This fanfic is the direct crossover sequel to Uzumaki-sama's Goodnight Moon and Dark Ki's Turnabout arc. To fully understand this bizarre sequel, you'll have to read both Dark Ki and Uzumaki's fics. Links to the mentioned fanfiction can be found under their names in the machination's profile (if you need help, e-mail one of them, or check the FAQ at the bottom of the profile).

Without further ado, here is Stalking Moonlight.

PrologueRude Awakening

Moonlight bled through the night, thick and red, suffocating. It strangled the world, leaked through the feathers of the ragged black crow searching the dark for carrion. The crow's caw clenched at his heart, a sharp laugh of death. Its black eyes focused on him, intense and searching as if it knew

The clear sound of metal sung in the air, drawing his attention inside where someone stood at the counter, the blade of a kitchen knife gleaming in the crimson incandescence falling through the window. Though most of the figure stood in red shadows, the shine of pale hair was distinct.

"You must be hungry..."

Outside, the dog barked once, sharply.

The blade came down with a wet snikt, slicing through...

The dog didn't bark again.

"Try some. It's good."

The redness flowed down his chin. It streaked his fingers, drawn through pale hair to push it away from his face, out of horrible blank eyes. A hollow moan, empty, hungry... his hunger eased but never sated on the flesh beyond golden fur. He wanted more than any animal.

He wanted...

No! Nononono...!

He tore his gaze away, hearing the sick crunch of bones breaking and the thick, slick sound of heavy liquid being poured onto the counter. Breath rattled in, out, in again, drawing closer, reaching his back, brushing against his neck in a cold gust of air.

"Shh, it's okay..."

The hand that curled around his elbow was warm, not expected, and he turned, lifting his eyes to find a familiar face clean of weeping crimson, nothing coating his chin and his eyes reflecting that teasing green again, not lifeless white. Relief washed through him and he was suddenly in a safe embrace, being held tight as his fear slipped away.

"You're okay."

He felt himself nodding, agreeing with that familiar voice.


He tilted his head back, warm lips descending on his own. He sighed, their mouths working delicately against each other, teasing, tasting, flicks of tongues and soft nibbles...


Teeth sank into his lip, stubbornly refusing to let go, biting deeper and deeper. The hot taste of copper filled his mouth. Blind desperation made him yank back, sick realization dawning that he wasn't released, but separated from a piece of his lower lip.

Blind white eyes met his again. A soft, rattling mockery of a lustful moan breathed across his face. Blood spilled in two thin rivulets down his chin as teeth closed, ground together, opened and closed again.


But strong arms held him fast, cold hands caressing his hips, that bloody mouth reaching for him again, wanting more. He gave a quivering cry of protest, the sound muffled as wet lips covered his, long tongue lapping at the blood from his torn mouth before delving deep, firm and hungry.

He choked, eyes watering, and the overwhelming instinct to bitewas suddenly there, teasing his mind, and he listened, sinking teeth into that probing tong—


His gaze lifted, staring over the line of the pink skin of someone's bare shoulder, catching sight of his reflection in a pristine mirror. He was young, beautiful, blue eyes piercing and frozen, and the body in his arms was warm and so lovely, full of life... Sweet life.

His own face stared back at him in the mirror, two of them, the other him reflecting absolute terror as he bit into the neck bared for him, teeth sinking further, deeper, heat spilling into his mouth. A shudder came from the slender, nude body caught in his cold embrace and he only acknowledged the reaction by tracing his palms down his prey's warm sides, sliding inward to stroke firm thighs. He drank deep, watching his reflection as his lashes fluttered with pleasure.

Wake up.

The command echoed inside of him, drawing him from the sweet hold of the realm of dreams into the cold air of reality. Sora's mind took a moment to clear, confusion on the forefront of his mind as he realized that he had just been sleeping. Sleeping. What had he been doing last night to bypass his nightly rituals of insomnia to actually wake up from a deep sle—

Sora's eyes flew open, his heart suddenly racing inside of him as images from the night before and his dream flitted through his mind. He sat up, drawing in a shaky breath, icy fear clenching inside of him as he glanced down at the pillow he had actually just been gnawing on—from his dream—he'd bitten himself, just like last night—

It had been real.

Oh God. Paopu...

Tears stung his eyes as all the details of the real nightmare came back to him. His cell phone dying on him, Paopu staying at his side, and then... Riku had opened the bedroom door, but it hadn't been Riku, but.. a monster... and Paopu had protected him and died and...


A stab of pain pierced through his head, dizziness sweeping through his groggy mind, but as much as his body suddenly wanted to vomit, he couldn't, only a dry sob escaping him as he arched over the bed, giving a cry of anguish into the pillow. Last night he had watched a monster that looked like his boyfriend tear his dog apart and eat him from the inside out. All of that blood...


Panic swept through Sora as he sat back up, pressing a trembling hand to the side of his neck. A sharp sting welcomed him, his fingers brushing raw but closed puncture wounds.

Though that part of his memory was fuzzy, he still remembered his doppelganger. A vampire with his face. He hadn't killed him...

No. Sora swallowed against another sob, knowing his situation was far worse than death now. An icy chill crept up his spine, the pounding in his head growing as he slowly turned his body.

He was not in his own bed. His clothes were gone. And...

Sora drew in a shaky breath, moving his legs to sit up better, queasy and quivering as he curled his weak body up. But as he moved, a rattle of metal on metal caught his attention. There, around his ankle, was the unmistakable sign of his imprisonment. A shackle of cold iron was the only thing he was wearing.

A warm tear trailed down his cheek as he reached out, tugging at the chain, testing the strong links. His eyes lifted, tracing the snakelike line over the edge of the bed where it spilled onto the floor. The end of the chain disappeared into the shadows under an old-fashioned high-backed chair of carved mahogany and plush crimson velvet. Lounging sideways in that chair, his dangling legs swinging slightly, a wicked grin on his lips, was...


Sora suddenly made a throttled sound of blind terror and went scrambling back on the bed until he was pressed against the padded headboard separating him from the curved stone wall of the room. The chain rattled softly against the shackle as he tried to pull his whole body as far from the monster as he could, but—

"There's nowhere to run, precious."

His voice practically purred the cruel promise, and a cold shudder passed through Sora.

The vampire slid out of the chair, yanking it aside to show Sora the heavy eyehook driven into the exact center of the circular stone floor. Sora's chain was attached to the eyehook, giving him just enough slack to walk to the walls of the room with mere inches to spare.

"Even if you could get the door open or pull the bars off the windows, you'd have the chain to deal with. I doubt you're strong enough to break metal like that..." He paused here, eyes sharply focusing on the boy's trembling form. "And somehow I don't think you have a cutting torch hidden anywhere on your person."

Sora was abruptly reminded that he was naked, and the vampire chuckled as Sora crossed his legs and covered himself with his hands for good measure, all too aware of the blush painting his cheeks. A sick feeling twisted inside of him—helplessness, maybe—and he swallowed against his raw throat, his gaze darting around the room, trying to evaluate his surroundings... anything to avoid that piercing ice-blue stare that made him feel dirty and wrong and scared.

The whole room was circular, perhaps fifteen or twenty feet across, the walls made of large rough-hewn stones like something that would be found in a castle tower room. Tapestries hid most of the stone walls, though... and one look at their subject matter was enough to make Sora not want to look again, his heart clenching in his chest at the panicked thoughts again running through his mind.

The sickness grew within him and he tore his eyes away from the walls, looking elsewhere. A thick circular carpet padded the floor, a small hole in the middle allowing for the eyehook. The ceiling far above was beamed and covered with dark wood planks definitely less resilient than stone, but Sora had no hope of ever being able to reach it. Thoughts of escaping were smothered before he could even focus on them. Biting his lip, the ache in his head waning into a dull throb, he curled a hand into the sheets beneath him, wanting to throw up.

The bed he rested on was a thick, plush affair, softer and less lumpy than a featherbed, made up with fine linen bedclothes in shades of black, gray, and blood red. A heavy crimson velvet comforter lay folded at the foot of the bed, waiting to be pulled up if necessary. Four posts rose from the corners of the wrought-iron bed frame, fitted with thin rails for curtains. The inner layer of curtains were a silky black gauze, the outer layer a heavier, dark brocade that filtered out all light when they were drawn shut. For now, both layers were tied loosely to the posts, giving Sora his all too clear view of his prison.

The whole room was lit only by white candles in tall, black iron floor stands that were bolted to the floor, their light casting flickering shadows across everything...


Sora blinked, dread twisting in his gut, and he focused on a dancing shadow in the bunched drape of a window curtain, realizing that it wasn't a shadow at all. At least not completely. The long heavy fabric spilled onto the floor, and something was huddled in it like a half-opened cocoon, watching him with white, unblinking eyes.

The zombie.

Another shudder passed through him, tears springing to his eyes and a strangled sob escaping his lips, his mind filled with images of poor Paopu's blood on the creature's horrible face.

Zombie Riku watched him soundlessly, though he curled up a little tighter on himself at the sound of Sora's distress.


But before Sora could wonder, the vampire that looked too much like himself was already speaking again.

"I do hope you like your accommodations. Of course, you'll be sharing them with me for the time being."

Oh God...

Sora squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his heart race inside of him, nausea sweeping through him and making his world spin around him. He could still feel his captor's gaze on him, easily reading each of his reactions. Sora's despair deepened with the knowledge that he couldn't hide anything from this predator. He had no defenses. He might as well have already been dead. He was only alive for this monster's sick entertainment.

"I suppose by now you're wondering why you're still alive." The vampire sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to touch Sora's hair. With a whimper, Sora recoiled, earning a soft, deadly chuckle from his captor. "So beautiful... I thought it would be a shame to let mortality ravage that lovely face. You're so sweet, Sora... and I want to savor every drop before you die, eternally young and perfect."

Sora wrenched his eyes shut, a cold shudder running through his body at the vampire's words, and he fought back the scared tears that rose within him. As a small act of defiance, his limbs too weak for much else, he pulled away from the other Sora and turned his face, clenching his jaw and saying nothing. Even if he had the words, he didn't have the courage to speak them, that sick knot in his stomach tightening.

But the vampire would not be denied. He reached out, those cold fingers grabbing Sora's face, turning it back to see the wicked smile he wore.

"Don't cry, precious."

His hand crept up Sora's bare thigh.

"At least... not yet."

Sora released a terrified gasp and lifted his eyes to the other's, his heart twisting inside of him when he saw that sinister smile on his own face. And as the vampire advanced on him, Sora knew that those last words were an undeniable promise.