Scarlet Night (Limited Edition)

by Megan Parker

  “Like what you see?” She smirked.

  “I was... I was just trying to help you; to save your dumb ass from getting sliced to shit!” He glared, “And, for the record, no. I don’t like what I see! I prefer my women to have tits!”

  Even filled with anger and embarrassment, his mismatched eyes were so beautiful. She’d caught him and he knew it; knew it and was pissed about it! She smiled to herself. She knew just how to get to him. Knew exactly what buttons to push.

  Which worked to her benefit, because he was hot when he was angry.

  While she’d known that her teasing would get him riled, she had not anticipated her own body’s response to his piercing gaze. Even then, in the midst of celebrating her own victory against his emotions, she felt tingles along the length of her arms at the memory of his stare.

  Trying to move past her own thoughts, she dusted herself off and cleared her throat; “so what the hell happened, anyway?” she asked, motioning to the condition of the room.

  “A lot...” he turned his attention and pulled back, “and the expensive kind of ‘a lot’, at that,” he sighed, pushing his hair from his face.

  She chuckled at all the damage and gave Zane a look, “Blah blah blah! I see my father’s legacy lives on within you.” She sighed and stretched out, shaking her head, “Bastard always bitched and moaned about cost! ‘This costs this’! ‘That costs that’!” she growled, “Just another reason why I left in the first place. It was all that the old man could talk about; the only thing I’m sure he thought about! Well, one of the only things at least,” she added quietly.

  Zane frowned and looked over at her and tilted his head as he thought for a moment. She was so different than most the girls he had met. Something about her that irritated and enticed all at once; an arrogance that bordered confidence—or was it the other way around?—and a perception that seemed to skew everything it took in.

  He smiled softly; she was definitely a mystery to him.

  And he’d always loved a good mystery.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being worried over finances, you know. Aside from you, everybody else seems to understand that much.” He sighed and leaned against the wall to catch his breath, “And it’s not like I choose to worry about it! Believe me, I’d much rather just have to worry about money. It’d be a lot more peaceful, I’m sure!”

  Serena smirked, “Aw! Afraid you’ll get more grey hairs?”

  “It’s not grey!” Zane growled, running the length of silver in his bangs between his fingers to analyze it himself, “And it’s not from worrying, either!”

  “So what is it from, Zane? More of this curse-thing? Just what are you?” She turned and sat next to him and leaned back as well. “You definitely aren’t like any vampire or therion I’ve met before. I mean, I saw that… that thing you became, and I’ve never seen a therion look like that! But what sort of vampire can change its shape?”

  “It’s hard to say anymore. I sometimes feel like the vampire that dreamed he was a therion, other times I feel like the therion that dreamed he was a vampire.” He looked down so that he wouldn’t have to see her expression, “The only truth that matters is this: I’m a real monster. I’m what never should have been; what is supposed to be kept as nothing more than a myth or a threat—a boogieman for mythos parents to scare their kids into behaving. The point is to show me real suffering. It takes me when I’m at my most vulnerable and it leaves behind chaos with my name written all over it. It kills without discretion and it lives to destroy so that, when I’m back in control, I have to take in the aftermath and know it was me.” He shook his head and sighed, “I’m a plague, Serena. A nuclear warhead handled by an idiot with a mallet. That’s all you need to know.”

  “That’s hard to believe.” Serena drew her knees up and leaned against them for a moment. “I mean, you aren’t a bad person—sure, you’re a dick and a whiner—but that doesn’t make you a monster. I can tell that much. Even if you do become some cheesy mythos version of The Hulk, I’d still think you were a pussy,” she smirked, “but at least you’re a pussy who’s also a good person.”

  Zane scoffed and shook his head, “I wish I could become The Hulk! At least he’s admired! I’m worse than what the comics could make me out to be… and besides, I’m not green.” He looked over and smirked, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Though she held his gaze briefly, he was forced to look away from her growing look of sympathy, wishing to everything he could believe in the words she was saying. Wishing he was something—anything—other than a monster. Leaning back until he faced the ceiling, he tried to stifle his body’s shaking as the memories returned. He could still feel every puncture into his flesh; could still smell the ceremonial incense and boiling ink and spilled blood and putrid sweat and tears. He could still remember every agonizing second as the cursed ink assaulted and warped his body and core to a cellular and spiritual level. And every time he remembered, he felt the same scorching and his skin began to burn and crawl; trying to escape from itself and its history. “I should go.” He went to stand up and walked towards the door before pausing and turning towards her, “You should go to the infirmary for some synth-blood if you’re still in pain.”

  With that, he turned away from her and left the room.

  “You like him, don’t you?” Devon grumbled.

  “He’s a good person, I guess.” Serena frowned and turned to Devon as he appeared beside her.

  He sighed and she felt the warmth fill her more as he looked around the room.

  “I can’t protect you like this.” His image shifted and faltered as he lost focus on staying visible, “Dammit, Serena! I’d give anything to be able to protect you like he can.”

  She turned to him and smiled warmly before standing up and walking over to him. “And you will, Devon. Soon enough! Sooner than you think! We’ll find a body for you! This clan can help us both and when you’re in your own body again we’ll finally be able to be together! Just like we’d always planned! Forever!” She smiled and shook her head, “Don’t worry about Zane! We aren’t right for each other.”

  “If you say so,” His spectral features curled into a smile and he chuckled, “Either way, I’m happy you said that.” her aura shifted as he spoke, and he moved a palm that she couldn’t feel over her cheek, “I love you, Serena.”

  She smiled, trying to hold back her emotions for his benefit. “I love you too, Devon.”

  Zane’s eyes widened as he listened in to Serena’s conversation. She was speaking to something—someone—else in the room, and though he couldn’t see her aura he was certain that the shift in energy hadn’t been somebody new. Either she was more out of her mind than he’d thought, or there was something occupying her auric force. Zane pried further, trying to figure out just what he was hearing without being seen. As he peeked around the corner he caught sight of her facing away from him, staring intently on whatever it was she was conversing with. As he narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see, something shifted in front of her—something shaped like a person, but completely transparent—as Serena’s aura refracted some of the room’s light. He frowned, wishing he could see auras in this body, but, sadly, that ability was reserved for the beast. Either way, one thing was for certain…

  She wasn’t crazy.

  There was somebody anchored in her aura; somebody desperate enough to cling to another’s life-force and still aware enough to carry on a conversation.

  And an intimate one at that!

  He frowned at the thought and, feeling a familiar tingle, looked down to see the tattoos on his arms glowing. Despite not wanting to hear any more of the one-sided ghostly conversation, he couldn’t tune out Serena’s words and he realized that he was the topic.

  “We aren’t right for each other.”

  He struggled to stifle a growl and shook his head as he turned away from the conversation to regain control. Why was he getting so upset?

  It wasn’t as though he’d thought any different.
>
  He knew he was a monster and didn’t deserve her.

  Still, the burning in his chest was hard to argue with.

  He’d already been forced to admit that with her around he felt more in tune with himself than ever before. Even the beast, which had never responded to anybody as something other than another thing to rip apart, seemed oddly calmed when she was near. And, selfish as it was, he wanted that peace to last.

  He wanted her!

  Swallowing away the feeling of nausea that crept inside of him and, after several deep breaths, looked down at his arm as it stopped shaking and the ink faded back to black. Knowing there was nothing more to be gained from eavesdropping than more pain he hurried away to the upper levels and into his room.

  He couldn’t trust her and, worse than that, he couldn’t trust himself around her.

  Zoey couldn’t stand it!

  Try as she might, she couldn’t stay away from Isaac!

  Though they both knew what they were doing was wrong, they had begun to see each other more often. She had sworn—taken what she’d hoped was a solid and unbreakable oath—to herself to, for the benefit of her clan, never to see him again.

  That oath had barely survived a day!

  Damn him and his animal magnetism!

  All inhibitions had been lost; all qualms and worries squelched and justified with flimsy reasoning.

  It was wrong!

  It was foolish!

  It was reckless!

  And Zoey loved it!

  As the spark of excitement at being reacquainted with her forbidden lover was stoked to an all-consuming flame in her chest, she wove between the trees and hurdled stumps and rocks as they presented themselves. With Isaac keeping a steady pace beside her, she navigated through the forest, not caring where their journey took them. So long as she’d arrive there with him. She felt complete.

  “You’re too slow!” Isaac growled playfully as he sprinted ahead of her and cleared a gorge overlooking a shallow stream.

  “No fair!” Zoey pouted, hurtling herself over the gap and, realizing she wouldn’t close the distance, using her aura to carry her to the other side. As her feet touched down on the grass she let out a sigh of relief, keeping her eyes shut until she had caught her breath, “You’re used to this sort of thing! You’ve been running in the woods your entire life!” She looked up to shoot him a glare and frowned when she saw that she was alone, “Isaac?”

  She heard his laugh only a moment before he darted out of hiding and grabbed her by the waist and carried her deeper into the forest and up a hill with her holding onto his shoulders. His laughing carried as he ran with her, scaling the hill on bare feet as though it were nothing. As he planted his next step on a plot of earth, she gasped and cried out as the patch uprooted and he lost his footing. Pulling her into him, they rolled down the small, grassy slope together and finally landed on a patch of wildflowers that coughed pollen and petals into the air with the impact. As the evidence of their fall settled, Isaac, on his back below her, was still laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” she scolded, still breathless from the fall, “We could’ve died!”

  “Nah. I know these hills too well to let them kill me,” he smirked up at her, “Besides, I’m not easy to break.”

  She laughed, patting at his broad chest, “You, good sir, are a beast!”

  His grin widened as he looked up at her as his eyes began to glow fiercely and he drew his face closer to hers. “I know I am. And you love it!” He caught her lips against his and she gasped softly, before closing her eyes and began kissing him back. She still wasn’t used to the bestial passion in his kiss, which always caught her off guard no matter how prepared she was for it, but it only forced her to match his effort with her own to keep her head on her shoulders. She couldn’t stop herself from succumbing to them each and every time, especially not when there was so much passion and sincerity behind them. She moaned as his hands skimmed her sides and he slowly began to pull away, leaving her lower lip with one final nip to remember him by.

  As they fell back to share the view of the clear sky, they allowed themselves to get lost in their mutual emotions.

  Keith growled, staring at the haphazard batch of mythos sitting before him; a makeshift Council of his own design where he made the rules and called the shots.

  And soon enough the real thing would be his, as well.

  The table was abuzz with their collective plotting, and the murmurs between neighbors and the occasional rant from the others drew their attention inward as he stood at the head of the table. When they did not take notice of his gesture or silence their witless banter, he sneered. Shaking his head at their insubordination, he raised his arm over his head a moment before bringing his fist down on the table. The surface rocked and all of the eyes in the room widened and honed in on the source as one of the table’s legs gave out and it sagged several inches to one side. As the last of the reverberation and emotional impact dissipated, the group leaned forward in their seats and awaited his plans.

  He smirked. That, he noted with an approving nod, was how it should be!

  After all, he was their leader!

  “We will get nowhere if our efforts are not executed! A plan—no matter how perfectly designed—is nothing until it is put into action! I need commitment; I demand it! And I’m certain that I’m not alone in my desires to see something come of our efforts.”

  “Now, there is no doubt in my mind that the clan’s moves will come sooner if we are not the first to attack.” He grinned and turned to a marble chess set that adorned a shelf behind him, with a calculated movement, pinched the polished white king and queen pieces between his fingers and inspected them with a coy smirk before setting them on the table in front of the others to get a clear view. “You see, we are all warriors here; warriors who are crippled by those who would use us as nothing more than fodder!” he stabbed his index finger down at the king piece, “They would have you believe that—through their oppression and iron-grip on every detail of your lives—you were something more to them; using their condescending language and structurally unsound laws—upheld by a corrupt and biased police force that hide behind the veil of ‘clan-hood’ to justify the unjustifiable!—to control and bind us.” He turned again and scooped up the pawns from the board, “And they would turn us—all of us!—into nothing more than drones!”—he began to roll each pawn across the uneven table’s surface, allowing them to reach the end and fall to the floor—“Nothing more than expendable, faceless drones!” growling, he held up the last pawn and rolled it between his fingers, “They would turn you into nothing more than pawns to be shuffled about their battlefields to protect those they deem worthy.” He sneered at the piece and let it slip from his fingers to join the others on the floor. “I’ve seen them, my brothers! Seen them first-hand from my cushioned seat amongst their foul ranks, taking up arms against those too weak to defend themselves, and honoring the mundane needs of those who benefit and empower them!

  “But now,” he smirked and held his index finger over the king piece on the table, “there has been a shift”—he pulled his finger back, toppling the king and letting it roll off the table and clatter against the pawns—“and the army that would hold us back from claiming our rightful glory is without rule; without direction!”

  Reaching behind him with his aura, he retrieved one of the white knights and let it sweep once over the heads of his audience before it landed beside the still-standing queen piece, “And all that stands between us and that glory is an ignorant queen and a broken knight.” Again, he reached out with his aura, snatching up the remaining game pieces and letting them orbit his body as he jabbed an accusatory finger at the others, “And you choose to let this moment—this moment that you’ve waited your entire lives for!—be nothing more than pretty words on a sheet of paper that you call a plan that you’re too afraid to put into action? And for what? So that you can remain their pawns? So that the comfort of ignorance can remain and the fe
ar of change can be avoided?

  “Gentlemen,” he let the word slip from his tongue like a vulgar, oily thing, “it is time to free yourselves from their tyranny; to stop playing along with their silly games.” The floating pieces fell, one-by-one, from the air until only a white rook and a black knight remained. As the others watched, he took these into his palm and smirked. “In their weakened state, we can take their castle as our own”—he slammed the rook down in front of him—“and you can finally be free of your lives as pawns”—he held up the black knight and nodded slowly at it—“and claim the ‘warrior’ title that’s always been yours!”

  With that, he slammed the knight between the white queen and knight, letting both collapse and roll off of the table, leaving only the black knight and the white rook standing. The others stared for a moment, taking in the sight of the coal-black horse that stared angrily at the bone-white castle set out in front of it, and their grins widened.

  Seeing that he’d made his point, Keith smiled and sat down, steepling his fingers in front of him. “Checkmate.”

  “What do you propose we do next then?” An older vampire leaned forward, “Like you’ve said, The Council is starting to get wind of our motives.”

  “You leave that to me.” Keith bowed his head once, “Don’t worry about that detail. The clan and The Council will not be an issue anymore. On that you have my word. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he stood and started for the door, “I have other business to attend to.”

  With that, he disappeared from the group, jumping into overdrive and seeking out his next target. Finally, sensing he was close, he allowed himself to drop out of his superhuman speed and came to stand in the forest. The overpowering stench of body odor and wet animal fur assaulted his senses and he sneered at the smell of the Therions. They really were just a bunch of beasts; only slightly more clever than the pathetic creatures they shared the features of. Still, they served their purposes.