“What the hell was that?” he asked in a belated breath.
“They’re here,” Kyra said in agony.
The pain stopped. The air went silent. Anastasia glanced up in time to see Kyra and Maris stand to their feet. The room began to light up in a fluorescent glow. It formed into a large circular ball and it moved in breakneck speed, circling through the air. It then hovered and turned from white to a reddish color. An explosion of light followed by an immense yellow light blinded them all.
Then again, silence.
Anastasia opened her eyes, finding that Selene’s sacrificed remains had disappeared. She raised her body slowly from the ground just in time to see a naked woman, in flesh, standing in the center of the room, next to Lucius. Her waist length dark hair rested over her shoulders, covering her breasts. Her brown skin glowed. Her young and exotic features astounded even Kyra who cautiously examined every inch of the woman’s body with her eyes. Power and age seeped from her.
Amenirdis.
Lucius’ thought echoed through their minds. The woman examined her hands as if she’d never seen them before and her red glowing eyes moved to Lucius. She knelt down and gently caressed the side of his face.
Anastasia cautiously looked around the room, waiting for the remaining seven Pure Ones to appear but nothing happened. No one else came. Just Amenirdis.
Immediately Maris, with her eyes the color of charcoal and her sharp teeth exposed, took a defensive stand.
Amenirdis caressed Lucius in his final moments. She began to speak to him in a language that none of them understood. Anastasia couldn’t find any strength inside her to battle even the youngest Deamhan let alone a Pure One, fresh out of Limbo.
The Dark Mother stood up to her feet, cradling Lucius, who remained barely alive, in her arms.
Anastasia whispered to Kyra, “What is she saying?”
“She’s comforting him,” she slowly replied.
Lucius lifted his hand up to her face and whispered, “Mother, I failed you. I’m sorry.”
Amenirdis shrugged and finally she replied in a language they all understood. “But you haven’t failed. I’m free.”
“But the others...” Lucius held out his hand to her.
“Sleep now.” She kissed him on his cheek. He opened his mouth again but she hushed him. “Your work is done here.” She pushed the stake further into his chest and his body arched forward. He closed his eyes and his body began its disintegration. His remains draped over Amenirdis’ forearms. Blood and ash peppered her face.
She wiped the bloodied contents away and her eyes scrutinized Kyra, Maris, Ayden, and Anastasia.
“She wants us to bow down to her,” Kyra said slowly.
“Like hell I will,” Maris replied. “It’s all of us against her. We can take her.”
Kyra shook her head. “No. We can’t.”
Amenirdis examined her body again.
“I thought the ritual was supposed to free all of them?” Ayden said in a hushed tone to Kyra.
Picking up on his question, Amenirdis replied. “With my release, only I can free all of them.” She looked at her breasts and she held her arms out in front of her face. She stepped forward then suddenly collapsed onto the floor. They all stepped back, watching her struggle to raise herself up again.
“What’s wrong with her?” Ayden asked.
“She’s weak,” Kyra replied.
“So let’s kill her, now,” Maris suggested.
“No.” She silenced her. “If we kill her, we kill everyone in her lineage.”
“She isn’t Ramanga. She isn’t any of the four clans,” Ayden argued back with her. “She’s of the other four; an Ekimmu. So what does it matter?”
“It matters, Ayden,” Kyra whispered her reply. “There are Ekimmu Deamhan still alive. We kill her. We kill them.”
“You told me that the other four clans, including her own, are extinct.” Anger flashed in his eyes. Anastasia heard the same story, centuries ago, but from her sire.
Amenirdis raised herself to her feet. “You are me and I am you.” She reached out her hand to Maris. “Together, we are all one.”
Kyra grabbed Maris. “We have to leave. Now.” Still holding onto her, she pulled Maris toward the exit.
“You can’t hide my servant from me.” Amenirdis dropped her hand.
Maris broke away from Kyra. “I’m not your servant.”
Amenirdis smiled. “You are the descendant. Therefore you are my servant.”
Ayden gently shoved Maris toward the exit.
Curiosity overcame her fear and instead of leaving, Anastasia remained where she stood, observing the Dark Mother who didn’t take her eyes of Maris until she left the building. Now alone with her, Anastasia spoke. “You belong in Limbo; not here.”
“We all belong in Limbo, Ramanga.” Amenirdis finally refocused her gaze on Anastasia. “You know the truth. You understand the revelation.” She veered her foot along the ground. “The day that will signal the rebirth of our kind.”
Anastasia turned her head slightly to the right. “Rebirth?”
“Yes.”
Anastasia stepped back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It will come and in that day Deamhan will suffer tremendously. They will scratch out their own eyes in pain. Their knees will become calloused and bloody from constant prayer—”
“And this is the golden age that Lucius was referring to?” She smacked her lips. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass.”
“It will come.” Amenirdis closed her eyes and her tongue slithered over her lips. “And when it does, the descendant will be martyred and those Deamhan who remain will rejoice in her much needed sacrifice.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Anastasia stood still, looking out of the window in Blind Bluff Manor. The trees swayed in a rhythm to the wind. She saw the yellowish tint on the horizon, signaling that sunrise was only moments away. It was a sign she and Deamhan knew all too well. If they hadn’t found any resting area or place, they needed to move quickly. She no longer had to worry about that.
A book slamming onto a table broke her solemn concentration and she looked back for a quick moment to see Nathan grab the book and move to the comfort of his chair in front of the fireplace. For days he spent his time with his head in his father’s journals, figuring out why they failed in their mission at the warehouse. It didn’t matter how long he spent with his head immersed in old writings, he would never find his answer there. Nothing in those books could tell him why the ritual only freed Amenirdis from Limbo.
However Anastasia knew and she kept the information to herself. She didn’t tell anyone of how she suspected that Amenrdis would eventually come for Maris and there wasn’t any Deamhan in the world who could stop her. How she planned to sacrifice Maris for her blood to start what Amenirdis called ‘Revelation.’ She assumed that Kyra knew exactly what the Pure Ekimmu wanted. After all, Kyra spent majority of her existence in making sure that the Dark Curse remained a mystery. Whatever the case, she began to rethink killing Maris. Instead she wanted to mend the fragile relationship she had with her.
Remy walked into the room and he placed his hand on the table next to Nathan. “The warehouse is still littered with bodies,” he said.
“And Mr. Austin?” Nathan didn’t look at Remy as he questioned.
“I don’t know,” he answered.
“More than likely they have him,” Nathan answered.
Overhearing their conversation, Anastasia rolled her eyes. Since leaving the warehouse, Remy remained quiet about the events of that night. She sensed nothing from him when it came to Kei, which she understood, but she how could Remy have lost Mr. Austin and the amulet that easily? According to what he told them after they left the warehouse, he left Mr. Austin alone in an alley across the street. When he came back the old man was gone. He didn’t mention anything about tracking down his scent to locate him. It was as if Remy just released him.
He turned to wa
lk out of the room but before doing so, he walked up to Anastasia and placed his hand on her shoulder.
“You’ve been quiet lately.”
“I have nothing to talk about.”
“Or maybe you’re worried that Ayden and Maris are still alive and coming for you?”
“I’ve changed my mind about Maris.”
“Oh, have you now?” Remy smiled.
“Maybe I’m more worried about how you could lose Veronica’s father and the amulet?” She threw a question back in his face.
His smile turned into a prominent snicker. “Who said I lost the amulet?” He walked out of the room.
She turned back to Nathan. “I’m heading out tonight; see what I can find.”
“Kyra said you should stay in while Amenirdis is out there.”
“Kyra has said many things, but she is a liar.” Anastasia walked out of the study and out the front door. She stood on the porch, taking in the fresh air while she thought about Lucius. Part of her missed him; mourned him. She wanted to turn back the clock, to a time when things were simple. When she hunted and traveled across Europe with him. He freed her after being confined in a coffin for a hundred years. She wanted to take it out on herself for not doing enough to stop him.
Just then a familiar smell of a Ramanga entered her nose and Anastasia looked, finding Maris standing by one of the tall oak trees in the front yard. Her sudden appearance surprised Anastasia and she descended down the porch steps.
“Are you here for your revenge, Maris?”
Her offspring leaned against the tree. “I guess we could settle things now.”
“I’d rather not fight.” She approached her. “I know you have questions for me.”
Maris exhaled. “It’s not that easy.”
“Sure it is. Do you want to know why I betrayed you? Why I left you? Why I never came looking for you? Why I sired you in the first place?”
“I know all the answers to those questions.”
“Or why Kyra and Ayden left the city without you?” Anastasia cocked her head to the side and blinked slowly. “Why they’re putting distance between themselves and you?”
“Ayden is loyal to Kyra. He always will be. He’ll go wherever she goes.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “He isn’t your friend and neither is Kyra.”
“And you are?” Maris yapped at her.
“No, but perhaps we can find a mutual understanding.”
Maris chuckled. “Ayden was right. You say the most ridiculous things.” She kicked the dirt at her feet and lowered her gaze. “Once I accept you back into my life, you’ll just turn around and stab me in the back, like you always have.”
“I couldn’t care less about acceptance. This isn’t about that. It’s about Amenirdis.”
“And why are you so interested in Amenirdis all of the sudden? Is it because of what she said?”
Anastasia remained quiet.
“You remained behind and spoke with her.” Maris walked over to her. “What did she tell you anyway?”
“There is a lot you don’t know.”
“What I do know is that Amenirdis still needs my blood to release the remaining Pure Ones,” Maris continued. “And she will come for me eventually.”
“Yes she will and when she does...” Anastasia stopped in mid-sentence. “...trust me when I say that you don’t know the entire truth.”
“Why? Because Amenirdis said so?”
“She could kill us now if she wanted to but she hasn’t. Think about it for a moment.” Anastasia exhaled out of exhaustion. “For once, just listen to me-”
“No. Been there, done that. I’m done talking to you.” Maris pointed to the Manor. “I’m going to kill you before the Dark Mother kills me.”
Anastasia slowly walked up to her, stopping just inches away. “Stop thinking like that.”
“Or what? You’ll kill me first?” Maris stood solid in her threat. “You’ve already killed me Anastasia.” She stepped forward. “You did that deed long ago when you sired me and betrayed me.”
She grinded her teeth and held in her distaste for now.
“But you won’t kill me because you still see me as your leverage, don’t you?” Maris’ body language changed. Her eyes turned dark and her fangs showed from her gums. “You still think that somehow, with having me by your side, that you’ll gain some sort of upper hand.”
“That’s not it,” Anastasia replied.
“Whatever. It doesn’t change the fact that you need to be put down.” Maris took a step back from her. “Minneapolis is now my home, Anastasia and I’m not leaving until I make your life as miserable as possible.”
Anastasia watched as Maris took off at a fast pace toward Minneapolis. She readied herself to follow her, but the sky signaled the oncoming sunrise with a hint of yellow in the horizon.
She bit her lower lip, disgusted at the conversation, but she instilled in herself that she had to maintain her hardened persona. She couldn’t let Maris see that she had change. No longer did she see her offspring as leverage but as a Deamhan who played an important role in Amenirdis plan which scared her.
Maris’ blood meant two things. The return of Deamhan dominance over vampires and in her eyes, she saw it as a balance long overdue. It meant breaking down the established hierarchy set forth centuries ago by Ancient Deamhan like Kyra. No longer could they be hunted by vampires, researched and killed at will by researchers. Anastasia didn’t object to this part of the revelation.
Or Maris’ blood meant destruction of Deamhan by the thousands.
With the possibility of the Dorvo Coven joining forces with The Brotherhood, she embraced the first option. She needed to make sure that Maris, who wanted her dead, remained alive long enough to figure out Amenirdis’ true agenda, which was a challenge in and of itself.
She turned around and headed back into Blind Bluff Manor.
Maris
The Brotherhood Files
She gave me her blood, and my life changed forever.
Anastasia. My sire. The only influential figure in my already-fragile life. She did this to me. She caused all the pain and suffering. There was a time I believed I owed her everything. After all, she gave me immortality and the never-ending thirst for the energy contained in the blood of my victims.
But now vampires hunt me and the humans want to use me as their personal weapon. They believe I'm some kind of apotropaic figurine that can damn all Deamhan and force us back into hell where we belong. Me? I just want to live. I just want to be Maris. That way, the only one I can damn is myself.
Be as you wish to seem
-Socrates
CHAPTER ONE
1897. London
“So, this is the one, huh?”
“It's really her, isn't it?”
“Are we going to keep her?”
I didn't want to open my eyes to their voices. I felt more comfortable staring into the darkness. My body had changed and for the first time in my life, I felt alive.
Troubles persisted as I tried to remember what occurred days ago. I knew my name, Maris, and that my mother worked as a prostitute in a famous brothel located in the Irish slums just outside of London, but I didn't how I ended up in this unknown location.
Every thought about my mother started off the same. She tried to abort her pregnancy because it interfered with her ‘job.’ After my birth she kept me locked up in the corner of the room in the solid brass baby cradle that one of her clients gave her as payment. She tended to me as least as she could and when I was old enough to walk and understand what exactly was going on, she locked me inside her closet where I remained until sunrise.
With her death from cholera a year ago, I found myself forced to earn my way. I had only two options: follow in her footsteps or leave the whorehouse to fend for myself. I pissed myself at the thought of trying to survive out there; in the world, all alone. At least I knew that I would have two hot meals, my mother's old ragged bed, and a room of my own i
f I stayed.
I made a promise to myself. I would take over my mother's client list. I would stay as long as I had to. I would save up as much money as I could and eventually leave for greener pastures. I struggled, though, as the years passed. Some of her clients enjoyed me while others couldn't handle the fact that I, a post-puberty teenager, would submit myself to that line of work. But I did and there were nights that I wished I hadn't. I had reached the midpoint of my savings goal when my life changed forever. I was almost there. I almost made it.
One night three large men with sharp teeth stormed into my room. I didn't know who they were or what they wanted with me. One of them grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me violently against the wall, demanding that I tell him my name. When I answered his question with a question of my own, he smacked me, slicing the left side of my face. That was when things began to go from scary to downright crazy. He placed his mouth over my opened flesh and began to suck the blood from my wound. That was the last thing I remembered before I blacked out and awoke to three individuals—two females and one male—standing over me.
My stomach felt on fire, becoming unbearable to the point that I snapped back into reality and finally opened my eyes, pleading for their help. Both females looked exactly alike: caramel colored skin and short dark hair, except that one stood taller than the other. The male, dressed in a white shirt tucked into his brown trousers, had short brown hair and a small brown cap. He leaned in close to me and touched my face. His fingers were as cold as ice. I sat up and slid my body along the wooden floorboards to get away from them. A weird, sweet aroma filtrated through my nose and I placed my hand over it, unsure what to think.
“She's beautiful.” The male reached out his hand to me.
Beautiful? Hardly.
“I'm not going to hurt you.” He reinforced his position by pushing his hand further into my face. Laggardly, I took it and he helped me to my feet.
Deamhan Chronicles, Books 1-5: Deamhan, Kei. Family Matters, Dark Curse, Maris. The Brotherhood Files, Ayden. Deamhan Minion Page 54