Scarlet Dusk

by Megan J. Parker

  ALSO AVAILABLE BY MEGAN J. PARKER:

  SCARLET NIGHT

  SCARLET DAWN

  **ORIGINAL SIN

  GONE WITH THE SIN

  *THE LOVER

  *A prequel to the Scarlet Night series

  **A prequel to Crimson Shadow (by Nathan Squiers)

  ALSO AVAILABLE BY NATHAN SQUIERS:

  CRIMSON SHADOW: NOIR

  CRIMSON SHADOW: SINS OF THE FATHER

  CRIMSON SHADOW: FORBIDDEN DANCE

  CRIMSON SHADOW: THE DIRTY DOZEN (SHORT STORY COLLECTION)

  **SCARLET RISING

  A HOWL AT THE MOON

  *S(a)TAN

  *FORBIDDEN PAINTS ON A WICKED CANVAS

  **THE FIGHTER

  *A prequel to the Crimson Shadow series

  **A prequel to Scarlet Night (by Megan J. Parker)

  Copyright © 2014 by Megan J. Parker & Nathan Squiers

  Edited by Nathan Squiers

  Cover art by ShinyShadows (DeviantArt)

  Design by Eden Crane Designs

  "To all the lovers and fighters out there; here's to always having what it takes to face down your demons"

  We’d like to send out our thanks to YOU! All our readers who have been following both of us through all of our works! This series wouldn't be here without your love and support. We are so excited to share this final piece in the Scarlet Night series. We’d also like to thank our local friends & family who back us up and support our work & cheer us on.

  Anyway, thank YOU for all the support we have received and we hope that Serena and Zane’s final book in this series.

  (Don’t worry; Serena and Zane are FAR from gone!)

  Much love & rock on!

  ~Megan J. Parker & Nathan Squiers

  (The Literary Dark Duo)

  HE COULDN’T RECALL BEING BORN.

  Couldn’t recall much of anything anymore.

  Still, he doubted it hurt as bad as this…

  Unable to move or see—unable to even function beyond the simple sense that he was, in some way or another, existing once again—he simply floated in the void of his own growing self-awareness and let the jagged, ugly deposits of whatever reality existed beyond his blindness grow more and more obvious:

  Voices. One was unmistakable; a voice that, for some time, he’d grown to know as a part of himself…

  The vampire called Zane.

  Though he couldn’t be certain if he even had lips anymore, he was certain the name would have brought a sneer to them.

  The other voice, though…

  The unmistakable pitch and sensuality of a woman though tarnished with an undeserving pride and intellect.

  Ah yes… he mused to himself, The blue-haired whore!

  The name escaped him, though the face shimmered just beyond the veil of his memory. One of Zane’s comrades; one of the psychic types, if he wasn’t mistaken. She was close to Zane, he remembered, though he’d never bedded her. No, she was more of a sister to him…

  One of the reasons he’d always wanted to personally break her; to take her in the worst ways possible and leave Zane to soak up the guilt of the aftermath…

  But, with Zane’s voice ringing outside of his head, it was clear that his unique relationship with the vampire playboy had been terminated…

  Though, if he could figure out a way to operate whatever vessel he’d been placed within, perhaps the circumstances could be turned in his favor.

  “You know she’s going to taunt me about being right when she wakes up, right?” the blue-haired whore said.

  “Can’t really blame her,” Zane’s voice was solid and confident; happy! A deep rage boiled deep at that realization as he listened on: “She was right about everything!”

  “Can you do me a favor and not feed her that gloating right for at least a day?”

  “Only if you do me a favor.”

  A groan from the whore, “What?”

  “I am dying to get a Slushie and a cheap, nasty gas station hot dog in my belly, and I’m sure Serena would love to have a Snickers and one of those magazines she’s always reading.” The echo of freedom in Zane’s voice was only fueling the rage, then, “Do you think you could drive me to the city and front me the cash to grab the goods?”

  “Why can’t you drive and buy your own garbage?”

  “Because then it wouldn’t be a favor.”

  A chuckle? He was actually laughing?

  This wouldn’t do!

  “I guess that makes sense… sort of. Alright, fine.”

  A pregnant pause offered the hope of miscarried happiness.

  “Why are we keeping that thing in here?” Zane asked, the familiar jagged edge of fear clinging to his voice.

  Another pause.

  “Because that’s a corpse…” the inflection at the end was more taunting than fearful, “And we’re in the medical center. Would you rather we kept it in the cafeteria?”

  A corpse? Is that what he’d been dumped into?

  Unacceptable!

  “I guess I just don’t like the idea that it could suddenly wake up.”

  Yes! There it was!

  The fear!

  The concern!

  After all that had happened, he still had Zane by the manhood…

  And it was right time to twist and pull!

  “Doubt it. It’s not that it’s not going to wake up eventually, but that’s been out without any sign of life—no pulse, no brain activity, and barely any measureable auric activity—for days, where Serena’s breathing and dreaming no differently than if she was just napping. Between the two of them, I’m willing to bet that Serena’s going to be the first to open her eyes.”

  Not if I have anything to say about it, bitch!

  His sense of smell resurrected then, offering two very pleasant-and-familiar scents:

  Zane’s fear; his succulent, delicious terror!

  And, painfully near to him, Serena. His Serena!

  His buttercup baby!

  Yes, Zaney-boy! Do run along with the whore! Immerse yourself in your delusions and leave me to my devices. Nothing will be alright; not while I remain!

  Zane’s anxious sigh sang such glorious potential, and the motivation to drag himself from this mock-death grew so powerful he was certain he’d awaken in his new body cackling.

  Finally, Zane sealed his fate:

  “You promise?”

  I swear it, Zaney-boy! I fucking swear it!

  It had taken a bit longer for Zane and his blue-haired colleague—who was finally identified as Zoey through the rest of their incessant banter—to finally leave the room; to finally leave him alone to his devices. The time, however, didn’t feel quite as wasted in hindsight, as it was a period that allowed for even more senses and awareness to return to the seemingly dead creature laid out not far from them.

  Once they were gone, though…

  About fucking time! he growled, though entirely internally, his new body still not able to respond to his commands. Despite this, he was otherwise fully aware. His internal senses told him that he was on his back, that whatever he was lying upon was cold…

  And then there were the senses he hadn’t expected.

  The skin of whatever he was in was somehow able to feel the presence of light and heat; somehow able to tell him the presence of ultraviolet and neon waves without being able to actually see them!

  Simply fascinating! he mused to himself as he tested this alien ability. Underground; every nerve of his being screamed that he was underground. Part of him was pleased with this—feeling a sense of security and secrecy in it—but yet another part was furious with the total lack of meat…

  Save for morsel that he’d been able to smell since almost the very start!

  Then there was his part. The par
t of his mind that was neither hardwired to this new body nor sympathetic to its comforts and preferences. The part that he’d carried with him from the start, long before he was in this body or planted inside Zane as the creature known as Maledictus or even when he’d been occupying the makeshift reliquary he’d buried his essence into. The only part of himself that he had left.

  That part didn’t care about his new shell’s comfort or contentment, and he certainly wasn’t going to offer up the morsel to its simple appetites.

  Not when his own appetites—appetites that burned just below his new body’s rumbling stomach—were so much more demanding; so much more satisfying.

  No, he chortled to himself as he willed his mind to hurry the process of claiming the body’s motor functions, I have MUCH more delicious plans for that one! But if you behave, he internally addressed his new body, then I’ll feed you the cartoon-headed cunt with Zaney-boy’s still-beating heart plopped on top like a plump cherry.

  The body lurched.

  A labored, hissing growl oozed through a parched throat.

  His legs tensed and kicked as his arms flexed and flopped with the sudden waves of backed-up neurological commands.

  Something at the base of his spine twitched and rolled.

  A serpentine tongue lashed out, tasting the air and filling his mind with even more details about his surroundings—none of them pleasant. As he’d heard the blue-haired one say, they were in a medical center, and the air—the very air—was teeming with the rancid artificialness of it all; sanitizers and cleaners and cold, bloodless metal upon even more cold, bloodless metal. His mind thrashed and hissed at the total lack of death and rot and agony…

  But, despite this, his dry, chapped lips peeled into a grin as the thought screeched in his head.

  “Oh, I think I’ll like you very much,” he offered to his new body; relishing in its need—its sheer demand—for the forced procreation and agonizing extinction of everything around him.

  Those fools had actually planted him inside a creature that outright thrived on rape and murder!

  Perfect! Then let’s begin!

  Finally cooperating, his eyes opened and he was met with the harsh and unnatural glow of synthetic lighting that his skin had already warned him about. Curiosity grew as he shimmied to the edge of metal slab he’d been lying upon, and he dragged his hands into his view, marveling at the scaly, clawed digits that occupied his sight.

  Reptilian? he marveled, running one elongated finger across the back of his opposite hand and smirking at the cold, bumpy texture of his new flesh. “How fucking delightful!” he chortled and stood, glancing down at the stilt-like pair of clawed, brownish-green legs that now supported him, “In their haste to be rid of me, they put me in a blood-thirsty, cold-hearted weapon?”

  Spotting a mirror above a sink set into a nearby wall, he allowed himself a long moment to take in his new face. While there were some notably simian qualities about the head and jaw—looking more like the brutish sculpt of one of the human’s slightly more primitive, tree-dwelling ancestors—there was definitely an unmistakable, lizard-like aesthetic. A pair of stretched pupils nestled amidst a pair of hazy, piss-yellow bogs that surrounded each of them, that should have belonged in the skull of a giant snake narrowed at their own reflection as he leaned in to inspect his visage. Two teardrop nostrils flared then, and his mouth—seeing that what he’d previously passed off as chapped was, in fact, a total lack of actual lips and just an angry gash cutting through the scaly surface—parted enough to let a long, forked tongue jut forward and vibrate angrily against the glass in an attempt to sample the air around their doppelganger. He smirked at the simplicity of the response, and the gesture reminded him of an alligator exposing its assets. The brownish-green hue appeared to be a constant throughout, save for the paler area of his chest and abdomen and…

  He snarled.

  “My dick!” his hands flew to the body’s scaly-yet-flat crotch and began frantically searching for something—anything—resembling a pair of genitals. “Where the fuck is my…”

  Then… there!

  A… pocket?

  He sneered as a portion of his pelvis dipped into itself, offering an opening for his fingertips to slip inside.

  “Did those fuckers seriously stick me in the body of a fema—”

  His enraged monologue was cut short as a clawed fingertip grazed the topside of his new penis and a hungry hiss leapt out of instinct from his throat.

  “Well then… that might take some getting used to,” he laughed to himself.

  Still, it would be all the more worth it to see Serena finally succumb to him when he was holding such an unconventional member over her.

  He erupted into laughter. As his body convulsed and pitched in its own excitement, he felt the twitching at his lower-back again and caught sight of a long, wicked tail in his peripheral vision, and another round of laughter issued. The sound of the cold, hissing echoes rattled about the room and reverberated in his skull, pushing his cackles that much farther.

  And then she awoke…

  It started as a murmur—the innocent, garbled whimper of a mind roused from slumber too early for its liking—and quickly turned to something more befitting of its owner:

  “Either the laughter ends or I rip your junk out through your ass—” Serena’s threat cut short as she whipped her blonde head around to face the source of the laughter and her purple eyes widened at the sight. “What the fuck…?”

  “A pity,” he offered, turning away from the mirror to face her, “I’ve always found your threats to be something of an art form, Serena. Not unlike a fine painting, or a well-structured poetic stanza…”—he smirked again, and Serena’s response told him that she was, while perhaps not impressed, at least stricken by the sight—“… or a well-orchestrated slaughter.” He chuckled, stepping towards her and letting the perched talons of his feet clack down as he did, “People like you and I, we savor the art of malice, do we not? We…” he shivered with growing anticipation, “We live for it; we fucking feed from it! When you’re making your opponents cower under your hollow, air-headed words and when I’m plunging dagger and dick alike into whatever quivering sow I’ve claimed as mine… that’s when we’re in our elements! Ain’t that right, princess?”—another step—“Well? Ain’t’cha gonna talk? Don’t you have something to say to me, bitch?”

  She slowly dragged herself away from him, pushing her body across the plush, soft bed they’d given her to stand. “Mal… Maledictus?”

  He hissed. “You know, you sound like a real cunt when you say it that way; like a real ungrateful cunt!”

  Serena’s face shifted at that and the sneer he’d come to recognize so well found its place. “Ungrateful, huh? And why should I be grateful to you, you walking ghetto handbag?”

  He leapt then, slamming down atop the metal table that had been his new body’s resting slab moments earlier, and leaned towards the arrogant blonde vampire like a gargoyle; his claws skewering through the stainless steel and causing his prey to flinch at the series of shrill, metallic screams.

  “A handbag, am I? A bold statement coming from you, since we both know I could punch through your lady-parts and drag you inside-out if I suddenly decided to accessorize!” He raised his hand and mimed locking his mouth before continuing, “I’d watch my fucking words if I were you, my brazenly arrogant pet; I’m not above beating a dog, and you’re just the worst kind of bitch!”

  Though Serena’s face showed little give, he could see her mind working towards being more selective with her phrasing. “Okay then,” she took a step away from him, “so what exactly do you think I should be grateful for?”

  “For saving you and you’re entire fleet of dickless fuck-wads! For helping you defeat that congealed jizz-stain you called a brother! But, more than any of that other shit, for not burying myself into every single nook and cranny your pink ass has to offer, girl!” he hissed as he let the weight of his upper body fall then, letting h
is long, reptilian spine distend momentarily as he caught himself on his hands and scuttled across the floor, allowing his legs and, finally, his tail to follow as if on their own accord.

  The cold, soulless sound of his body scuttling across the linoleum floor made Serena shiver, and his tongue darted out then, tasting the fear and uncertainty that she’d just saturated the air with.

  Despite all the evidence to the contrary, Serena hid her fear. “You didn’t do a goddam thing, Maledictus! Zane could’ve just as easily—”

  “ZANE?” he roared and lurched forward, suddenly standing upright again as he cleared the distance between them in a flash and pinned her to the wall. “That… that boy is a pussy! A spineless, pity-wielding sack of shit hiding behind my power in the hopes that nobody will call him on being nothing more than a child with a pair of balls that miraculously sprouted a few big-boy curlies! Make no mistake, you stupid cow, I am all that was ever right about that loser!”

  Serena’s lower jaw set as her fists clenched at her sides. “Before you try talking shit about my man, I suggest you take a look down and ask yourself if you have any right talking about the state of anybody’s balls!” She laughed, “Do you even have a—”

  “OH IT’S THERE, WHORE!” He bellowed and slammed his fist into the wall before reaching behind her and grabbing her by the hair, “BELIEVE ME, YOU’LL BE ACQUAINTED WITH IT SOON ENOUGH!”

  Before Serena could react, he turned, letting his tail whip around behind him and sending several trays and a table around him toppling to the floor before allowing it to crash against the wall. Crying out at the sudden yank at her scalp Serena struggled, shrieking as the tuft of hair in his grip was ripped from her head. Free from the hold, she leapt past him, trying to get across the room towards the door. An enraged hiss grew as he tossed the matted blonde mess to the floor and lunged after her, making several desperate grabs at her before finally getting a grip on the back of her neck.