Scarlet Night (Limited Edition) (11 page)

There has never been a time when it was more imperative that you keep your rage under control. Serena will need guidance and Vail will need stability, and, while none are better suited for the task, your steps in this matter will weigh far heavier on the outcome than any you’ve taken before.

You’ve come so far and learned so much, and while I commend you on your progress, I see so much more that can be achieved. I apologize if this letter finds you before I can help you reach those achievements, but there is not a single doubt in my mind that the raging curse within you is nowhere near as powerful as your own resolve.

You’ve never failed to make me proud
, and I feel now is the best time to tell you that you’ve become something of a son in my eyes. It’s time you show your brothers and sisters what you’ve made so very clear to me.

Deepest sincerities,

Gregori Vailean

He felt the beast roar from deep inside of him and he grimaced at the internal tremor, clenching his teeth until it had finally passed. As the riot in his head died down, he was reminded of the burning itch in his body as the curse tried to sneak past his defenses; he growled at his own body, rubbing at his forearms in an effort to dispel the sensation. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t calm himself, and another violent growl crept from his throat as he shook his head. Gregori
must
have known he was going to die when he wrote that. All formalities set aside—any sense of forethought or planning that Gregori was renowned for
not
being taken into consideration—Zane
knew
that the old vampire wouldn’t have dropped this shit on his lap if it hadn’t been the right time.

He was
expecting
to die;
expecting
—and, as he could now see,
planning
—how the clan would run without him.

The memory of Gregori’s body the night they found him
, riddled with magic-laced bullets and decapitated, sent another violent tremor through his body and he howled in rage and pain.

He’d known!

Gregori had
known
his life was in danger!

That steps had to be taken—actions ensured—for when that happened!

And that meant it could have been prevented!

And
that
meant Zane had failed him…

Snarling at the realization, he glared down at the letter and every word that now shrieked accusations in his mind and frantically began tearing it to shreds. With every fury-fueled tear, his claws grew from his rapidly warping fingers that eventually were too gnarled to grip the pieces any longer. As the confetti ribbons of Gregori’s dying request rained down on Zane’s floor, his body surged forward and he cried out in rage and pain; his own voice already shifting and sounding foreign to him.

“
N-n-nnn
nNO!” he grabbed his head and pressed against his temples, “N-nnot
here
!” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to stop the beast. He couldn’t allow it to come out here; not within the clan’s walls. Not with all his unsuspecting comrades within range!

For once, the monster seemed to listen and the chaos beneath his flesh stopped trying to rip through the surface.

His tattoos had just shifted back to their black hue when his cell phone began to ring and he snarled at the sudden noise’s assault against his still-sensitive hearing and he struggled to suppress the urge to smash the iPhone into a fine powder like he had with so many phones before it. Though he was able to keep from crumbling the device into pieces upon snatching it up, the force
was
enough to start a network of spider web-like cracks that formed along the screen from the force of his grip.

He glanced down at the fragmented caller-ID and forced his eyes to see through the distortion of broken glass and rage to read “
Unknown caller
”. Growling again, slammed a twitching thumb against the “talk” button.

“Who the
fuck
is this?” he roared into the receiver.

The phone was silent for a moment and Zane felt his anger rise with every second he was forced to endure the silence. Finally a cold and calculated voice picked up:

“I’m calling on behalf of my masters to suggest that you and the others of the Vail Clan adhere to the laws of our people, or we
will
be forced to step in and handle the situation. You have failed to follow proper protocol concerning the passing of your leader and if you do not comply with these laws you and your comrades
will
be considered rogues to The Council and persecuted as such. Our records show that Council-member Keith Vailean is Gregori’s successor, and we’re well aware that no attempt has been made to contact him concerning these matters. I feel it’s only fair to warn you that Keith is not known within our ranks as having patience for—”

“You
and
Keith can go fist-fuck yourselves! Our clan—with or without Gregori—is strong enough to deal with you pussy-footed boot-lickers, and we are not about to hand ourselves over to some spoiled scab-eater who was lucky enough to get a seat with The Council! I’m well-aware of Keith’s reputation and have been requested by Gregori,
himself
, not to give him control. I have it on good faith that you’re
his
leech and
that
means your authority amounts to jack-shit without a unanimous ruling from the other Council chairs! So unless you’ve got all the signatures from those that matter I suggest you and your leash-holder either silence your empty threats or bring them to our front door and see how long it takes us to rip you to pieces! You tell him that Daddy knew better and those who are loyal to his memory will
not
be going down without a fight!” He screamed, his voice warping into a full growl.

There was a long silence on the other end as his words registered. Finally, the speaker cleared his throat and began to speak with a wavering voice
; “I will trust that wiser minds exist amongst you to speak on the clan’s behalf. It would be wise to pass along this message to somebody willing to take the situation into greater consideration, lest a great number of your people be forced to suffer solely as a consequence of your arrogance.”

The line went dead then and Zane, unable to control himself any longer, snarled and gripped the phone tighter and tighter until it fell from his palm in pieces. He watched as the remains of the device scattered across the floor.

So much for all the anger management Gregori had been putting him through.

But he didn’t care about the phone or the cost to replace it and however many more he’d certainly destroy in the future. Only one thing was clear in his mind at that point…

He wanted… no,
needed
a drink.

The walk was torturous for Zane and, having the forethought to do so, he had brought along a bottle of Gregori’s old stock to numb the process. While he was sure the origins of the fantastic liquor had Zoey’s name written all over it, it had been Gregori who’d introduced him to his private stash—a pantry of unlabeled bottles that his mentor had always referred to as “Spirits for the spiritless”—
a pitch-black liquor that reeked of petrol and tasted like a rotting therion’s asshole. While the experience of drinking it was nothing short of agonizing and a single shot of the stuff would probably kill a human in seconds, it was the
perfect
thing—hell, the only thing!—to get past a vampire’s superhuman system and get them drunk. Chugging down the last drop of the wretched nectar, he felt his face contort as the fire hit his gut and let out a pained-yet-satisfied groan as it started to take effect. Then, throwing it into the nearest trashcan nearby, he reveled in the sound of the shattered glass and the panicked shrieks and bustling of several rats that had been scavenging nearby.

Satisfied that he had enough of a buzz going to make the scene in style, he stumbled into his favorite bar and cursed as the shift in light assaulted his drunken gaze for a moment. He blinked a few times and tried to coax his eyes to adjust faster for him. When he could finally see well-enough to navigate
, he worked his way to his favorite stool and motioned to the bartender.

The decrepit German behind the bar glanced wearily
at him and shook his head. Zane smirked wickedly. The old man hated him, and if he hadn’t before, then the past few visits had definitely done the trick. Though he wasn’t sure if he’d try to call the cops on him after the outcome from his last visit, Zane was too invested on drowning his thoughts to consider going somewhere else. As his usual—a pint of the cheapest beer on tap and a shot of the bar’s best bourbon—was being set in front of him, the bartender leaned in close enough for Zane to smell the sauerkraut and scotch in his words.

“We aren’t in for a problem t’night, are we boy?”

Zane chuckled and shook his head, “You leave that bottle right here where it belongs and I’ll be quiet as a fucking mouse,
Mein Fuhrer
!”

The bartender frowned at Zane’s choice of words but only gave a gentle nod before setting the nearly-full bottle of premium bourbon in front of him and turning away. “See to it that ye are! I want to be able t’ forget yer even here, boy!” then, as a second thought
, “And ye’d better be able to
pay
for that, er else I’m pressin’ charges fer sure!”

“Yea yea, Adolf! I got more than enough to buy this
and
the rest of your stock! Now get lost!” Zane grunted and rolled his eyes as he grabbed the bottle of A.H. Hirsch Reserve in his left hand as he downed the pint of Red Dog in a single gulp with his right. When he was certain the old man wasn’t looking he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small vial of concentrated “spiritless” that he’d snatched from Gregori’s stash and dumped the contents into the bourbon.

Giving the bottle a gentle swirl, he watched as the dark vortex of elixir blended with the smooth color of the alcohol before the contents unified to a single shade of amber. He glared at the bottle and its contents then, hoping that his efforts wouldn’t be in vain and that he might actually be able to numb the curse. He’d been holding in his rage—holding back what the magic inside of him demanded to shift him into every moment of every day—a
nd the ongoing effort and the recent turn of events were taking a massive toll on him. Though it had barely been a full day since he’d last lost control—a loss of control that had nearly leveled an entire city block and sent one of the biggest therions he’d ever seen crying home with piss-stained pants—it was becoming obvious that it had only whetted its appetite for death and destruction rather than sating it.

And now he had the added stress of Gregori’s wayward daughter and his power-abusing bastard of a son. The whole mess was enough to make him
want
to hand the reigns over to what writhed within him and take a little vacation in the back of his own mind;
anything
to rid him of the incessant burning in his skin and the burden of thought and responsibility! As the fumes of his rage made clear thoughts hazy, his tattoos continued to burn with their toxic inferno and driving him deeper into a place he knew he shouldn’t go. Pulling his sleeves down in an effort to hide the cursed ink from both himself and the bar’s patrons, he reflected more on the memories of the previous night.

To what lengths would the beast have gone if Zoey hadn’t been there to stop him…

Groaning, he took a long, hard pull from the bottle and shook his head.

“Fuck me sideways!” he muttered to himself, “What a mess!”

An undetermined length of time passed as he focused on
not
thinking about everything that was happening and putting as much of the supernaturally-spiked liquor into his system as possible. Finally, as he struggled to read the blurred label of a bottle behind the bar and wondering if the fat, old woman on the other side of the bar would be up for a quickie in the bathroom, he discovered that the bottle was empty and that he was officially and utterly wasted. Staring apprehensively at it, he was distantly aware of a lanky woman that was standing over him. He looked up at her, trying to focus past his foggy vision and an over-abundance of perfume. Between the sickeningly sweet floral stench, the dizzying effects of his cocktail, and his spinning head, he considered it a miracle that he wasn’t already sick, but something in the woman’s scent seemed to entice the beast and he realized that he might be able to bargain with it further if he gave it what it wanted.