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

by Isaiyan Morrison

  The Kashshapu condemned the first eight Deamhan to that hellhole, and for a good reason. When loose they were near impossible to kill and control. Personally I didn’t fear what Amenirdis could do to me, or what she had planned for our kind. I grew tired of it all.

  I stepped cautiously toward the dance floor to get a better look for a private place to sit. It took only seconds to pick up the multitude of human thoughts. I walked by a young teenage male, his face scarred with acne, who’s eyes told me that he found me slightly attractive in a bisexual sort of way. Two females to my right discussed how far they could go when it came to their virginity, and a male to my left, glaring at the dance floor, thought about what he could say to get those two females to lose theirs.

  I walked along the dance floor, still scouring for my ideal spot. I saw the two emergency exits, the DJ booth, and another bar at the opposite end of the club. I squeezed my body through a group of females, bonding over pitchers of beer.

  One of them elbowed her human friend and whispered in her ear. “How about that one? He’s hot.”

  I pretended to ignore her until her friend replied. “Yeah, I could rock that all night long.”

  It’d been awhile since anyone, human and Deamhan, spoke about me like a package of meat waiting to be devoured. This was also the first time that I took any comment about my sexuality seriously, but these females caught my interest. I turned around and faced them and to their surprise, I approached the one with short brown hair. The strong smell of her cheap perfume floated from her skin and neck. Her breath smelled like peppermint gum.

  I turned on my human emotion like a light switch. “Hey there.” I smiled and placed my beer on the table. “What’s your name?” I could’ve picked up her name by scouring her thoughts, but I wanted to hear it from her mouth.

  “Ana.” She pointed to her friend. “And this is Sally.”

  The name “Ana” made me stop in my tracks. I never wanted to hear that name again and throughout my existence, I did my best to avoid it. But now here it was, right in front of me, beckoning me to relive my dark past. Just the thought of someone else with that horrendous name made me want to rage.

  “Never mind.” I quickly turned away from them and returned to my search for a place to wait away from the large crowds. I had to keep my temper under control. Turning into a rampaging Metusba Deamhan wouldn’t be great for anyone.

  Every part of me wanted to devour the two humans, draining them of their essence. Even my beer fell victim to my desire as I found myself squeezing it until the glass shattered in my grip. I caused a scene and I hurried along, swimming my way through the crowd, until I saw an empty booth to my right. I immediately sat and lowered my body, hoping that I wouldn’t be seen or become the focus of anyone’s attention. My right palm throbbed as some of the beer glass implanted itself into my skin. I yanked out the pieces of glass and watched as my wound healed itself almost immediately. Spots of blood were still visible along my wrist and I wiped it on the booth’s seat. The sight of the substance warmed my cold inside and it made me want to hunt.

  As a Metusba, other Deamhan didn’t consider us to be the best hunters. However, my sire, Oliver, taught me much about tracking humans during my midnight menu raids. He was so good at it that no one came close, not even up to this day.

  But things were different now, humans were smarter and we Deamhan were few. In fact there wasn’t that many of us to begin with and together we didn’t equal the amount of vampires and other nasty things out there that also wanted us dead. No matter how many times Deamhan came to the brink of annihilation, we never changed our devious ways or made any ultimate sacrifices to prevent it. We continued to fight amongst each other, betray each other, and kill each other. It was in our nature.

  Oliver taught me only what he thought I needed to know when I was first sired. He told me about the rules and who my enemies were. He explained what made the four Deamhan clans different from one another and that as a Metusba, we lived off the psychic auras of humans. Ramanga had the sharpest teeth, because they lived off the psychic energy contained in the blood. Lamia Deamhan fed by sucking the energy from their victim’s—primarily from the mouth, and Lugat Deamhan, the dirt of our kind, sucked on the leftover psychic residue like leeches. Anything else that I deemed important I had to learn on my own. He skipped over the other four extinct Deamhan clans—the most dangerous of our kind—because not only could they feed from humans, but they also fed from other Deamhan and vampires.

  He also mentioned The Brotherhood—humans who knew about us. For centuries they observed and watched us. Eventually we became so disorderly that they had no choice but to team up with Dorvo vampires. Together they hunted us down until our numbers dwindled.

  Back then I did everything to please my sire. I hated who he hated, loved who he loved, worshipped who he worshipped. But on the last night of our dark relationship, we were unfortunate to run into a Ramanga by the name of Anastasia and her offspring, Finley. She ripped my sire’s head from his shoulders. From then on I moved alone in the world until I met Kyra.

  Fast forward to today.

  Nicias had yet to show and I grew impatient. Things were changing in the Deamhan world—things that no one could control which made our existence dangerous. Even though I never expected to see him again, he mentioned to me on the phone that he had some news from Kyra. I trusted his message, only because he was the oldest Metusba I knew and he was the sire of my own sire. Plus, he and Kyra became extremely close over the last centuries.

  “Why did you walk away?”

  I was too busy dwelling in my thoughts to realize that the two females I encountered earlier, Ana and Sally, now stood at my booth. I looked up at them but immediately turned away. My eyes were no longer green but black—the tell-tale signs of a Deamhan. I shielded them and focused to make them revert back to normal.

  “Did you come here by yourself?” Ana asked.

  Just the thought of detaching her head from her body, like Anastasia did to my sire, made everything seem better now. Well, maybe not everything, but it felt really good.

  “You want to dance?”

  I couldn’t remember having been startled so easily with such a simple question. I shook my head, no.

  “You sure?” she asked.

  I had no choice but to look up at her. “I don’t like the music.”

  “I can tell the DJ to play a different song,” she said. “You want me to?”

  Instead my thoughts had a better idea. I’d like to snap your neck and drain the essence from your entire body.

  “I don’t dance.” I had to get rid of them quickly. “You’re not my type. Go away.” My reply proved enough for them to walk off and for Ana to call me a dick under her breath. I leaned back. In a booth just a few feet away I saw a human couple cuddling and being playful toward one another. The woman slid her hand across the table and gripped the male by his wrist. Their eyes didn’t leave each other’s gaze. The image became too much for me.

  I thought about what I would do if I had both of the human girl’s in my grasp. I imagined grabbing one of them by the throat and feeding off her aura while I made the other one watch. I expected to hear them scream for help—once they’d realize what I was doing—and as humans came to their aid, they would be met with my quick movements leading to their deaths. Eventually I’d let Sally go, allowing her a head start for the exit. I also expected her to scream and alert more potential victims. Pandemonium and chaos would ensue.

  Only if.

  I smiled at my concocted though but as quick as I did, I shunned it away. Now wasn’t the time to fantasize. I had other and more important things to worry about.

  The music coming from the speakers changed. Although the rhythm sounded the same in my ears, the singing reminded me of a song I’d heard before. It was an old song I used to play every day while watching Kyra in hibernation. She feared the changing world around her and she placed herself in deep sleeps—sometimes for decades—just to
avoid it. During that time I’d watch her and took care of her body, wiping away the dust that collected in the crevasses of her skin. I changed her clothes and sometimes I put on music to calm my nerves. She loved music, and during the times that she didn’t hibernate, she and I would dance into the early morning hours, right after a hunt. With her victim’s blood still caked on her Ramanga fangs she twirled in the grass, making herself dizzy. Sometimes she would sit and listen as I talked about my sire and my wish to seek revenge for his death. She was the only one who could calm my anger and tell me that if I remained patient, my moment would come. She also promised to help me achieve that goal. Only moments before sunrise, we walked back to our home and before going to sleep, she kissed my forehead and wished me a good day’s rest.

  Now I wasn’t sure of her intentions. She didn’t tell me everything about the Dark Curse and how Maris was connected to it. I didn’t know why she lied to me, of all people, and I aimed to question Nicias about it.

  My nose picked up on a strong peculiar Deamhan scent.

  It stung my nostrils, sending a mixture of contentment and satisfaction to my brain. I looked over my shoulder and at the image of a male glaring back at me. I mouthed his name. Nicias.

  He looked different from the last time I saw him. His light brown hair rested on his shoulders and his round shaped face, free of blemishes, made him stand out in the crowd. I’ve always loved his petite stature, because it fooled many Deamhan. I thought that my senses had also fooled me, but Deamhan never forget a scent. It signaled that he was still the oldest Metusba alive. It was him all right, I could never forget that baby face and mesmerizing brown eyes.

  He reached my booth and looked at me before he sat. He placed his forearms on the table and slowly blinked his eyes. I smiled briefly and mentally had to remind myself that now I sat in his presence, and as one of the co-creators of The Dictum, rules set forth by Ancients for Deamhan to follow. He demanded my respect. He was old and strong enough to snap me in half without effort.

  He straightened his crisp black shirt and spoke. “Hello Ayden. It’s good to see you again.”

  “It’s been a long time.” I sniffed the air around me, trying to pick up any other Deamhan scents, but I found none. “Kyra didn’t come with you?”

  “No.”

  “Most, if not all, Deamhan are in shambles about Amenirdis being released from Limbo. You aren’t?”

  “As far as I know, that Pure whore isn’t after me.” He smiled briefly, showing his pearly whites. “Just Kyra.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Far from here.”

  “Tell me. I have to know.”

  “You don’t have to know anything,” he replied nonchalantly. “But she’s alive. However, as she is, well...was the oldest Deamhan on the planet, she knows that once she shows her face, Amenirdis would kill her.”

  “But she’s safe, right?”

  He smiled. “Yes. She’s always safe.”

  I grew curious. “So, what news does Kyra have for me?”

  “She isn’t happy with you.” He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out an envelope. “Because of how things turned out in Minneapolis.”

  “No one expected that Lucius would have Amenirdis’ blood running through his veins. He was near impossible to stop. But I did what I was told. I helped them and we tried to stop it. I held back my anger and need for revenge against Anastasia, and I worked alongside her, just like Kyra commanded me to do.”

  “She isn’t upset about that.” He placed the envelope on the table. “She’s upset that you dragged Maris into the city to be subjected to the spell without notifying her.”

  Maris. Hearing her name made me think of how much I failed her. Her blood became the mortar, the prime ingredient in releasing Amenirdis. When I first met her in Chicago nearly a hundred years ago, I doubted that she was that important. Yet I followed Kyra’s orders. I protected and cared for her like a human would care for his sister. I even helped her kill her beloved Finley.

  Looking back at it now, I could see how I screwed up. I brought her to the city, using her need for revenge against her sire as leverage. We both had that same desire to put an end to Anastasia. But I didn’t know how else to protect her. Plus, I wanted what was due to me. I had to make Anastasia pay for what she did to my sire.

  “You shouldn’t have brought her to Minneapolis on the intention that she could get revenge.” Nicias read my thoughts and leaned back in the booth. “You’ve placed all Deamhan at risk because of your foolishness.”

  I nodded. “It was a grave mistake and I should account for it, but it’s done.” I couldn’t help but to notice the human couple again, still lost in their closeness. My eyes wandered to them and he caught it.

  He said with a wide smile on his face, “Have you chosen your meal for the evening?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The humans.” He looked over his shoulder and began to watch what I had been watching. “Are they going to be your meal for the night?”

  “I don’t want to eat them, but their presence is distracting me. We should have met in another place—somewhere far away from humans. Preferably a place with no music.”

  “With what we’re dealing with now, a public place is ideal.” He repositioned himself and his eyes fixated on me. “Besides, I like watching humans having fun. Their choice in clothes, music, and company is quite interesting.”

  It was just like Nicias to meander over things that I didn’t have any desire to understand, nor be part of. Unlike me, he loved being in a human environment. I wanted him to get back on track. “Is Kyra still angry with me?”

  “Yes,” he quickly replied. “However, she’s giving you an opportunity to correct your mistake.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice.

  “How?” I asked. “Tell me. I’m all ears.”

  “Kyra was the only one who could decipher the spell to release the Pure Ones from Limbo, until Lucius stole that information from her mind. Now that he is dead, we need both pieces of the Dark Curse tablet. The Brotherhood has one and her human researcher friend, Nathan, has the other.”

  “That damn thing should’ve been destroyed eons ago.” I thought I’d heard the last about that tablet during the fight at the warehouse in Minneapolis. Everything I knew about it I learned from Kyra. That tablet contained the spells which created Deamhan and Limbo. She said that many Deamhan in the past died to keep the two pieces of the broken tablet out the hands of The Brotherhood and other Deamhan. Maris was the key to all of this, but Kyra snatched the information from her mind, freeing her from the burden. What startled us all was that Maris’ blood, straight from her own veins, was still needed for the spell to work.

  “The Dark Curse is the only way to put Amenirdis back in Limbo, where she belongs.”

  “So Kyra wants me to get the piece from the human?” I asked.

  “She wants you to steal it.”

  I shot him a bewildered look. “But she’s friends with Nathan? Why not just ask him to give it to her?”

  “Right now, as we speak, he and his Deamhan friends are doubting Kyra’s intentions. That human believes that the piece he has should remain out of the hands of any Deamhan, including her.”

  The news troubled me, but also confirmed my suspicions. Not only did I question Kyra’s motives, but the only human friend she had questioned them as well.

  Nicias continued. “Also, The Brotherhood are gathering their forces. They see us as their number one threat. Soon they will regroup with the Dorvo vampires to take us all out.”

  “You talk as if we should be afraid of The Brotherhood.”

  “You’ve lived long enough to remember the time when we feared them.”

  I remembered the time clearly. Before, I didn’t care about Dorvo vampires and their threat to Deamhan. Kyra knew the famous Dorvo, the vampire who existed and survived during those ancient days. During the time of the Pure Ones, he wasn’t a vampire, he was but a man; an assistant to the Kashs
hapu who created our kind. To me, these stories meant little. They were nothing more but superstitions created by vampires to make Deamhan cower in our boots. Instead of realize that we were, in fact, created to destroy all vampires, regardless of their origins. We could feed from them. For me, that was all the leverage we needed. However, they matched us in strength and speed. If they decided to place their differences aside with The Brotherhood and team up with them again, they would turn out to be a force we couldn’t take lightly.

  “You don’t have to remind me Nicias.” I smacked my lips. “Maybe it’s exactly what Deamhan need to finally work together.”

  “So would you place your need to kill Anastasia on the back burner?”

  “I’d rather not. It wasn’t a pleasant experience.”

  “You will have to, again. She wants you to go back to the city, but not for her.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “Kyra promised that I would get my revenge if I did what she asked. I followed through on my promise.”

  “And you did. You killed Finley.”

  “Finley didn’t kill Oliver!” I chortled in despair. “I’ve patiently waited for over a hundred years for this moment. I obeyed Kyra’s will. I’ve held back my anger. Now you’re telling me that she wants me to wait a little more?” I studied him closely.

  “Yes, that is exactly what I’m telling you.”

  Only if I was older could I rampage his thoughts and wade through all the bullshit to find the truth. Ancient Deamhan, like himself, were supposed to look out for our kind, but now I wasn’t so sure. Was Kyra doing this for her own interest and what did Nicias get out of it? Was I just some pawn that could be disposed of at will? Nicias never cared that Anastasia killed his offspring, who was also my sire—Don’t think of his name, Ayden.

  “So I’m to go back and do what?”

  “You are to go back and kill Maris.”