Deamhan

by Isaiyan Morrison

  During his walk, he played the upcoming scenario in his mind. He expected Kenneth to be at the bar, with researchers in tow. Kenneth would question why he refused to obey Mr. Austin’s orders by escorting Veronica to Blind Bluff Manor, by refusing to leave her apartment and check into the Gathewait Hotel, and obtaining more documents. Then Kenneth would blurt out what part of The Brotherhood oath Sean had broken, to be taken off his assignment, the researchers would surround him, and escort him back to their hotel to be processed before being put on a plane back to San Diego. But Sean already decided that he wasn’t going to go willingly, which would make the meeting less than joyous.

  Breaking The Brotherhood oath was the lowest level any researcher could achieve. However, it was also the easiest thing to accomplish as a researcher. Just by saying “no” meant risking any advancement in the organization. Sean knew at an early age that he’d break at least the oath, “to follow and obey the commands of your superiors under all costs,” but what sane human being would follow any orders so blindly?

  Question authority. That was one law that he held dear to his heart.

  Sean also didn’t understand why Kenneth chose the bar rather than their hotel room for this meeting. A bar wasn’t a typical Brotherhood meeting place, especially in a city teeming with Deamhan. Sean reached into the pocket of his jeans to double check the knife. The dull blade ran against his fingers but he hoped it wouldn’t fail him if he needed it for protection. He crossed the street at a busy intersection, near a group of teenagers at a bus shelter, frolicking on their skateboards. He passed them and whispered a muted greeting but they didn’t answer back.

  He approached the bar and slowly reached for the door handle. He opened the door, hearing the sound of a football game blaring over the muted sound of music coming from the juke box. Stacked chairs lined the walls of the empty bar. His nose caught the weak odor of old beer. Near the back bar, he heard pool balls clashing together and Kenneth’s voice welcoming him in.

  Kenneth’s smile grew wide and it made Sean uneasy. His attire consisted of a black trench coat, black turtle neck sweater, and black pants—trademark clothing for field researchers. Sean quickly and cautiously scanned the area, expecting that Veronica’s father sent researchers with him, but he didn’t see anyone else around except for the bartender watching a football game on television.

  “Your outfit just screams Brotherhood.” Sean stood next to the pool table.

  Kenneth glanced over his clothing. He grabbed a pool stick and reached for a stack of quarters neatly placed on the edge of the pool table. “I just finished a game. You want in?”

  Sean sneered. Even in a city filled with Deamhan, Kenneth’s demeanor gave off an odor of self-worthiness. The way he carried himself, the way he smiled, the way he popped the quarters into the slots on the side of the pool table, the way he positioned the balls in the triangle—it annoyed Sean. He didn’t see why Mr. Austin placed trust in a person whose only care in the world evolved around sucking up to superiors to move ahead in the world and who wore different shades of black clothing, to emphasis his status as a researcher.

  “I didn’t expect you to come to Minneapolis so soon.”

  “It wasn’t the plan. But a few inconsistencies and issues surrounding your assignment worried Mr. Austin at the last minute.” Kenneth smiled at the position of the triangle on the pool table. He removed the triangle and tossed it to the side. “Like taking his daughter to Blind Bluff Manor.”

  Sean swallowed hard. “Like I told Mr. Austin before I left. His daughter isn’t easy to influence.”

  “And like Mr. Austin said, that’s where your expertise comes into play,” Kenneth rudely replied back.

  “How long did you think she’d believe the whole ‘sanctuary fires might be the problem for everything’ scenario?” Sean responded. “The girl’s smarter than that.”

  Kenneth sharpened his pool stick and took aim. “Yes, but she’s also determined and easy to influence.” He released his grip and Sean watched the balls swirl around the table with one ball heading toward the right corner pocket. “That’s why you were chosen for this assignment, Sean,” Kenneth explained as he walked around the pool table. “And it was a simple assignment really.”

  “You call this an assignment?”

  “Yes, I do.” Kenneth walked around Sean to the other side of the table and positioned himself for the next shot. “As a Brotherhood member, it’s not your call to question.” He took aim again and watched another ball ease its way into the side pocket. “You do the job that’s assigned to you.”

  “I didn’t want this job or the assignment.”

  Kenneth placed the pool stick on the table. “This game is boring. I don’t see why anyone likes pool.” He looked up at Sean. “Tell me, what did Nathan Tiernan tell you when you went to Blind Bluff Manor?”

  Sean paused. They knew about Nathan and his sanctuary. If he told Kenneth everything, it would jeopardize Veronica’s search and he didn’t want to fail her again. He had to choose his next words carefully.

  Sean let out an annoying sigh. “Nothing we already didn't know.”

  “Are you lying to me, Sean?” Kenneth shook his head. “Because lying to your new Region Leader is strictly forbidden and goes against the oath you took years ago.”

  Sean breathed in deeply. “Like I said. Nothing we already knew.”

  Kenneth shrugged and continued his assault. “Mr. Austin is not happy with your poor and miserable performance. You’ve failed him, your sisters, and brothers in The Brotherhood. Not to mention, you were given the simple task to check into the hotel on Hennepin Avenue and you decided to ignore that and still stay at her apartment.” He clapped his hands together. “I’m afraid, Sean that your mission will end here and now. You are ordered to go back to San Diego where you will be reprimanded in front of a Brotherhood court of your peers, who will then decide on what punishment to give you.”

  “Bullshit,” Sean hastily replied. “I’m not going anywhere.” The snippy remark quickly wiped the grin from Kenneth’s face.

  “Are you choosing to disobey Mr. Austin’s orders again?” Kenneth asked sternly.

  “She needs me here and she wants me here. I’m not leaving, Kenneth.”

  A devilish smiled appeared on Kenneth’s face as he walked toward Sean. “Be careful, Sean.”

  Sean felt Kenneth’s hot breath on his skin and said, “She knows about Lucius.” He watched Kenneth’s brow shrink and his eyes squint. “And she knows about Kei and how her father was involved in Lucius’ disappearance.”

  Kenneth huffed. “You are stupid to believe the stories of a defected researcher.”

  “I’m out of The Brotherhood. I’m done.” Sean turned to walk away. “And you can tell Mr. Austin that I refuse to be a lab rat for The Brotherhood.” His heart began to pace and he placed his hands in his pocket, rubbing over the small knife’s blade. He turned and walked toward the door, smiling. Pressure lifted slightly from his chest, and for the first time in his life, he felt free to do whatever he wanted. No more rules, no more lying to Veronica, and no more kissing ass to the upper ranks of The Brotherhood. He couldn’t wait to tell Veronica the news, and he couldn’t wait to apologize for the false information he’d given her.

  He reached for the handle on the front door when it flew open, almost slamming into his face. He felt a cold grip around his throat that held him firmly. He looked up into the face of a pale woman with reddish hair. A wide grin extended on her face from cheek to cheek. With force, she pushed him back and tightened her grip.

  Sean grabbed the knife in his pocket and yanked it out. He swung at her, and she grabbed onto his wrist. Pain shot through his hand, and he quickly dropped the knife to the ground. He felt the grip around his throat tighten. He heard Kenneth’s execrable laughter behind him. The red haired woman lifted him with ease and slammed his body onto the pool table. A burning sensation shot through Sean’s back and he screamed, feeling each and every pool ball digging into h
is back. The bartender turned to look and quickly lowered the volume on his television.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” Kenneth leaned over Sean.

  Sean looked into the woman’s dancing green eyes that slowly transformed into the color black. Her grin didn’t reveal the sharp teeth of a Ramanga, yet her strength matched that of a Deamhan.

  “Let me go!” Sean said in between exasperated breaths but the Deamhan woman didn’t budge.

  “Shut up,” the female Deamhan said in a whisper.

  Sean attempted to raise himself, but the woman forced him back. His skin underneath her grasp began to grow numb and Sean struggled again to break free. The tingling sensation extended to his face and to his shoulders. His arms and his legs went limp, and his eyelids grew heavy.

  “I need him alive.” Kenneth turned to the Deamhan woman. “Not dead.”

  Suddenly the numbing ceased. She was a Lugat Deamhan, just like Lucius.

  “Hey.” They heard the bartender’s voice behind them. The woman slowly released her grip from Sean’s neck and turned around.

  “Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops,” he threatened. Sean watched helplessly as the woman reached for a pool stick and without any effort, she thrust the end into the bartender’s stomach. His eyes bulged, and he wrapped his arm around the pool stick. Blood poured from his mouth, and he struggled to stay on his feet before falling to the floor.

  Sean raised himself from the pool table, watching the bartender’s final movements in shock. Afterwards, the female Deamhan kicked the corpse.

  “What? You’re going to kill me now?” Sean slowly backed away from her. She spun back around in Deamhan speed, reaching for him but when Kenneth quickly raised his hand, she stopped in mid movement.

  “For your own safety, Sean, I suggest you don’t fight.” Kenneth straightened his jacket. He stepped over the bartender’s body and walked toward the door.

  The Lugat pushed Sean forward and he slowly followed Kenneth. His eyes wandered, looking for anything he could use to escape. At the same time, he struggled with keeping his thoughts hidden.

  What Nathan said to him about The Brotherhood working with the Deamhan came back to him. Deamhan didn’t work for humans. They hated The Brotherhood. Yet, here was a Lugat, following Kenneth’s orders. What more was The Brotherhood hiding from researchers like himself, who were trained to not trust the Deamhan ever?

  “You will take care of the body?” Kenneth spoke to the woman as he slowly opened the door.

  She nodded.

  “Oh and don’t kill him,” Kenneth added. “Mr. Austin needs him alive.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The Surge restaurant proudly held the title “Best Seafood” restaurant in Minneapolis. Customers chose their crabs from an elongated fish tank set up in the foyer of the building. Seafood wasn’t Veronica’s first choice, but she couldn’t persuade Murphy from not going.

  Murphy told her it was the best place in Minneapolis to eat. Besides seafood, they had the best salads, lobsters, clam chowder, and buffalo wings on this side of the Mississippi.

  But during dinner her mind wandered. She no longer wanted to wait or talk. The thought of meeting Nathan at Dark Sepulcher excited her to the point that she became restless. Going back also meant that Lambert would bombard her with more meddling questions about The Brotherhood and her father.

  Murphy rambled about his family again, his interests, and his life. His father was a retired electrician living comfortably off his 401K in Pennsylvania. His brother was married with two kids and worked at a law firm in Florida. However, when he spoke about his mother, Veronica couldn’t help notice that she retired as a teacher and died just recently after a three year battle with ovarian cancer. Before, after they’d left Dark Sepulcher days ago, he told her she was a receptionist.

  She didn’t question his mistake but she kept note of it. After dinner he drove her home and told her about his uncle Charlie who won the lottery and spent his winnings on Star Trek collector items and old vintage wear from the 1920s.

  Once in her apartment, she felt relieved, but her disburden was short lived when she saw Sean’s note.

  In a scribbled line he wrote: “If not back, don’t worry about me.”

  Sean had taken all his belongings, only leaving the files he’d stolen from The Brotherhood. Confused and angry about why he’d left, she suspected that The Brotherhood coming back to Minneapolis had something to do with it. She tossed the note in the trash and walked back to her couch. She gathered The Brotherhood papers in a pile and waited for the night.

  When night finally came, she headed for Dark Sepulcher.

  The bouncer immediately recognized her before she approached the door. He didn’t bother to check her ID. Instead he stepped aside to let her in. The cashier nodded at her and pointed to the black curtains.

  Again Veronica found the club crammed full with Deamhan, vampires, and humans. The way the crowds danced in harmonic rhythms to the music reminded her of ancient Dionysian cults. She straightened her black blouse and her dark blue jeans and walked toward the back.

  Out of nowhere she heard a male voice inside her head call out to her.

  To her right she saw Remy sitting in a maroon-colored booth with a dark haired female. The female took a sip from her glass and giggled while his cold hand gently rubbed the side of her face. His brown eyes didn’t blink while he stared at Veronica. He wrapped his right hand around the dark curls in the female’s hair.

  “You actually came.” Remy moved to the outer edge of the booth. He stood up, straightening his long, black shirt that he wore with his black jeans. He swiped his brown hair back. “I didn’t think you had it in you to come back.” He spoke loud enough over the music for Veronica to hear. “But here you are.” He approached her. “And my, my, don’t you look lovely.”

  Veronica blocked her thoughts. “I’m here.” She cradled The Brotherhood files, in hopes that he wouldn’t notice them, but he did.

  “You brought presents?” he asked.

  The female in the booth let out a whimper and Remy quickly turned around. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.” He then turned back to Veronica.

  “Don’t let me disturb you from your dinner.” Veronica turned.

  Remy’s cold hand clasped onto her wrists, halting her in her tracks. “Nonsense.” He raised his hand to her cheek. “She’s just a little midnight snack.”

  Veronica removed his hand. She turned around but Alexis now stood in her way. Her sudden entrance stunned Veronica, making her feel caught in the middle . . . just like last time.

  “Welcome back.” Alexis placed her hands on her hips and her eyes darted to Remy. “I hope this little flea didn’t frighten you.”

  Veronica stepped aside. If they wanted to see who could out stare each other, they could do so without her standing in the way.

  “This feels familiar.” Remy smiled. “Just like the first time you came to Dark Sepulcher, Veronica, except that Alexis isn’t forcing her sluttish persuasion.”

  “Yes, but this time you’re not part of the conversation.” Alexis pointed to the dark haired female sitting in the booth. “And this time, Deamhan, make sure you dispose of your food in a more disguised manner.”

  Remy laughed gently, then nodded. “Tell Lambert not to worry. I won’t place that burden on his vampire bodyguards this time.”

  Alexis waved at Veronica to follow her to the door and up the stairs to Lambert’s quarters.

  This time the walk felt shorter to Veronica. She didn’t pay much attention to the stairs and the hallway. Instead her fingertips tingled at the mere thought of meeting Nathan and Lambert. When Alexis opened the door she saw them sitting across from each other on couches centered in the middle of the room.

  She cautiously walked in. When Alexis slammed the door shut behind her, she jumped at the noise.

  Lambert slowly motioned for Veronica to sit next to him. To Veronica, he looked more relaxed than the last time. She be
lieved that whatever Nathan said to him before she arrived calmed him enough to tolerate her. Still gripping The Brotherhood papers, she sat next to Nathan.

  “I see you came prepared.” Lambert placed his hand over his chest. He wore his brown hair in his signature ponytail. His mouth remained opened, stuck in mid-sentence. The room fell into a moment of silence. Nathan uncrossed his legs and glanced at her with a smile of encouragement.

  Lambert pushed the bowl of grapes sitting on the coffee table toward her.

  “No, thank you,” Veronica said. She dropped her guard, losing her concentration. Vampires couldn’t read human thoughts, not as easily as Deamhan could. She relaxed.

  “I’m glad you were able to make it safely,” Nathan said. His conservative outfit consisting of a gray casual suit with a white shirt underneath, seemed unusual to what she thought Nathan would usually wear.

  “We were just discussing the differences between the Ramanga and vampires,” Lambert said. “I personally believe that behavior is the major and only important difference between them. The typical Ramanga Deamhan tends to be pitiless and homicidal, while vampires tend to have a much calmer way of feeding. What do you think, Veronica?”

  Veronica shrugged, uninterested in his question. To her, the Ramanga and the vampire were pitiless and homicidal; their names being the only difference.

  Nathan slowly slouched back into the couch, revisiting his comfortable position.

  Lambert continued. “And you can kill a vampire easier than you can kill a Deamhan.”

  “Some vampire historians claim that vampires have their age on their side,” Nathan added, “and that they’ve existed longer on earth.”

  There were many types, different types of the undead that Veronica knew about. Besides vampires and the Deamhan, there were demons, half demons and even vampire and werewolf mixed breeds. But as far as she knew, The Brotherhood wasn’t interested in researching their kind.