Scarlet Dusk (3 page)

“You have always been one to take th
e hard way with everything, eh buttercup baby? Well that’s just fine with me,” Maledictus sneered as he itched at a slight protrusion on his chest and a fresh, bony barb exposed itself beneath a chunk of dead, scaly skin that fell onto the ground beside the rejected offerings. “Believe it or not, I actually prefer it.”

Zoey turned to the others after a moment of long silence. She sighed, leaning into Isaac as Raith and Nikki watched the hallway for a moment.

“He’s asleep,” Zoey whispered. “I can’t believe this; we finally had something
right
going on. Zane finally was free of this beast, after all the years.”

“Seeing things from, well, behind his eyes was hard enough…
but now that Maledictus has his own form,” Raith shook his head. “I can’t even imagine what he’s going through.”

“Before Serena…
I don’t think Zane would’ve been able to handle it honestly. After Serena came in, Zane changed for the better. I know you were watching, Raith, so I’m sure you can attest for that.”

“Not only Zane though,” Nikki smiled, “I may have only met Serena earlier this year, but watching her handle her power-hungry, Council-seated asshole brother, Keith, an—”

“Why would they even give him a seat? He was so young,” Isaac interrupted.

“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about Keith anymore, seeing as he’s in an auric induced coma.”

“Anyway, seeing her interject
him
and that Kristine broad’s new clan, Sere—”

Isaac scoffed, “what is it with you fang-heads attracting power-hungry psychopaths? This is why us therions—”

Nikki slammed her fists on the table, “if you interrupt me one more time, dog-breath…”

Isaac looked down and paused on the discussion and sighed, feeling Zoey’s hand on his shoulder.

Nikki sighed, “Either way, Serena has grown just as much as Zane from these past occurrences.”

“Well, Kristine had ties to Serena’s dead lover, Devon,” Zoey sighed. “Serena’s ex-fiancé was killed the night he was to propose to her
by
Kristine. His aura had tied to Serena’s before Zane’s anger and partially Maledictus’ power destroyed him for good. That auric still had a thing for Devon and then, from there, you could see the vendetta grow. She allowed that revenge to grow, to the point where she used innocent people, people like Axle and his friends, the orphanage, and others to gain power.”

“You’re telling me that that auric
mimicked
an entire clan for the sake of getting Council backing just to get back at Serena for an ex-lover? That seems strange,” Nikki shook her head, turning to Raith who had been fortunate, if they could use that word, to have taken Axle’s body as his own.

“Do you think there could be a greater power here somewhere?” Zoey tilted her head, looking over at Nikki.

Something did feel strange about this. Zoey paused, knowing she felt this way with Keith, Serena’s brother, and how he had so easily taken ahold of The Council.

“We don’t have time to worry about the past, Zane can’t handle another loss…
especially
from Maledictus’ hands,” Raith scowled.

“What do you mean by that?” Zoey asked.

“Zane was previously engaged to a sangsuiga vampire named Celine. She was with Zane when we started to work together,” Raith sighed. “She didn’t agree with Zane working with me and in my opinion, she was a heinous bitch. But Zane loved her…”

“What happened to her?” Zoey bit her lip, afraid to know the truth.

“After our curse, Zane went back to the house. He lost control and when he came to, he was surrounded in blood.
Celine’s
blood,” Raith shook his head. “It broke him…”

“How exactly was this curse created? I know that Zane and you were hoping to obtain something at Nikki’s clan, but the details weren’t exactly something Zane was ready to get into.”

“I had asked Zane and Raith to take something—a relic—from my village,” Nikki chewed her lip. “It had begun to taint my tribe; burden them with an unstoppable rage. They stopped acting themselves and had begun to worship it. Prior to this, my people never worshiped objects; it was considered a sin of sorts. I had hoped that Raith and Zane could steal it and get it far enough away from my tribe to clear their minds. But instead… well, you know.”

“Before that curse, Zane was a different person entirely,” Raith sighed. “He was carefree and upbeat about everything. Not a god damn thing could’ve ruined his optimism on anything. He was my best mate and even now, I promise to stick by his side.”

Nikki smiled, running her hand up and down Raith’s back, noticing the tension growing in her lover. Zoey turned to Isaac, who had been noticeably quiet and smiled, resting her hand on his leg and he turned his green gaze to hers. Without Isaac, Zoey couldn’t imagine going through all this. With him by her side, she knew they would be able to work through it.

Somehow they’d find a way.

“This obviously has everything to do with that receptacle that we pulled out of Zane. What the hell is that thing anyway?” Zoey asked.

~DECEMBER 28
TH
, 893AD~

~ARMENIAN OUTSKIRTS; JUST OUTSIDE OF DVIN~

~PALACE OF MELEILZSI SHAYKH NAQSHBAND~

~SHORTLY AFTER SUNDOWN~

THE GREAT HALL TREMBLED ONCE MORE
as Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband’s bellows for his chalice became more enraged. Slave and concubine alike flinched at their master’s roars, and the very walls of his palace—walls that were rumored to contain the thousands-upon-thousands of bodies that had fallen in the efforts to erect them—shook; seemingly humming with a fury that matched Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband’s own.

Those who knew of his power and the magic he wielded
also
knew better than to question this, just as much as they knew that the phenomena was not an unrelated or random one. There was no question in the minds that Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband had allowed to still
have
thought that there were, in fact, corpses within the walls…

But they were far,
far
from restful.

While many believed great Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband to be a Mage—after all, the rumors of his magic
were
the stuff of legends, and it was no secret from any, both within his palace
and
without, that he had an affinity to working with the dead—it was clear that his workings were something
far
more sinister and, moreover, reserved for his gain alone.

That the walls now rumbled with the fury of the palace master’s demands was proof that the flames of his magic were growing, and it would not be long before all within the palace walls would burn if those demands were not soon met.

It was the victorious shouts of Arezoo, Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband’s most coveted of concubines, that finally stilled the rising storm. The soft-yet-steady patter of the young girl’s nimble feet echoed through the still-bloodstained halls, and any set of eyes that were privy to the sight of her swiftness shimmered with a bastard hybrid of awe and terror. And while, on any other day, this
might
have been in response to her alien beauty, their gazes cared little for her appearance at that moment. Undeniably, with her almond-toned flesh that offered the same smooth flawlessness as the porcelain treasures of the far-East and a mane of hair so golden it put the treasures of sultans to shame, she was a sight to behold; a goddess, some would say. However, on that night, all beauty and splendor for not, it was the threat that Arezoo’s swiftness with the palace-master’s chalice, his most beloved of relics, that forced the air within their chests to still.

If she were but to stumble or waver…

Should just one drop of the chalice’s contents breach the rim…

Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband would surely let none of them live.

None, of course, but Arezoo.

No, she and she
alone
held privileges that her master offered to none other. Few knew of just
where
Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband had found his most coveted of concubines—what grand reaches of the world their master had dredged this strange creature from—and even fewer knew
why
she, over so many other young, nubile girls that just as eagerly lived to serve his every lustful whim, should be
his
favorite. And while the mysteries of Arezoo’s birthplace
or
the name she’d carried before Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband had stripped her of all identity but the title of
his
cherished one were a mystery that none would dare press to be solved, it was certain that, at that moment, she held all of their lives in her hands…

And she was
laughing
!

Violent, enraged thoughts teemed in the minds of all witnessing the spectacle, but none dared make a move upon her. While the chalice and its contents were most certainly a prevalent demand at that moment, Arezoo took precedent in Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband’s eyes before all else. Any harm that could possibly befall her would be returned a hundred-thousand times over on the heads of not just her attackers, but all within the palace
and
the lands beyond.

There was no question that, were Arezoo to meet an end, all of Egypt would see a wrath from Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband that would put the plagues of the Testament to shame.

Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband would leave no survivors, and, in creating so much death, his powers would be enough to vanquish any of the gods: old
and
new.

And so, while the arrogant creature might have been audacious enough to laugh with the fate of so many at stake, neither slave nor fellow concubine made a move or protest to correct her.

They already knew there was no getting through to Arezoo.

Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband was halfway into another tremendous bellow in the old language—still refusing to let the dialect of the Tajiks sully his home—when his eyes fell upon the glorious sight of Arezoo’s ample bosom rolling about her chest as she sprinted down the hall towards his chamber, his chalice held proudly over her head as she exclaimed again and again that she came to her master with
both
of his treasures.

The broad, arrogant grin that birthed across their master’s face then brought a sigh of relief that traveled throughout the entire palace; the angry hum within the walls fading into a nothingness that held promise that the new day’s sun
would
be a spectacle for all eyes to see.

Arezoo’s laughter doubled in triumph as she neared the doors, and she paused but only a moment to admire the massive, gaping hole that occupied the wall; letting what it symbolized send a tremor of excitement up her back before finally crossing the threshold.

Once she was through, the chamber doors slammed shut behind Arezoo, and Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband shifted himself within his seat to prepare for his consort. Seeing this, Arezoo smirked and leapt—still gripping his teeming chalice—into his lap. The scarlet contents sloshed and rolled, and Arezoo offered nothing more than a giggle as a portion of her master’s drink slipped over the rim and splashed across her breasts.

Were any of the other servants to bear witness to this, they’d surely have dropped dead.

A deep, low growl emanated from deep within Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband’s body—his intense gaze honing on the spilled liquid as his lip curled; on the opposite side of the palace, one of the walls quaked with activity from within—and the master’s body began to shake.

Arezoo smirked and cocked her head as her deep, intense purple gaze—one of the unique traits that had brought her master’s attention to her all those years ago—shimmered; a sound not unlike the cooing of a dove issuing from her partially opened mouth.

Swelling her chest and letting the liquid adorning it trail further down her cleavage, she silently willed her master to act.

Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband’s hands found either side of Arezoo’s hips and yanked her forward with enough force to make her yelp. His parched mouth found purchase, and he quickly began to lap at the myriad of scarlet trails that had begun to descend towards her abdomen, starting from their freshest point and working back to their source before starting again on another.

And Arezoo bathed in the attention; relished in the power that the two of them recognized as hers.

Though their union was, in the eyes of all others in the palace, nothing more than that of Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband’s typical activity with any of his concubines—albeit his undeniable favorite—there was an intense passion shared between the two behind closed doors and safe from prying eyes.

Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband was a man of great power and strength—at least, he
had
been a man before his mortal body had perished so many years ago—and, with all of his power, there was little that he couldn’t obtain. He’d lavished the halls of his palace with all shapes and shades of feminine flesh, sending his most prestigious of buyers far and wide to procure the best specimens from all around the globe. Each and every one of his concubines was well-versed, well-trained, and well-rewarded; never a fear of want or of worry creasing their perfect brows…

So long as they obeyed.

But it was in their relentless obedience that Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband was cursed with boredom.

Arezoo was not only content in her lifestyle, but outright
flourished
within it; her body knowing the carnal demands of
both
sexes long before her chest bore fruit or her loins were graced by the hair of adulthood. All manners of pleasure and the demands she was expected to fulfill had been introduced to her long ago, and it was through not only her acceptance of these pleasures but also her
manipulation
of them that she discovered just how lucrative they could be.

With but a warm, wet orifice and a few simple noises, she could claim anything she’d ever wanted.

Especially
power!

And, in the chamber of Meleilzsi Shaykh Naqshband, she had not only power, but security, as well.

~Present day~

Flashes of his old life, visions of power or of faces that seemed so dreamlike now, were coming to him more often. He still couldn’t remember his name, only the title he’d been “reborn” inside Zane with:

Maledictus
.

“Cursed one.”

He laughed at that as he gazed into the barely reflective surface of the aged mirror; if it could be called such a thing. The building he’d taken—a crumbling, graffiti-covered mess that was absolutely
teeming
with the twisted, angry energies of misery and pain; a long-since abandoned mental asylum—was a prime location for him for any number of reasons, not the least of which being its ambiguity and a means to keep his soon-to-be bride locked-up and…

“LET ME OUT OF HERE, MOTHERFUCKER!”

The neighboring room went into delicious chaos as Serena began throwing one of her increasingly predictable fits; the barrier spell he’d put up, however, was just as predictable and contained the outburst. She was no-doubt using her aura to create the racket—there wasn’t enough length on the enchanted chain he’d tethered her with to build up that much momentum with her body—and
that
meant that the counter-spell would be activating right about…

“AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Silence.

He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re not exactly the learning type, are you?” he mumbled to himself, not expecting an answer from Serena.

Just like every other time she’d tried using her aura within the enchanted space, the counter-spell he’d put up as a precaution against the powerful-and-brash she-vamp reacted when her auric activity reached a potentially dangerous level. When the auric levels reached a critical point, the spell was awakened from its dormant state and shifted the charge in the ions within the room, delivering a crippling shock that, each and every time, knocked the sparky blonde unconscious.

Sparky.

He chuckled to himself and returned to the mirror; his irritation at the warped and rusty metal sheet that offered little-to-no reflection rising once again.

“Fucking pussies!” he griped, finding enough of his reflection to resume the process of picking the looser scales from his face. “If the batshit crazy bastards you bolted down in this shit-shack were demented enough to take their lives with
glass
mirrors then you should’ve just
let
them!” He growled as he once again lost his reflection in the tarnished surface and drove a fist into it, sneering at the sight of the twisted sheet of metal he was rewarded with.