Deception (Deamhan Chronicles Book 3)

by Morrison, Isaiyan

  “So the third floor is where I should look for her.” Remy tapped his chin. “What are on the other floors?”

  “I’m not sure. From what I remember, the vampire didn’t make it that far. He couldn’t stop all the mercenaries so he ran out of there and came back to the city. About a month later, they found him and staked him.” He leaned back in the couch, placing his hands on the back of his head. “I told him that he shouldn’t have went. It was a fool’s errand.”

  “Doesn’t sound all that bad.”

  “I’m sure it’s a lot worse now. Expect a fight and your possible death if you decide to go. Then again, The Brotherhood does have an active Chapter in the city. Maybe you should pay them a visit?”

  “Maybe I will or maybe I won’t.”

  “This city...” Lambert closed his eyes and a solemn expression overtook his face. “It’s my home and it hurts me deeply to imagine its future.” He opened them. “Things haven’t been the same since Kei’s dethronement. Thinking back on it now, I believe kicking him out of the city was the worst thing we could have ever done.”

  “Times weren’t better then,” Remy replied. “Kei was just as homicidal and delusional as Lucius. Sanctuaries were being set ablaze, Deamhan were pitted against each other.”

  “And the violence increased after he was kicked out. Our dark world hasn’t been the same since and it can never go back to the way it was, when Lucius ruled.” At a leisurely pace, Lambert’s eyes tapered. “The streets are flooded with Dorvo vampires, looking to fill the gaps left behind by your kind. The ones that do remain stay in the shadows or the comfort of their sanctuaries. We vampires are feeling the pinch.” He rubbed his chin. “Speaking of which, I do know of one.”

  “One what?”

  “A Deamhan sanctuary. Still alive and kicking, for now.”

  “And?”

  “If you decide to stay instead of leave, you should find this sanctuary. The Deamhan there are young, without anyone to lead them—”

  “I’m not some messiah. I don’t care about orphans. What would I do with them anyway?”

  “It’s going to take more than just you and Anastasia to hold back this Dorvo threat.”

  “Not interested. So, what about that money?”

  Lambert pondered. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I need an answer now.”

  “Go back to your sanctuary. I will meet you there before sunrise to give you the funds you need.” He moved forward and swiped his finger over a small pool of blood on the glass table. “I don’t expect for you to pay me back. Consider the money, my gift.” He placed his finger in his mouth, sucking away the sticky substance.

  Remy bowed and proceeded to the exit. He grabbed the doorknob when the vampire’s voice interrupted his stride.

  “Oh, by the way, how’s Nathan?”

  He peered over his shoulder. “Nathan is Nathan.”

  “His health, Remy. I want to know how he’s doing.”

  “I think he’s dying. He smells like death. He reeks of aspirin and tea and rotting flesh.” He opened the door. “Hallie brings him medication here and there, but it isn’t helping. I volunteered to kill him or sire him, but he refused. I guess he prefers a slow, painful death.”

  “Nathan has pride. He won’t allow a Deamhan or vampire to turn him.”

  “I guess you’ve tried too? What about just giving him a small taste of your blood? Doesn’t it heal humans?”

  “Yes and it has other important properties, but he won’t allow that either.”

  “Hmm. He’s a hard human to convince.”

  “Reminds me of you.”

  “I doubt that.” Remy grinned. “I’m far prettier.” He closed the door behind him.

  1

  DECEPTION. DEAMHAN CHRONCILES #3

  CHAPTER NINE

  The moment Remy left Dark Sepulcher, he let his nose direct him toward The Brotherhood’s Chapter location.

  Although Lambert’s information proved useful, like the vampire told him, it was outdated. He needed to know what he was up against besides shotguns and mercenaries. What could possibly go wrong with a short and unexpected visit anyway?

  The Chapter location was located a few blocks from the vampire club. When Remy encroached on it, he noticed that the one-story building was locked. He carefully looked through the glass, noticing no movement inside.

  “Well, this sucks.” He sighed to himself. He shook the lock and then waited until the noise of trash scratching along the pavement, pushed by the wind, caught his attention. He walked around the building, still absorbing whatever human scent lingered around him, until he made his way to the back. There he saw a human male throwing three bags into a huge green trash bin.

  “Excuse me,” Remy spoke, catching the human’s attention. “You’re a researcher, right?”

  Without warning the male threw one of the bags at Remy and ran for the back entrance.

  “I like it when they run.” He rushed toward the frightened male and placed him in a headlock. “I need to have a moment with your boss.” Dragging his new jittery captive along, he walked through the entrance and pushed the male to the ground. “Go tell him I’m here.” He watched the human crawl on the floor, rise to his feet, and run down the hall.

  Remy leaned against the doorframe, waiting for researchers to appear with their weapons at the ready. His nose didn’t pick up any signs of Dorvo vampires (which was a relief.) It was just him and the humans.

  He couldn’t wait to set his eyes on Kenneth, the man responsible for taking away his Veronica. Every inch of him wanted to gut the annoying researcher, but he had to keep his cool. Tonight just wasn’t about his needs, however dark they were.

  He heard soft footsteps approaching. A medium height woman with shoulder-length dark hair and big brown eyes approached him. He had never seen her before.

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” he said. “I want to talk to your boss.”

  “I’m the boss here.”

  He tilted his head to the side and examined her soft body, which didn’t quite fit her stern voice. “Is that so.” He smiled briefly. “So you’re the new President? What happened to Kenneth?”

  “No. I’m the new Midwest Region Leader. What do you want, Deamhan?”

  This could be interesting. He smiled again but this time with an intriguing gesture. “So you’re not one of their many disposable members?” She was attractive, for a human, but not as beautiful as his Veronica. Her lips were plump and her breasts sat at just the right height. “What’s your name?”

  “What do you want?” Not amused by his slight charm, she asked again.

  A mercenary appeared behind her, holding an AK-47 pointed at him. The weapon caught him by surprise. “I hope you know how to use that.” He took a step forward. “I’d hate for you to miss.”

  The woman nodded and the mercenary stood down. “We all know how to use them.”

  “And where to aim?” He took another step forward and instead of backing away, she moved toward him.

  “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “I know.” He looked over her shoulder at the mercenary. “But he is.”

  “He doesn’t know any better, but I do.”

  “Do you?” He moved in closer, hearing her heartbeat, which remained steady.

  “I know who you are, how you act.” She moved up and he felt her breasts up against his chest. “Remy Durand. Birth date: 1830, France. Sire Date: 1849.” She walked forward, forcing him to step back. “Sire’s name: Julian of Endor. Lamia Deamhan.”

  “Not impressed.”

  “First encounter with Amenirdis: late 1800s. First encounter with Dorvo vampires: mid 1880s. First love: Ruby, 1885.” She continued her advance and pushed him against a metal cabinet.

  “Wrong. My first love was in 1849.” The cold steel, hard against his back, mimicked the way she glared at him. Pushing gently into her thoughts, he saw a brick wall, which—to his surprise—wasn’t easy to break through.

&nb
sp; “Current love: Veronica Austin.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Kenneth should know.”

  “He’s not here.”

  “Now, you’re lying to me.” He laughed. The longer they talked about Veronica, the more he noticed the woman’s distaste and bitterness for her. It was so ripe he could literally taste it in the air. “If you don’t like her, then you should let her go. I’ll gladly take her.”

  She raised her right eyebrow. “Never thought I’d see the day that a Deamhan actually believes they can love.”

  “Oh, we can love, my dear uneducated researcher.” His lips grazed her right cheek. “Apparently, you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” In Deamhan speed, he placed his hands on her shoulders. He switched spots and now held her against the metal cabinet. His quick movement didn’t terrify her. Instead, with her eyes still hooked into his own, she tried to push back. Her attempt only egged him on.

  She opened her mouth and he felt her hot breath against his cheek. “Are you threatening me?”

  “Only if you want me to.” He planted his lips over her own, forcing his tongue into her mouth. He expected her to pull away but with her head stopped by the cold steel, she wasn’t left with any option to avoid his sultry advance. His right hand slithered down to her belly button while his tongue continued its attack, clashing against her teeth and the roof of her mouth. Preoccupied, he felt her mental brick wall collapse, allowing him easy access into her thoughts.

  Suddenly, he felt a strong pinch against his tongue and he pulled back, feeling drops of his own blood against his lips.

  “I’m not Veronica.” She pushed him away.

  “You’re right. Veronica prefers biting me in other places.” He straightened his composure. “But you, Johanna...you’re a totally different type of freak.”

  She snarled. “You need to leave.”

  “But I haven’t told you why I’m here.” He winked.

  Her eyes moved beyond him and he heard the sounds of the AK-47 being loaded.

  “You should strive to be on my good side, love. It’s better for you in the long run.”

  “You don’t have a good side.”

  Looking over his shoulder, he studied the scared mercenary. In his mind he dissected the possibility of the bullets, filled with slivers of wood, hitting his body. He also questioned if having a bullet specially made for Deamhan was even possible. While the idea of going toe to toe with the mercenary tickled his fancy, he wasn’t in the mood to bleed all over the floor.

  A familiar scent—Kenneth’s scent —coming from the front of the building, moved Remy to pry his attention away from Johanna. He waited and seconds later he saw him walking down the hallway. Wearing a dark business suit, Kenneth stood with his arms folded and his head held high, across from him.

  “What happened to the trench coats?” Remy asked. “Isn’t that part of the researcher wardrobe?” Seeing the lying sack of shit brought his memories back to the night he and Anastasia made a deal in exchange for his help against Lucius and Selene. Still not thrilled about the decision, Kenneth now knew everything he could about his fondness for Veronica.

  “You.” Kenneth’s tongue slithered from his small mouth as he spoke.

  “Me.” Remy pointed to the journal he gripped in his hand. “I didn’t know you read.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “You know why. I’m here for Veronica.”

  “She’s not here.”

  “I know that.”

  “So we’re done, then.” He pointed to the door. “You heard Johanna. Leave.”

  “Not until you tell me what I want to know and if you don’t, I’ll tell everyone here you’re little secret.”

  “What secret?”

  “Oh, just something I know about Veronica’s father.”

  “Her father is dead.”

  “That’s nice and all, but he isn’t dead.”

  “He’s dead. I saw it.”

  “Oh, is that what you’re telling them?”

  “Mr. Austin knew the dangers of being close to any Deamhan.”

  “He isn’t dead.” He snatched the journal from Kenneth’s grasp. “That old man’s still kicking.” He skimmed through the pages.

  “He gave his life trying to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. At least have the decency to respect that.”

  Remy stopped on a page. Glaring at the journal date, he realized that the entry took place a month before Mr. Austin whisked his young daughter out of Minneapolis and to San Diego. The writing contained short sentences. Something a child would write. He began to read. “‘Deamhan unruly. Lucius is in charge. Don’t know how long it will last. He’s intriguing. Desires to have peace among researchers and his own kind’.”

  Kenneth retook the journal. “You know what your problem is?”

  “Please, do tell.” He leaned forward with a wide smile on his face.

  “You don’t know the difference between love and obsession.”

  “People keep telling me this.” He shrugged. “But I just can’t find it in myself to care about what they think.”

  “You think that this love you have for her makes you different that other Deamhan. Instead it makes you deadlier. Perhaps deadlier than Amenirdis.”

  “Huh.” Remy pondered. “That’s a first.”

  “You don’t know your limit, but you’ll find out soon.”

  “No. I think it’s you who doesn’t know their limit. You think you can just get away with murder, blame it all on the Deamhan, and everything will be all right in your world.” He looked at Johanna. “But she knows what you’re capable of, as do I.”

  “Veronica doesn’t love you. You are a Lamia Deamhan. What makes you think she’ll love you?”

  “Because I’m the one keeping her father alive.”

  “No. You’re the one who killed her father.”

  Remy felt his smile withering from his face. The conversation, once in his control, took a sharp turn. Now he stood on the end, belittled by Kenneth’s accusations. “I’d be careful about what you say to me. There aren’t enough mercenaries around to save you this time.”

  “I’m not scared of you.”

  “I can make you scared of me.”

  “You can hurt me; kill me. It won’t matter. As long as Deamhan exist, our organization will continue to thrive. This is about safety in numbers, which we now have. No longer will mothers, fathers, and families lose their loved ones because of your kind. We’re doing exactly what our forefathers created the organization for in the first place! We aren’t researching Deamhan anymore. This is about revenge.”

  “So, you gonna’ round us all up and put us in cages, are you?” Remy’s eyes turned black. “Gonna’ torture us? Keep our remains in little buckets so you can poke at it with sticks?”

  “If that’s what I have to do.”

  Kenneth had gone too far and Remy didn’t want to play his game any longer. In a flash he moved, corralling him by his neck and lifting him inches off the floor. With the snap of his wrist, Remy flung him across the room and onto a nearby table. Outrage fueled his movements and he threw himself on top of Kenneth who had yet to recover from what happened.

  “I can kill you faster than your mercenary can pull the trigger.”

  “Do it.”

  “You would want that.” Remy pressed his fingers hard into the soft tissue of his neck. “So I’ll grant you that wish.” With his left hand seated on top of Kenneth’s head, he jerked slightly. He wanted to break the idiot’s neck and force him into sweet oblivion, but the hard steel from the barrel of the Ak-47 against his back, made him pause in his revenge.

  “Who’ll be around to save Veronica after you’re gone?” Kenneth grunted.

  Veronica’s well-being was his number-one priority. Sure, his love for her had something to do with it as well, but he didn’t want to face the consequences of killing Kenneth at that moment. For now the annoying rese
archer would survive another night in a town full of ravaging Dorvo Vampires and the woman from his own murky past who led them.

  He released his death grip and stepped back.

  “It’s about time you start showing more respect to me.” Kenneth stood to his feet.

  “Ehh, you probably wouldn’t tell me what I wanted to know anyway.” He blinked and once his eyes settled to their natural color of brown, he placed his hands in his pockets and walked casually to the door.

  “Not in a million years,” he replied.

  “It was worth the try.”

  “I’ll tell Ruby that you stopped by,” Johanna called after him.

  Her statement didn’t disturb his stride. Before disappearing out into the city, he stopped, turned back, and chuckled at her. “Don’t let that one go,” he said to Kenneth while pointing at her. “She bites.”

  1

  DECEPTION. DEAMHAN CHRONCILES #3

  CHAPTER TEN

  “You didn’t come last night! I could’ve starved.” Mr. Austin slammed his left hand on the mattress.

  “Take it easy. You only have one hand left.” Holding onto a bag of groceries, Remy crept slowly into the room. The candle’s flickering flame cast an overshadowed glow on the old man’s face. “I had to make a few stops first.”

  “Where’s the coffee maker? Where in the fuck is my hazelnut coffee and my cigar!”

  Remy leaned against the wooden table, bracing his hands on the edge of it. He did promise the old man the very things he complained about, but his previous visits to Dark Sepulcher and The Brotherhood Chapter took him off course.

  After speaking with Lambert, he realized that his plan to rescue Veronica would take more than Maris’ amulet and good luck. His tense conversation with Kenneth and his new accomplice, Johanna, also further proved that he needed something else; something viable and he had it all along. He decided to trade Mr. Austin for his daughter, but taking the old man across state lines wasn’t going to be easy. First, he had to verify the information Lambert told him about The Headquarters. Second, he had to make sure Mr. Austin was in pristine health for the trip. Third, he had to plan his route, which would take weeks. And there was also the thought of how to make sure the old man didn’t stake him before they reached their destination.