conversation to drag out. A face from long ago pushed to the forefront of his mind. Her smile and glow were as radiant as ever, only darkened by the shadow of his own grief.

  “Suit yourself.”

  Thane shifted in the darkness next to him. “I’m not sure I like the idea of any of my abilities transferring to Violet,” he eventually said. “The last thing she needs is to become a filthy killing machine. I think I would prefer to avoid Seh’Vuthi and just stick with the Divine Oath.”

  “What?” Nathan exclaimed. “Tell me you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t pledge the Divine Oath to Violet.”

  Thane didn’t answer.

  “But she’s not royalty. She’s not even Veniri.”

  “I don’t care,” said Thane, his voice edged with steel. “I won’t waste my oath on any Veniri, especially not that foul beast Idalia, who thinks she can—”

  “Bite. Your. Tongue,” wheezed a new voice.

  Nathan froze.

  Between raspy breaths and audible gulps, the voice in the darkness continued, “Renounce your words, and I will be merciful on Her Divine Majesty Queen Idalia’s behalf and spare your life.”

  Deep resentment leached through Nathan’s body as he recognized the voice. “Kronan,” he said through gritted teeth. He flicked out his tongue through the mesh and, sure enough, caught the putrid stench of Kronan’s soul-scent.

  Kronan gave a wheezy cackle. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day, Nathan—the day I finally end your life.”

  Something heavy shifted on Nathan’s right. A surge of both fear and fury pumped adrenaline into his veins, and with a surge of desperation, he fought to free himself from the net.

  Then all became quiet as the vehicle turned off.

  Without warning, the back door opened, and a bright white light streamed in. Through his squinted eyelids, Nathan registered three hunters looming over them.

  Kronan leaped past Nathan with a gurgled screech and latched on to one of the hunters.

  “Geez, Axel.” A hunter whistled. “I thought you said you killed this one.”

  “Huh.” A fourth hunter with a gray beard stepped into view. “Looks like I was mistaken.”

  As the three hunters wrangled Kronan, Axel leaned in, grabbed Nathan’s netting, and yanked him out of the vehicle. Nathan oophed as Axel dropped him unceremoniously onto the ground. A few seconds later, Thane thudded next to him.

  Kronan’s screeches eventually died down to panting wheezes.

  Nathan tried to take in as much of his surroundings as he could. He was lying on timber. The lapping melody of water drifted up from beneath the planks, and the strong smell of salt filled his lungs with each intake of air. Gulls screeched above him. Nathan turned his head as much as the net would allow and spotted several boats gently rocking at the edge of the boardwalk.

  Axel once again gripped Nathan’s netting and dragged him over a gangplank, then down some stairs into a boat’s cargo hold. Finally, he shoved him into a crate made of familiar green-tinged metal. The door of the crate slammed and locked shut, and soon after, another hunter threw Thane into the crate next to him.

  A face with a familiar shark grin appeared between the crate’s slats. Nathan gritted his teeth, fighting hard against his bonds.

  Matthias leaned in. “Save your strength for the fight pits, slith. And make sure you do me proud.”

  With a wink, Matthias turned, and the other hunters followed him up the stairs. The last closed the door behind him, plunging Nathan’s world once again into darkness.

  27

  Spiced Rice

  Violet closed her eyes and tilted her head back, enjoying the sun’s warmth. Beside her, Autumn collapsed back on the picnic blanket and leaned against her shoulder.

  “How are you feeling?” Violet asked, resting her cheek on top of Autumn’s head.

  Autumn sighed. “Actually, I’m feeling like a really crappy friend. I should be there. But I . . . I just can’t.” She turned her face into Violet’s arm, a sob shuddering through her.

  “It’s okay.” Gus sat on Autumn’s other side, and both he and Violet wrapped an arm around her back. “We can have our own memorial for her. One where we binge her favorite movies in Hello Kitty shirts while eating an assortment of her favorite Japanese snacks.”

  Autumn sniffled out a small laugh. “Actually, that sounds awesome. The other service is likely to be way more formal and somber, not like Bessie at all.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Violet, although she too felt a pang of guilt for not being at Bessie’s memorial service. When the three of them received an email stating the details, they’d seriously discussed going—even bought plane tickets—but when the day came closer, Autumn’s grief spiked. Violet understood what Autumn was going through—what it was like to not be ready to say goodbye.

  “All right, done,” said Gus. “When we get back to the house, I’ll make an online order for an obscene amount of Japanese junk food.”

  “Awesome.” Autumn wiped away her tears.

  “What about you, Sagan?” said Gus. “Are you in?”

  Sagan stood at the
rocky edge of the creek a few feet away. “I don’t think so,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “I didn’t know her.”

  “Bessie won’t mind,” said Autumn. “If anything, she’ll be pissed to be missing out.”

  “Still, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” said Sagan.

  He bent down, picked up a pebble, and tossed it into the water. His face crinkled into a slight wince as he massaged his thigh. He’d been walking more and more since he and Violet had arrived at Gus and Autumn’s compound just over a week ago, but he still hadn’t fully recovered.

  “Come and sit down, Sagan.” Violet patted the rug beside her. “Give your leg a break.”

  “Yeah, come on,” said Gus. “No one’s going to think you’re any less macho if you just relax for a while.”

  “No, I’m fine.” He crossed his arms and readjusted his stance.

  Gus leaned back on his elbows. “Suit yourself.”

  The conversation lapsed into silence, allowing the sounds of nature to meld into the forefront. Gushing creek water bubbled and churned in an undulating tune, with the low roar of a nearby waterfall adding its own bass notes. Birds flitted and chirped, and the wind rustled the long grass and reeds by the water’s edge.

  Violet’s eyes followed a radiant blue-and-green kingfisher hovering over the water. Its wings flapped at an incredible speed. Then, with stunning grace, it dove into the water, only to resurface a second later with prey secured in its sharp beak. It flew to a low-hanging branch over the water, smacked the fish’s head on the branch, then gobbled it down.

  She chewed her lip, mulling over the events of the past few weeks. Some of it still didn’t feel real.

  It had taken her several days to drive to Gus and Autumn’s little hippie community, with only a few fitful naps in between—fitful due to her new nightmares of crystal tridents, barbed arrows, and creatures with forked tongues. The faceless man was no longer the center of her dreams, but his presence still constantly haunted the shadows of her mind. Every now and then, his face configured itself into Thane’s.

  Sagan was barely conscious for the whole drive. When he did wake, it was only ever long enough to take another swig from the bottle of white pearl liquid. He’d question their whereabouts, but she would hardly get an answer out before he was unconscious again.

  Several times she’d had the urge to pull over at a police station, but for what? What police officer would believe she’d seen a man with a crystal trident kill a reptilian humanoid, and now the man was after her? Plus, Nathan was a cop. She’d trusted him. How could she possibly trust a cop that she didn’t even know?

  When she’d finally reached Gus and Autumn’s property near the ocean, she’d nearly collapsed from exhaustion and relief.

  Gus’s mom, Dawn, was a doctor for the compound and was swift to take care of Sagan, who was even swifter in his recovery, much to everyone’s shock. After only a week, his wound already looked like an old scar. Violet had a strong suspicion the mystery liquid in his black bag had something to do with it.

  On the drive over, she’d told Gus and Autumn everything over the phone. She couldn’t answer a lot of their questions, such as what the creature on the road was or why Axel was after her. When Sagan was finally conscious enough to hold a lengthy conversation, Gus and Autumn had bombarded him with questions too. He kept tight-lipped at first, but it didn’t take long for him to crack, especially after Violet insisted she at least had a right to know why a bounty order had her photo on it.

  Every answer Sagan gave brought up at least ten more questions. Violet’s mind boggled with Sagan’s compendium of new words. Veniri, Diamantium, Erathi.

  The word Erathi amused her. It was what the shifters called humans; it was what she was. And as for the shifters themselves, if she hadn’t seen for herself the creature with the forked tongue, she would’ve guessed Sagan’s little bottle of pearly white liquid was actually a hallucinogenic of some sort.

  But despite all the new information he provided, Sagan couldn’t shed light on why the guy with the gray beard was after her. Couldn’t or wouldn’t, Violet wasn’t quite sure which. But the term he’d used was “being hunted.”

  A shiver ran through her at the memory of his words.

  The faint ringing of a bell caught everyone’s attention.

  “Lunchtime.” Gus jumped to his feet and held out his hands to help both the girls up. He and Autumn folded up the picnic blanket, then led the way along the walking path toward the ringing lunch bell.

  Violet waited for Sagan, who carefully made his way up the slight incline where the rocky creek’s edge met the grassy field. His bad leg wobbled on a rock, and he stumbled forward.

  Violet rushed down to meet him. “Here, let me help you.”

  “Thanks, but I can manage.”

  Violet ignored him and took hold of his arm, draping it over her neck.

  “I said I can manage.” Regardless of his hard tone, he didn’t push her away. His limp was slight, but Violet could tell he was still in pain despite his poker face.

  “You should take some painkillers when we get back.”

  He scoffed. “I can handle it. I’ve been through worse.”

  “Really? How much worse? Did you lose the whole leg last time?”

  He huffed, but a corner of his mouth twitched up. He looked down at her and held her gaze. The cobalt edges of his irises faded to almost white around his pupils, and a few flecks of pastel blue speckled the white rings.

  Violet broke eye contact and stared at the ground. To her slight relief, Sagan dropped his arm from her shoulders, and she let her own arms fall to her sides. They continued to walk a few inches apart as the walking path moved into an orchard. Bees hummed and weaved around them to find the flowering trees and vines.

  “So, how long do you plan on sticking around here?” Sagan asked.

  She’d been asking herself the same question over the last few days, especially whenever Gus and Autumn talked about going back to college. She wasn’t sure she could go back and live a normal college life after everything that had happened.

  “I’m not sure. Is there a chance that guy with the trident is still after us?”

  The house came into view on the other side of the trees.

  “It’s likely,” said Sagan after a pause.

  “Do you think we’re safe here?”

  “If they haven’t found us by now, then yes. I think, for the moment, you’re safe.”

  “Good, ’cause I’m running out of places I can go.” She huffed out a long breath. Her chest felt tight at the memory of finding out Nathan had been friends with Thane all along. Some days she hated Nathan; others she sat with her thumb hovering over his speed dial number, trying to gather enough courage to talk to him. Her mind whirled with so many questions, and yet, they all boiled down to just one. Why?

  She couldn’t stay in the guest room of Autumn’s house forever, but she also couldn’t fathom returning home—back to Nathan’s place. Not right now, but then again, maybe never. His betrayal had cut her deep.

  “At least you’ve got a home to go back to,” she said, hugging her arms around her torso.

  “No, I can’t go back.”

  “But surely your father—”

  “No!”

  She jumped at his outburst.

  He stopped walking and looked at her. “I won’t go back. Especially not to him.”

  His expression stirred a long dormant memory of a sleepover at Lyla’s house. Violet had woken in the middle of the night needing a glass of water, and she’d accidentally eavesdropped on a vicious conversation Sagan and his father were having in the study. Matthias had Sagan pinned against the heavy wooden desk, one hand latched on to his son’s throat.

  “You don’t talk about her. Ever,” Matthias had growled, an inch from Sagan’s face.

  Sagan’s eyes narrowed at his father, defiance and rage evident even from where Violet stood peering into the study.

  “But she’s my mother,
” countered Sagan.

  Matthias had reacted with a cracking backhand, then left Sagan to cradle his cheek.

  Sagan’s severe expression now was the same as it had been that night.

  “Okay,” said Violet. She had no idea what else to say.

  Sagan didn’t respond. Instead, he broke eye contact and continued the rest of the way a few steps in front of her.

  Over the next few weeks, Violet fell into a relaxed routine. She volunteered to help out wherever possible, trying to keep her mind busy with chores rather than worries and fears. Even doing the laundry for everyone was welcome—until she came across the clothes she’d been wearing when she found Sagan on the road. Patches of dried iridescent blue were splattered across her pants and all over the back of her jacket. In the end, she didn’t bother washing the blood-splattered clothes. Instead she bundled them up and threw them straight into the trash.

  Where Gus’s mom was a brilliant doctor, Autumn’s mom, Skye, was a brilliant cook. Gus’s family, along with Sagan—who’d taken up residence in their spare room—joined in for most evening meals. The delectable feasts comprised nearly all homegrown produce. Violet had developed a particular fondness for homemade yogurt and freshly baked bread.

  Gus wasn’t joking when he’d told her he knew macramé. He was an enthusiastic tutor, guiding Violet’s hands to form the knots and weaves.

  “That’s it, now you’re getting the hang of it,” he commented one night on one of her knots. “A few more days of this and you’ll have your own macramé hammock.”

  “What? Days?” Violet winced. At least two of her fingers had the beginnings of new blisters, and the skin of several others was already starting to peel from the previous day’s attempt.

  “Here.” Gus grabbed a few strands of rope. “I’ll work on this side.”

  A few feet away, Autumn sat with her laptop at the kitchen bench, a regular sight when they weren’t out in the yard. Her headphones were on, and the staccato clacking of her keys melded with the rhythm of her mother’s cooking. Pots bubbled and sizzled on the stove, creating mouthwatering promises for their upcoming dinner. Skye was the mirror image of her daughter, from the decorated dreadlocks right down to the toe rings.