“Serena… no!”
Serena opened her eyes to the sound of rattling chains and glared over at the metal pipe that she was bound to. The pipe that Maledictus had dug free from an otherwise off-white padded wall that made up one of six equally padded and equally off-white surfaces—walls, ceiling, and floor—in a room that, though she’d only been in there for three days, already felt like a jail cell to her. Though, all things considered, this wasn’t too far from the reality. While the length of the chain allowed for some moving room, she already knew full-well that it wasn’t long enough for her to even reach the other side of the already laughably small space. Were it not for the growing rage and panic, she might’ve admitted that Maledictus’ decision to hold her hostage in an insane asylum was almost clever.
It certainly seemed like an appropriate place for him to hunker down.
As she collected her bearings from yet another unpleasant set of dreams rousing her from yet another uncomfortable round of sleep, she tried to stand and whimpered at the struggle to perform even the simplest of tasks.
Her refusal to eat was beginning to take its toll on her.
She glared at the pile of dead vermin—rats and mice mostly, but Maledictus had made a big deal about tossing a still-twitching squirrel into the room the previous night—that littered the floor around her; all of them lying just out of her reach. This, however, had been her doing; an effort to keep herself from potentially succumbing to the hunger and accepting her kidnapper’s “offerings.”
She’d sooner die than give him that satisfaction.
As she leaned her head weakly against the metal pipe, she looked up towards the padded, off-white door as its hinges groaned loudly.
Then, standing there like a nightmare, was Maledictus.
Serena sneered at the changes that had already begun to show in the ykali body he’d been stuffed into; an already hideous creature that was being made even more revolting by the repugnant being occupying its form. Long, bony barbs had begun protruding out of his shoulders, and his limbs had begun to warp with the recent growth, causing an uneven and hobbled effect whenever he walked or gestured. She looked up to meet his shifty reptilian gaze and fought the urge to instantly look away, refusing to let him see what sort of power he already had over her. The ykali’s face had already taken a turn away from the lizard-like and a long drive down the road of the demonic; his brow and temples already darkening, and a long, too-wide of a grin lined the lower half of his face.
Serena fought the urge to look at his clawed ykali hands as he held out a few more dying vermin, dropping them within the range of her shackles before beginning to rub his hands together like a fly perched atop a dog turd.
She bit her lip, feeling the growing hunger emerge even as she fought desperately to control it. She just had to hold onto hope that Zane and the others would find her soon.
In a desperate act of self-control and forethought, she began throwing the offerings out of her reach before burying herself back in the corner.
“Still not eating, I see,” Maledictus leered. “That’s quite foolish.”
She narrowed her eyes as he kicked one of the vermin in front of her with a gangly lizard leg and sneered at the still-twitching creatures. Looking to her as a challenge, she once again swatted the offering away.
“I’d rather starve than take charity from you,” she spat. “Especially when that charity is every bit the vermin you are! So unless your prepared to open a vein—or all of them—I suggest you stop trying!”
Maledictus frowned at that, “It’s been three days now. That’s three days that nobody has found you.” He crouched down in front of her, hooking one of his ykali talons behind one of the dying rats and inching it closer to her, “You’d imagine that your friends would be clever enough to track you down in that time, yes? That, if they truly cared, they would’ve stormed this place and left not a single bit of me left for what I did. But they haven’t—they haven’t even come close—and still you deny me. Me! Me who has offered you shelter,” he inched the rat closer to her, “Me who has offered you nourishment. When will you open those pretty little purple eyes and see that I am the only future you have left?”
Serena narrowed her eyes at that and hauled back, collecting a wad of phlegm from her sinuses and hawking one of the best loogies of her life in his face. Maledictus roared and pulled back before backhanding her and sending her careening across the room, the heavy links of chain rattling as her body sailed and finally slammed into the wall behind her.
“You have always been one to take the 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.”
2
Past to Present
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—”
“I can’t believe he was able to worm his way into The Council like he did,” 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 shook her head, glancing over at Isaac, “if you could not interrupt me once more…”
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 Z
ane 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.
3
Valuables
~DECEMBER 28TH, 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 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 fur
ther 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.
Scarlet Night: The Complete Trilogy Page 42