Resident Evil Crimson Head Novels & Stories

If it was about the power and strength, I had the better hand, or maybe it's just the fact that I refuse to take on the so-called family legacies. "Boss..." one of Dominic's men butted in. "What happened?" Dominic asked him. "There is a decapitated, bloodstained head laying outside the mansion, boss," the man said. As I exclaimed, "What?" So did Dominic. We both made our way outside the mansion, as I found Sierra, who turned out to be already outside. The decapitated head was Caleb's. So they dumped the body back at Los Angeles and the head here in Las Vegas.

ILANA. The Blood Moon Festival came five days too early. On the third evening, the moon bathed its eerie, crimson glow over the Nightshade Pack. This was an event rarely experienced and considered by the pack to be a sign from the Moon Goddess, hastening the fate of two destined mates. The pack was in an uproar of joyful frenzy. The whole of the pack square hummed with excitement, as though even the air vibrated in anticipation. I faltered at the door to Rana's small cabin and brushed off invisible lint from the pale blue dress that Rana had lent me for tonight. "Rana, are you sure about this?" I asked, trying to keep the nerves from edging my voice.

Broken columns lined their path, and moss-covered altars hinted at rituals long faded from living memory. Suddenly, the scent of ash and decay drifted to them. Kael froze. “Something’s here.” Elandra’s hand went to the dagger at her hip, her senses flaring. “Not something,” she whispered. “Someone.” From behind a collapsed wall, a figure emerged—hooded, cloaked in deep crimson. His presence chilled the air. The symbol on his chest marked him as Crimson Fang. Kael snarled, shifting partially, his eyes flashing with Alpha gold. “You followed us?”

Levi said in a whisper voice Azrael and Lexi both jumped down from the vent following Levi. What welcomed them was the stinky dungeon. The stench of body odor and dried blood lingers through the air and Azrael was just trying her best not to vomit. The smell made them nauseous but determination took over. They all looked through the cells of the dungeon. They were wolves from the Crimson Crest pack, lying down without strength. At first glance you might think they are dead but they are not. They are only covered with their own blood and sweat but they are still breathing… barely alive.

I hurried towards it. The bodies turned out to be witches from smaller covens. I knew immediately that they were the missing ones. As I turned around to call for help, a hand grabbed me from the clump, making me squeal hard. I looked down at the owner of the hand and at the face screamed once, long. Her face was mangled beyond recognition and only strips of skin were on her hand, showing the bones and lots of blood. “Shkk- she- very strong. Brown mask. Disappear w- wi- tth cu- cu- rrrsed- ones.” She hissed, blood gurgling from her mouth. She fell back, her bloody hand trailing blood down my hand.

He gritted his teeth and decided to open his eyes and wipes the water away from his face with both of his hands. "Why? I know that you're going to need me tonight. We're going to have a visit on that lovely Heather!" He can feel the excitement of himself while saying those. It urges him to do it. It pushes him to make it happen. By his hands, by his own feet. But not by his own decision, but by himself. Bring him own self to another murderous part of his world. Inviting the horror of him, the mystery in him back in himself. "Aren't you getting chills, Collin? Because I do. I wanna see some blood! I wanna hear some screams! I wanna to taste death!" It encourages him more to do it. To kill...

"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."

Peter dropped his hands. “You found out more quickly than I expected. That my dear is smart.” Avery looked at him from head to toe, she put her hands on the trigger. “I don't mind blowing off your head. Who are you?” She asked him, her head spinning from what's going on. He only smiled and moved. “I promise you, I will shoot you if you don't stand still and start talking” she said to him already pulling the trigger. “My Name is Arthur Crimson. The leader of the Crimson Red. Nice to meet you.” He said stretching his hands out for a handshake.

Her smile was carved in cold precision, lips painted the color of blood remembered. “You always did underestimate me,” Valentina said softly. “You thought fire would cleanse. But fire only transforms.” Bianca’s dagger trembled once then steadied. “You’re a ghost wearing flesh.” “Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m the consequence of your unfinished sins.” Behind Valentina, shadows moved figures cloaked in crimson. Their masks were carved in the likeness of serpents devouring their own tails. The Crimson Pact is alive, reborn, and loyal to her.

Watching. “Riri,” she whispered into the cool dark. Something massive moved — quiet, slick, powerful. Aria’s breath caught in her throat as coils slid from the shadows, scaled black streaked with gold and deep red, wrapping slowly around the base of the chamber like a throne in motion. The serpent rose from the stone, gliding along the smooth floor until her face hovered inches from Aria’s chest. Deep purple eyes met hers. Glowing. Bottomless. “You smell different,” Eris hissed, her voice curling around Aria’s spine like incense smoke. “Like you’re already claimed.”