Her dark dreadlocks rested on her slim shoulders. Wearing only a long white shirt, she stood still, holding a small lifeless rabbit in her right hand. Her caramel colored skin contrasted beautiful with the night time background. I saw fear in her eyes.
“Ayden?”
I also sensed her nervousness. “Hello Hallie.”
“What are you doing here?”
Her question startled me. There was only one reason why I’d come back to the manor and she knew it. I stared into her brown eyes and pushed my influence into her mind. At first she tried to push back and her eyes widened when she realized that she couldn’t stop my intrusion. She dropped her rabbit.
“You know why I’m here.”
“You’re here for Anastasia.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Lying to me isn’t the smart thing to do. You understand, right?” I continued to read her thoughts, picking up on how she felt about my presence. I pitied her and it took a lot in me to feel that way for another Deamhan. We were both Metusba and somewhere underneath my desire for revenge I felt that because we shared common traits we had to look out for each other.
“Where is she?”
“Stop invading my mind!” Her body began to shake.
It dawned on me that she didn’t know Anastasia’s whereabouts. I stood back, giving her room to relax and gather her wits. I could have killed her, but that would only show that I could. She couldn’t stop me from what I came here to do. “I had to...just to make sure.”
“No, you didn’t. You enjoy it.”
“I don’t enjoy such things.”
“Who’s lying now?” She spurted back. “All Deamhan like hurting people!”
“I’m not like the Deamhan you know,” I replied. “The ones you live with...they like hurting people.” She didn’t react to my statement. Instead she remained still. “Anastasia is a clear example of a Deamhan who likes to use their strength and power to get what they want.” Through my sense of smell, I sensed the parameter of the manor. Picking up no other scents but my own and Hallie’s, I decided now was a good time as any to enter the sanctuary.
“She isn’t like that anymore,” she said.
“She’s still the same. Nothing’s changed about that Ramanga!” I gawked at her.
“You don’t know that.” She placed her hands firmly on her hips and rolled her head in deviance. “The first night you came here, you and Maris were already at her throat. At least Maris has figured it out and calmed down a bit.”
I laughed. “Maris hasn’t calmed down. She’s biding her time.”
“Yeah...well.” She didn’t know what else to say and like a spoiled child she pointed at me. “You’re just doing what you say she does.”
“Why are you sticking up for her?” Now agitated, I raised my voice and thought how everyone at Blind Bluff Manor always stood up for Anastasia.
“I’m not sticking up for her. I’m sticking up for you. You’ll regret this in the end.”
“I don’t need your advice. I’m not the one who’s killed thousands of humans and Deamhan because I could.” I didn’t know what to do with her or how to break down her impromptu defense for Anastasia. I couldn’t just kill her, although that felt like the easiest answer than just walking away. I needed to understand how and why she came to her conclusion, which was a stark difference from the way she felt about Anastasia when I first came to Blind Bluff Manor weeks ago.
“All you guys ever do is lie, kill, and eat. Don’t you get tired of it?” she asked while staring back at me with petrified eyes. “When are you all going to realize that killing each other isn’t the answer?”
“You haven’t lived long enough to know that this is how disputes between Deamhan are handled.” I argued back. “My business with her doesn’t concern you.”
“It’s easy to hold a grudge with her than to forgive her for what she’s done. I chose to forgive her and by doing so, I believe that it’ll change everything for the better. That’s what separates the wicked from the righteous.”
“You’re living in a fantasy world. This isn’t a movie. This is real life—the dark side of Deamhan. Either you can accept it or ignore it. Your choice.”
She spoke valiantly, but that wasn’t the case in a real world setting. Eventually the Deamhan side would take over. It always did.
“Either way, I’m done talking to you.” I turned around. “When I fight her don’t interfere unless you want to die.” I walked toward the front door of the sanctuary. “That’s the righteous side of me showing you mercy.”
♦ ♦ ♦
The front door to Blind Bluff Manor was locked. I mustered my strength and kicked at it, breaking the door from its hedges. Pieces of broken wood scattered across the floor, stopping near marble statues.
Although this was my second time being in the manor, I never bothered to stop and examine its fancy decor. All in all it looked like a modern home fit for a wealthy human family. Besides sniffing the smell of a human and Deamhan in the air, I also picked up on incense and human food coming from a back room to my left. I stood silently, trying to pick up any sound with my acute Deamhan hearing. I heard water dripping from a faucet in the kitchen, the sound of a wood crackling in a fire place, and a human heartbeat coming from Nathan’s study.
I made my way to the room. The smell of coffee along with lemon tea filtrated my nostrils. Just because I didn’t catch Anastasia’s scent didn’t mean that she wasn’t around. I envisioned that she’d appear out of the woodwork attacking me, so I kept guard.
Nathan sat in a chair near the fireplace with his back to me. A dark thick cover rested on his lap. He had gray thinning hair with black streaks, near his hairline, by his ears. When he turned his head slightly to look at me, I didn’t see any fear. His age overtook his wrinkled face.
“Nathan Tiernan,” I said in a solemn voice.
“I’ve had that front door replaced five times in the last year.” He pulled the cover up to his chin, snuggling it in the nape of his neck.
I took no time in asking about Anastasia. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know. She hasn’t been here for days.”
So maybe Hallie hadn’t lied to me. Still, I needed more information. “Do you know where she is? The sooner you tell me, the sooner I’ll leave your home.”
“Did Kyra send you?”
“No.”
“So you didn’t come for the piece of the Dark Curse?”
“Eventually, but first things first. Where is she?”
“So, Kyra did send you.” He swiveled slowly in his chair, allowing me full view. That’s when I noticed a distinct and stark smell emanating from his body, specifically his mouth. It smelled like his insides had rotted away. I didn’t remember the horrid scent the last time I came to the manor. He was deathly sick.
“Kyra has nothing to do with why I’m here.”
“But you just admitted that you’re here for the Curse.”
His relationship with Kyra went back a few decades. Even Nathan’s father, Butch, had history with both her and myself. The Tiernan family was the only family in The Brotherhood that could be trusted...to an extent. Kyra trusted Butch with the piece of the Dark Curse and in doing so, he followed through, keeping it out of the hands of both researchers and Deamhan. However I swayed more toward Maris’ side during that time. We both wanted the piece destroyed. Kyra forbid it and I questioned why, but like many other Deamhan who followed her orders, Nicias included, I obeyed blindly. Now, I wasn’t so sure that she had the best intentions for all Deamhan in mind. I knew that Nicias didn’t.
“Where is she!?” I grew tired of asking the same question.
“Probably dealing with important matters at hand.”
“What important matters?”
He eyed me carefully. “Did you forget, that there is a Pure Deamhan on the loose? Did you forget about the Dorvo vampires?”
“That sounds like your problem, not mi
ne.” I stepped toward him. “Anastasia’s death is due to me.”
“I may not know much about you, but I know everything there is to know about her.” He lifted his arm and pointed to a bookcase on my left. “Pick one.”
At first I didn’t understand the connection, but after taking a closer look, I realized that the books on the shelves weren’t books at all. They were journals, written by researchers in The Brotherhood. They were lined up and neatly packed together. There were over a hundred of them and I did grow curious as to what information they held. Some looked old while others looked fairly new. Written on the side of each journal were names that I recognized: Remy, Selene, and Lucius. I rubbed my finger along the spine of each book until I came to one. It was beaten and barely held together. It had Anastasia’s name written on it with torn pieces of paper marking specific entries.
“Go ahead.” Nathan spoke. “Open it.”
After removing it from the shelf I slowly opened it to the first marked entry and began to read.
“Fall, 1840. I have followed the Ramanga for a few days and already I regret taking the assignment. She is the most brutal and destructive creature on the face of the planet. Her lack of emotion for not only humans but Deamhan as well is extraordinary and frightening at times. Today I witnessed her torture and savagely murder another one of her kind for thrill. The Metusba Deamhan stood no chance against her cleverness and gruffness. In the midst of her kill, she succinctly made conversation to her offspring, Finley, about successful ways to kill another one of their own. Apparently she wanted to see if she would be victorious against a Metusba twice her age. I do not know the name of this older Metusba that she has slaughtered but after tonight I will inform the Chapter of his death so that the person responsible for researching him is made aware of his passing.”
I immediately wanted to throw the book across the room. I couldn’t believe how the journal entry described my sire’s death precisely. At that time, there weren’t any humans around that I could remember. My sire’s death warranted more than just a simple entry. Oliver was much more than that and he deserved to be remembered. I skimmed forward at the remaining entries which described more of Anastasia’s atrocities. I already knew much of it so I violently tossed the book aside.
“What does a journal entry, written by a human over a hundred years ago, have anything to do with the present?”
Nathan pointed to another book. “Just read.”
I growled and picked up another journal written about her. This one was also marked.
“I have been careful to not get close to the Ramanga while still being able to keep an eye on her. It has been fairly easy to follow the path of mangled bodies that she and her three offspring leave behind. Her peculiar behavior and travels have made me realize that she is extremely family oriented and in need of company; human and her own. She keeps her offspring close and entrusts them for protection. Today she found her human mark; the daughter of a well-known prostitute. Like many of my fellow researchers, I estimated that the Ramanga knew about the high population of Dorvo vampires in London. A group of them attacked the poor girl and while the Ramanga could have intervened, she decided to wait until the human girl was on the brink of death. For what, only God knows.”
This entry specifically referred to the night Anastasia sired Maris. Any Deamhan associated with that history knew why she waited. She saw Maris as not a victim, but as leverage to be used against Kyra and others. I examined the first page of the book, seeing the name of Claudius Tiernan written in cursive handwriting.
“So, your family has been researching Anastasia.” I looked to Nathan.
“Keep reading.” He pointed to another journal.
I dropped Claudius’ journal to the floor and reached for one that looked fairly new. It was in better condition and not marked like the other ones.
“I met the elusive Ramanga that my ancestors had written so much about. From what I remember from their journals, they described Anastasia as ferocious, evil, and bloodthirsty. No researcher wanted to be assigned to her, except my grandfather, Claudius Tiernan. So it didn’t surprise me that she came to Minneapolis, tracked me down, and wanted to kill me. What did surprise me was the loyalty she had toward Lucius, an Ancient Lugat who recently went missing. After a few days I noticed that she began to trust me and no longer wanted to kill me. She heard about Lucius’ disappearance and inquired about my help. However, that’s not the only reason she came to the city. She also wishes to locate her own sire who abandoned her centuries ago. She wants revenge. I’m not sure if I can persuade her to change her mind.”
I read another passage.
“She blames her sire, Lucia, for turning her into the demon that she sees herself as. According to her, Lucia warped her and made her into an unstoppable killing machine with no remorse for her actions. I’ve explained to her that although this did occur and that she has every right to blame Lucia, she still needs to take responsibility for her actions. It will take much time and work to make her understand that it’s not too late for her to change. To do so, she has to look toward her future and in Deamhan terms, a future can be forever.”
Again I flipped through it, reading a recent entry, written only a few days ago by Nathan himself.
“Dealing with Lucius’ death has taken a toll on Anastasia, but not for the worse. For the first time since I’ve come to personally know her, I can tell that she thinks a lot about her past actions. These last few days she has talked to me about Ayden and Maris. She has decided on her own that she is going to do what she should have done as a sire. She will make amends with Maris for as long as it takes. Not only because she has to, but because the fate of all Deamhan require her to. As for Ayden, she doesn’t know how to make her approach. Deep inside she wants to revert back to what she knows best; killing, but I’ve cautioned her about taking that route. For the first time, she told me that she has to correct the mistake she caused in his life. This is progress! I have high hopes for Anastasia. She is near the prime of Ancient and Lord knows that there is a void in the Deamhan world of Ancients who will stand up for their fellow brethren. I know that our friendship will last until my dying breath for she has trusted me with information she deems close to her heart.”
This time I didn’t toss the journal aside. Instead I closed it gently and placed it back on the shelf. Did he expect me to believe that Anastasia had changed after four hundred years? Did he honestly believe that I would stop my desire for revenge and leave his manor a happy and satisfied Deamhan? I didn’t believe it for one moment. There was no way that after all this time she would change. Deamhan like her never change.
“Kyra mentioned to me that you had a vibrant and interesting history Ayden,” Nathan said. “You were deeply bonded to your sire-”
I slammed my hand against the bookcase, making it rattle back and forth. “I don’t share my personal information with humans, especially anyone related to The Brotherhood.”
“Maybe you should.” He stood up from his chair.
“I didn’t come here for a therapy session, Nathan. I came here for her. So tell me where she-” Before I could finish my sentence I heard the floor creaking behind me. Then I smelled her. Her scent made my nose burn and my thoughts revert back to the early days of my Deamhan life. I slowly turned around.
Anastasia stood in the doorway wearing a black turtle neck shirt with matching black jeans. She had pulled her dark hair back, revealing a face that I could never forget as long as I lived. Her deep brown eyes pierced into my own and her full lips opened slightly.
I moved my eyes slowly to Nathan who had yet to take his sight off me. She caught my quick eye movement and walked forward. Thinking she was going to act, I immediately moved back. Instead, she approached the fireplace and began to stoke the fire. “Did he hurt you?” she asked him in a gentle voice.
“No. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded.
Her conduct toward him stupefied me. W
e never cared about the wellbeing of humans, but here she was, throwing all that learned behavior out the window.
A nod ended their brief conversation and now I had her undivided attention. She stared at the fire and its glow shined, brightening the right side of her face. “How long have you been here?”
“Long enough.” I saw nothing but red and the primal force inside me wanted to launch everything I had at her.
“Not here.”
“You don’t get to make that decision.”
“It’s already made. Not here.” She turned and headed for the front door. “There is open land about a mile to the left.”
I slowly followed her, watching her step over the broken front door before heading outside.
She stood on the porch for a few seconds. “We have three hours before sunrise to do this.”
“All I need is a few minutes,” I replied back to her.
6
A BOND BROKEN
The moon hung brightly over our head, lightning up the corn dead stalks around us. I circled around Anastasia with my body crouched low, looking for an opening to make the first strike. Instead of preparing herself for my attack, she stood still and looking fatigued. Her eyes locked onto almost everything around us except me.
Even though I once managed to overpower her, this time it wasn’t going to be easy. After all she was still much older, faster, and stronger. If she gained the upper hand at any point, that would be the end of me. However, just by examining her, she didn’t look impressed by the duel that was to come.
Was she really different now, according to what I read in those journals in Nathan’s study? How could anyone forgive her of all people? First she lived with a human, which wasn’t like her. She also protected Veronica—another human who Lucius somewhat cared for as well. Had she really changed? Her appearance seemed to prove that. She had cut her hair into a modern hairstyle. Deamhan are only kept alive by the psychic energy which replenishes our own. This meant that our hair would grow just like a human and the more we ate, the stronger and healthier our skin looked.
Deamhan Chronicles, Books 1-5: Deamhan, Kei. Family Matters, Dark Curse, Maris. The Brotherhood Files, Ayden. Deamhan Minion Page 78