Scarlet Night: The Complete Trilogy

by Megan J. Parker

  “You have a lot of confidence in him,” Nikki bit her lip, “and I do too, please don’t think I don’t…”

  Raith leaned forward, “But…”

  Nikki shrugged, “But… that Celine-girl seems to have her own plans, and I don’t like the way she’s always hovering around Zane. Plus, the way she looks at him… well, it just gives me the creeps!”

  “Honestly,” Raith smirked, sitting back again, “I don’t like her either—never have—but if she thinks she can get to Zane just because Serena’s gone, she’s sorely mistaken and in for a very rude awakening. Zane’s totally head-over-heels for Serena; hook, line, and sinker. Celine doesn’t stand a chance this round.”

  Nikki chuckled, shaking her head. “You never got along with her, did you?”

  “Of course not, she’s a bitch! And, in my defense, I tried to get along with her for Zane’s sake, but that girl had it in for me since day one! I thought she was just some clingy girlfriend who didn’t like her man’s friends, but she honestly treated me like…”

  “Like a dog?” Nikki looked over.

  “No,” Raith shook his head, “that would’ve at least made sense. She treated me like some sort of nark; like every time I was around her she was on edge that I might attack her or turn Zane against her or something; she was always warning Zane about me—despite never having met me before I, mind you—and…” He shook his head, “I don’t know, she just always seemed like she was keeping something from him that I was somehow going to spill the beans about.”

  “Not that any of that made any difference to Zane, I see,” Nikki smirked. “Friends to the end, huh?”

  “Yeah, guess so,” Raith smirked. “It’s why we were such good mercs; we could accomplish anything when we set our minds to it. I guess that must have scared her or something; maybe she thought that we’d get overconfident and land ourselves in hot water.” He scoffed at that, “I suppose that wouldn’t be too far from the truth.”

  “You suppose?” Nikki shook her head, “Though maybe you two would’ve been fine as you were without me getting in the way and mucking it all up.”

  “Don’t you dare blame yourself for what happened, Nikki!” Raith glared at her. “The curse was not your fault; you were just trying to help your people. There was no way anybody could’ve known what was going to happen.”

  “But—”

  “No ‘but’s!” Raith growled, “Zane and I both knew the risks going into your tribe and we were too confident in our approach. Our stupidity and that damned curse are what are to blame. Nothing—and no one—else!”

  “I still don’t feel that’s the complete truth,” Nikki looked down.

  “Well it is,” Raith assured her, “and even if it was, it sure as hell wouldn’t be your fault.”

  Nikki bit her lip, looking over at her lover. She knew that Raith didn’t blame her for what had happened to them back then, but somewhere inside of her she couldn’t help but think what would’ve happened if she hadn’t sent Zane and Raith on that mission. She knew that it would’ve been a matter of time before somebody was burdened with breaking the ever-thinning final straw and being the one to bear the curse, and though she felt terrible thinking it, a part of her wished that somebody else—anybody else—had wound up being the one to carry the Maledictus curse.

  Shaking her head of the bad thoughts, she turned back to her lover and moved to sit closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. She had finally gotten used to his new body, what had once been the body of Axle Travers—a small-time therion rogue before Kristine had had her way with him. After she’d killed him so that she could put Zane’s disembodied aura—an unexpected burden she’d acquired after attacking him and releasing Raith’s consciousness into Zane’s body—into the empty shell of Axle’s body in the hopes of manipulating the “new” Axle. Her plan, however, had fizzled out, and Zane’s personality returned, taking control and seeking out Serena, who’d been driving herself crazy—in much the same way Zane was driving himself searching for Serena now. When the craziness had finally settled, Zane’s aura had been returned to his body and Raith, with the deceased Axle’s body then without an aura, finally had a chance to be his own therion once again.

  While having Raith back in a totally different body had taken some getting used to, the personality of the therion that she’d fallen in love with—and the perk that Axle was quite the looker, as well—had made the transition a relatively painless one.

  Body-swapping, Nikki smirked to herself, who knew?

  “What are you smirking about?” Raith lifted her chin to face him, his forest-green eyes lighting up with mischievous intent.

  “Hmm… that depends; what are you smirking at?” she countered, leaning forward to brush her lips against his.

  “Let me show you,” he purred, lifting her body in his arms with ease.

  “W-whoa!” she blushed, “You do that way too easily!”

  “What do you mean? You barely weigh a thing,” he smirked. “Maybe you should get fat or something.”

  “Thanks, I guess,” she chuckled.

  “Now, let’s stop talking,” Raith smirked, pulling her down and kissing her hard.

  Nikki gasped as his tongue swept into her mouth and she returned the kiss with just as much fervor. Raith smirked, once again lifting her and hurrying through the hall and to their room.

  With that, the two lost themselves in the other. Forgetting all their troubles for the time being.

  7

  After the Dragon

  Zane sat at the bar of the nightclub, keeping an eye on the bar as Celine settled in close next to him. Feeling cramped and shifting away to give himself elbow room, Zane kept his gaze locked on the bar, only slightly aware of Celine’s heavy sigh.

  He was anxious.

  Moreover, he was impatient.

  After less than three minutes of inactivity—not even a damn drink order!—Zane growled and stood, pushing through the crowd and honing in on one of the club’s staff.

  “Is Ben ready yet?” he growled, “I don’t have all fucking night.”

  The staff member, a scrawny sang—pure-born if his age was any real indicator—with a frosted set of bangs that hung over his left eye, leaving only one, panic-stricken blue orb visible, began to stammer and shake under Zane’s gaze.

  Zane didn’t offer him any sympathy. “Why don’t you get on that fancy walkie-talkie of yours and get my night moving before I move you through a fourth-floor window?”

  Things got moving.

  There was a buzz of static as an impatient message crackled over the distorted frequency, and the still-shivering staff member nodded to Zane, “R-right this way. Mister Ben is expecting you.”

  “Mister Ben?” Zane chuckled and rolled his eyes, “bet he loves that.” He started forward a few steps before he sighed and turned to Celine, motioning for her to follow. “C’mon!”

  Celine jumped from the barstool and stepped up a little too close to Zane as they were led to the backroom. He frowned at this, nervous that somebody that might know him might see and get the wrong idea; even more nervous that, if Serena ever caught news of it, he’d be in for a butt-kicking. He toggled with the idea of telling Celine to back off, but decided that teaching her boundary issues could wait for a less pressing moment. Letting out a content sigh, she leaned her body closer to his, and he rolled his eyes; realizing that she must have taken his silence as some sort of approval. Still opting for silence, he took a longer step forward and let his body dip slightly away from her, falling back into a pace behind the staff member with a renewed—and refreshing—distance from Celine as they were led into a large, extravagant office.

  “I see the bastard still has a taste for the finer things, eh?” Zane mused, letting himself fall into one of the cloud-like leather chairs and quickly letting his arms fall across both of the arm rests so as to not offer any unspoken invitations to Celine to sit on one of them, Zane let his eyes drift around the room.

  The staff me
mber, still shaking from Zane’s earlier stare-down, asked if they’d be needing anything else.

  Zane nodded, “Yea. I’d like you to tell Mister Ben to quit jerking off and roll his ass in here double-time.” He narrowed his eyes at the wide-eyed young vampire, “And if you change so much as one word of that request, I’m going to cut your balls off and feed them to my associate here.”

  The staff member bolted from the room before he had a chance to see Celine flinch at the suggestion.

  Zane chuckled, Mister Ben…

  “Zane, you sonuvabitch!” Ben, the club’s owner and one of Zane’s more trusted informants, gave the tires of his wheelchair a sharp push and, free to raise his hands in resignation, let himself roll into the room, “Not even in my club more than ten fucking minutes before you’re making my employees piss all over themselves. ‘Least you haven’t started in on my female staff members, though”—he let his eyes shift to Celine as he reclaimed control of the wheelchair and began maneuvering behind his desk—“it would appear you’d have no need to.” Smirking and settling in behind the polished mahogany desk, “I’m sorry, I haven’t had the honor; you are?”

  “She is with me on business, Benny,” Zane interjected before Celine could think to offer her name or her role in this visit, “Clan business! You play along—give me the information I want—and I might even leave her here for a few hours to let you two get acquainted while I follow through with my investigation.”

  Celine’s eyes widened, “What? Zane, I—”

  Zane gave her an icy glare, silencing whatever was about to come.

  Ben took all of this in, an intrigued and entertained arch taking hold of his brow, and reached for a silver-plated letter opener on the corner of his desk before beginning to clean his already manicured nails with it. “Not that I’m not enjoying all of this, but you have come in at a rather busy hour, and I am a businessman who’s presently losing money with every passing second. Would you mind terribly if I insisted that you cut to the chase, big-league chew?”

  Zane straightened up and leaned forward, “One of our clan members was kidnapped.” Though he wasn’t aware of doing so, he realized that his left hand had worked its way into his coat pocket and he was beginning to rub his thumb across the banded length of blonde hair. Despite being aware of this nervous reflex, he didn’t stop himself from indulging; finding the effects somewhat therapeutic to his growing tension. “The attacker’s in a—” He shook his head, “The attacker’s an ykali, so I imagine he’d be hard to miss.”

  Ben chortled at that, “An ykali? Yea, I’d imagine something like that would be hard to miss… if there’d been any around. Are you pulling my leg with this shit, Zane? You come into my club—my place of business!—and drag me away from my work so that you can tell me some fairytale sob story? Does this clan member even exist, or are you shitting me with that too?” He shifted the letter opener to scratch under his chin before pointing it towards Zane, “What’s this really about? And why are you toting this ginger around? Word on the street is you’re banging Vailean’s kid; some blonde spark-plug if I heard correctly.”

  Zane growled and leapt from the chair, bringing both of his fists down on the center of the desk. The polished mahogany surface split, caving in under its own weight and sending all of its contents to the floor.

  Ben watched the display with bored eyes, still fidgeting with the letter opener.

  Zane, breathing heavily, glared at his informant. “This… is… serious—”

  “Sorry to interrupt your bitch-fit, Zane, but would you mind retrieving the intercom for me?” he motioned to a small, silver box with a call button on the top. “While I’m positive that all this”—he waved a hand at the mess that was once his desk—“I’m afraid that my men will be responding to the racket in their own, bullet-fueled way if I don’t call them off. So, if you’d like for us to continue…” he waved his hand towards the intercom.

  Zane bared his fangs but knelt down and retrieved the device, slapping it into Ben’s waiting hand before returning to his chair.

  “Daniel? Yes, yes I’m fine. A good friend of mine decided to let a dumb animal out of its cage and it caused a bit of a commotion. I’ve got a handle of the situation, though. Tell Mira that I said you and the boys are entitled to free drinks for the evening, alright?” The intercom buzzed out as Ben lifted his thumb from the call button.

  “Mira, huh?” Zane smirked. “She stuck with you all this time? Hard to imagine anybody taking you in such large doses.”

  Ben smirked and nodded, “I know, right? Stroke of good luck in an otherwise unlucky world. But the girl gets me, and the good lord knows I love the hell outta her.” He let out a deep sigh then, taking another absent glance at the remains of his desk and then at the intercom in his hand. Rolling his eyes, he tossed the silver box back into the heap of splintered wood and office supplies. “This has officially become the most expensive visit I’ve ever received from you, Zane, and I don’t think I need to remind you that your visits are never cheap. Though I guess I should be thankful you didn’t let that rage-beast in you free. That thing would’ve—” He looked up at Zane, narrowing his eyes, “Wait… you could never control that renegade monster.” He straightened his shoulders and pressed his fingertips together one-by-one, “Can you actually control that thing now?”

  Zane sighed and shook his head. “Alright, Ben, I suppose it’s only fair that I tell you everything…”

  Ben listened while Zane told him the story of Maledictus and Gregori and, finally, of Serena. As he let the words flow, Zane was startled by how easy the rest of them followed; surprised that, despite their relationship and mutually abrasive personalities, he somehow felt comfortable opening up and being himself with his informant.

  Venting to Ben just felt right.

  And, when it was all over, the arrogant informant offered an understanding nod.

  “Guess I’m not the only asshole on the block who found himself an angel who gets him, huh?”

  Zane smirked and shrugged, “That’s one way to put it, I suppose.”

  “Bullshit! Chick puts up with you—all of you; even that… that fucking psycho-thing, Mega-dick-fist—”

  “Maledictus,” Zane corrected him.

  Ben shrugged, “Whatever. Him. This point is you got something special—a real angel!—if this girl of yours put up with all that and hasn’t run for the hills yet; though if she’s anything like her mother she’d sooner just smear the streets with your insides and laugh at how it looked like a Jackson Pollock painting.”

  “You knew Serena’s…” Zane shook his head, “Nevermind. Forgot who I was talking to for a moment; Mister Ben: holder of secrets and lord of the assholes.”

  Ben smirked at that, nodding. “Long as you know who you’re answering to, asshole.”

  “Watch it!” Zane smirked, “Or I’ll roll your ass into traffic.”

  Celine gasped at that, but both Zane and Ben burst into laughter.

  “Oh, fuck, man! I needed that!” Ben lifted his glasses and wiped a laughter-born tear from his eye, “You know that most of these punks treat me like a damn cripple; fucking pussies think that just ‘cause I’m half the vamp I once was that I’m not still twice the ass-kicker they’ll ever be.” He navigated his chair over to a nearby filing cabinet.

  Zane snickered, “Just means you ain’t gonna feel anything after somebody breaks their foot off in your ass.”

  Ben nodded, punching a code into one of the cabinet drawers and yanking it open after a low tone buzzed. “Damn straight! And while they’re wearing me like a shoe I’m going full Chuck Norris on their nutsack.” He ran his fingers through the stacks of papers before drawing a file and flipping through it, nodding. “This might help with your kidnapped angel, bud.” He used his left hand to spin the chair towards Zane and tossed the file onto his lap. “Few nights ago some therions came in; real nondescript crew, y’know, rocking the goth gear and whatnot, but nothing that screamed trouble. They were all p
retty jittery—buying drinks like they’d just come out of the damn Sahara!—and telling Mira about how they’d been hearing all this crazy shit lately, right? So Mira, knowing to keep the kids talking—keep ‘em buying—keeps asking all the right questions, and they start in with this crazy talk about—get this—the devil!” He shook his head, laughing. “Now those in their right minds like you and I know that if the real devil was coming to visit, he’d probably be setting a goat-foot somewhere a bit more exciting, right; somewhere that didn’t already have Mondo-big-tits—”

  “Maledictus,” Zane corrected him again. “And you do know I’m an atheist, right?”

  “Whatever,” Ben pointed to the file, “So Mira’s got these therions rambling—got ‘em good and drunk—and the stories keep rolling: humans talking about ghosts and demons and whatnot strolling around here, even told a story of some horny punks looking to score some tail at the cemetery down on Railway Street even seeing a body come tearing up through the ground.”

  “What,” Zane cocked an eyebrow, “like a zombie?”

  “Who the fuck knows! It’s probably bullshit, anyway,” Ben pointed to the file again, “but after I did a little sleuthing I found that there was a body that had been dug up over there?”

  Zane frowned, finally opening the file. “So—what?—on top of Maledictus being out-and-about in a new ykali body we’ve also got zombies roaming around?”

  “Zombies? Maybe,” Ben rolled forward and pulled one of the pages from the file and planted it on top of the others, pointing to the police file of the event; a grainy black-and-white picture showing the response team circled around a dug-up grave and, next to it, the corpse. “But if the dead are coming back, they don’t seem to be getting too far. This particular corpse,” he turned the page around to read from it, “one, ‘Mister Stephen Dravus, was found five feet from his desecrated grave site.’” Ben shrugged, “Now I’m going to be the first to say this is just some random grave-robbing that’s gotten mixed in with the chaos of everything else, but, since it was in there with all the shit those kids were rambling, I figured I’d include what I found in the file.”