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

by Isaiyan Morrison

  “The side of her neck is where you want to strike.” I tilted her head to the left. “If you want to kill and not eat, then you'd go for the front.” The blood oozed from her throbbing neck and tears streamed down her face in intricate trails.

  Jesse resumed and he bit her in the base of her neck. His eyes fluttered and I heard him slurping, taking the blood in. Her heartbeat slowed and her eyelids slowly closed. My body tingled at the sight of her warm blood he'd missed, collecting in a pool on the ground beneath her. I didn't want to eat from her as well but I couldn't resist. I needed to taste her for myself. I sank my teeth into her wrist and I began to suck the juices. Jesse looked at me and I looked back in a weird regal embrace. I never fed from the same victim at the same time with Finley, but Branda and Brandy always did. For the first time, I understood how enraptured it felt to do so.

  I stared at Jesse, who remained caught in the moment. Our artificial bond manifested and I loved every minute of it, feeling that I didn't want to ignore it. This bond couldn't break the bond between him and Finley, but it could exist alongside.

  The woman's thoughts moved in rapid speed—too fast for me to notice the most important thought I should've paid attention to. Suddenly, I felt that she belonged to another Deamhan, a male, whose face remained blocked from me. After I released my grip, I stood up and I licked the blood from my outer lips, absorbing the last of it. Her heartbeat had ceased but that didn't stop Jesse who continued to gorge.

  “That's enough,” I whispered to him.

  Slowly he raised himself up and his eyes drifted to his right, down the alley toward the street. I grabbed the money I gave to the woman but he stopped me. “Leave it,” he said.

  I debated his suggestion and I finally agreed to leave the money, now soaking in blood on her bodice. We couldn't retrace our steps back to the apartment. Instead we had to take another side route, jumping over a brick wall in the back of the alley, to avoid human eyes. I stopped him and began to lick the blood away from his cheeks and his mouth. He stood there, like a zombie, as I cleaned him. I could easily tell that something about his first meal troubled him.

  “Did you feel that?” He stared at the pavement.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “You said that we're the only Deamhan in this city.” He'd picked up on the same things I had: this male Deamhan whose blocked image attached to the human's every thought.

  Taking every precaution we could, we made it safely back to our apartment. It took us more time to pass through the patrons in the lobby before reaching the front door. Jesse walked in and headed straight for the window. He remained there for half an hour, looking out at the city below.

  I sat on the couch and stared at him, not knowing how to ask him what troubled him. At that time, I didn't know that it wasn't his victim's thoughts that made him question. He'd bonded to me through our meal and that contradicted his bond with Finley more than I ever thought it would.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Ayden

  When I told Finley about Jesse's first victim, he didn't seem too concerned. Instead he complimented and congratulated Jesse on his first kill. Like long lost brothers, Finley hugged Jesse tightly and patted him on his back before saying, “Soon you and I will go out and we'll make a party out of it!”

  “Have you heard what I just told you?” Amazed, I stared at Finley as he stood in the middle of the room.

  “Yes, I heard you,” he replied. “You felt that there was another Deamhan in her thoughts.”

  “She was a minion,” I said to him. “Like Adele back in London. She served another Deamhan.”

  “But now she's a dead minion, like Adele back in London.” He shrugged uncaringly.

  “Participating in that brutal human sport has made you lose your ability to at least pretend to care,” I argued. “Finley, this means that we aren't the only Deamhan in this city. There could be Dorvo vampires here as well.”

  He replied hastily. “So what do you think we should do then, Maris? Seek this other Deamhan out and kill him? Attack these Dorvo vampires that we have yet to see?”

  “If we have to then, yes. That is what we may have to do.” I sighed. “Aren't you a bit curious about it?”

  “Not the least bit.” He placed his hand on Jesse's shoulder. “All this means is that we should quickly move to having a sanctuary of our own. Look at Jesse. He turned out to be perfect.”

  Jesse smiled briefly but soon an uncomfortable look appeared on his face.

  “What's wrong?” Finley asked him.

  “What do you mean I turned out perfect?” Jesse asked.

  Finley laughed. “I'm just happy that you survived the transformation.” He pulled Jesse toward him and again he embraced him in a male hug.

  Jesse pulled away. “So you're saying I could've died?!”

  “But you didn't.” Finley headed toward his bedroom. “We should start looking into a place to purchase so we can get things moving.” He closed the door behind him.

  Jesse looked to me. “He doesn't seem to care.”

  I explained to Jesse what happened in London and New York. I told him about Adele and how she was punished. He took it all in by nodding his head and blinking slowly. “It's all in the past,” I said. “As long as we protect each other, we'll be fine. Together, we're a force to be reckoned with.”

  To that, Jesse smiled.

  The roaring twenties. I believe that's what humans called it. The French called it “The Crazy Years”—a name I preferred more.

  Prosperity reached its hand across modern cities and the humans responded with vibrant music, clothing, writing, and a sense of self. As they embellished themselves in their creativity, trying to change their outlook on life, we, on the other hand, still remained Deamhan.

  More automobiles traveled the streets. They built skyscraper after skyscraper as if they played a game on who could reach the heavens the fastest. Movie theaters appeared around us, playing silent films from the likes of the funny Charlie Chaplin and other greats like Buster Keaton, and radio programs ruled the airwaves. With the right to vote, woman empowered themselves. All of this became interesting to see and witness but as the years passed, I still worried about Finley and the fact that we weren't alone in the city.

  Quite simply, we didn't see nor hear anything else that proved we were not alone. For all we knew, we remained the only ones. I feared that this mysterious Deamhan would want revenge for the death of his minion, but revenge never came.

  Throughout these years I walked the streets, hoping to run into another one of our own kind. It did seem silly and unsafe at first. My worry about Deamhan faded over time. I gave up on my search and we carried on in our immortal lives without a care.

  Finley began to nitpick humans in search for those he deemed worthy. He also started visiting property after property, trying to find a home that suited his needs. He didn't stop boxing until eventually the humans began to question if he could ever be beaten. By that time he had acquired much wealth and as the interest in this pugilistic activity faded, he bought the building from human owners and decided to turn the establishment into a jazz club.

  Fontay Club opened in 1921. Humans from all over the city and the surrounding states flocked to hear famous musicians like Louis Armstrong and Hot Five play. Enthusiastic attendees begged him to bring in jazz bands from New Orleans. While other popular clubs opened around us, Fontay Club continued to bring us success in ways we couldn't imagine. When Prohibition took effect in the state, Finley still managed to acquire alcohol and sold it to those who could afford it. Chicago police raided the club constantly but they never caught Finley in the act of selling.

  What little resemblance we had to our previous Deamhan life ceased. Even I began to think less and less of our late night feeding binges. Why search the streets when the humans came to us? However, Jesse still opted for spur of the moment hunts in which we reverted to our nature. He was a quick and sometimes brutal killer during these times and gentle and caring
afterwards. He adapted quickly to this new Deamhan-human inspired life. He enjoyed the lifestyle.

  Fontay Club took off into something extraordinary. One night, Jesse and I, dressed in our best clothing, walked down the street toward the club, listening to the sounds of trumpets, horns, and saxophones. The music had a lively beat and a line of humans waiting to get in. We stopped just outside the door as snowflakes peppered our hair. Our goal was to let loose and live in the moment.

  We walked in and sat at a table in the back, far away from the crowd. I watched the women with shingle bob haircuts wearing knee-length light colored dresses and T-bar shoes gyrating their bodies on the dance floor while their male counterparts, some wearing suits and ties and others dressed in long tight waist suits and thin trousers with black and white colored shoes, spun them around. Gone were the corsets and dresses that extended past the ankle and I couldn't avoid my love for this new style any longer.

  He pulled me onto the dance floor and we danced with not a single care in the world.

  We danced for excitement, for thrill, and for pleasure. The human staff, who knew of us, treated us like royalty. Finley had built a room separate from the rest of the club where we could still be Deamhan and feed. Thus we easily passed for humans and several times, I thought of myself as one of them until my stomach began to growl and the addiction for blood brought me back to my senses.

  What more craziness could there be, more challenging and various options to the thoughts and behavior of a Deamhan? I began to enjoy human entertainment, like Finley. I had to accept that there wasn't any other way to live, except for within the environment. Finley was right all along. Maybe the best way to survive wasn't to remain hidden but to embrace our immortality by living and acting like them? This realization lifted weight off our already tired shoulders. It was now cruel to think that Deamhan couldn't live any other way.

  The harsh winter of 1923 passed and when spring came, thawing the ground and warming the nighttime air, we began to go to the club on a nightly basis. Finley would arrive late, usually after his continuous attempt to find a home to build a sanctuary of our own. I questioned why it was taking him so long. There were plenty of homes, just outside the city, that suited our needs but he assured me that we couldn't rush it. He also urged us to be on the lookout for humans who we thought would make excellent Deamhan.

  The bond I had with Jesse grew stronger, reminding me of my own bond with Finley. At night, we became an unstoppable force and whatever differences we had dematerialized in the wind. He loved picking out who he considered to be the perfect humans in the crowd. Sometimes he would coo up to these women and the men, offering them free alcohol.

  One hot summer night Jesse bought a white chiffon deco styled flapper dress with rhinestone studs complete with white Cuban heels, convinced that this was the new fashion among human women and I had to look my best. Fully dressed, I gazed in the mirror, mesmerized about how human I now looked. I thanked him with a kiss on the cheek. He handed me a small compact mirror and some makeup and I dabbed away my facial scar. I always wore my mother's amulet but this time he begged me to leave it at home.

  Again, we had our own private booth near the back and we watched these humans dance, spinning each other around to the music. I enjoyed the sounds of horns blasting my ears along with the smell of blood in the air. We paid close attention to the human actions. When they clapped, we clapped. When they cheered, we cheered.

  “That dress looks beautiful on you,” Jesse said to me.

  I smiled at him. “Not in a million years did I think I would find myself enjoying this environment and wearing the latest fashions.”

  “Neither did I but here we are,” he said to me, smiling back. “I'm curious. What did you see yourself doing?”

  “I couldn't see myself living past the new century,” I replied. “I thought I'd die from tuberculosis in London.”

  His smile withered. “Why would you think that?”

  I faced him. “My mother was a prostitute and I followed in her footsteps. Women have short life spans in that type of lifestyle.”

  “So is that how you got that?” Slowly he raised his hand and he placed it against the left side of my face.

  I looked away. I never mentioned my scar to him and he never asked me, until now. “Dorvo vampires.”

  He dropped his hand.

  “It's not important.” I didn't have enough fingers on both hands to count how many people had hurt me in both my human and Deamhan life. I didn't want him to know about the vampires and why I was important to them. I quickly changed the subject. “I've never asked you this but why did you start boxing?” I realized that I didn't know anything about Jesse's human life, his parents, his siblings if any. Again, I never bothered to ask. “You don't seem like the type who would participate in something like that.”

  “My father was—” He stopped himself. “My father is an English teacher and my mother stays at home, drinking afternoon tea with other bored and sad married women.”

  “Your father is a smart man, then?” My eyes lit up.

  “Yes, he is. On the other hand my mother, well, she just likes to gossip and buy expensive things.”

  “Did you not enjoy your family life?” I asked.

  “I was bored,” he replied. “I wanted to do more with my life.” His eyes left my view for a moment. “My family is very wealthy, Maris. My mother inherited her parents' fortune. I was raised around servants in a home big enough to fit 100 people. It was lonely. I was lonely.”

  I wanted to feel sorry for him but I didn't experience the life he had before being a Deamhan. “So hitting other men with your fists sounded more exciting?”

  “That was my only escape.”

  “You could've just purchased your way out of Chicago.”

  “Yes, but what good would that have done?” A solemn expression appeared on his face. “Money doesn't always make you happy.”

  “It made Finley and me happy,” I replied.

  “Yes, that's true, but it won't last forever and you and I know that we have forever.”

  “So, what makes you happy?” It was the same question Ruby asked me a long time ago.

  “You.” He grabbed my hand. “You make me happy.”

  I stared into his eyes. “Blood doesn't make you happy?”

  “Blood fills my hunger but no, it doesn't make me happy. I can feed and not be happy.” He laughed. “What makes you happy?”

  I wanted to tell him that he and Finley filled that desire. Swiftly, he planted his lips over mine and I felt a hot flash tingle in my throat. In quick speed I pushed him away. “What are you doing?”

  With his elbows supporting his upper body, he looked up at me and smiled. “What do you mean? I was kissing you.”

  “I know but... why?”

  “Kissing you would make me happy.” He quickly grabbed the edge of my dress and pulled us further down into our booth. This time I didn't push him away as he kissed me again. With his teeth exposed he nicked my neck and I responded by placing my hand around his throat, tilting his head to the side, and biting into his neck. I questioned my actions but I didn't want to stop. We couldn't feed from each other but the idea of doing so proved enough to make me want to try. I wanted his blood in me as he wanted my blood in him. He bit into my neck and I felt a sharp quick pain. His thoughts twirled inside my head. I love you, Maris.

  I pushed him away. “You can't.” I felt my wounds healing.

  “Why not? Is it because of Finley?”

  “Yes...no.”

  Before he replied, we noticed a woman with dark hair styled in a short bob with Marcel waves standing at the bar across the room, looking in our direction.

  “She finds me attractive,” Jesse said as he read her thoughts. “She wants to dance with me.”

  I smiled, thankful that something had distracted him from our conversation. “You shouldn't keep her waiting.”

  “No, I'm here with you.” He grabbed my hand.

&nbs
p; “Go,” I said, playfully pushing him away, “and dance with her.”

  He let go of my hand. “Why won't you love me?”

  I leaned back in the booth. “We can't love, Jesse. What you're feeling is a bond.” I drew away from him, hoping that he would take the hint. He did and he left our booth and approached the woman. In moments they made their way to the dance floor.

  I tapped my hand on the table along with the beat of the music, watching him twirl her around. He looked happy and content. With my concept of love already shattered, I didn't want Jesse to believe that we could love. I decided as soon as he returned, I needed to explain to him why I strongly believed it.

  After the music finished he came back to the booth and the human woman, to my surprise, followed him. He plopped into the seat, moved closer to me, and he patted the cushion for her to sit.

  “Maris, this is Bianca.”

  The woman smiled and she sat next to him. “It's nice to meet you.” She held out her hand for me to shake.

  I shook her hand knowing that Jesse didn't bring her to me for conversation. He had planned on eating her later on that night and I didn't object. “Is this your first time here?” I asked her.

  “Yes,” she replied as she continued to smile, “It's a lovely place. Jesse has told me that you both know the owner. Is this true?”

  I nodded. “Yes. He's my...brother.”

  “I've heard he's the mysterious type,” she replied. “Women talk about him all the time.”

  I grew curious. “What do these women say about him?”

  “They say he's attractive, rich, and great with the women, if you know what I mean.”

  “No, I don't know.” I looked to Jesse, who shrugged.

  “The women enjoy his company,” she said as she laughed. “I hear that he has the best liquor on this side of the Mississippi, but you didn't hear that from me.”

  I continued to stare at her as she pulled a small coin purse from her cleavage. I waited for Jesse to move in at any moment but instead his eyes remained on me and his voice poured into my thoughts. I brought her here for you.