“What? Rick?” What little she knew about Rick came from Sean. They’d only had the most distant of acquaintances; she’d recognize him if they passed in the hallways of The Brotherhood’s office in San Diego, or they’d wave at company picnics.
“Look, it’s dangerous out there. I’m not kidding. The Deamhan have basically given up on their own rules. They kill everyone and anyone, including their own kind.”
“But I only went to Dark Sepulcher because you told me it was vital to my search.”
“I know, but . . .”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t back away now. I’m so close I can taste it.”
“Just be careful, please. You know I’m behind you, Veronica. I’m always behind you.”
She heard his frustrated huffing and sighing.
He once told her about the Deamhan’s Dictum and how they followed it and respected its rules religiously. These rules favored secrecy and protection of sanctuaries. It also outlawed siring a Deamhan at a young age. Now they acted as if these rules never existed.
Sean broke the stillness. “Your father spoke with me at Rick’s funeral. He warned me about helping you, saying that my actions could cost me my position here.”
“He did, did he?” She felt heat creep into her face.
“Yeah, well, the air is starting to get thick around here, anyway.” He chuckled. “I wasn’t worried. I just took it all in with ‘yes sir’ and ‘no sir’.”
“He hasn’t changed.”
“Oh he has, believe me. I was thinking that maybe I should come out to Minneapolis to help you.”
“What! Why would you? I thought you wanted to avoid any type of field research.”
“Yeah, I do but I just think that maybe I can help you more by being there.”
Veronica paused. “You can’t just leave The Brotherhood like that, Sean. They won’t let you go.”
“I know. Frankly, I don’t care.”
She propped her fist on her hip. It didn’t feel right. Why was he so curious to come see her? “Sean, The Brotherhood is the only thing you know,” she said sternly. “And besides, I need you there. Who else can I trust besides you, to get me information when I need it?”
“I just don’t want anything to happen to you. Just thinking about everything you’ve been through since you got there made me realize that you’re not safe.”
“You forget how well I know you. Feeling afraid for me can’t be the only reason you want to come here?”
“What other reason should there be? If you go back to the club, I’m flying there. I mean it.”
“Look, I don’t need a bodyguard,” she snapped. “If that’s what you’re suggesting, you can forget it.”
“I’m not suggesting that.”
“I don’t think you could help me if you were here.” She laughed to ease the tension between them. “I simply can’t see you fighting a Deamhan.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I can’t, either. I could see myself running from a Deamhan, though.” Sean’s words were slow, uncertain.
“I can see that too. Why are you so adamant that I stay away from there? Besides the obvious, I mean.”
“I know you’re curious, but just—just be careful, okay? I worry about you being alone there.”
She changed the subject. “What about that information I wanted you to get for me?”
“Still in progress,” he answered. “Truthfully, I’ll be surprised if I find a piece of scratch paper in their archives that hasn’t been lined out in permanent black ink.”
A quick knock at her front door interrupted their conversation. She turned to look, seeing dark movement through the tiny space underneath the door. The shadow moved right then left.
“What’s that?” Sean asked.
“Someone’s at my door. Hey, can you look up something for me?”
“Yeah. What?”
“A name.”
“What’s the name?”
“Lambert.” She walked to the door. “I don’t know if he’s a Deamhan.” She looked through the peephole. “He might be the vampire who owns Dark Sepulcher.” She saw Murphy on the other side.
“Okay.” Sean sounded unsure.
“And one more thing. . .”
“Sure.”
“I remember you mentioned something about sanctuaries being burned and that The Brotherhood speculated they were Deamhan sanctuaries. Do you think you can find the locations of other sanctuaries in Minneapolis?”
“I can check.”
“Thanks, Sean. For everything.” She put her hand on the door’s chain guard, rattling it so that Murphy wouldn’t leave.
“Yeah you do owe me.”
“And call me back this afternoon.”
“What about tomorrow night?”
“No, this afternoon.”
Murphy knocked again. “Veronica, are you okay?” She heard his muffled voice through the door.
“I’ll talk with you later.” She snapped her cell phone shut and opened the door.
Murphy immediately looked up at her. “Hey, I’m sorry for disturbing you.”
Disturbing me? His sudden appearance thrilled her but she viewed her uncombed hair and morning breath being far from looking her best. “Oh, no, I just woke up.” She covered her mouth. “I haven’t had time to brush my teeth. What’s up?”
“Oh.” His eyes jumped from her face to the floor. “Sorry. Want me to come back?”
“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned.
“Oh, nothing.” He looked into her eyes and smiled as a hint of red crept into his cheeks. “I just came to check in on you, see if you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.” She felt a flutter in her stomach. “How did you sleep last night?”
“Good”—he nodded, as if trying to convince himself—” better than I thought I would.” He nervously scratched the back of his head. “Yesterday was intense, huh?” He cocked a half smile. “It’s weird. I know I’m going to be looking over my shoulder if I leave my apartment at night.”
“Everyone should.”
“Only if they knew. Well after yesterday, I was curious, and I looked on the Internet for the Deamhan.”
“The Internet?” She felt her eyes bulge.
“Yeah. Did you know that Deamhan means demon of the air in Irish tradition. In English it means evil and of course demon.”
“No, I didn’t know that.” She slowly smiled and her brow scrunched. She didn’t know where he was going with the conversation.
“I also looked up Lugat. Did you know that a Lugat was a creature that people considered harmless? They only feed on victims for a short period of time. Yeah . . . well these Lugats in Minneapolis seem far from harmless.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Why would they call them Lugat? Those Deamhan don’t resemble a Lugat.”
“Why call them Deamhan?” She offered. “I don’t know, Murphy. Hey, ummm, I have some stuff to do and—I don’t mean to cut you off.”
He nodded, staring at the floor in thought. “Yeah, I have some things to do myself. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you later.” He turned away, then turned back to face her. “Do you have any plans for tomorrow night?”
“Plans?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out two tickets. “I have these two tickets to a comedy show in downtown Minneapolis. My friend chickened out at the last minute. Do you want to go?”
He handed the tickets to her and she glanced over them. Two front row seats, sixty-nine bucks each. She felt it again, this falling feeling. It felt like rocks tickling her insides. Her face flushed. A date?
She didn’t want the romance. She didn’t need it. Not now, maybe not ever. Yet, she felt drawn to him. He’s so cute, so sweet, so—stop it.
“Sure,” she said, more brightly than she’d intended. So much for doubtful thoughts.
His face brightened and, for a brief moment, it
glowed. “Great.”
“Sounds like fun. Besides, I could use a few laughs.”
He nodded. “After maybe we can hit a bar or something. Unless you don’t drink.”
“I drink sometimes.”
His expression turned serious. “I don’t drink as much as my friends. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
“Okay, yeah. See ya.”
He flipped his hand in a brief, childish wave and turned toward his apartment. He opened the door, glanced back with a silly grin, then stepped inside and closed the door.
“I’m not the only one who’s as giddy as a schoolchild,” Veronica whispered, then shut her own door and collapsed against it in a fit of giggles.
CHAPTER TEN
It was shortly after sunset when Veronica realized Sean wasn’t going to call.
She hailed a taxi to Dark Sepulcher. The warm weather seemed to draw the inhabitants from their homes and out to the clubs and bars to enjoy the Minneapolis social night life. Before leaving her apartment, the weatherman predicted a slight chance of rain after midnight.
She didn’t let the meteorologist on the six o’clock news deter her invite. The short cab ride felt like hours to her, and she stared at the tiny dots of water collecting on the windows. In her head, she reviewed the different scenarios of what she was going to expect. Maybe it was a trap. Maybe Lambert personally wanted to kill her. Maybe the whole meeting was conjured up by Alexis and Remy to get her where they wanted her.
She thought of what Sean said. Maybe going back wasn’t her best option.
However, this opportunity gave her the chance to question her mother’s disappearance, and she accepted the risks. She took a deep breath and exhaled gently. If things didn’t go as planned, she had a backup. She patted a small wooden stake concealed in the inside pocket of her brown jacket. She wasn’t going into Dark Sepulcher without it.
She arrived at a line of club-goers waiting along the wall to get inside. She walked past them all, grabbing the attention of some and receiving a gallant stare from others. She approached the front door and showed the bouncers her invitation.
“Right this way.” The bouncer handed the invitation back to her. She followed him through the front door, past the black curtain, and into Dark Sepulcher. They cut through crowds of drunken people dancing to the thumping music. The bouncer forcefully pushed people out of the way to create a clear path.
They made their way near the coat check in the back corner, and he stopped in front of a black door that slowly swung open. Alexis stood in the doorway, her arms planted firmly on her hips and with her lips extended in a wide grin.
“She’s expected,” the bouncer said to her. He walked away, and Alexis continued to stare at him until he disappeared into the crowd.
“Feeling better?” She flicked her long, black ponytail to her back. Her short, black mini-skirt and a small T-shirt showed off her curvaceous figure. Small scars covered her upper chest and her arms. “We haven’t been formally introduced.” She held out her hand.
“No, we haven’t,” Veronica replied.
Alexis paused, her handshake completely ignored. “I’m sorry about that.” She sniffed around her face.
Veronica stepped back.
“You smell sweet.” Her eyes fluttered in response.
Discomposed, Veronica covered her neck. “I guess I’m nothing but just a meal with legs to you.”
“Somewhat. You’re little miss untouchable, for now.”
Veronica adjusted her jacket and in a quick second, Alexis sighted a circular tip of a wooden object.
“What’s this?” Her movement was quick and she reached for her jacket, pulling out the wooden stake. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” She analyzed the sharp piece of wood before tossing it aside.
Veronica kept note that her movements were quick, just like the Deamhan.
“Well.” Alexis rubbed the corners of her mouth in an unhurried motion. “I wouldn’t mind seeing a little blood here and there.” Her eyes drifted to the darken balcony above. “He might, though.” She turned and began walking, disappearing into the dark hallway.
Veronica wasn’t eager to follow her. She felt Alexis’ distaste for her, and it thickened the air around her. But she couldn’t ignore the moment and her need to take it.
For Mom, she thought as she stepped into the shadowed hallway.
“This way, researcher.” Alexis turned and motioned for her to follow.
Veronica held her arms to the side, using the walls as her guide. The dark foyer gave off an odor of iron. The smooth walls rubbed against her fingertips. The little information she obtained from The Brotherhood about vampires didn’t mention anything about what to expect when a researcher finds themselves in the presence of one. She knew that Deamhan relished in torture chambers and blood baths. Maybe vampires did too.
Her eyes slowed to focus, and she was able to distinguish the outline of Alexis’ body in front of her. Ahead, a loose hanging bulb from the low ceiling flickered. The path split into two flights of stairs; one headed up to a red lit hallway, and the other down into obscurity.
“This way.” Alexis ascended the stairs. “Our private rooms are down those stairs.”
“Private rooms or torture chambers?” she asked as she followed.
Alexis turned and snickered inauspiciously. “Private rooms.”
They reached the top steps. A red incandescent light now brightened the hallway. A long red carpet covered the floor. Along the walls, painted pictures of landscapes and people hung in perfect symmetry. Veronica looked at small, circular red sofas positioned in the middle of the hallway. The faint thumping of music vibrated the walls. Again, Alexis motioned her to follow. The area had an elegant vibe compared to the chaos happening below. Apparently, Lambert was a sophisticated vamp.
“Where are we going?” Now feeling undaunted, she questioned their route.
“Here.” Alexis approached a thick brown door decorated in carved circular etchings resembling ancient calligraphy. She knocked then turned the knob slowly. She pushed the door open and stood aside, allowing Veronica to enter.
The flames of white candles stationed on wooden ledges throughout the room gave the space a disenchanted glow. The air smelled of Indian incense. An immense glass window towered over the dance floor with a thick red curtain draped over its edges. A glass bowl filled with grapes sat on a glass table arranged between two black leather couches covered in red and blue velvet pillows. A black curtain blocked the far wall of the room. Veronica awed at the room’s splendor. It was absolutely beautiful and not what she expected of a vampire.
It was far from stereotypical. She expected to see filth and remains of dead or dying victims scattered throughout. She’d prepared herself for the smell of blood and decomposing flesh covered in pure orifices of human decadence. There was none of that. Unlike a Deamhan, Lambert valued luxury over secrecy. Her curiosity surrounding him grew.
“Would you like a drink?” Alexis walked over to the bar near the black curtain.
“No.”
She grabbed a glass from the counter and pulled back on the tassel. The curtain drifted to the left, revealing an unsettling image.
Veronica gasped, covering her mouth. Two wooden beams in the form of a cross held a woman who looked to be near death. Metal bracelets covered both her wrists and ankles, keeping her stationed on the cross with only a small, wooden platform for her bound feet. Totally naked, bite marks, welts, and other bruises peppered her skin. Bloodied thread sewn her lips shut. Her eyes remained closed with her head tilted to the side.
She watched Alexis press a white button located on the wall. The woman’s body jerked. Her mouth opened slightly, and she let out a muted scream. The metal bracelets constricted and blood seeped from a tiny hole in them, dripping to another opening located on the bottom platform, beneath the woman’s feet. She pressed the button again and the woman wailed. The flow of blood continued, and Alexis placed her cup beneath the window nea
r the floor, under a small spout where it emptied. She stopped pressing the button and gently sipped the blood from her cup.
“Ah.” She snickered at Veronica’s horrified response.
Underneath the bruises and dried blood, the woman looked oddly familiar. She’d seen her before in Dark Sepulcher.
The curtain whisked back into place, hiding the malicious view. Suddenly the environment didn’t seem as luxurious as Veronica believed it to be. It masked the dark side of Dark Sepulcher and it gave a fooled sense of contentment to its victims before they were devoured. Just like the human woman behind the curtain. This was the Dark Sepulcher Sean warned her about.
Alexis walked past her and toward the door.
“Is this what I came here for?” Veronica’s question did little in aggravating the devious vamp.
“Who? Her?” There was no remorse in Alexis’ voice. Still grasping the cup in her hand, she licked her lips. “She’s just another bipedal on the food chain. Like you.” She closed the door behind her.
Veronica walked to the couch, slowing sliding into the cushioned seats. She buried her head in her hands to rid the image of the woman from her mind. She thought of the pain of sharp incisions on her wrists and ankles every time that button was pressed, her wounds kept open and being kept alive for as long as Alexis wished. Being a witness to another human’s suffering tampered with her reason in accepting her invite. Feeling powerless to stop the woman’s pain and suffering—was this going to be the norm? She mentally prepared herself for this but still the woman’s plight haunted her. “Focus, Veronica,” she whispered to herself.
Her hands tottered slightly and she grabbed a grape from the glass bowl. The urge to run out of the room to the nearest police station flew from her thoughts. They wouldn’t believe her anyway. She popped the grape in her mouth and took another from the bowl. She placed her hands underneath her legs to control her shaking. Her eyes scanned the room’s decorations: a huge flat screen television, cordless phones, a DVD player, computers, printers, a microwave, massive stereo equipment—all overshadowed by artifacts littering the walls.
An ancient double battle mace weapon, complete with two mace heads covered in long spikes laid next to a desktop computer. Near the flat screen television she saw a chain mail armor suspended above a long table covered in a red silk table cover. A warrior’s helmet sat in the middle, surrounded by small knives and miniature candle holders.
Deamhan Chronicles, Books 1-5: Deamhan, Kei. Family Matters, Dark Curse, Maris. The Brotherhood Files, Ayden. Deamhan Minion Page 7