Masters of the Zodiac: Aries

Prologue

The curse never let him wake up.

It didn’t let him sleep either. His mother always said his precognition was a gift, but she didn’t have to deal with it.

“Every fucking night?” Prophet rubbed his face and glared at the bucket next to his bed. At least he hadn’t woken up puking this time. After so many weeks, he should have been used to the burnt-out cities, decaying bodies, and skies the color of ash. There was no getting used to the smell of rot though.

As usual, his visions never showed anything happy. It was all doom and destruction. And fire. So much fire.

They were misleading, sometimes metaphorical, and never straightforward—which would have been so fucking helpful. And the Fates-damned things always came true. Always.

His curse was a drama queen though, meaning the vision probably wasn’t revealing actual Armageddon.

Probably.

No, it didn’t mean Armageddon. He’d had a vision of his mother falling from a cliff once when he was a kid. The next day, she slipped and fell on ice. If it had shown him the damned ice, he might not have forgotten to throw salt on the sidewalk like she’d asked him to.

Just once, he’d like to see something cheerful—like maybe his Firebird all fixed up with a fresh coat of paint and whitewalls. Or maybe a long ride with his best friend, Hawk. Prophet would even be happy if the visions showed him riding bitch.

Actually, that would have been amazing. Prophet rolled over in bed and tried to think of the one thing guaranteed to get rid of the nightmares. He’d have his arms around Hawk’s waist and his cheek pressed against Hawk’s broad, muscular back. Hawk would smell like Old Spice and motor oil and would love it when Prophet kissed the delicious skin under his ear, and…

He’d never see something like that. Aside from it not involving some post-apocalyptic bullshit, Hawk was disappointingly straight. As much as he wished otherwise, Prophet wasn’t about to ruin their friendship by hitting on him either.

Still, thinking about it chased the nightmares away. He punched his pillow and closed his eyes, determined to catch at least a few hours of sleep.

***

Burning… Flames… A sword dripping molten fire with its point leveled at Hawk’s chest.

“No! Gods, please!”

Prophet struggled to wake, yet the vision held him under until he thought he’d drown. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop the sword. Couldn’t stop it from piercing Hawk’s heart.

The flames soared higher and despite Prophet’s shouts of warning, Hawk wrapped a callused hand around the hilt.

“Hawk!”

The vision changed, showing Hawk riding his motorcycle down a deserted country road. Almost sick with relief, Prophet relaxed and let out a breath. Stupid fucking nightmares. If Hawk was driving, he wasn’t on fire.

Prophet didn’t fight when the vision took him under again. There was no point in it, and for once, his precognition wasn’t showing him something awful.

He should have known better than to let his guard down.

Its eyes gleaming a spiteful red, a massive black dog charged at Hawk, its jaws parted to reveal gleaming white teeth. Hawk vanished, and the bike tumbled end over end, throwing sparks as the steel dragged against the pavement.

“No!” He’d seen wrecks like that before. Hawk would be in as many pieces as his bike was, and he didn’t wear a helmet unless the law required it.

“Gods, please!”

The vision finally released him, and he shot out of bed, stumbling over dirty clothes as he scrambled for his phone. His hands shook as he tried to bring up Hawk’s contact. Instead of connecting the call, the phone flashed a low battery alert and shut down.

“Fuck!”

“Jesse!”

He blinked and tried to focus as his mother grabbed his shoulders and gave him a shake. “Mom?”

Of course, it was. His mother was the only person on the planet who still called him by his given name. Not that he was a fan of his club name, but he was stuck with it.

Her blue eyes filled with concern, she wrapped him in an embrace, then led him to his unmade bed and helped him sit. “What’s wrong? I heard you shouting about Hawk.”

“We need to find him. An accident and a sword on fire. Something happened. Or will happen.” Prophet scrubbed his hands through his hair and shivered, the sweat from his nightmare cooling on his skin. “Fuck, I don’t know!”

He tried to slow his breathing. Hawk was fine. He’d probably just dumped his bike on some gravel. Maybe he’d been chased by a dog, and the sword was a cocktail skewer with an olive. Something. The visions were always twisted versions of the truth but knowing that didn’t soothe his panic.

She studied him for a moment, then went to the kitchenette and filled the electric kettle with water. “I’ll make you some tea and you can—”

“Do you think tea is going to fucking help?”

His apartment door slammed, making Prophet flinch as his father strode in. “I will kick your ass if you speak to your mother that way again. Watch your tone.”

As usual, his father’s presence was reassuring, yet King Davenport was never shy about making Prophet mind his manners.

“King, you know how his visions affect him.”

“Pamela—”

“No.” Prophet stood and scrambled for clothes. “I’m sorry, Mom. Dad’s right. Let me get changed.”

He shut the bathroom door quietly, then splashed cold water on his face, hoping it would clear his head. As he pulled on his jeans, he heard his parents’ soft voices.

“I know he and Hawk are close, but visions of swords?” King asked. “That’s pushing it.”

“They are close,” Pamela replied. “I just wish… Well, don’t you think it’s time they found a room and got down to business? I mean, Aries and Sagittarius are perfect together.”

“We are not getting involved in our sons’ love lives.”

Prophet snorted and rolled his eyes. He’d like nothing better, but it wasn’t going to happen. Thankfully, King could usually control Pamela’s crazier ideas.

He finished dressing and strode into the living room. “I’m going to find Hawk and—”

“No.” King moved to block the door. “Sit with your mother and calm down. Hawk went to the funeral for the late Aries Master, but I’ll call and have him come home. Everything will be fine.”

Prophet gazed at him for a moment, then nodded. He couldn’t help wondering if his father just wanted to keep him from seeing Hawk’s broken body.