“I know Bobbi's father personally. He should be working the carnival. We have to hide the body tonight.”
“Fine, whatever, okay.” I leaned against the brick wall and folded my arms. “So tell me. Who's on and who's off the menu in this crappy town?”
Rule Five
Siring a Deamhan at a young age is strictly forbidden.
We stood in the kitchen, staring down at Bobbi's lifeless body, still lying where I left it.
“I offered to sire her, but she screamed.” I said to Nash.
He knelt and inspected the scene like a detective examining the clues of a homicide.
“What are you checking the body for?” I questioned. “She's dead.”
He didn't look at me when he spoke. “I was thinking maybe we won't have to move her if we could somehow make this look like a robbery.”
I smacked my lips. “Remind me why I should care. I just want to hear it again, and see if it makes sense to me this time.”
He stood up. “She's well known in this community, Kei. Her murder will no doubt cause a mini panic here. Her father is a fair man, but very strict at times. Knowing that his only daughter is dead will undoubtedly ravage him.”
“He'll find out sooner or later.”
Nash shook his head. “She didn't deserve to die like this.”
“You're acting like you personally knew her.”
“I did personally know her,” he snapped back. “After you left me, I didn't know what I would do or how people would react to what I was. So I hid for years, feeding off animals, and keeping to myself.” He walked to the other side of the kitchen. “When I finally managed to deal with who I was, I came out and I passed myself off as the only surviving Strongfeather descendant. That's when I met her.” He pointed to Bobbi. “She was about twenty-five, and real young and wild at the time. One night, she and her friends went to a small swimming spot about half a mile from where I was staying. I could hear and smell them, but I managed to restrain myself and my hunger. She saw me, approached me, and invited me to come over and swim with them. I had fun that night until the sun rose.”
I yawned.
“Everyone in this town knows me. They come to my bar and grill,” he continued. “Back then, I wasn't Nashoba Strongfeather. I was the son of Nashoba Strongfeather. And every twenty years, I disappear and return with a new persona. I dated her for over a year. I got to know her quite well, but as you know, human and Deamhan relationships never last. Either you reveal what you are or they just find out sooner or later. I couldn't let her find out.”
“I can't believe these humans are too dumb to realize it's you,” I said. “And not your son.”
“You'd be surprised how quickly and easily people can reinvent themselves these days,” he replied back.
“Enough story time. Let's get rid of the body so I can eat!”
“You know, as my sire, there was one thing you didn't tell me.” Nash leaned over Bobbi’s body. He placed his hands underneath, lifting her up over his shoulder. “You told me how to live in this world as a Deamhan, but you never taught me how to blend in with it. I had to learn that on my own.” He walked toward the door, adding, “There should be a shovel in the backyard.”
I folded my arms. “A shovel?” His melancholy attitude started to get under my skin and I wanted to tear the body from his grasp. “You're going to bury her?”
“Yes, but far from here. Near the swimming spot she liked so much.” He opened the door and looked back at me. “Are you coming?” He walked out. I was hesitant to follow him, but eventually, I did.
He pointed to a rusted, metal shovel near the garage in the back. Usually, I don't take orders very well, but I grabbed it anyway.
Rule Six
Feed only when necessary and dispose of your victim as to not cause attention to your kind.
Clutching onto the body tightly, he took off, traveling swiftly through the thick bushes and trees. I followed him, keeping up with his pace as he swam in and out of forest, low brush, and open areas. Ahead, I saw the moonlight glistening off a small body of water. He stopped about a half mile away in an open, quiet area and dropped the body to the ground.
He held out his hand and I tossed him the shovel. He didn't say anything as he sank it into the dirt, breaking the hard ground open. First, he dug slowly, but soon picked up speed. The hole was deep enough to swallow him from the waist down. When he finished, he tossed the shovel at my feet, gently grabbed onto Bobbi's legs, and carefully placed her body into the hole.
I thought that was it. Now he'd simply cover her up and we'd be off to finally get dinner and eat, but he stood in silence, staring at her remains. I tapped my foot, impatiently, knowing that he was going to reminisce about her again.
“Kei, you don't know the trouble you've caused here,” he said.
I scratched the back of my head. “No, and again, I don't care.”
“You have to care about something.”
I thought for a moment. “No, I don't think so.”
He jumped out of the hole. “You cared about your sire at one point, right?” He picked up the shovel lying at my feet.
“Now, that's a sire bond,” I answered. “You don't know anything about that because I broke off our bond, before it had a chance to grow.”
“Yeah, I remember.” He pushed the shovel into the pile of upturned dirt. “However, I never broke my bond with you.”
“Doesn't matter.”
“Apparently, it does. You're the one who came back for my help.”
“What are you trying to say, Nash?”
He flung the dirt into the hole. “I said I will help you and I'll keep my word as long as you keep yours.”
“And I agreed. Can you hurry up? I'm hungry.”
He picked up speed, covering the hole and the body as quickly as he dug it. Now finished, he placed the shovel over his right shoulder. “While you were gone, I learned everything I could about Deamhan,” he said. “I thought about searching for you, but I didn't want to leave Forsan. At first, I didn't understand the desire, the craving inside me that would have done anything to be next to you. I thought it was because I needed to be near someone who was like me. I learned much later what I felt was the need to bond.”
I placed my hands on my hips. “Yeah. And?”
“I can't refuse your need for help, Kei, even though I want to,” he spoke. “I know I'm not strong enough to fight alongside you if your sire finds you. I can't win and he'd surely kill me, right? But still, you came back here for my help. That must mean something.”
“I came back because I sired you,” I said with a hint of distaste in my voice. “You really don't know anything. You see, Nash, in the end, we're all in it for ourselves. In the end, bonds don't matter. We're creatures who can't, or won't, trust one another.”
He shook his head. “I don't believe it.”
“Well, believe it.”
“Things change. Everyone changes, including us,” he replied. “Just because you were told that we don't show any emotion doesn't mean that we can't at least try. Our bodies may be dead, yet we still live.” He pointed to the tree. “Trees grow by adjusting to their environments. If an environment is cruel and harsh, their growth will reflect the cruelty and harshness. But if the environment is peaceful and blissful, they will become peaceful, graceful and blissful.”
“For the love of everything unholy.” I turned around, tired of the conversation. “Enough of this spiritual talk. We're done here. Let's go.”
“I'm saying that it's the environment you're in, Kei. That's what made you into what you are.”
“Yeah, well life ain't easy.” I walked away from him. “I thought you would've outgrown that Native American stuff as a Deamhan.”
“It's not 'stuff,' Kei. It's part of who I am.”
“Well, whatever it is, I'm tired of hearing about it.”
Rule Seven
Once a Decretum is declared, all Deamhan must obey.
Carol grab
bed a water-soaked dishrag and wiped down the bar counter. “So how do you know each other?”
I sat across from her on a stool, watching her closely. She leaned forward, and for a second, I managed to score a first row seat to ogle her surprisingly well-proportioned cleavage.
The crowd at Stongfeather's Bar and Grill had dwindled down to just a few rowdy customers, including the human, Jack. He sat at a table near the front stage, still slamming down beers with two of his friends.
Nash excused himself and made his way into the kitchen, leaving me to chat with Carol. I kept tabs on the time, realizing that more than twenty minutes had passed, yet he did not return. I started to suspect he might have gone feeding without me.
As a Lugat, I didn't have to kill a human to feed, but not once did I adhere to that. Killing was just part of the daily ritual for me. For now, I just placed my hands underneath the counter, moving them from left to right and absorbing whatever psychic human residue I could. That would have to be enough to hold me over for now.
“Nash and I go way back,” I replied to her.
“Really?” She grabbed a plate with leftover food and threw the contents into an overfilled waste can behind her. “How come he never mentioned you before?”
“I dunno. You should ask him.” I felt someone watching me and turned to look over my shoulder, making eye contact with Jack. “He seems like the overly protective type of hick you'd meet in a small town.”
“Who? Nash?”
“No.” I nodded my head in Jack's direction.
Carol followed my gaze. “Oh, Jack. He's harmless.” She waved him off. “He likes to pretend he's the law around here sometimes.” She placed both arms on the counter. “He's a regular. Likes to come in on the weekends, and drinks until we close. Sometimes he drives me home.”
“A real charmer, hmmm?” I said while I continued to stare at him. “So what if I want to take you home tonight?”
Carol laughed. “I think I'll pass, but thank you anyway.”
I gently placed my hand on top of her forearm. “Are you sure?”
Her smile faltered. “Your hands are ice cold, sweetie.”
I ignored her comment just for a moment, deciding to read Jack's thoughts instead. His friendship with Carol was more than that. He’d actually taken a liking to her and now grew jealous that her attention was fixed on me.
Don't worry Jack. I'll make sure to have her home and tucked into bed before sunrise.
Jack jumped onto his feet. “What in the hell?” He stood, looking dumbfounded. “How in the hell did you do that?” He pointed at me.
I turned back to Carol, pleased at my brief moment of playtime. “It's cold outside.” I placed my hand over hers and again, invaded Jack's mind.
When I'm done with her, she'll be purring like a kitten.
I heard Jack's heavy footsteps approaching before he spun me around by the shoulder. “You some psychic or somethin'?” He eyed me.
“Yes, Jack.” I stood. “I'm a psychic or something.”
“Hey now, boys,” Carol spoke up. “Calm down.”
“Yeah, Jack. Calm down.” I grinned maliciously at him.
“You and me, outside. NOW!” He moved in closer and bumped his muscular chest into mine.
I had him just where I wanted him. “Excuse me,” I said to Carol. “I'll be right back.” I began walking to the door.
The moment I left the bar with Jack close behind me, he slammed his hand into my back, forcing me to turn around. “How did you speak in my mind like that?”
I played dumb. “You’re drunk. I didn't do anything.”
“No, you did something back there.”
“Jack, I really want to fight you,” I said to him. “But not right here. I don't want your friends to be ringside witnesses to your ass-kicking.” I walked down the street, but I didn't hear him following me. I turned around again. “Scared?”
He came running at me and I stood still, watching his muscles flex underneath his clothing. I heard his heartbeat increase as he raised his arm to swing. This time, Nash wasn't around to stop me from hurting him and I loved every minute of it. I caught his fist in mid-air and squeezed as hard as I could.
“Did you honestly think you could take me?” I asked. “No human can take me. Not ever.” I let him go and motioned for him to come at me again, but this time, he hesitated. “What's wrong, Jack? Afraid?” I smiled.
He looked up at me and I could see his rage mounting.
“That's it, Jack.” I stepped back. “Unleash your anger.”
He swung again and I avoided his attack easily.
“Again, Jack! Again!” I rallied him on.
He swung with his left, putting his whole body behind the attack. I moved to the right and he tumbled forward, falling onto the sidewalk. Placing my foot on the back on his neck, I stood triumphantly over him. The energy he expelled smelled ripe, urging me to take a taste. I placed my hand on the sidewalk right next to his body and absorbed what little I could. The way his mind rationalized the event came to my brain as “muddled.” He wondered who and what I was.
“Don't worry about what I am.” I lifted my foot and pressed down as hard as I could. Blood pooled from his mouth and ears onto the concrete. As I leaned forward to hear him choking on his own blood, I didn't pick up the scent of the human who crept up behind me.
I turned around just in time to feel a sharp piece of wood entering my stomach. Immediately, excruciating pain gripped me, forcing me to my knees. I glared at the end of the wood protruding from my body and felt like I would explode any minute from the agony. Trying to concentrate, I squinted and looked up to see Carol standing over me.
She balled her fist and struck me across the face. Usually, that wouldn't have hurt me, but after being penetrated by wood, I felt her blow. My head moved violently from left to right until I fell on my side and curled up in a fetal position.
Shaking her head, in a disgusted tone, she said only one word. “Deamhan.”
Rule Eight
Only an Ancient can declare a Decretum.
Wood. It's a pain to deal with. I still don't understand how easily it can incapacitate a Deamhan. A mere sliver of it has us running for the hills. So the longer it remained inside me, the more I wanted to scratch my eyes out and holler my anguish.
That's how they wanted it.
After Carol managed to stake me, she dragged me toward the back alley where she met Nash. They exchanged words after which she returned to the bar to close up. Nash hid Jack's body somewhere and later returned. He picked me up, and carried me away from his establishment.
He didn't speak a word the entire way. The parade was over and the crowds had dispersed, relegating Forsan to the ghost town I remembered it being. I felt my body trying to heal itself, but with each step Nash took, the hole reopened and the wood impaled itself deeper. I mentally swore that once I took it out, I'd find Carol and kill her.
Located across a set of railroad tracks, down a rude, gravel dirt pathway, Nash’s property had its own makeshift bridge constructed from worn wooden beams. He even had a small, dried-up pond in the backyard. As soon as I saw his home, I covered my mouth to conceal my laughter.
His house was small and made entirely from weathered bricks. It leaned slightly to the right with one large, paned window that he covered with what looked like a red bed sheet. The steps leading up to the porch creaked. For a moment, I believed the rickety hovel could collapse on us at any second.
He dropped me to the floor.
“You promised you wouldn't hurt anyone.” Pausing briefly at the door, he waited as I struggled to stand on my feet. As he opened the screen door, he spoke again. “Before you do anything, just remember. I could've left you there or finished you off, but I didn't.”
“You should have.”
“It's not Carol's fault. I told her to do anything to stop you from harming or killing someone,” he said. “She wasn't trying to kill you.”
I placed my hand on the house
for support. “How long has she known about you? About what we are?”
A gush of warm air combined with the scent of mustiness brushed my face when he opened the door. Almost immediately, Carol's lingering scent infiltrated my nostrils. I then realized she wasn't just a bartender who worked for him; they lived together, which meant they were involved.
“Since she was a little girl,” Nash said as he walked in.
“I thought you said no one in this town knew about you.” I followed him and leaned against the wall, next to a small table with a glass vase sitting on top.
“Just her.”
“She's your girlfriend?”
He didn't answer.
“I'm going to kill her.”
He exhaled. “Still making threats, even with that piece of wood sticking out of your gut?” He turned to his right, flipping on a light switch that illuminated a hallway on our left. The interior looked just as bad as the exterior. Pictures of animals and Native Americans lined the wall. Above the entryway to the dining room hung a large dream catcher. Mounted on a plaque near the back wall were two ancient rifles and an old portrait of a much younger looking Nash.
“She's not afraid of you,” he replied. “I told her everything about you and me, about how Deamhan live and how we can die.”
“Since she knows about me, then she knows that I'll kill anyone who harms me,” I warned.
His eyes scanned me from head to toe. “I'll find you some clean clothes to wear.”
“I don't want clean clothes. I want someone to eat.”
“You ate Jack.”
“Correction. I killed Jack. I would've eaten him, but your girlfriend staked me.” I looked down at my wound. “Pull it out.”
He pointed to a small couch covered with a brown fleece. “Sit there and I'll find you something to eat.”
I refused to sit. “I don't want something. I want someone to feed from, idiot.” It disgusted me that he would stoop this low to retain a tiny relic of his humanity. I wondered what other “human things” he also did with her.
Deamhan Chronicles, Books 1-5: Deamhan, Kei. Family Matters, Dark Curse, Maris. The Brotherhood Files, Ayden. Deamhan Minion Page 28