Deamhan Chronicles, Books 1-5: Deamhan, Kei. Family Matters, Dark Curse, Maris. The Brotherhood Files, Ayden. Deamhan Minion

by Isaiyan Morrison

  He walked over to the table grabbing his cup, and he continued to the window. He glared at the crowd below. “You can go now.”

  “What?”

  “You can go now,” he repeated.

  She approached him. “I keep hearing that I’m protected. What does that mean?”

  “It means exactly what it means.” He patted his toned stomach. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m hungry.”

  She gulped loud enough for the noise to echo. She knew the vampires became extremely unpredictable when it came down to a good, easy meal. If he attacked her, she’d know how to deal with it, but there wasn’t any sunlight around nor any sharp objects. She missed her stake.

  He grabbed a bottle of bourbon from behind the desk. He poured himself a shot and he quickly downed it. Like Deamhan, vampires were capable of consuming liquids and digesting human food, opting for regurgitating it later. Alcoholic beverages proved necessary for the vamps who liked being in a drunken state, even if the effect was not as potent as it would be in humans.

  “Relax,” he said in an impatient voice. “You’re not dinner.” He looked at the black curtain.

  “Is it because I’m protected and that you can’t hurt me?” she questioned again.

  “You wouldn’t be protected if you didn’t belong to anyone.” He slightly turned his head over his shoulder. “Someone, a Deamhan, has claimed you as their own.”

  “But I don’t belong to anybody—”

  He raised his hand to interrupt her. “Be careful where you tread, my dear.” He slowly lowered his hand. “It would be wise to belong to somebody in this city, especially if you place yourself in their world. And even so, being protected doesn’t mean much.” He walked over to the curtain. “If Kei wanted to, he’d have his minions kill you.” His voice was deafening to her ears. With every step he took, his voice grew louder and filled with anger. “He kills without remorse. He bathes in tubs of blood and flesh.” He stopped for a moment, in thought. “That sounds pleasing: a bloody bubble bath.” He quickly returned to his statement. “He’ll kill you on sight.”

  “So where can I find him?”

  He stopped in his tracks; his eyes had widened, and he balled his fists, breathing deeply. “Now, what kind of morals would I have if I just told you where you can find him?” His voice seemed cold as ice.

  “Morals? Vampires don’t have morals.”

  He wrapped his hand around the tassel. “We like to believe we do.” He pulled back and pushed the white button. She looked toward the door, seeing Alexis standing in the doorway. She heard the victim whimper and moan. The horrid contraption went to work again, and the grips tightened. Blood flowed from the spout and into his cup.

  He walked over to Veronica, holding the blood filled cup. He closed his eyes and sniffed the liquid, reopening them while he drank it.

  She heard the door open behind her and she turned to watch Alexis walk into the room and slowly approach Lambert. She placed her arms around his waist and licked his neck until he finished his meal. He gently rubbed the side of her head in euphoria. They were completely engulfed in their diminutive blood ritual.

  Alexis turned her sight on Veronica. “Can we kill her now?”

  He wiped the blood from the corners of her mouth. “No, Alexis. We can’t.” He placed the empty cup on the counter. “I’m sure you know the way out, Veronica.”

  She didn’t wait and hurried out of the room and down the hallway, repeatedly looking back. She watched Lambert grip Alexis in a kiss of extreme passion. He embedded his fingernails into her back and slowly began to scratch, drawing blood. She moaned, letting her head drop back freely. He brought his nails up to his mouth, sucking the thick, rich blood from them. He locked eyes with Veronica as she glanced back from the hallway. He grasped Alexis again; biting into her neck with such force that her legs became flaccid and he became her only support to stand.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Veronica rushed down the stairs. The music blasted from the speakers shaking her eardrums violently. She excused herself through the crowd, heading toward the exit. She felt a cold grasp on her wrist that twisted her around by force.

  Remy stood in front of her. He wore a black leather jacket with a black button T-shirt and dark blue jeans. He placed his other hand on her waist, pulling her closer to him. She tried pushing him off her but she felt helpless in his grip.

  “I’ve missed you.” A devilish smile appeared on his face. She attempted to pull away again, but he increased the pressure on her wrist.

  “Let go of me.”

  “We didn’t get to finish our conversation from the other night.” His grasp only became stronger. The beats streaming from the speakers snuffed her screams for help. The patrons continued to dance around them. They swayed back and forth in a dance too slow for the music. He stood taller than her. She looked up, and his eyes stared back into her own. She felt her body beginning to melt within his grasp. The more she struggled, the more she belonged to him.

  Her heartbeat increased and he stroked his hawkish fingers over her smooth skin. “You smell like a vamp.”

  Veronica cleared her head free from thoughts and waited for the burning sensation to start but it never came. Instead he placed his finger in front of her mouth to quieten her.

  “Shhh,” he said in a faint whisper that she heard underneath the music. Their dancing tempo increased while he dragged her along the dance floor.

  “Let me go,” she pleaded to him.

  “Do you think I’m going to hurt you?” he asked her in a soft voice. “And I thought I made a great first impression on you.”

  She remained quiet.

  “Would you care to join me at the bar? They have two for ones.” His brown hair was still pulled back in a ponytail. The smell of his new black leather jacket and expensive cologne radiated from him. “Care to join me?”

  “What do you want?”

  They continued to dance across to the opposite end of the floor. He placed his hand behind her head and gently pressed her face to his chest. She felt his hard and cold body through his shirt. Her head began to throb slightly, and his words dilated sensually in her brain.

  I want you.

  What she wanted was to run from him, to break free through the crowd and toward the exit.

  “I just want to get to know you more,” he replied. “You ran out unexpectedly.”

  “I don’t like being threatened,” Veronica said.

  He pulled her along the dance floor, spinning her around. He placed his hands back on her hips, and they continued their dark jig. “Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention.”

  “Then what is your intention?”

  He moved her in closer. “Like I said, to get to know you.” His body was lean, tight, and his muscles flexed when he moved his arms. “If I thought you were such a threat, you’d be dead already.” Small, loosened strands of his hair dangled, slightly touching her forehead.

  She suddenly felt infatuated with him. Concentrate, Veronica. He looked into her eyes, and she tried to look away. She felt her eyes drift to them and she wanted to rub her hands over his chest and up to his face.

  Everything she knew about Deamhan disappeared from her mind. She left herself open to him, voluntarily pressing her face into his chest. She closed her eyes and opened her ears, hoping that he would exhale just once. He appeared different from her; not human. He became all she knew and all she wanted. No fear, no Deamhan, no Dark Sepulcher, and no search.

  Yes. There was a search.

  She blinked her eyes, refocusing back on reality and distancing herself from Remy’s orchestrated trance.

  “You’re not scaring me.” Her lower lip quivered.

  He chuckled slightly. “I’m not the one you should be scared of.” His grip began to wane. They stopped moving and she took a step back, free from his hypnotic restraint. He turned and walked away casually through the crowd. The rhythm of the music changed, and the dance floor started filli
ng with people. She watched Remy sit on a bar stool and she glanced around, sensing her vulnerability while alone.

  She followed him to the bar. “I know how you Deamhan act.” She stood behind him. “And I know I should never trust you.” Her mind reverted to the woman at the burnt home. Maybe he was working with her?

  Remy soon picked up on her thought. “No.” He turned around and ordered a drink from the bartender. “I don’t have any minions.” He turned back to her. “If you want, you can be my first.”

  Confused, she shook her head no.

  The bartender returned, placing a glass in front of him.

  “You’re right, you can never trust a Deamhan, researcher. I don’t even trust Deamhan.”

  She sat on an empty stool next to him. He continued to look forward and sipped the dark liquid from his cup. He has to be a Ramanga or maybe a Lamia. Either way, I can’t trust him.

  “I’m not a Ramanga,” he replied to her thoughts. “But I am a Lamia.”

  Lamia. They had no sharp teeth like the Ramanga, but fed from their victims by mouth. As long as I don’t kiss him.

  “Do you always do that?” he asked her.

  “Do what?”

  “Let me give you some advice, researcher,” he said slowly, “if you plan to hide your thoughts, you shouldn’t think. You should just ‘do’.” He sipped his drink and he looked forward, observing a female waitress from across the bar staring back at them. He briefly waved at her and she nodded.

  “You see her?” He nodded to the waitress. “She’ll be my first meal of the night.” He placed his cup up to his lips and before taking another sip he spoke again. “And the other human behind her, near the back standing alone. She’ll be my second.”

  Veronica remained silent, still trying to figure out what Remy had in store for her. She wanted to make a run for the exit, just like the first time, but she didn’t want to show any fear.

  “I’ve been hearing stories about a researcher in Minneapolis, searching for her mother.” He sipped from his cup again, drinking the last drops. “A researcher who’s bold, stubborn and stupid. Your name fuels minion conversations.” His eyes drifted to the right at a man wearing a black hooded jacket sitting at the very end of the bar. “Some Deamhan sent minions to spy on you, to figure out what your true agenda is.” He then looked to the left at another man sitting at the opposite end, talking to a woman.

  “Where are they?”

  “They’re everywhere.” He looked over his shoulder at a short man wearing a black jacket and faded filthy black pants. The horribly dressed man stood near the dance floor, his brown eyes locked onto her. Remy turned back to order another drink.

  She slid off the stool and stood next to him. She immediately wanted to leave Dark Sepulcher, but he grabbed her wrist.

  “Do you always run when you feel cornered?”

  “Only if I have to,” she replied in a shaky voice.

  “We can smell a human’s fear easily. Your scent is so strong that I can taste it.” His warm breath roasted her skin and it awed her. “Kei has his eyes on you.” He watched the bartender place another drink on the counter in front of him. “And you don’t want Kei to have eyes on you.” He sipped from his drink again and then wiped his mouth with a small napkin. He stood up from his stool. “But you have nothing to fear. They’re just minions.” He waved them off.

  She felt him searching her thoughts again, seeing through her fake impression of fearlessness. With her hidden layer now exposed—she had every right to feel threatened. If Kei was this powerful then the Deamhan in the city had to know their place. But no Deamhan was untouchable in her eyes, not even Lucius.

  “But I can protect you,” he whispered to her. “We can protect you. All you have to do is ask.” Remy’s eyes briskly turned to a female Deamhan watching them from behind the bar. She looked in his direction and the dark haired female didn’t turn away.

  The staring war between Remy and the female lasted for a few seconds more before Veronica decided to jump in. “Who is that?”

  “A friend.” He quickly looked at her before turning his attention back to the female. He nodded and tilted his head to the side. Veronica watched quietly. Sometimes the Deamhan communicated by reading each other’s thoughts.

  Remy nodded again and turned his attention back to Veronica. “We know a human that can help you.”

  “And why should I believe you?”

  “You shouldn’t,” he answered. “But if you’re feeling interested, he lives in a sanctuary out of town called Blind Bluff Manor.”

  A human living in a sanctuary? It was unheard of. She couldn’t imagine why a human would want to live with Deamhan unless the human was a minion. She continued to look at him in a bewildered gaze.

  “You’ve heard of Blind Bluff Manor?” he asked. Again she didn’t respond.

  He sighed and slightly shook his head. “They don’t teach them like they used to in The Brotherhood anymore.” He repeated the name of the sanctuary in an attempt to make her understand. “His name is Nathan Tiernan, and he has a sanctuary called Blind Bluff Manor.”

  “I’m not some inexperienced human that’ll fall for your lies,” Veronica replied. “There has never been a human who’s owned a sanctuary.”

  “They really don’t teach you researchers like they used to.” He chuckled. “Back in my day, researchers were more stealthy, smarter, and harder to kill. Now, anyone can be one.”

  “I’m not a researcher,” Veronica insisted.

  “Of course not.” He slid off the bar stool and walked past her.

  “I’m not.”

  “Whatever you say.” He continued to walk through the crowd.

  Not wanting to be left alone, she followed him.

  Remy stopped and turned back around. “But what I told you about Nathan Tiernan is true. He can help you.” He raised his hand slowly and gracefully swiped her cheek. “And you need all the help you can get.”

  Veronica noticed the minion he pointed to earlier slowly raise himself up from his stool with a blank stare.

  Remy tilted his head to sniff the air. “I love that smell.” He turned his head to look over his shoulder. “The smell of fear.”

  The minion raced toward the exit with Remy continuing to walk in a calm pace after him. The other two minions were now gone from the seats.

  Veronica ran after him and out the front entrance. He was quick, and she’d almost lost sight of him until she saw him down the street, turning the corner. She called out after him, running as fast as her legs could carry her. She passed the patrons standing along the wall, still waiting to get into Dark Sepulcher.

  She turned the corner and stopped. She saw him standing over one of the minions in the club. The minion kneeled on the pavement with his arms lifted in the air in fear.

  The minion clasped his hands together and tears began to stream down his face. His mumbled speech about his wife and two kids fell on deaf ears. He pleaded his case and upon seeing Veronica, he turned to her, crying that he wasn’t there to harm her, only to watch. He explained that his master was stronger than Remy and if any harm came to him, his master would avenge him. Still Remy didn’t budge. He placed both of his hands on the man’s shoulders and remained quiet, only smiling while the man continued his defense.

  “Don’t kill him,” Veronica pleaded.

  “Shhh,” he ordered. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

  She watched while his hands rubbed the side of the minion’s face. “Are you reading his thoughts?”

  “They’re blurred,” he answered. “Blocked.” He increased his grip and the minion began to gasp for air. “But I guess that’s expected when you serve Kei.”

  “What are you doing? You’re killing him!” Even if she wanted to, even if she was able to, she couldn’t force him to stop.

  Remy’s face filled with the thrill of this hunt and his smirk added to his haunting stare. He fed off of it; his dark aphrodisiac.

  And his nature.


  “I can smell Kei’s scent all over this one.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

  The man frantically shook his head no. “Please . . .”

  “Remy, please don’t,” Veronica pleaded.

  He quickly turned to face her and he snapped. “This minion belongs to Kei. If he could, he’d kill you without a thought. Now, why would you beg for his life?”

  She opened her mouth but found her voice muted. She slowly moved back from him. His eyes turned from brown to a murky black. The veins underneath his skin began to pulsate.

  He placed his hands around the man’s neck, lifting him to his feet. The man screamed, and Remy placed his mouth over his. Veronica watched him sucking and gurgling while the man began to shake in his grasp. There was a moment when Remy pulled back and a small trail of blood dripped from the victim’s mouth. He then went back in sucking the essence; the life force from his victim. The minion’s body went limp and his bloodshot eyes remained open, staring into the heavens.

  Veronica covered her mouth to hold in her screams.

  It ended quickly. Remy released his grip and the minion’s body fell to the pavement.

  His feet staggered and he placed his hands on a parking meter nearby for support. “Woah.” He licked his lips ecstatically. “Always a rush.” He turned to her.

  She stepped back again, not knowing what to do. She had just watched a Deamhan feed on an innocent human being. She had to do something.

  “He’s far from innocent.” Remy stood up straight. His skin now glowed and his body looked healthy; anew. “He’s killed plenty of humans for Kei. He’s burned sanctuaries; he’s tricked Deamhan to their deaths. Yes, he’s far from innocent. Don’t cry for the minion, Veronica. He wouldn’t cry for you.”

  She didn’t know if Deamhan avenged their minions. She prayed that the dead male lying on the pavement was just one of many minions Kei had to spare.

  Now, there was no turning off her fear. She was scared for her life.

  “I guess I could just leave his body here.” He shrugged to himself. “Yeah, no biggie.” He straightened his leather jacket. “Kei may be the most powerful Deamhan in the city, but he’s not the oldest.” He placed his hands in the pocket of his jeans and he turned to walk back to the club. Before turning the corner he stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Nathan Tiernan. Blind Bluff Manor.” He snickered. “Perhaps I’ll see you there?”