Dark Curse (Deamhan Chronicles Book 2)

by Isaiyan Morrison

  She opened her mouth, unable to hold herself back any more about speaking against the plan.

  Kenneth spoke. “I’m sure they’ll welcome her with open arms.”

  Being volunteered to go first with Kenneth was the last thing she expected. Out of everyone in the room, she still remained the only Deamhan Lucius trusted; somewhat. She felt her shoulders relax and she looked to the floor. “True but it doesn’t mean that I’m the better choice. I’ll go in with you but not because you want me to.”

  Nathan looked to Anastasia. “Are you sure?”

  Anastasia nodded. “I don’t trust Kenneth with the piece. I’d rather be there to make sure things go as planned.”

  Nathan then turned to Kenneth. “Your mercenaries will meet us on the rooftop across the street from the warehouse.”

  Kenneth smiled. “All I need to do is make one phone call.”

  “Make your phone call.” Anastasia left the room and headed outside. She placed her hands on the wooden railing and she stared out at the landscape in front of her. Her mind went over the future meeting she’d have with Lucius and Selene tomorrow night. She would face Lucius’ wrath but deep inside, she wanted to believe that there wasn’t any way in hell the Pure Ones controlled Lucius as much as she was led to believe.

  When they freed Lucius from Limbo, she grew to like the new fragile, scared and weak Lucius (or so she thought.) But she missed the old Lucius; the Lugat whose voice brought fear into Deamhan, the man who kept those under him in line. The chaotic but fair Lucius, the Deamhan whom Anastasia considered to be her true sire.

  The new Lucius probably wanted nothing but her death. If there was one thing that Anastasia loathed it was knowing that she might have to take him out, if she could. Her doubts and questions pounded throughout her head to the point of a small migraine.

  She drummed her fingers on the wooden railing and she watched the clouds cascading through the sky. The moon was nowhere to be seen. Whether the light from the stars above would assist them didn’t matter to Anastasia. She liked it dark. Behind her she heard the noise of wooden planks creaking under someone’s weight and she looked over her left shoulder. Ayden stood just in front of the doorway, wrapped in a thick ruffled white blanket.

  “What do you want now?” Anastasia turned back to the stars.

  “A little of your time.” Ayden cautiously stepped forward and the boards again moaned under his weight. He saw Anastasia jerk her head slightly to the left at the sound and he stopped.

  “You had my attention last night,” Anastasia answered.

  Ayden waited for a moment before speaking again. “Yes, but this time it’s just me. Maris is still inside.”

  Anastasia inhaled deeply, taking in his Metusba scent. “So what do you want?”

  “To talk...about you.”

  “I’m not in the mood to hear your threats. You’re just one of the many people who want me dead, Ayden. That’s nothing new.”

  “Well this might sound new to you.” He stood beside her. “My sire told me stories about the Ramanga that decimated entire sanctuaries throughout Europe and northern Italy. This Deamhan killed whoever stood in her way, human and her own alike, and she did it without remorse. Deamhan feared you. Even my sire, who was much older than you, feared you.”

  Anastasia quickly turned to face Ayden and her eyes grew dark. She felt her fangs beginning to move into place.

  But Ayden didn’t jump back. Instead he continued to speak. “Anyone who stood up to you met their deaths.”

  “You’re telling me something that I don’t already know.” She growled. “Now let me tell you something.” Anastasia moved in, standing inches away from him. “I’m older and stronger than you and Maris combined. You can’t take me on my worst day. I’m giving you the option to accept that and to leave the city with Maris once this is all over.”

  “I’ve killed Deamhan older than you,” Ayden replied, unmoved by her threat. “Your age doesn’t scare me.”

  Anastasia felt her fangs retreat and her eyes turn back to normal.

  “When you least expect it, we will come for you.”

  Any other time she wouldn’t sit and listen to the threat. She knew that she could kill Ayden without breaking her stride, but part of her wanted to know exactly why he wanted her dead. It couldn’t be because of her past. Even though he looked familiar, she still had problems figuring out why. She understood Maris’ rage but Ayden’s own made her question.

  “Why do you want to kill me?” Anastasia asked. “Is it because of Maris? Do you...like her?”

  “Not any more than you do.” Ayden turned away slightly. “But I understand her and we share the same hatred for you.”

  “So how did I cause this hatred you have for me?”

  “You kill indiscriminately without remorse for those left behind.”

  “That’s it?” she snarled. “This is what I do, what I am; what we are. I kill. You kill.”

  “Yes, but the difference is we don’t do it because we can.” He moved slightly toward her. “We do it because we have to.”

  Suddenly Anastasia gripped Ayden by his shirt collar and she pulled him in close. He reacted quickly, catching her off guard. Placing his hands over her wrists, he pulled them outward, twisting her arms. He continued and Anastasia lifted onto her toes as he used his grip to gain the upper hand. Her eyes turned and she fought back, trying to maneuver against his strength but again, he countered her. She felt her arms beginning to strain and he pushed her again, this time bringing her to her knees.

  Anastasia’s eyes widened. Ayden’s sudden control over her made no sense. Never in her long life had any Deamhan younger than her overpowered her. He had her in a position in which she couldn’t escape. She waited helplessly for his next move. He could kill her, if he wanted to but instead he let her go.

  Anastasia rubbed her wrists and slowly stood to her feet.

  “Like I said. I’ve killed Deamhan older than you.” Ayden stepped back. “You don’t scare me.”

  Paranoia consumed her and she searched his face, looking for some sign that’d reveal the answer to her. Suddenly it hit her. Deamhan remained loyal and bonded to their sires, even in death. If the sire bond wasn’t broken, an offspring did whatever they needed to do to protect the one who sired them.

  Ayden picked up on her thoughts and he turned back to the house. “There. You have your answer,” he said, before walking back into the house, leaving her to marinate in her realization.

  1

  DARK CURSE. DEAMHAN CHRONICLES #2

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Anastasia watched as Hallie placed her hands on the glass windows of Nathan’s library, eying the tall pine trees lining the distant parameter of Blind Bluff Manor swaying in the wind. She watched Kenneth stepping into his vehicle and driving down the dirt path to the gate. Her fingers picked up on the uncanny residue, possibly left by Nathan or even Veronica but her face crinkled, showing signs of unclear thoughts.

  Anastasia walked back into the study. Nathan sat at his table, hunched over, scavenging through a stack of books.

  Remy approached Anastasia. “So what’s your history with those two?” He referred to Maris and Ayden. “I mean, I know you sired Maris and you practically left her to die, but what about Ayden?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Well, I can tell that they make you uncomfortable,” he replied, “and it takes a lot to make you feel that way.”

  “It’s nothing.” She walked over to Nathan. She glanced over his shoulder as his eyes glanced over pages in the journal he read.

  Instead of speaking, Remy’s questions came to Anastasia through her thoughts. Did you really hand Maris over to the Dorvo Coven of vampires after you sired her?

  Again, that’s none of your business.

  Nathan looked over his shoulder at Anastasia. “The missing piece is here.” He pointed to a specific spot on the page.

  Ignoring Remy, she moved in, reading the cursive w
riting of Nathan’s father. “The crescent moon was a powerful symbol used to protect those from evil and dark magic.” She glanced at a picture of a crescent moon and read the writing underneath it. “A moon amulet?”

  “Moon amulet?” Maris walked over to them. “Where does it say that?” She pushed Anastasia aside and snatched the book from Nathan’s grasp. “Is there a picture? What color is it?” Her questions continued.

  “You know about this amulet?” Nathan asked her.

  Maris abruptly stopped and she quickly tossed the book back to Nathan. “No.”

  “You’re lying,” Anastasia replied. “You know what amulet this book refers to.”

  “I don’t know anything.” Maris headed for the exit but she met Remy who sleekly moved to stop her.

  “Oh, don’t try to run away now.” His statement escaped his mouth in a high tone to mock her. “Things are just getting started.”

  Ayden placed his arm in front of Remy and gently egged him away from her. “The amulet was created by the Kashshapu who believed that the gods and goddesses would protect them from evil harm.” He stood in front of Maris. “This amulet is just one example of what could go wrong if the magic is used improperly.”

  “My human mother gave the amulet to me before she died,” Maris said. “It was a family heirloom that I used to carry around with me.”

  “Do you still have it?” Nathan asked.

  “No. I haven’t seen it since...” Her voice trailed off. “I don’t want that thing near me ever again.”

  “Kyra gave it to Nathan’s father,” Ayden said.

  “I’ve never seen it.” Nathan began to flip through the threadbare pages again. “According to what’s written here, it’s in my father’s grave, which doesn’t make sense.”

  “Why is that?” Remy asked.

  “Because my father wasn’t buried. He was cremated.”

  “So it has to be with your father’s ashes along with the piece.”

  Nathan continued to attack the pages like a maniac. “He didn’t have a grave but it clearly says here that the amulet is with him along with the piece.”

  “Kyra did mention that your father’s writings were encrypted.” Anastasia brought one of the books up to her face and squinted. “Your father may have lied to you.”

  “The only family burial plot I can think of is in Washington State, but the last family member buried there was over a century ago.” Nathan sat back in his chair. “But this still doesn’t make any sense. My mother kept my father’s ashes until she died. In her Will she also wanted to be cremated and for their ashes to be spread. I did just that.”

  “The picture of the amulet makes perfect sense to me,” Maris said. “In those days the Kashshapu invoked the goddess Nanna, the moon god, to help them with their Deamhan problem.”

  Remy huffed. “I never understood the interest in superstition.”

  “You were once Catholic, Remy.” Nathan closed his book and pushed it aside. “You can’t tell me that you never believed in religion?”

  “Oh, you mean the mad being in the sky?” Remy joked. “When I was a boy, Nathan, I dreamed of the day when I would be old enough to not attend services. While my parents prayed and went to confession, I never brought myself to believe in some magical god and devil fighting for our souls or that we could be raised from the dead. Where was their god when I killed the entire congregation right after I was made Lamia? They called out to him. He never came. Yes, I was a Catholic but I use the term loosely.”

  “It doesn’t mean that God doesn’t exist.”

  “True.” Remy agreed. “But that’s a conversation for another day.”

  “So how do you explain Deamhan?” Maris asked. “Magic created us. Magic can destroy us. If something so complicated can exist, so can, what you called ‘the mad being’ in the sky.”

  Ignoring the conversation, Anastasia opened the last remaining book on the table and began to search the pages. In time she stopped at an old drawing of three girls: the triplets, with shaven heads wearing long robes. From a quick glance, she was able to see words such as “Amenirdis,” and “Amenirdis’ Ordained Servants” yet the writing only gave a brief description and nothing more.

  “Here is something about Amenirdis.” She concentrated on the picture of the triplets. “They called her the Dark Mother.” She read through the description, picking up information that they all already knew. They were powerful, the protectors of the entrance of Limbo. The page reeked of old ink and cigar smoke. In the corner of the right page she saw the initials of Nathan’s father. Between those initials, her eyes picked up on smaller writing that she couldn’t read. She narrowed in, using her acute Deamhan vision, and she awed at her discovery.

  “There’s another page number here.” Anastasia flipped through the book, looking for page 59. On that page she looked in the corner and again, between the initials, she saw another page number leading her to page 101.

  “Page numbers?” Nathan repeated in wonderment.

  “If this is the extent of your father’s encryption...” Remy smiled at the funny thought. “He obviously made it small so that the page numbers couldn’t be picked up with the human eye or a magnifying glass.”

  Anastasia turned to page 403. “Only someone with abnormal sight.” She looked at the corner of the page and saw nothing. “Like Deamhan.”

  The page looked blank to human sight, but her eyes picked up on wording on the top of the page that existed between the page itself. She looked up at Nathan. “Journal number 1,979. The Journal of Blank Pages.” Keeping the book open she handed it back to Nathan.

  Nathan rubbed the page. “There’s nothing here.”

  “It’s there and it reads that we the Journal of Blank Pages can only be read by someone, human and Deamhan, with the help of the moon’s light. Are the other blank journals still in the basement?” She saw Nathan’s eyes widen and he immediately stood to his feet.

  “Yes.”

  Immediately Anastasia rushed out of the room in Deamhan speed toward the basement with Remy following her.

  ****

  With one of the blank journals resting in his palms, Nathan stood out in the grass of the front yard. He looked up at the sky, trying to align himself and the book to the moonlight.

  Remy stood next to him and dropped a box full of journals at his feet. “I guess we should be thankful that it’s not cloudy tonight.”

  Ignoring his statement, Nathan walked forward, eventually finding enough moonlight to begin his search. He looked back to Remy. “Nothing.” He tossed the book to Anastasia and she glanced at the pages. Also finding them empty, she dropped the journal and grabbed another one from the box.

  “This one is empty as well.” She tossed a journal over her shoulder.

  They filtered through the empty journals for what felt like forever until they all heard Remy gasp. “Well there you are, pretty,” he said with a smile.

  Nathan grabbed the journal and he raised it to the light. The moonlight coruscated and when it met the page, black cursive writing suddenly came to light. Anastasia read quickly, knowing that once the moonlight moved away, the writing would disappear and Nathan would have to attempt the process again.

  What she read fueled her curiosity. The writing, which was not in Nathan’s father’s handwriting, described his father’s wishes of being cremated. It also spoke of the Dark Curse briefly and of the piece Nathan’s father had taken from The Brotherhood. Finally the writing revealed the location of his father’s ashes; Wilkes Cemetery.

  Anastasia knew that cemetery well. It was located just outside of downtown Minneapolis on Washington Avenue. Protected by the Minnesota Historical Society, the cemetery was the first of its kind in the city. Lucius spent most of his time in that location and so did many researchers from The Brotherhood.

  “Your father’s ashes are buried in a grave with a picture of a crescent moon,” she said. “That’s where we’ll find the piece and maybe the amulet.”

  Nath
an cradled the book in his arms and remained quiet.

  “You don’t have to go,” she said. “You can stay. We will find it.”

  “No, I’m going.” Nathan cleared his throat. “We need to hurry before the sun rises.”

  Anastasia didn’t hesitate nor question his decision any further. She couldn’t relate to how he felt knowing that the ashes he spread didn’t belong to his father. Someone had thought this plan maliciously through.

  She lifted him in her arms and once she had a firm grip, she took off in Deamhan speed, heading toward the cemetery with Remy, Ayden, and Maris close behind.

  1

  DARK CURSE. DEAMHAN CHRONICLES #2

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  It took Anastasia a few seconds to slow down her run. She nearly missed her turn on the street that led to Wilkes Cemetery. She softly placed Nathan on his feet and she watched him try to stand up straight in his state of confusion. Deamhan speed was more painful and the effects on humans weren’t that pleasant.

  Still, she stood, satisfied that Nathan had survived the run. She straightened her brown jacket, slicked back her hair, and wiped the speckles of dust and dirt from her face. Along with Remy, Maris, and Ayden, she and Nathan stood at the entrance of the cemetery, just within moments of finding what they looked for.

  The cemetery brought back the memory of months ago when Remy gave Veronica Sensual Appetite to help her tolerate the speedy travel. Then she stood against it and she worried that the human’s stomach couldn’t handle it. Sadly, she began to think about Veronica and if they would get her back.

  Remy easily broke the lock from the gate and he pushed it open. Anastasia followed Nathan down the dirt path, her Deamhan vision eying every slumped headstone close and afar, trying to find the one they were looking for. At one point she thought she’d found the grave and she wavered off the path through low brush, heading straight for it. Once she realized she made a mistake, she returned to Nathan who continued to walk forward in their search with Ayden and Maris following him.