DECEPTION. DEAMHAN CHRONCILES #3
DECEPTION
Deamhan Chronicles #3
ISAIYAN MORRISON
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DECEPTION. DEAMHAN CHRONCILES #3
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.
Deception
Deamhan Chronicles #3
Copyright © 2015 Isaiyan Morrison
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-0692570258
ISBN-10: 069257025X
Cover Design by: Hedieh Entekhabi
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DECEPTION. DEAMHAN CHRONCILES #3
DEDICATION
Special thanks to my Street Team members: Veronica, Michelle, Andrea, Sarah, Crystal, Cassie, Steph, Tammy, Kristen, Leanne, Alexandra, Deidra, Vonnie.
To my husband, Al, who makes sure I reach my writing goal before getting on my Xbox One and PS4.
To readers and fans. Thank you for taking a chance and allowing me to share my Deamhan world with you.
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DECEPTION. DEAMHAN CHRONCILES #3
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DECEPTION. DEAMHAN CHRONCILES #3
DEAMHAN
Deamhan Chronicles. Book One
KEI. FAMILY MATTERS
Deamhan Tales # 1
DARK CURSE
Deamhan Chronicles. Book Two
MARIS
The Brotherhood Files
AYDEN. DEAMHAN MINION
Deamhan Tales #2
COMING SOON
HALLIE. A TIT FOR A TAT
Deamhan Tales #3
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DECEPTION. DEAMHAN CHRONCILES #3
The point is, not how long you live, but how nobly you live.
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DECEPTION. DEAMHAN CHRONCILES #3
CHAPTER ONE
Anastasia stared at the woman who stood in the middle of the desolate street. Her hair, cut short, swayed in the light, cold breeze coming off the shores in the direction of the Atlantic Ocean. Her brown skin radiated among the darkness with help from a yellow colored blinking street light.
To her, the woman resembled something she could only see in a fantasy. Free from any flaws, she presented herself as a goddess in human form—a woman who had no weaknesses, only strength and stainable courage. Afraid of being noticed, Anastasia remained palliated and still.
Rain poured from the heavens and the brown-skinned woman pulled out her umbrella. The drops pelted it in rhythmic patterns. She walked toward the office building and Anastasia had no choice but to follow, curious as to what the Ekimmu Deamhan might do next.
Somehow, she felt attached to her—bewildered that Amenirdis, the very first of their kind, the same woman who slithered out of Limbo, was interested in some three-story structure.
She looked different from the night of her escape. Somehow, in the two months since she left Minneapolis, she had adapted to the 21st Century. Manicured nails, the modern clothing she wore, and the smell of Taylor Swift’s perfume told Anastasia so. The advancement of human technology startled the Ekimmu since the night of her rebirth. The sacrifices which freed her from an eternity living in nothingness did little to please her. It had been too long since walking on the earth and she had a lot of catching up to do. Humans seemed no longer scared and superstitious. Their modes of transportation advanced further than she could imagine. The building she now stood in front of attested to that.
However, her body still pulsated with immense power and age and she was sure that the Ekimmu’s goal to start Revelation hadn’t changed.
Amenirdis made no attempt to hide her thoughts as she glanced through the front glass, staring at the bright interior space before gripping the door handle. Images and questions flowed freely and Anastasia absorbed every little detail. How humans were capable of taking precious metals and twisting, melting, and combining them to form a super structure, boggled Amenirdis’ already over-compensated mind. She’d learned a lot in the past two weeks except for how to intermingle with the humans in this new era.
She wanted to see and explore many places in this new world. She left the city of Minneapolis but not to pursue the Deamhan who tried to thwart her escape from Limbo. They would get theirs in due time. She ran in Deamhan speed—a pace faster than any human or car could travel—and made her way to Missouri. There she fed from a human who called himself ‘Ted,’ and after resting she continued southeast, reaching Florida that night. The warm weather and sunny skies reminded her of her beloved country, which she yearned to go back to. However, no human she encountered lived during the time when the great city of Ur reigned strong.
All of this made Anastasia question why and how this woman continued to invade her dreams. “What are you trying to show me?” Her question went unanswered and she followed her into the building. With each step she opened her ears, listening to Amenirdis’ heels clack against the hardened floor. Her acute hearing also picked up on voices coming from the back. Her sense of smell told her a group of humans—three males and two females—were near. Amenirdis took interest in one female in particular.
The human’s scent was like nothing she’d ever smelled before. It was sour and foul. Amenirdis found herself standing aloof, curious as to why the scent told every part of her body to have the woman at all costs. The woman’s opened thoughts consisted of her two children—twin boys—whom she’d not seen in years. She concerned herself with purchasing gifts for their upcoming birthday.
A tall, overweight male walked out of the room and paused as his eyes set sight on her. He wore a thick brown shirt and brown pants. “Are you here for the meeting?”
Meeting? Amenirdis didn’t answer. Anastasia watched as she walked around him and looked inside the room with her mind set on one goal. The female.
The male turned around. “Excuse me, are you here for the meeting?” he asked again. “It’s about to start in a few minutes.”
She still ignored him and surveyed the room. Near the back she saw a large table adorned with a pink tablecloth. Bags of chips and liters of orange, grape, and cherry soda sat on top of it.
“What meeting?” Anastasia asked, but the human ignored her. She approached him and when she reached out, her hand broke through his body like mist.
Befuddled, she gazed at her hand. “What is this?” She wasn’t dead and she wasn’t a ghost. She counted four humans sitting in a circle just to the right. One male, tall in stature and dressed in a business suit, sat quietly with his hands folded on his lap. From Amenirdis thoughts, Anastasia picked up his name. Peter. The other male sat across from him, flirting with another woman. Their names also came to her. Jack and Sue. A woman sat away from them, alone, with a plate full of snacks in her lap. Lynn.
“Excuse me,” again, the human male said. “Are you here for the meeting?”
This time Amenirdis replied. “Yes. I’m here for the meeting.”
“Well, my name is Mr. Jackson.” He held out his hand. “And welcome.”
She walked in slowly.
“We have a new person today.” Mr. Jackson began his introduction while she walked casually and sat next to Peter.
Anastasia crept around the circle. She reached out to each victim and the result remained the same. Her hand went through their bodies and they didn’t notice. She then decided to try her luck with Amenirdis, but before she had the chance, Mr. Jackson spoke again.
“Feel free to get so
me snacks.” He pointed to the back table.
No matter how tempting human food looked to them, Deamhan didn’t eat. However, if they wanted to they could, with the expense of expelling the items from their stomachs afterward. It was a tiring and pointless process.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Mr. Jackson closed the doors and walked over to the group. With his hands he motioned for everyone to stand up and Amenirdis, realizing she had to play along to fit in, rose to her feet. They grabbed hands, and Peter held his hand out to her, smiling.
“We start all our meetings like this,” Mr. Jackson said.
Amenirdis slid it into Peter’s palm. Immediately he jerked.
“Your hand is like ice.” He spoke in a prominent lisp and retook it again.
“Everyone repeat after me,” Mr. Jackson said. “Today was a good day.”
The humans repeated while Anastasia watched.
“We thank those around us for being supportive in our time of need.”
The humans repeated again.
“And we thank God for allowing us to cope with our troubles.”
Amenirdis dropped her hand from Peter’s grip. Humans spoke a lot about this ‘God’, a Being whom they could not see but put their trust in. She heard the name when she killed Ted in Missouri. She saw the name plastered on the walls of what they called ‘churches.’ She sensed the name numerous times in Lynn’s thoughts. She wanted to know more about this ‘God.’
“Is there something wrong?” Mr. Jackson asked her.
“God. I know nothing about this deity you all seem to worship.”
“You’re not a Christian?” Peter asked her. “Are you an atheist?”
“No. I’m Amenirdis.”
Being kept in Limbo meant being apart from the world. Trying to break through the veil in an attempt to see what was going on was the hardest challenge for her and the other seven Pure Deamhan. She remembered when they had found a small slit, inches wide, and they fought each other just to take a peek. She won the battle, and when she finally looked out, all she saw was darkness. They believed the world had ended and that their gods had destroyed it for what they had done. They blamed her. After all, it was her father—a Kashshapu—who had summoned the spell that created the Deamhan in the first place.
So it surprised them when Kei called out to her, asking for help. He wanted to send his sire, Lucius, into Limbo and in exchange he offered to free her. She didn’t hesitate to accept the agreement. She learned a lot from him and how the world changed. But he never mentioned religion or how humans had evolved. He kept quiet about the new countries that arose and their old country that fell. He only spoke of the Deamhan and how unpredictable and ruthless they had become. This new world—this new land called ‘America’—felt too big for her to comprehend. She tried her best to absorb every little detail, comparing it to the city of her birth. So learning about ‘God’ was something she yearned to do.
“You can only learn about God through our savior, Jesus Christ,” Peter said.
“Now, now. Remember, we aren’t here to talk about religion,” Mr. Jackson replied. “Sorry, Amenirdis. We just assumed everyone here is Christian. We welcome anyone into this circle. Your name is different. What does it mean?”
Amenirdis sat down. “Daughter of Kashshapu.”
“Ahh, well that’s interesting.” he replied. “I’m sure we can talk about that later, but let’s start where we left off last time.” He looked to Lynn.
Anastasia watched as she stood up from her chair. Nervous, she cleared her throat before speaking. “My name is Lynn Sanderson.”
“Hello, Lynn,” the group repeated in unison.
She smiled. “Well, I’m not really good at this.”
“Take your time,” Mr. Jackson replied.
“I’m here because of my addiction.” She began to fumble her hands together. “I, um... well, I’ve had a problem with drinking for quite some time now. I’ve been to several AA meetings and they’ve never worked.”
While she continued, a flood of emotions rushed from her brain and into Anastasia. She sensed dread, despair, and doubt mixed with images of two boys, identical twins.
“. . . my husband has the kids now. I haven’t seen them in a few years.” A weary smile appeared on her face. “Their birthdays are coming up. They’re turning seventeen.”
“So how have you been dealing with your addiction lately?” Mr. Jackson asked.
“I’m coping. I found a friend. She takes good care of me. She listens and gives me good advice. It’s hard but I know in the end, I’ll be able to see them. That’s all that matters.” She sat down and Sue placed her arm around her in an embrace.
“Thank you for sharing, Lynn,” Mr. Jackson replied. “I hope you’ll be able to mend things with your ex-husband and your children.” He turned his sights on Amenirdis. “Would you like to go next?”
“No,” she spoke.
“This is a support group,” he replied. “Don’t be shy. You can tell us any of your problems or what’s on your mind, and if you need help dealing with them.”
Problems. She knew plenty of problems, starting with why she tolerated their presence and the reason behind a support group. Their problems were nothing compared to her own. After her father created the Ramanga, Lamia, Metusba, and Lugat Deamhan, to protect the inhabitants from the vampires, he unleashed them into their great city. When that failed, he created Estrie, Ekimmu, Empusa, and Adze Deamhan but they also fell under dark influences. His incantations called on the wrong energy and corrupted the vessels. Deamhan were manifestations of their dark sides, dosed with supernatural gifts. By nature they were malevolent.
To quell the king’s complaints, her own father used her as a vessel and when that didn’t work, he went after the only thing she loved in the world.
He took her own flesh and blood, ripping the innocent child from her blood-soaked hands.
“Your problems are trifling. Not worth the conversation.”
The humans remained tongue-tied.
“My father, a powerful man of magic, was killed for something that he had no control over. He was the advisor to the king but even he couldn’t get our gods to listen. Perhaps he should have turned to your God. Do you think your God would have listened?”
Sue raised her hand. “Excuse me, but what did you say?”
“Your God. Do you think he would have listened?”
She shook her head and her golden curls bounced from shoulder to shoulder. “Where did you say you grew up, again?”
“I didn’t say, but the name of my city is Ur. Have you heard of it?”
She shot her a weird look. “My geography isn’t all that great, but I’m sure there isn’t a city by that name in America.”
“Not America. Mesopotamia.”
“Hush, Sue, let her continue.” Jack leaned back in his chair and smiled. “This sounds interesting.”
“Wait a minute. Isn’t that like, some old ancient civilization?” Sue raised herself in her chair.
“You could be right,” Jack added. “Either she has a very active imagination or she’s full of it.”
“Jack!” Mr. Jackson quickly spoke. “We must be respectful of others here.”
“What does this have to do with addiction?” he replied back.
“I do have what you can call an addiction,” Amenirdis replied. “Feeding. And I’m in control of my addiction as best as anyone of my caliber can be. I’ve killed thousands of people. I’ve spent four thousand years in Limbo, holding onto every thought, creeping close to madness, and finally, I’m free.”
Anastasia noticed Lynn’s breathing becoming unstable. She placed her hand on her chest and her mouth opened slowly.
“You believe this crap?” Peter spoke. “She doesn’t belong here. She belongs in an insane asylum.”
“She isn’t lying.” Lynn trembled in her seat.
Amenirdis looked to her. “I believe you know this tale.”
“Okay, I think we’ve h
eard enough.” Mr. Jackson leaned forward. “We don’t provide the support you need here.”
“Yes, that’s right. Humans in this day and age are not afraid,” she interrupted him. “They don’t crawl under their blankets or hide in their homes from the darkness anymore. Instead they question it and they believe that their God will save them. No god, not yours nor mine, can save you.” She pointed at Lynn. “No Deamhan can save you.”
“I belong to Sia.” Her bottom lip quivered as she spoke.
Everything finally made sense to Anastasia. She now understood why Amenirdis traveled all the way to Florida. She was after a Deamhan—Sia. But she didn’t know who this person was or why she was this important.
Her eyes brightened slowly, resembling an illuminated red color. Anastasia had seen it before, in the eyes of Lucius who became just one of her pawns in her escape from Limbo. Lynn screamed at the top of her lungs.
Amenirdis slowly opened her mouth and let her body do all the work. She sucked her victims at a leisurely pace, first starting with Peter. As he coughed, she moved onto the rest, letting her inner desire—her hunger—push her to suck harder. Soon every human in their little circle, except for Lynn, began to feel the effects. Sue screamed, only to be silenced moments later as her voice box constricted and shriveled up like a prune. Jack grabbed his throat and toppled over. His body began to convulse. None of them had an idea that soon they would meet their ends and she liked it that way.
Her eyes, now full red, gazed at Mr. Jackson and within minutes she rushed to him and snapped his neck. The remaining bodies began to slowly deteriorate into husks that resembled Egyptian mummies.
Deception (Deamhan Chronicles Book 3) Page 1
