Red Sun (The Shifter Chronicles 14)

By M.D. Grimm

Raphael knows he must be possessed by a demon. What else could explain the aggression, the physical, beastly transformations? To protect himself and others, his father locks him away. But when Raphael is nineteen, the demon gains full control and breaks free. Now Raphael is scared and desperate on the streets of El Paso, Texas, convinced he’s cursed. Then a stray cat enters his life and everything changes.

Ahmes is a cat shifter and knows there’s something off about the young shifter he’s encountered. It soon becomes apparent that the young man doesn’t know what he is, and Ahmes is determined to help and care for him. But gaining the trust of not only the fearsome wolf but the scared young man will take all his persistence.

Friendship, and the potential for more, grows between them as they travel to Haven, Montana—a town founded by shifters, for shifters, and home to a specialized counseling center, one that can help Raphael understand and accept who and what he truly is.

If that wasn’t enough, on their trail is the last person either expected—Gregor Whitefield, the commander of the Knights of the Dawn, which is an organization bent on the eradication of shapeshifters. Gregor enjoys the thrill of the hunt, determined to collect the unique blood that is crucial to Arcas’s great plan.

Raphael’s blood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.D. Grimm
• Release date: Jan 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005371050

M.D. Grimm

M.D. Grimm has wanted to write stories since second grade (kind of young to make life decisions, but whatever) and nothing has changed since then (well, plenty of things actually, but not that!). Thankfully, she has indulgent parents who let her dream, but also made sure she understood she’d need a steady job to pay the bills (they never let her forget it!). After graduating from the University of Oregon and majoring in English, (let’s be honest: useless degree, what else was she going to do with it?) she started on her writing career and couldn’t be happier. Working by day and writing by night (or any spare time she can carve out), she enjoys embarking on romantic quests and daring adventures (living vicariously, you could say) and creating characters that always triumph against the villain, (or else what’s the point?) finding their soul mate in the process.

Book preview

Red Sun

The Shifter Chronicles 14

Blood Book Two

M.D. Grimm

Red Sun

The Shifter Chronicles 14

Blood Book Two

M.D. Grimm

Cover Art by Kris Norris

Copyright 2022 M.D. Grimm

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Note to Readers

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Epilogue

Want To Continue This Series?

Crimson Purity excerpt

About This Book

Chronological List of Series

About M.D. Grimm

Other Titles by M.D. Grimm

Connect with M.D. Grimm

Note to Readers

This story takes place between the events of Hearts and Minds (#5.5) and Ghosts of Halloween Past (#3.5).

Due to the modifications to the second editions of books #1-#13 of the series, I wanted to clear up any confusion for readers who have only experienced the first edition of Blind Devotion (#3). In the second edition of Blind Devotion, Travis is still blind in his human form. While the first edition had him gaining back his sight through magical means, I realized that I needed diverse representation, not just in race, ethnicity, and background, but in different kinds of ability. Travis is a competent and formidable cougar shifter and a loving mate, and upon review I understood that he was perfect the way he was. So, I removed that moment in the story. While he naturally gains partial sight as his cougar, he remains completely blind in his human form, and therefore, is blind in Red Sun.

Chapter One

Garm howls terribly

before the doors to Hel;

the wolf will break its bonds

and run free.

~Völuspá, The Poetic Edda

Gregor stepped out of his rented car and made sure his tie was straight and his hair flat. The heat was annoying but he’d endured worse. The quaint house sat on a modest piece of land, and he glanced around, noting his suburban surroundings. He’d visited Texas several times in the past, but this was the first occasion he’d had to visit El Paso. It wasn’t the best place he’d visited nor was it the worst. It just was.

He grabbed his official-looking briefcase, which served as nothing more than a prop, and shut the door, locking the car. His feet protested the confining shoes, making him hope this meeting was a short one. He missed his comfortable fatigues, cotton shirts, and sturdy boots. No matter what outfit he sported to play the role required of him, he always wore a Kevlar vest and holstered gun at his hip. He was in a war and it didn’t do to be unprepared, especially when, at any moment, a shifter might come across his path and try to eat his face.

His mouth curled in disgust at the thought of the abominations. The world would be better off with those beasts eliminated. Then humanity would finally understand the darkness they’d been living under and would embrace the dominance of Arcas. That great god would lead them all into a new, brighter future.

Gregor smiled and if anyone would have seen that smile, they would have been astonished at how it smoothed and softened his hard features. But it didn’t last. As soon as Gregor reached the front door, his expression went blank and he knocked.

Not a minute passed before it was wrenched open and a broad man with dark looks stood there and stared at him with wide, frantic eyes.

Mr. Sanderson?

Gregor inclined his head. May I come in?

Certo! Please do!

Gregor stepped into the neat little house. It was a pleasant place with warm, inviting colors, well-worn furniture, and everything was happily situated. He took a couple of steps before turning and regarding Dr. Matteo Ricci. He was a tenured professor in the College of Sciences at the University of Texas at El Paso. He had emigrated from Italy to the US after meeting Angela Wilkinson, his now-deceased wife. He maintained a discernable accent despite over a decade in the US.

Gregor turned his attention to the pictures on the tables in the living room. Many of them depicted a cheerful couple, the woman—Angela—pale and blonde, contrasting her husband. Other pictures showed a small boy with the coloring of his mother and the facial structure of his father. Then pictures of the mother ceased and there were only those of Matteo and his son. But the images were limited to a pre-pubescent boy.

Please sit, Matteo said, gesturing to an overstuffed couch. Can I get you anything?

No, thank you. Gregor sat and set the briefcase against the couch, beside his legs. He took out a notepad and pen and stared, waiting for Matteo to begin.

Matteo sat on the edge of a chair across from the couch and couldn’t stop fidgeting with his hands. Gregor hated people who fidgeted.

Why don’t you start at the beginning? Gregor said in a low voice, no trace of his annoyance showing.

Matteo swallowed audibly. Didn’t Father Fernandez already tell you…?

I would like to hear what you have to say, in your own words.

Matteo took a deep breath. He was a normal child. We were so happy. Then about three years after he was born, Angela died and— He stopped and Gregor reined in his impatience. My wife doted on Raphael. We both did. Then it was just me. I swear to you, he was a normal child. He did good in school, he had friends. He was so alive and funny and interested in everything and everybody. But when he turned eleven, he developed such a temper.

Gregor raised an eyebrow. What do you mean?

He would lash out at times, rebelling at my orders and refusing to heed my words. It seemed to happen overnight, and I had no idea what to make of it. I tried to talk to him, and he would apologize and be his carefree self again. Then, once again, his mood would switch like that. He snapped his fingers.

When did the physical transformations start to happen?

He was twelve. A few weeks after his birthday he told me he wanted to go to a friend’s party. I didn’t approve of that friend or her parents and I refused. He just… lost it. Matteo paled and his eyes widened. His hands clenched together in his lap. His face morphed and his bones popped. He grew bigger before my eyes and ripped his clothing. Claws tore through the skin of his fingers and toes and….

He dropped his head into his hands and wept.

Gregor frowned and tapped his pen on the notepad. Interesting. Very interesting. Shifting abilities manifested at puberty, so that was expected. But Gregor was certain Matteo was no shifter, and there was no mention of adoption. His deceased wife might have cheated on him with another shifter, since she’d clearly been one. But his research into Angela failed to turn up evidence of an affair. And yet the transformation was different from the information the Knights of the Dawn had compiled over the years from their shifter subjects.

Since the Knights had informants within the church, tips often came in, and this one had so intrigued Gregor that he’d come personally. He preferred to stay in the shadows, since his capture could prove disastrous for Arcas’s mission. He was Arcas’s right-hand man, his boots on the ground. He was the face the other knights saw, allowing Arcas to keep his distance. But times often called for him to take a calculated risk. This one might just pay off.

I prayed to God, Matteo said when he’d reined in his emotions. Though his voice still wavered and cracked. I prayed every night, every day. I thought some demon had a hold of my son. He shuddered. I never believed in demons until… He was so scared after that first time. He cried with me. He said he was so sorry, and he didn’t know what was going on. I held him so tightly. But it kept happening. Every time I denied him something, that strange, bestial light would come into his eyes, and he’d start to morph.

Did he ever fully morph into another creature?

Yes, Matteo croaked. When he was fifteen. I can only thank God that we were at home. He bent over and claimed his stomach was cramping. Then the demon took over completely, and he became this monstrous wolf creature.

Gregor sat up straighter, eyes keen on Matteo. Not like a natural wolf?

No, oh Dio. Dio, no. He was like something out of a horror movie. He stood on two legs, had a long snout, fur all over. Large teeth and claws and… the light in his eyes was demonic.

What happened then?

I shouted as many prayers as I could. I grabbed my crucifix off the wall and tried to expel the demon from my son. The beast merely growled at me and tried to escape.

He didn’t attack you?

No. Matteo sniffed and wiped his eyes. He’s never attacked me. I think it’s my faith that protects me. But Raphael was always faithful, even as a little child. How could a demon grab hold of him?

That’s when you called on a priest?

Matteo slumped back in his chair and nodded. It did no good. I have had at least five come out to try to bless this house, to bless my son. To say prayers and splash him with holy water. Nothing works. The demon will not leave. Raphael is so scared of what is inside him.

Is that when you told everyone he had gone away to live with relatives in Italy?

Matteo nodded. It was for the best. I had to keep him and the demon contained. He’d start to morph and grow violent whenever anyone came to the door. I had to protect him and others. I locked him up and continued his schooling. He is so smart, my angelo.

How old is he now?

Nineteen. But he is still just a child. He doesn’t know anything about the world.

What happened three days ago?

Matteo met Gregor’s eyes, his own swimming with tears of grief and helplessness. He escaped. The demon grew strong enough to break through the cellar door. It was at night, and I had to stay late at the university. I came home to find the back door wide open and Raphael long gone.

Matteo lurched forward and gripped Gregor’s hand. It was all Gregor could do to keep from punching him. This man had fouled himself by having relations with a shifter and now he was touching him.

Please, Mr. Sanderson, find my son. Find my Raphael. He’s all I have left. The demon cannot win. My angelo cannot have blood on his hands.

Gregor stiffly removed his hand from Matteo’s grip and nodded. I will do everything I can to find your son. Do you have a recent picture of him?

Matteo sniffed hard and nodded. Out of his wallet he pulled a small informal picture, one showing a smiling angelic face.

He was seventeen when I took this picture.

May I see his room?

After he inspected the well-supplied and rather comfortable cellar bedroom with TV, Xbox, stacks of books, large bed, and private bathroom, he returned to his car. He’d even been impressed despite himself that Raphael had built his own computer. Gregor was now convinced Raphael was the one he’d been looking for the past year. Arcas had told him they needed certain types of blood to cast the spell that would awaken the ancient beast Arcas needed to cleanse the world. One of the types was from a child born of a human and a shifter. Such a mating should have been impossible.

Despite the disgust he felt at the product of such a union, he was eager for the hunt. It would be different than searching for the scroll nearly a year earlier. This was a real and true monster hunt, and he was excited for the opportunity. The prudent thing would be to send some of his soldiers after Raphael but, by Arcas, didn’t he deserve some fun?

Gregor got into the car and cranked up the AC. He doubted the kid had gotten far. He might still be in El Paso. If the monstrous side of his spirit wanted victims, then the bigger the city, the better the options. Time to hit downtown and see what he could see.

Chapter Two

Raphael dug through a dumpster, his hunger overcoming his initial distaste for the smell and lack of sanitation. He knew he’d led a sheltered life despite his access to TV and the Internet, his father’s instructions, and all the books he’d devoured in his four years locked away. He didn’t blame his father in the least.

But he wasn’t the only one in this body.

The darker part of him growled faintly in his head, and Raphael flinched, scared and tired of that hellish beast. It was that beast that had forced him to leave the safety of home. It was that beast that had taken him to west central El Paso without clothes, money, or any means to sustain himself. And every time he tried to turn back and walk home, the beast would begin to take control and his stomach would cramp up, his muscles burning and stretching. Then he would backtrack and the beast would grow silent.

It wouldn’t let him go home.

Tears gathered in his eyes, and Raphael whimpered before wiping them away. Crying wouldn’t help him. He needed to be strong. He couldn’t let the beast take control of him in broad daylight. He’d managed to steal some clothes minutes after he’d woken up on the street, in the darkness, by smashing the window of a store and snatching what he could. They were baggy but clean, and the heat meant he didn’t have to wear much. It was at night that he wished he’d taken a jacket as well.

Focusing on living from hour to hour, Raphael found a decent half-eaten hamburger and gobbled it down. Then he walked away from the dumpster, edging around the university’s campus. He’d visited the campus several times as a child with his papá before his hell began. The current semester was wrapping up, and it would be a week or two before the summer semester began. Raphael was pleased that he mostly blended into the student activity. He knew it was a risk to be around so many people, but it felt so good to be outside again, to smell fresh air, to feel the wind. He even enjoyed listening to the comings and goings and complaints of real people around him.

The beast was quiet, and though Raphael didn’t let his guard down, he enjoyed the moment. Sometimes he wondered if the beast simply wanted freedom and now that he had it, he was content. Raphael wasn’t sure if it was a demon inside him, like his father believed. From all he’d read on the subject, it didn’t act like a demon from Hell. But then what else could it be?

Shuddering, Raphael sat on a bench and watched the flurry of activity around him, wondering what he would do. Despite the ecstatic sensation of freedom, he wanted to go home. He wanted his papá. It was the main reason he was on campus. Maybe his father would stop by and then he could take him home.

A sharp growl resounded in his head, and Raphael clenched his jaw as his stomach cramped.

No, he whispered, frantic with agony and fear. Not here. Not here!

Hey buddy, you okay?

Raphael flinched and looked up. Five people, one man and four women, stood staring at him in concern.

Fine, he said on a gasp. He stumbled to his feet and tried to get away. The growling intensified in his head, and when the man grabbed his arm, the beast rose. Raphael lashed out and claws erupted from his fingers. He swiped at the man who yelled and fell back against the four women. Then Raphael ran, struggling against the pain.

Not here! he screamed.

Everyone in the vicinity swung around at his crazy screaming. He dodged behind buildings before finding a secluded spot.

You want to get us killed? he said to the beast, knowing it was listening.

The beast subsided slightly, feeling haughty and indignant.

I want to go home!

With a snarl, the beast sent fire racing through his muscles. Raphael fell to his knees and sobbed.

Please stop. Per favore! Go away! Get out of me!

The rage subsided and a soft whine echoed in his mind. He got the strangest sense the beast was apologizing and seemed contrite. Raphael curled his arms around his drawn-up knees and leaned against the building.

Why can’t we go home? he whispered.

The beast whined again before fading. It never completely left, but it would fade to a point that Raphael could pretend he didn’t have something inside him.

Day turned to afternoon turned to evening, and Raphael stayed where he was. When night fell, he curled up on the ground and recited the Lord’s Prayer as he’d done since he was old enough to speak.

Now I lay me down to sleep, he said softly. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.

He shuddered and swallowed. He was so thirsty but he dared not leave his secluded spot. In the muted sounds of the night, he didn’t feel like he’d said enough. If ever he needed God’s protection, it was now. It was at times like this that he was convinced there was no demon inside him. The beast never stirred as he recited the prayers. Prayers to God were supposed to be like acid to demons, right? So, then what was the beast?

He recited the Lord’s Prayer in Italian. He felt closer to his papá as he did so. After that, his eyelids dropped, and he curled up into a tighter ball, wanting nothing but sleep.

An unknown time later, light blasted into his eyes, and Raphael bolted upright with a yelp.

What the hell, kid?

Raphael raised a hand to block the light. After blinking several times, he realized two campus security officers were staring down at him in surprise.

Sorry! I’m sorry.

The one to wield the flashlight moved the light before gripping Raphael’s arm and tugging him to his feet. The beast surged up and Raphael moaned, bowing over as his stomach cramped and his muscles heated.

Shit, you gonna puke, kid?

The other officer sighed. I’m tired of dealing with the drunk ones.

Run! You have to— A sinister growl issued from his throat and both officers stepped back.

What the fuck?

Raphael felt himself slipping away