DARK CURSE. DEAMHAN CHRONICLES #2
DARK CURSE
Deamhan Chronicles #2
ISAIYAN MORRISON
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DARK CURSE. DEAMHAN CHRONICLES #2
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means without prior permission from the author.
Dark Curse
Deamhan Chronicles #2
Copyright © 2014 Adebusola Adesiji
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-0692510599
ISBN-10: 0692510591
Cover Design by: John Cosentino.
Kazi Graphics
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DARK CURSE. DEAMHAN CHRONICLES #2
DEDICATION
To family, friends, fans, and other authors who have supported me. Thank you.
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DARK CURSE. DEAMHAN CHRONICLES #2
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DARK CURSE. DEAMHAN CHRONICLES #2
DEAMHAN
Deamhan Chronicles. Book One
KEI. FAMILY MATTERS
Deamhan Tales # 1
DARK CURSE
Deamhan Chronicles #2
COMING SOON
MARIS
The Brotherhood Files
AYDEN. DEAMHAN MINION
Deamhan Tales #2
REVELATION
Deamhan Chronicles #3
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DARK CURSE. DEAMHAN CHRONICLES #2
Wake early if you want another man’s life or land. No lamb for the lazy wolf. No battle’s won in bed.
-The Havamal
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DARK CURSE. DEAMHAN CHRONICLES #2
CHAPTER ONE
Silvanus watched happily as Selene’s victim whimpered on the wooden floor, trying to free herself from the frayed rope tied around her wrists and ankles. Mascara ran down her dirty skin in small trails and her eyes shuffled back and forth, hidden by strands of brown scraggly hair that stuck to her sweaty and round face.
He extended his hand out to her, seeing if she would take it. Instead the victim screamed but the gag in her mouth muted her terrifying plea. He liked looking at her. Like many victims from his murky past, she shifted her shaking body away from his gesture, whimpered, and closed her eyes.
“Is it too tight?” he asked gently.
Her lips quivered under the tightened rope.
Silvanus smiled and quietly chuckled. He had pulled her short, pink and white dress up to her chest, revealing her soiled under garments and her white bra straps dangling over her breasts. Her appearance alone turned him on.
Selene knew how to pick them.
She knew he preferred his human victims to have light colored hair. Their blood tasted sweet and they were easier to handle. Now they became hard to come by and he felt lucky if he had at least one a week. The human in front of him wasn’t a whore but a waitress on her way home from Barney’s restaurant located in downtown Minneapolis but she’d suffice.
The body of another waitress with her throat ripped opened and her lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling lay motionless next to his victim. Blood oozed from two puncture wounds on her neck and it peppered the ceiling and the wall in dark spots. Smeared blood trails traveled on the tile floor in different directions. His dead victim had a fighter’s spirit, which Silvanus hadn’t seen in ages. Only until Selene beat her into unconsciousness did he realize how much human women had changed over time. No longer did they assume the role of maidens in distress. There wasn’t a white knight in shining armor to come to their rescue. No, they seemed weaker yet more confrontational and her blood itched when it swam down his throat. It tasted stale and old, not like the fresh sweeter blood he craved. Not the best meal but a free catch nonetheless.
Silvanus looked at Selene while she sat on a leather couch in the opposite corner of the room. Her long reddish hair draped over her shoulder and she crossed her legs as she drummed her fingers on the chair’s armrest.
“You seem preoccupied, my dear Selene. What’s on your mind?” Instead of replying, she remained silent.
Nothing about her had changed since the first time Silvanus met her. He remembered their encounter as if it’d happened yesterday. Mid 1400s—Northern Italy. He had laid waste to a small village near the border. The scent of honeysuckle mixed with the concentrated smell of iron and blood wasn’t hard to miss. She watched him from the shadows as he glorified in his kills. He heard her snickers as he played with the scared children of the family he slaughtered. He looked in her direction and heard her gasp in delight. When night came and the town stood silent, she finally appeared from the solace of her hiding spot among the forest and like a furtive Lugat, she drained any psychic imprints from the remaining buildings, objects, and eventually the dead. Later she helped him set fire to the small wooden shacks lining the only road into town. They then parted ways for what Silvanus thought would be forever until she called for him to come to Minneapolis just months ago.
Selene’s believed that getting rid of Kei in Minneapolis was the best thing for all Deamhan. From what he learned and witnessed with his own eyes, Deamhan were out of control with no one to guide them. The Ramanga with their sharp pointed fangs, butchered any human they set their eyes upon. The Lamia preferred draining the life force from the more antisocial humans, which included small defenseless human babies. The most cautious Deamhan, Metusba, no longer cared if their victims saw them feeding off their auras. The Lugat, who Silvanus called “Bottom Feeders” sucked away any leftover psychic imprints of humans they never attempted to eat from in the past.
The only Deamhan who kept them in line was Lucius and Kei placed him in Limbo. Without him, things ran amok. What Kei did to his sire couldn’t be forgiven, not by Silvanus and especially not by Selene. Order needed to be restored and only an Ancient like Lucius could do it.
Minneapolis wasn’t Silvanus’ home and Lugat disputes weren’t his problems, but Selene offered money if he came to help her and who could resist money? She freed Lucius and he helped her dethrone Kei. Now finding himself swimming in the comfortable throes of ecstasy, he came to her sanctuary to collect on her offer.
When Selene finally returned last night, dragging the two humans into her sanctuary and explaining to Silvanus that she’d joined Lucius in his search for Kei, he knew she lied to him. Every Deamhan lied. It was part of their nature. Something else also troubled him. Things didn’t feel as easy as they looked. Silvanus believed in premonitions and predictions and he trusted his gut feelings. They told him to get out of Minneapolis, to stay away from Selene, and to watch his back.
“When are you going to kill the human?” Selene’s green eyes gazed around the room.
“Oh so you speak.” Silvanus folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t want to be greedy. You can have the first taste.”
“It’s my gift to you, for coming here in my time of need.” She stood up, swiped her hair to her back, and walked across the room over to a large window.
Silvanus watched her pull back the thin white curtains and look calmly out at the small lake in the back yard. The water thawed due to the mild spring weather. Stars dotted the sky and the moon’s glow brightened the darkened lake, glistening on the small ripples.
“I had nothing else better to do, Selene. And I like money.”
“Yes. You want your payment now, I suppose?”
“I’d like that.”
“After you finish the human. My gift to you.”
Silvanus cocked his head to the side. Something definitely wasn’t right. “I’d like to share this meal with you. Or we can save her for later if you like?”
“I’ve already eaten. She won’t stop her whimpering. It’s annoying. Kill her now.”
He knelt near his victim. He placed his hand on her thigh and squeezed until she let out a painful scream. “But I like it when they whimper.”
“That’s not the point.” She closed the curtain.
“They plead, they scream, they beg. It’s like playing God, wouldn’t you say?” He stood up. “What more is there?” He stared at her. Again his feelings told him to get as far away from her as possible, however he wasn’t afraid. He had age, speed, and strength on his side.
Selene sighed and slowly walked over to him. “We’re not gods.” He watched her hips move sensually from side to side in her white satin gown stained with splotches of blood and human hair. The fabric gently grazed over her breasts.
“Never said we are.”
She approached his victim and without hesitation lifted the woman to her feet. “The very first Deamhan were gods.” She dug her nails into the woman’s arms. “The Pure Ones and we are not them.” The woman screamed and blood trickled from her pinpoint wounds. Selene examined the warm blood over her hand. “We can never be them. We’re nothing but half breeds. We’re poor examples of what true Deamhan are and should be.”
“What’s on your mind?”
She placed her index finger over his mouth. “Nothing.”
He opened his mouth slowly, allowing for the liquid to touch the tip of his tongue.
“Pure Ones” was a term Silvanus hadn’t heard in years. In fact, he couldn’t recall any time when Selene used that phrase to talk about the very first Deamhan. He considered it to be inexact. His own sire had told him stories about the very first Deamhan, the Pure Ones, who were stronger than he or anyone who came after could ever be. Being the very first Deamhan, they were immune to sunlight and they could live without feeding. At first he didn’t understand how anyone, human or Deamhan, could believe in those mythological tales. He thought of them as lies, told to his kind to keep them in line, just like ancient Biblical stories of God versus Satan, good versus evil. All that changed centuries ago when he finally realized that there was truth behind those stories.
“Be careful my dear,” he said. “You’re making it sound as if our existence means nothing.”
“It isn’t compared to our creators,” she answered.
“When did you start to care about this pure Deamhan stuff?” He opened his mouth wider.
Selene inserted her finger into his mouth and he began to suck, his tongue twirling the blood. She removed her finger and placed both of her hands on the woman’s outfit. Her eyes fluttered.
“Since I was awakened.” She quickly snapped her victim’s neck.
Silvanus chuckled at her evil display. “And here I thought you weren’t hungry.”
“I’m not.”
He watched her body gracefully accept the energy she took. Sometimes he loathed her urbane ways. Maybe because his kind, the the Ramanga—the bloodsuckers—felt tousled by the way they fed. Even he had a hard time not spilling blood. Nevertheless, Selene’s kind—the Lugat—didn’t take nor need blood, which made them weak among the Ramanga according to him. The human’s psychic energy slowly regenerated Selene’s body.
Silvanus felt the blood in his mouth absorb into the inside of his cheek and it rushed through his system. Immediately he felt a quick sharp pain in his mouth and his legs began to wobble underneath him.
“Blood is such a tricky substance.” She walked over to a tall bookcase next to the couch. He clutched his stomach, feeling the blood circling.
He felt the inside of his body tense and retract. He felt the stings of the blood like pinpoint needles. Then the heat came followed by tremendous pain. It was foul. He opened his mouth to speak but another sharp pain brought him to his knees. Through his emaciated vision he saw Selene reach for a stake on the top shelves of the bookcase.
“What is this?” His question went unanswered. He never felt this horrid before. He concentrated. Think.
Tainted blood had no effect on a Lugat but it had the ability to cause major harm to a Ramanga.
“You knew it was tainted?” No longer could his knees hold his weight. He fell to the floor in the small pool of his victim’s coagulated blood.
“Why would you trust another Deamhan to pick your meal?” She approached him, still gripping the wooden stake in her hand. Before he could question her she spoke again. “I didn’t think you would’ve been so naive to fall for that old trick.” She stood over him and watched his eyes flutter. “You’re an Ancient, Silvanus; older than me. You should’ve known better.”
Her statement meant little to Silvanus and he attempted to raise himself off the floor. “I guess I just trust my own kind more than you do.”
She placed her foot on his chest. “And that is where you fail.” She kicked him back to the floor.
He stared into her eyes and tried to notice her thoughts but a strong barrier blocked his attempt. “Are you going mad?” Again, something wasn’t right.
“I’m not going to kill you.” She raised the stake in the air and prepared to strike.
“That stake says otherwise.” His eyes widened. Throughout the centuries that he had walked the earth, he had never experienced what it was like to be staked. Sure, he knew a stake wouldn’t kill him unless it struck his heart, but no one in their right mind would have the balls to do to him what she attempted to do now.
With what little energy he had left he reached for her wrist and held on tight. Even though weak, he felt strong enough to counteract her strength. He watched as her eyes widened but a slight gust of wind caught him off guard. Hard hands gripped him by his shoulders and forced him back down onto the floor. He looked up to see a familiar Deamhan kneeling over him.
“Lucius?” For a short moment Silvanus thought he had gone mad.
His mind filled with scenarios as to why Lucius appeared. As Selene’s sire, he had a duty to protect his own, however, it was her who followed his every word. She worshipped the ground he walked on unlike Kei who hated him. This had to be Lucius’ plan.
Selene plunged the stake into his chest, just inches from his heart.
He moaned and wrapped his hand around the wooden stake, unable to pull it free. A sharp excruciating pain shot through his entire body. He needed to pull it out before she made her next move or before they killed him.
He chuckled under his breath. The stake hurt like a son of a bitch and it’d take strength that he didn’t have at the moment to remove it. “Like sire, like offspring.”
Lucius tilted his head to the left, staring at the spectacle. His thin lips parted slightly and his brown colored short hair fell forward. His face, covered with small scars, added to his mystical appearance. “Don’t bother hiding your thoughts. I’m able to read them as clear as day.”
“Why should I?” Silvanus whispered. “I don’t have anything to hide from you.” He stared at Lucius. “So, how can I be of assistance?”
Lucius spoke quietly. “Kyra.”
Kyra? He hadn’t heard from her in decades. She had the title of being one of the oldest Deamhan on the living planet at one point; older than he, Lucius, and Selene combined. The last time he saw her, she helped him when he declared a Decretum against another Deamhan in Chicago decades ago.
Lucius wanted to know about the Dark Curse.
Silvanus tried to penetrate through Lucius’ thoughts but Lucius forcefully kept him out. He then felt the force beginning to burrow into his own memories and Silvanus tried to push it back.
Mind reading came with being a Deamhan. But like humans, Deamhan could train themselves to keep others out of their thoughts. However, he felt useless as Lucius continued to dig.
Silvanus grasped the stake and attempted to pull. His strength faded and his arms began to quiver. “I do
n’t know where she is.” He felt his face growing numb and his speech slurred. “That’s the truth.”
“You were once close to her, were you not?” Lucius replied. “You followed her orders then and you do so now.”
Silvanus chuckled and felt his blood gurgling in his throat. “If you call a onetime meet in which she scared and frightened all Deamhan in the city, claimed what she wanted, then disappeared ‘close’ then yes, we were close.”
Selene twisted the stake and Silvanus let out a howl.
The pain became unbearable and he begged for her to stop. “Read my thoughts. I don’t know where she is!” A trickle of blood ran from the left corner of his mouth. “She contacts me when she wants to be found.” He felt Lucius continue the onslaught on his thoughts. He’d never felt a force as strong as this in his entire existence, not even from his own sire. He had several centuries over Lucius so stopping him from reading his thoughts should’ve been easy. Silvanus came to one conclusion. Whatever happened to Lucius while in Limbo had somehow made him stronger.
“He’s telling the truth.” Lucius stood up.
“So how are we going to find Kyra?” Selene asked.
“He isn’t the only other Deamhan who knows.” He continued to stare at Silvanus. “There is another one out there; a young Deamhan who also follows her orders.”
“Who is this Deamhan?” Selene questioned.
“Ayden.”
Selene narrowed her eyes. “Should I remove the stake now?”
“No. We will kill him.”
Selene stepped back. “But you said—”
“Don’t question me.”
Selene folded her arms across her chest. “He is our friend and a strong ally.” She glared down at Silvanus for a second. “Are you sure that we have to? He could be useful.”
Dark Curse (Deamhan Chronicles Book 2) Page 1