Crimson Mask Novels & Stories

If I were to estimate his age, I’d think he was over sixty. “Why?” I whispered. Craig had told me how important the mask was and how the person buying and the person selling information have to be anonymous. Red mask smiled, making him look younger. “This is the only way I can show you that I am sincere about the things I am about to say.” For some reason, I didn’t want to know what he wanted to say, but I was also eager to know about this strange mark. Craig also leaned towards him, “Does this mean she’s the person needed for the Blood Moon pack prophecy?”

"Tell me all you know of Amara." Thalia begins to explain, her voice steady and filled with conviction. "Amara is unique, King Badan. I believe she is a hybrid—half wolf or lycan, mixed with witch's blood. If my suspicions are correct, she is the last descendant of the Crimson pack, making her royalty. It seems that she was bound as a baby to hide the immense power she holds within, and her counterpart was bound to never surface."

“So, Xavier and I get to track you guys.” “Yes. To the second location, which is not exactly the actual hub,” Davina smirked a little. “That’s where we get masks, before heading to the actual location.” “Why masks?” “It’s how the Crimson Circle works,” Davina answered. “No one knows who is who in their meetings. You just know names. Unless a member approaches you in secret, you don’t get to find out who they really are.” “Damn it,” I snapped a finger. “These guys are good.” “I think we might actually have a way to take care of that,” Elora said, getting the attention of everyone.

It spread across the ceiling in seconds, swallowing every torch until complete darkness crashed over us. Someone cursed. Steel scraped against stone. A heartbeat later, crimson fire erupted from every torch at once. The chamber blazed back into view. Dozens of figures now stood along the broken balconies overlooking the room. Black robes. Silver masks. Each carried the crimson dragon stitched across the chest. The Crimson Dragon Cult. They hadn't arrived. They had been here all along. Waiting. Rowan's grip tightened around his sword. "We're surrounded." "Indeed," the masked leader replied pleasantly. "Though violence was never my preference."

However, Sebastian stayed put, his head bowed even lower in a gesture of deep respect, yet there was a determined edge to it: "It's because I value your generosity so much that I've got the guts to ask for an even greater honor here today." He paused, inhaled deeply, and pulled out a small parchment scroll from his jacket, lifting it high above his head. "I, Sebastian Vitale, in the name of my mother's bloodline and the rest of my days, humbly ask you to grant me the privilege of marrying the Caruso family's... "Miss Anna." That was the moment everything clicked for me. Sebastian was from the future, just like me.

They paused just outside the moonlight’s edge, where Regina could see only the outline of their shoulders and the glint of something in their hand. A blade? Regina’s muscles tensed automatically, fear turning her body into wire. “Who—” she croaked, voice rough and thin. The figure stepped closer. Regina’s stomach sank. A mask covered the lower half of their face, dark leather molded to skin. Their eyes reflected the faint light like a predator’s—sharp, amused, hungry. Recognition sparked in her mind—not recognition of a person, but of a feeling. This was the same wrongness she’d felt in the hall.

The man simply flicked his arm and the torso of the scorpion exploded. Crone’s eyes went wide with surprise. The masked man did not stop walking. At this point, Crone ordered all the scorpions to attack. “My target is you.” The masked man said before sprinting at high speed. The scorpions that were in his way were brutally slaughtered. In no time at all, he caught up to Crone. The masked man quickly landed an uppercut that threw Crone up into the air. “I leave the scorpions to you, Freeze!” The man said as he jumped up after Crone.

I wanted to rip the mask off, to let him see the monster and the woman, and to lose myself in the heat of his embrace. But as his fingers moved toward the silk ribbons at the back of my head, a cold splash of reality hit me. I am a murderer, I reminded myself. I am an impostor in a dead girl's palace. He is a man of the South, a man of secrets. If I let him see me—truly see me—I would lose the only armor I had left. The power of my eyes was my greatest weapon, but my mask was my greatest shield. Just as his fingers brushed the knot of the ribbon, I grabbed his wrist. My grip was unnaturally strong, fueled by the desperation of a cornered animal.

But seeing how Nina plunges into the seat in front of me unbothered due to her black fitted off-shoulder mini dress, has me feeling a bit jealous. She crosses her legs, showing off her black high heels with a slingback decorated with little diamonds. Passing me the cigarette package, she lights her cigarette and passes me the lighter too. Nina is wearing a black mask with silver embellishments, matching her blingy shoes. Her copper-blond hair is tied up into a loose bun while I chose to wear my hair open and straightened.

“Sophia has one.I was always curious as to what it was.” Ivette's lips formed a subtle almost covert smile. “Miss Ivy its the Crimson Mark. It represents being a member of the Crimson Order.” I repeated feeling as though I had wandered into a spy novel “The Crimson mark?What is that? A secret society tattoo of some sort?” “In a sense” she admitted. “It is a network. A group. Protection is its main objective. Anyone who carries this mark and is aware of its significance is under the protection of the Order…shielded everywhere... from particular threats, influences and. . . individuals.”