Scarlet Night: The Complete Trilogy

by Megan J. Parker

An incredible feat if one didn’t speculate that the last Council member to actually care about the whereabouts of the Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband relic had given up the search in the early sixteenth century.

  Which was exactly why Keith felt comfortable waiting for his prize; content that he wasn’t in competition from any others seeking that glory. The relic was safe and sound within the ignorant grasp of the taroe tribe…

  Until Celine, in an attempt at indirectly following his order to kill Zane and Raith, inadvertently brought the curse the only thing it needed: a host.

  A ‘cursed one.’

  The Maledictus.

  Terrified of the monster that returned when she was expecting a messenger bearing bad news, Celine fled, and Keith, not trusting the simple-minded sang with all his secrets, arranged to have her memories of all involvement with him secured. On his orders, a powerful auric had placed a protective bind on the memories that, if tampered with, would put the invading mind into a coma and, in cases of weaker aurics, kill them.

  Satisfied that his secrets were safe and seeing a potential unraveling of all of his planning, Keith forced his plans into action ahead of schedule. Traveling to Europe with the excuse of furthering his work with The Council—a half-truth, since it was the mythos government’s resources that he was after—he called upon Kristine to infiltrate a team of mythos hunters—posing as a fellow human expert in the field—and guiding them wherever Keith needed them to be. Once she had successfully gained the trust and control of the leader of the hunters, Devon—despite the threat of a budding romance that was blossoming between them—Keith knew he could, through her, point them at whoever he needed dead. Using this resource, he’d arranged to have his mother killed and his father implicated in the tragedy. Then, both his father’s clan and his allies with The Council distracted by the tragedy, he was free to work around the unforeseen element of a walking, talking Maledictus; the exact nature of which he couldn’t fathom, but, through what he’d established of its effects, was a destructive force that could easily represent one of biggest threats to both mythos and mankind.

  A turn of events that, if properly manipulated, could be even more beneficial than simply tracking down an ancient relic.

  But Keith needed leverage; an angle. Keith needed more power.

  As luck would have it, his brash sister had taken the death of their mother far harder than he’d expected, and her father’s hand in her death, though never proven, had been just enough to convince her to leave the clan, and, in doing so, forfeit her role as the next to lead the Clan of Vail.

  Then, as luck would have it, his grief-stricken father, desperate for somebody to take under his wing with the loss of both his scorned daughter and scholar son, found and “adopted” the carrier of the curse, Zane Murdoch, as an apprentice warrior to the clan.

  And, just like that, everything fell into place!

  The power that Keith was a waiting heir to exactly the kind of power he needed to take down a threat as great as the one this Zane was carrying, and, now that he’d been brought into the Clan of Vail’s walls, there was no longer any need to track him. The playing board was set for him to swoop in and kill the Maledictus; an act that would land him among the highest-ranking Council chairs practically overnight! But to claim the role quickly he’d had to arrange for his father to be killed in a way that none—especially The Council—would feel inclined to investigate.

  He needed strength and effectiveness; he needed a killer.

  Fortunately he still had Kristine and her team of mythos-hunters.

  Unfortunately, Keith’s sister had gone and seduced their leader, compromising Kristine’s influence over the group. Proving herself to be the loose cannon he’d feared her to be—certain that it had been her influence that had tipped Celine to attack the human-Zane in the first place several years earlier—Kristine had crashed an engagement party between Devon and his sister.

  Whether it was a jealous rage or a clever attempt at regaining control of the mythos-hunters through a mutual tragedy, she’d wound up murdering his sister’s lover and, as a surprising bonus, driving her to become a shut-in.

  Confident that his sister was out of the picture, he went about contacting the proper sources to murder his father, and while there had been a few complications—several loose ends that came close to tipping off Gregori Vailean of his son’s treacheries—Keith had been able to see his father’s clan left without a leader without a single hitch.

  Except one…

  Zane, his target, had been entrusted by Keith’s father to bring his daughter, the rightful heir to the role of clan leader, back into their walls.

  Suddenly all of Keith’s plans—every carefully constructed piece of the puzzle—had meant nothing. Eager to see his plans finalized by his own hand, he’d returned home with the hopes of causing an internal collapse within the Clan of Vail with the assistance of local therions. If he moved fast enough, his sister would never secure the role of leader and, in all of the chaos, Keith could snag control, kill Zane, implicate his sister as he’d once implicated his father, and be hailed as a hero while his father’s legacy collapsed, while his sister’s interference was met with criminal charges, and while he secured his future as one of the most powerful mythos on the planet; capable of reshaping the world however he saw fit.

  But, as both Serena Vailean and Zane Murdoch had proven several times over, they weren’t happy unless they were, with every single step they made, interfering with somebody’s plans, even if they weren’t directly aware of them.

  With Keith’s deceit and treachery brought to The Council’s attention, the young vampire had been put away, and Kristine and Celine—suddenly finding themselves potentially standing in a very dangerous spotlight—decided to use what little influence they’d acquired through their contact with Keith to literally construct their own solution, and, in the process, the means to take out a mutually despised interloper in their lives: Serena Vailean.

  Kristine was eager to see Serena dead for her involvement with Devon and her interference with her hopes at obtaining power through Keith’s plans.

  Celine yearned to see Serena suffer for the humiliation she’d felt at how quickly Zane had moved on and her interference with her hopes at obtaining a lifetime of security.

  With the confusion with the mythos government due to Keith’s arrest and the wealth that had been redirected to them to keep them from being seized by the Clan of Vail, Celine and Kristine worked to create another clan within Vail’s jurisdiction, presenting their stolen credentials and the excuse that the territory was left exposed to rogue influence with Serena still coming to terms with her new role.

  And it worked!

  The unlimited wealth and support and security of The Council was theirs!

  Until an irate Serena, furious with Kristine for showing up and attacking Zane, exposed their new clan for the fraud that it was…

  And killed Kristine.

  Just like that, everything—everything!—that Celine had dreamt of came crashing down around her. She had no allies. She had no protection. She had nothing.

  Until the monster—that Maledictus—that had been living inside Zane was finally removed. As rumor of the cursed Vail warrior’s recent cure spread through the mythos underground along with claims that his lover, the new clan’s leader, had been kidnapped, Celine dared to explore the potential that there might be hope for her after all.

  But Zane, though clearly relieved that he hadn’t killed her all those years ago, wouldn’t let go of his incessant search for the blonde vampire who’d been a constant thorn in her and her allies’ side for all that time.

  Now, however, there was no safety for her, and, after fleeing from Zane after the auric hold on her memories had killed one of his fellow warriors, she’d fled to the only place that she felt any connection to: the building that she and Kristine had hoped to turn into their own clan. The place had been left in shambles after Serena and her crew had gotten done attacking the
place—an attack that Celine had barely been able to escape from; one that had taken her only friend from her—but, with everything that had happened, she felt confident that she’d be able to stay there and let the chaos of Zane and Maledictus blow over before she planned out her next move.

  Until the night Maledictus had showed up one week earlier…

  Zane and the others had found him. They’d beaten him—nearly killed him—and taken Serena back. Then, in his weakened daze, he’d honed in on the only person he knew he had any control over.

  Her.

  Poor, weak, frail Celine.

  In the face of her greatest fear, she’d panicked; promising anything and everything in exchange for mercy and protection from Zane and the others.

  And, in her pleas, Maledictus had seen potential.

  So Celine fell into her role as the new devil’s concubine, and for a week she’d begrudgingly satiated any and all whims that the monstrous creature demanded. The tasks—humiliating and disgusting and, more often than not, uncomfortable or downright painful—however, represented a necessary payment for protection from what she knew was coming, and the self-loathing at the end of each night, when she’d replay the events over and over in her head in a vicious loop, was worth it if it meant that she’d be safe when Zane and Serena came for them.

  Besides, it was better to be beneath the devil’s loins than under his foot…

  “Why are we here, exactly?” Nikki asked, looking around the hardware store.

  Zane shrugged, grabbing boxes of nails and screws from the shelves and throwing them into a green plastic shopping basket. “Figured I’d spruce up the home; maybe hang a few pictures on the walls.”

  “Uh huh…” She looked into the basket, “And what about all the duct tape or the spray-paint?”

  Another shrug. “I want to work on my tagging skills. Thought I’d start calling myself Z-Dogg—with two ‘G’s; that shit’s important to kids nowadays for whatever reason—and start leaving graffiti all around the city in an effort to lure Maledictus out as a challenge.”

  Nikki shook her head. “You do realize how stupid all that sounds, right?”

  “Yup,” Zane nodded, turning away once he’d cleared the entire shelf of the nails and woodscrews. “Probably about as stupid as the questions you’ve been asking.”

  Raith and Isaac couldn’t help but laugh.

  Nikki smacked Raith before shooting Isaac a look. “Don’t think I won’t call in a favor to Zoey to beat the shit out of you on my behalf,” She threatened as they followed after Zane to the checkout.

  Isaac’s laughter stopped abruptly.

  As the clerk rang them out, growing more and more unsettled by the items, Zane stared off into the distance.

  “You alright, mate?” Raith asked him.

  Zane shrugged, “I guess.” He smiled and looked over, “I’m glad to have Serena back, and… well, you know, all that,” he paused and thought more of his upcoming role as a father, coming to like the idea more and more, “but I’m just… I don’t know, anxious, I guess.”

  Nikki nodded, “Maledictus?”

  Zane returned the gesture. “He’s gotten stronger, and if even half of the intel that Zoey came up with is accurate, then we’re pretty fucked.”

  One lane over, a woman shot Zane a glare, holding her hands over a young girl’s ears. “Pardon me, sir! There is a child present!” she chastised him.

  Zane didn’t bother to look up at her. “Lady, don’t get me started.”

  Raith chuckled and shook his head. “Typical.”

  Zane shook his head, “Typical pussy-ass whiners thinking the worst thing in the world is a few dirty words.” He shook his head, “Maybe we should let Maledictus run a little rampant; show this lot of limp-dicks what true vulgarity is. I swear, if one more person complains about my love of the word ‘fuck’ I’m going to—”

  The clerk’s voice stammered as he finished totaling out the order, “Y-your total is—”

  “Yea yea, here”—Zane handed the clerk the debit card attached to the Vail Clan’s private funds. “Hey, do you guys sell propane?”

  Isaac smirked, “And propane accesso—”

  “If you finish that sentence, donkey-dick, I’m telling Zoey to turn off Cartoon Network for good!” Zane playfully jabbed the therion before looking back to the clerk, “Well? Propane? Habla Ingles?”

  The clerk nodded, “Y-yea. Th-the tanks are outside. Let me just ring you up. One tank, right?”

  Zane thought for a moment, “No. Better make it two.” He smirked, “I wanna make a pretty big bang.” Spotting a pack of Post-It Notes and lighter fluid above the conveyer belt, he pulled one down and handed it to him. “These too.”

  The clerks look of confusion and concern only grew as he scanned the sticky pads, fluid, and the scan code for the propane tanks. Handing Zane the receipt in a shaky hand, he told him that he could pick up the tanks outside.

  “Great!” Zane scooped up the bags and started out, “Let’s go kill this motherfucker!”

  Behind them, the shrill voice of the clerk announced to his managers that he was taking his lunch break early.

  Zane and the crew arrived on the rooftop of the office building neighboring what had been Kristine and Celine’s clan headquarters. The rooftop they occupied was, though several stories shorter than their target-building, tall enough to allow for what Zane had planned.

  Isaac held back a ways, mumbling something about heights, before calling out to the others, “Are you sure we’re allowed to be up here?”

  Zane laughed, “I think the more appropriate question would be, ‘Do I care?’” He looked and shook his head, “Besides, I didn’t see anybody stopping us on the way up.”

  Nikki scoffed, “And you think that might not have something to do with the fact that each one of us is covered in weapons and you’re toting two propane tanks and a half-a-dozen bags of who-knows-what for who-knows-why?”

  Stopping on the side of the building, Zane scoped the view of their target. Finally turning to Nikki—ignoring her sarcasm for what it was—he motioned for her to approach. “Think you can pinpoint what floor he’s on?”

  Nikki frowned, “Well, sure, but what makes you think he’s even on that side of the building?”

  Zane pointed over his shoulder, where the high-hanging morning sun shown down on them. “That asshole fancies himself a god—or a devil; whatever—so, naturally, he’s going to want a good view of the action. Now, while I’m sure it’s an absolutely lovely morning for those who aren’t being cooked in their own skin, I am still very much a vampire and this is still very much a painful time to be out and about.”

  “Then why not wait for night?” Raith frowned, stepping up beside them.

  Zane rolled his eyes, “‘Cause this was the only time I could make an appointment. Really, Raith? We needed supplies and we need the element of surprise on our side; that walking fucking turd isn’t going to be expecting us to attack with the sun out.”

  “Maybe for good reason,” Nikki shook her head, “UVs turning you into an ass.”

  Zane sighed and nodded, setting down the tanks and bags and beginning to unpack the supplies. “Yea, that’s not uncommon for my kind. Though we are talking about me, here, so…” he trailed off as he began to work. “Raith, help me out here,” he said, holding out one of the tanks and a roll of duct tape to his friend.

  Raith frowned, “Help? With what? What is all this, exactly?”

  “An entrance,” Zane smirked, tearing a two-foot length of tape from his roll and securing three boxes of nails on one side of the tank before repeating the process on the other side. “Just do like I do, buddy; tape all this shit to your tank—nails, screws, spray-paint; all of it—and don’t stop ‘til there’s nothing left.”

  Nikki’s eyes widened, “Oh gods… you’re not going to—”

  “Whoop,” Zane smirked, looking up at her, “there it is. I knew you’d love it.”

  Nikki smirked and shook her hea
d, “I knew there was a reason I liked you, Zane.”

  “Yea yea, we’ll kiss later”—he looked over as Raith shot him a look—“chill, buddy, it was a joke.” He finished assembling his makeshift shrapnel bomb and stood up, “Now, I need to know where we’re delivering these things, Nikki.”

  The taroe nodded and looked back to the building, her tattoos around her neck—the only tattoos that were left to see—started to glow.

  Turning back towards Isaac, Zane held out his hand. “I’m going to need your shirt, big guy.”

  “My shirt?” Isaac frowned, “What for?”

  “Because in this day and age women demand their werewolves to run around shirtless,” Zane rolled his eyes. “Why do you think, stud? We gotta light these things with something!”

  “So use your own shirt, dick! I like this shirt,” Isaac glared.

  Zane sighed, “Look, this is the only skin I got, big guy. You and Raith, you’re going to be going in there all Hulked-out and whatnot—nice, thick skins to protect you from whatever—and you’re going to have to either lose the shirt before transforming or you’re going to tear through and leave it in ribbons. Either way, you don’t need it! So lose it and let me use it!”

  “Fine,” Isaac growled and shrugged out of the AC/DC tee, tossing it across the rooftop to Zane, “but you owe me a new shirt!”

  Zane nodded and started to soak the shirt in lighter fluid, “Buddy, for this I’ll buy you a whole new wardrobe. Deal?”

  Raith, taking the hint, peeled off his own shirt—Nikki pausing in her task to admire the view—and took the lighter fluid from Zane, replicating the process on his end.

  “So I get the tanks and tape, the screws and nails and the spray-paint, and I get the lighter fluid… but what’s with the office notes?”

  Zane smirked and started slapping a few of the sticky slips of paper along the side of one of the tanks—securing the loose corners with duct tape—before pulling out a Sharpie marker.

  Nikki frowned, “Where’d that come from?”

  Zane shrugged, starting to write his message. “Stole it from the hardware store.”