Scarlet Night: The Complete Trilogy

by Megan J. Parker

  Zane looked down at the flask, shuddering at the idea of what he knew was inside it, but scooped it up and began twisting the cap. Ahead of him, Raith had dropped to all fours and had begun a slow, calculated process of circling Maledictus; arching around him and forcing him to turn his back to Zane to keep him in his field of vision.

  Smart, Raith, Zane smirked, opening the flask. Even with the blood caked in his broken nose, the smell of Zoey’s enchanted synth-blood made him recoil. The stuff was potent, the contents within the flask alone having the raw, revitalizing impact of a full grown human’s blood supply, but with the added medicinal and rejuvenating effects that only magic could supply. Though Zoey was a powerful fighter, Gregori’s initial interest in her when she’d been brought on to the Vailean Clan was her research in blood. Coupled with her science and the magical abilities of somebody known only as “The Gamer,” who seemed to exist only as an online entity consisting of chemical formulas sent via email and way too many World of Warcraft screen-caps, they’d co-created the vile-yet-miraculous elixir.

  Zane sighed, asking himself if being broken and bloody was really so bad.

  ZANE MURDOCH!

  Zane flinched and nodded, setting the flask down long enough to reset his nose—groaning in agony as he did—before retrieving and gulping down the disgusting substance.

  He lurched. His body tried to reject the liquid from its taste alone…

  Until his vampire anatomy sensed what it offered.

  Then…

  Clarity!

  Strength!

  Vitality!

  Zane inhaled sharply, his vision and senses coming in so clear he could count the mosquitoes in the air and feel the trace amounts of blood inside each and every one of them. Sounds came in sharper and clearer, the nerves of his skin went electric with the heat waves surrounding him—each cell of his body telling his vampire mind which directions led to a warm body teeming with blood—and, with his strength returning to him, the urge to destroy Maledictus followed.

  He has a broken rib, Zoey offered. Second from the top on his left.

  Zane smirked, thinking Serena’s name, knowing that Zoey would be able to “hear” it.

  Of course. Zoey answered what they both knew, She’s been making his life a living hell, but she won’t be able to hold out much longer.

  Zane frowned at that, mentally bringing up the possibility of Zoey getting Serena’s location from Maledictus’ mind.

  You think I wouldn’t have tried that already? Zoey’s voice, even without the benefit of actual sound, made Zane flinch. Pain receptors work differently than memories. Wherever he’s holding Serena, he’s taken the steps to not be read by anybody!

  Zane sighed, So much for being a dumb shit…

  “Well look who’s up and walking,” Maledictus taunted Zane, “I was wondering when your bitch-ass would—How the hell…?”

  Zane smirked as the realization that he was no longer crippled by his injuries dawned upon Maledictus, and the monster turned quickly to look back at Raith, hoping that the therion might have some clues as to how such a thing was possible.

  Instead, he got a clawed hand ripped across his chest and a giant, wolf-like leg driven into his gut.

  As Maledictus was thrown from his feet and launched towards Zane, the revitalized vampire vaulted into the air. Using the airborne monster’ shoulders as a makeshift springboard, Zane flipped over him; drawing his legs in as he cleared the hurdle’s frame and delivered a powerful kick into Maledictus’ blood-gushing chest—centering the attack just below his heart; taking a morbid satisfaction in feeling the already broken rib shifting under his feet.

  The added force of the kick sent Maledictus—shrieking in agony—soaring ever upward before he slammed into the siding of one of the massive wood chippers, catching his midsection on the railing as he fell back onto the stairwell beside it.

  Zoey shimmered into view then as whatever auric shield she’d been hidden under was lifted and she focused on the platform.

  Almost instantly the metal began to squeal.

  As the fixture groaned and rumbled, more and more of the supporting beams—spitting nuts and bolts under the auric strain of Zoey’s efforts—buckled and pitched. Finally, succumbing to the compromised support system, the stairway began to collapse. As one-third of the triangle surrounding the mountain of partially-covered woodchips began to come down, the neighboring platforms began to drag downward with the collapse, putting strain on the other two columns.

  “Raith! Zane! Little help!” Zoey nodded to one of the other columns.

  Neither of them needed an explanation.

  Jumping into overdrive—reveling once again in the renewed vitality—Zane cleared the distance in a fraction of a second and began kicking the support beams. Though his vampire strength was enough to warp each of the metal fixtures, it wasn’t until Raith caught up and began climbing the structure—putting all of his sizable bodyweight into the weakened system—that the column began to buckle.

  Time to call it a show, boys! Zoey called out to them, This thing’s about to come down on Maledictus, and we don’t want to be around when he digs his way out!

  Zane roared and glared back, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? WE FINALLY HAVE A CHANCE TO KILL HIM AND WE’RE NOT GOING TO—”

  Raith growled, throwing his body back and forcing the platform to pitch against the strain—the onslaught forcing it to follow after the collapse of the first and, with two-thirds of the entire structure now dragging on the only intact column, beginning to cave the entire network in on itself—before dropping to his feet and yanking Zane off his feet.

  “No! NO! LET ME GO, RAITH! LET ME GO!” Zane fought against Raith’s grip, only to have Zoey’s aura bind him as the two of them started back towards the entrance of the lumberyard. “STOP! FUCKING STOP IT! PUT ME DOWN! HE’S STILL GOT HER! THAT SON OF A BITCH STILL HAS SERENA! LET ME GO!”

  Behind them, the towering structure crashed down, burying Maledictus in a cage of twisted metal, machinery, and sawdust.

  They all knew it wasn’t enough to kill him—hell, it wouldn’t have been enough to kill any one of them with such minimal injuries!—but still they fled. Before Zane could plot his escape from Raith and Zoey’s hold and get back to the monster, he felt the familiar tickle of Zoey’s aura in his head and the world went dark.

  9

  Love & Losses

  Zoey smiled, leaning into her lover’s chest as they gazed up into the night sky. She was still catching her breath from their run, and with each ragged breath she inwardly cursed her therion lover’s stamina and the pressures it put on her to keep up. Still, it was tough to stay mad at him. She sighed, readjusting herself against Isaac’s chest.

  She still felt guilty for having to drag Zane away from the lumber yard and the trapped Maledictus, but she’d known that no good could’ve come from sticking around. Plus, with the new intel that he and Celine had gotten from his informant, she was confident that they’d have another shot at him soon enough.

  It had been the right thing to do, but it had still hurt like hell to see Zane hurt like that; the hope and eagerness to get Serena back drifting from his eyes after he’d woken up in the car.

  “We haven’t even gotten naked yet and we’re already out of breath,” Isaac chuckled, bringing Zoey back from her thoughts.

  “Didn’t think an auric like me would have what it takes to keep up, hm?” Zoey grinned up at him, turning her sky-blue gaze to his forest-green eyes.

  The beauty of nature shone between them.

  As a therion—a shapeshifter—Isaac thrived in this element. He was as much a part of nature as the trees growing beside them. She ran her finger across his broad chest as she remembered their first encounter in that same forest. As a member of the clan of Vail—which had been founded in a troubled time between Serena’s parents, a pair of perfect vampires who’d faced a great deal of troubles from Isaac’s kind; a complicated time that had resulted in some complicated cla
n rules—she was forbidden to have any contact with therions. Though set in bigoted claims, the danger to be had was too great to risk any sort of association. Yet, shortly after Zane had brought Serena back to lead the clan, and stumbling across during a walk Isaac—overhearing him play his violin and being lured to him—everything had changed. He flipped her world completely upside down and she found herself reveling in the feelings Isaac brought out of her.

  He was exactly what she needed, and with him by her side she knew that she could find a way around any troubles.

  “I love you,” she whispered against his chest, allowing any negativity to leave her body for the time being.

  She felt his hand on her chin as he raised her head to face his own; his green eyes were glowing in the moonlight as he smiled down at her.

  “And I love you, Zoe,” he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss.

  Zoey felt all of the tender feelings he had for her in that one kiss, and she felt a sudden need for intimacy. Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, she pulled him down to deepen the kiss. Groaning, he easily sped up the process of undressing them while keeping his lips on hers the entire time. Neither one wanted to part from their kiss, yet neither one could hold back the sudden need to become one.

  In a last attempt, Zoey finally allowed her aura to swirl around them, ripping through the remainder of their clothes to feel Isaac’s bare skin against her own. The heat he offered her from his natural body temperature set off the already growing warmth she was feeling and she found herself wrapping her legs tightly around his waist. Isaac, still not breaking the kiss, was able to embed himself in her sweet dampness and let out a loud growl into her mouth as she took him.

  It was then, under the beauty of the moon and lying in a bed of grass, the two lovers lost themselves and allowed their concerns to melt away from the moment.

  After showering together and changing into some fresh clothes, Zoey and Isaac made their way down the halls, headed for the cafeteria. Noticing Zane sitting alone in the community room—staring far too intensely at the blank television screen—Zoey had nodded Isaac to go ahead without her and see how she could help. As she approached, Zoey grimaced as she got a better look at him and noticed that the last of Zane’s injuries had yet to be treated; the multiple wounds and lacerations he’d received still bleeding out as he sat there, staring. While the small vial of synth-blood had helped the major injuries, it wasn’t enough to heal him fully. She sighed, looking back towards the cafeteria, where Isaac stood, looking back to her. She needed to talk to Zane and plus, she couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty. She knew she should’ve stayed with him, but she needed the moment alone with Isaac first.

  I need to talk to him about everything that’s going on and make sure that he gets to the infirmary. She sensed Isaac thinking that he could go with her and she shook her head, He’s still a man at heart, hun, he won’t be able to open up to me with you around. I’ll catch up soon, I promise. She offered a reassuring smile to Isaac who, understanding the friendship she had with Zane, nodded and turned towards the cafeteria.

  Zane turned to her, scowling, “You think I can’t tell you were just talking about me? Like it’s normal to just stare at people for long, silent periods?” He shook his head, “Let me guess, you’re hoping some one-on-one time is going to make me cry like a baby over all this?”

  Zoey glared and took a seat next to him, “Probably wouldn’t hurt to cry. I know I’ve cried a few times over this already, and I’m sure I’m in for a few more, too. Where’s Raith? I thought you two were going to talk.”

  Zane scoffed, turning away from her, “My pride’s been hurt enough by everything that’s happened tonight to just let myself start sobbing like a little bitch-boy. As for Raith, I told him what I’ll tell you now: that I’m fine on my own and that I don’t want to talk.”

  “Is your pride also the thing that’s stopping you from bandaging your wounds?” Zoey pressed her hand to his arm. “You keep all your tears bottled up inside while you let yourself bleed all over the place, is that it? Do you think that putting up a front like this will make you strong enough to save Serena? What happens when the time comes to kill him once and for all and you’re passed out from blood-loss? Do you really believe that you’re going to be able to defeat Maledictus this way; by letting yourself fall apart at the expense of your emotional constipation?”

  Zane raised an eyebrow and turned to face her, “Wait… you want me to take a shit on Maledictus?”

  She coughed out, letting out a loud retching sound, “No! Not consti—God! Ew! What the hell’s the matter with you?”

  Zane paused, shaking his head and looked away, staring off at the blank TV once more, “Plenty, I’m sure…”

  Zoey looked over, “Zane? Please, if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for us—for me and for Serena.”

  Zane sighed, his shoulders sagging at that. “It’s just… that fucking bastard! He dragged me through the ringer; he caught me off guard, beat the ever-loving shit out of me, and then dug into the wounds and planted all the right taunts… just like he always has.” He whimpered, leaning forward as he pressed his hand to one of his open wounds. “I mean, I knew he was a sadist with his words…but I’ve never been the one looking up at him while he was dishing it out. It’s even worse than before, ‘cause now I can’t just tell myself that it’s just a voice in my head.”

  Zoey bit her lip, “What did he say?”

  Zane shook his head, “Nothing important.”

  Zoey set her hand on his shoulder, “Important enough. You know you can tell me, right? I’ve been beside you through everything that monster’s done to you before, and I’d like think I helped on those occasions.”

  Zane sighed and nodded, “Yea. Yea, you did. I just… I don’t think I’m ready to relive all that right now.”

  “I understand. Just know that the offer will always be out there,” Zoey smiled, “Now, you need to head to the infirmary and get the rest of these wounds bandaged up. My synth blood may be strong, but the wounds that are still bleeding after you’ve taken it are the ones that went the deepest. We can talk later.” She gave him a stern look then, “And we will talk later.”

  “Alright, alright,” Zane sighed and paused for a moment before getting up, “Thanks, Zoe. I really do appreciate… well, everything.”

  With that, Zane started off towards the infirmary, leaving Zoey to think about the situation. Sighing, she finally stood and was about to make her way to the cafeteria until she noticed a auric shift at the other side of the hall. Turning, she made her way across the room and spotted Celine walking down the hall.

  “Were you watching us?” Zoey sneered.

  Celine paused, flinching at the sound of her voice, and turned towards her. “N-no… of course not! I was just… just…”

  Zoey shook her head. The shift in the shady vampire’s aura alerted her once more that something was not right with her, and she offered a silent apology to Zane as she extended her aura to probe for some insight to whatever it was she was hiding.

  “I can see what you’re all about,” she sneered, stepping towards Celine as she prepared to enter her mind, “and I’m going to put a stop to it now!”

  She let her aura snake into Celine’s head, ignoring the growing smirk on the vampire’s face as she did. Whatever it was she had to grin about, Zoey was going to know it soon enou—

  The room tilted and faded—colors shifting and melting as Zoey convulsed and dropped to her knees. “N-no… wh-what’ve y-you… d-d-do…”

  “That’s one of the perks of having a “psychic firewall”,” she smirked. “And that’s what you get for digging around where you don’t belong, you stupid bitch.”

  10

  The Challenger

  ~December 17Th, 893Ad~

  ~ARMENIAN OUTSKIRTS; JUST OUTSIDE OF DVIN~

  ~PALACE OF MELEILZSI SHAYKH NAQSHBAND~

  ~JUST BEFORE MIDNIGHT~

  For a long time
the creature—a tall, hunched silhouette looming just outside the gates like a vision of Death—did nothing more than chant Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband’s name and rattle the gates with steady, rhythmic blows that threatened to tear them from the walls.

  Meleilzsi… Meleilzsi… Meleilzsi… Meleilzsi…

  BA-BANG! BA-BANG! BA-BANG! BA-BANG!

  Over and over…

  Four informal chants of the great Liche’s title followed by a series of strikes against the door: each time coming in two sudden pairings in four successions.

  Meleilzsi… Meleilzsi… Meleilzsi… Meleilzsi…

  BA-BANG! BA-BANG! BA-BANG! BA-BANG!

  At last, Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband could stand no more of the incessant pattern, and he ordered his guards to let the creature enter. Though fear shown like the sun’s rays at the order, all who served Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband knew that there was nothing that could possibly occupy the outside of the palace gates that would be more eager to kill them than their master should his command go unheeded.

  Soon after, the great gates opened, and the creature entered. Three of Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband’s holy men—tasked with purifying any who entered his palace and, as a distant second, offering their guest welcome and promise of hospitality—nervously scuttled forward, their long, black robes offering little concealment for their shaky legs, and offered the creature a bow.

  Three heads simultaneously fell across the palace hall, rolling awkwardly like eggs across the marble. Seeing this, the slaves and concubines fell into panic and scattered like scarabs. The creature offered little acknowledgement of the crowd as it pushed past the sagging bodies of the murdered holy men, letting one of its great feet come down on one of the severed heads and let the sound—not unlike that of a melon rolling from a banquet table and meeting its end upon the floor—echo through the halls. The creature did not worry itself with haste as it tracked down Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband, but, rather, leisurely strolled—its great robes offering no evidence of a body, let alone legs, and were any of the panicked servants to pause long enough to admire the spectacle they’d have sworn their murderous guest was floating—through the palace. Occasionally, as though simply plucking a particularly pleasant-looking piece of fruit from a low-hanging branch, the creature would lash out and claim another life. In these instances, the slow, casual pace would erupt into a blur of strife and screams—whichever victim he’d chosen suddenly seizing with great tremors; blood frothing from every orifice, as the distorted vision of the creature’s gray robes cycled about them like a sandstorm—before returning to the casual pace with which it had begun.