Feeling the psychic energy regenerating her own, Amenirdis held her head back. Her eyes fluttered. “That was refreshing.” She turned to Lynn, who moved back slowly in fear. “I’m always so hungry. It’s part of the Curse. As a Pure One, I can never seem to feel full.”
Lynn gripped hard onto her purse. “I belong to Sia.” Her lips quivered.
“And where is your master?”
“Please...don’t hurt me.”
Amenirdis’ eyes ogled into Lynn and she scoured the woman’s thoughts for information.
“You’re going to kill me.” Lynn’s trembled voice carried in the air.
“No. She is going to kill you.” Amenirdis turned her head in Anastasia’s direction.
Anastasia looked over her shoulder in hopes that the Pure One had seen straight through her. Yet her glowing red eyes proved otherwise. She saw her instantly. Maybe she’d always seen her.
Lynn also caught wind of her and, in fear, she tried to run from the fray but Amenirdis moved quickly and grabbed her by the throat.
“You always knew I was here?” Anastasia questioned. “How?”
“Because this dream is my gift to you.” She pushed the human toward her. “Now feed.” Her lips pulled back into a wide smile.
“No, I won’t.” Her refusal did little to halt the situation.
“You will be an obedient servant to me.” With a twist of her wrist, Amenirdis felt Lynn’s throat crack under her strength. She let go and she turned around before Lynn’s dead body hit the floor.
She slithered, her hips popping from left to right in her approach. Cold air followed her and for the first time in her Deamhan life, Anastasia felt her body shiver.
“I will live through you.”
She moved quickly, fooling Anastasia’s eyesight. Cold hands now had her by the back of her neck.
“And you through me.” Placing more pressure, Amenirdis forced her to tilt her head back. Her mouth opened and her fangs dropped from her gums.
The Ekimmu bit into her own wrist and positioned her open wound over Anastasia’s mouth. Blood oozed into it and coated the back of her throat. It forced itself into her body and the energy that followed lifted Anastasia on the tip of her toes. It wasn’t the first time she tasted the blood of a Pure One—so rich that it put anything she’d ever tasted before to shame. Suddenly she wanted more of it. She wanted all of it.
Amenirdis let her go and she stumbled back. Her chest felt as if it was about to explode. The world opened around her, carrying the tunes of everyday instances to her ears. Cars sped down freeways miles away. She heard the loud horn of an ocean liner just off the coast. Human heartbeats, dogs barking, a jumbo jet flying overhead—she heard all of it and it became too much. She dropped to her knees and covered her ears.
“Now you belong to me.” Amenirdis turned and approached the table of food. She picked up a soda can, examined it, and placed it back on the table. “I’ll always know what you do. I’ll know your thoughts.”
Although the outside interference rang at her ears, her voice broke through the racket. “If you know my thoughts, you should know that I plan to send you back to Limbo where you belong.”
“You are no match for me, Ramanga. You can try if it makes you feel better. But in the end, you’ll be on your knees, begging me to let you in and you’ll experience every gratification your swarthy heart desires knowing that you’ve earned a special place at
my feet.”
1
DECEPTION. DEAMHAN CHRONCILES #3
CHAPTER TWO
Anastasia shot awake.
A sense of fear still traveled throughout her entire body, making her go into high alert.
Even though it was all a dream, Amenirdis’ glowing red eyes immobilized her in such a state that she felt small and surprisingly powerless.
The Pure One had matured and grown stronger since she materialized in front of her face—naked and weak from her six-thousand-year stint in Limbo. Those who witnessed her crude rebirth—Kyra, Maris, Remy, Ayden, and herself—didn’t know what to expect. No Deamhan knew of anyone of their kind who met these god-headed creatures face to face and lived to tell about it.
Most importantly, Amenirdis knew the incantation that could release the other seven Pure Deamhan in Limbo. Did Amenirdis want to start Revelation, a ritual cleansing of Deamhan on the Earth? Or did she and the other Pure Ones simply want to go after the Ancient Deamhan in this world?
Anastasia didn’t what to imagine what awaited not only her kind but humans, vampires, and any other supernatural creature on the face of the Earth if that happened. No one could stand in her way, not even the Dorvo Vampires—Dorvons—plaguing the city at this moment. They all would succumb to the might of the Pure Ekimmu. Their wrath would devour the city’s inhabitants, claiming her life and the lives of Remy, Hallie, and Nathan as well.
Anastasia raised herself from her bed. Her lips felt swollen. After touching them she examined her fingers and noticed dried blood. She hurried toward the bathroom to look at herself in the mirror. The sticky substance covered not only her lips but her chin as well. What kind of dream could do this? Was it possible that Amenirdis had this much potential to unleash her influence on Deamhan, regardless of their age? She had to prepare for the worst. Amenirdis had a plan for her.
She turned on the faucet, cupped her hand under the spout, and proceeded to clean her face. Hunger pangs gnawed at her stomach, and she dressed herself and left her room. She walked quietly down the hallway of her home, Blind Bluff Manor. The path she took was the same path she walked every night in order to avoid the gaze of Nathan and the others who lived under the same roof. When she made her way to the balcony, she paused before descending to the foyer. Below, she heard voices echoing from the study.
“Nathan, shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Hallie asked.
“I slept all day,” he replied. “I don’t think I can sleep anymore.”
“Are you feeling any better?”
“I’m fine, Hallie. I told you before. You don’t have to watch over me.”
“It’s not like I have anything better to do.”
His failing health had become Hallie’s main concern. Anastasia smelled the sickness emanating from him from where she stood. They all could. The scent teetered on the smell of rotten insides and sour air. It was a carbon copy of the scent she recognized from her past, coming from the whores inside London taverns and call girls in New York speakeasies. She figured it was tuberculosis, but common medicine had a cure for it. This had to be a cancer of some sort, but she was no medical physician nor did she know that much about human ailments. He refused to talk about his health so she didn’t push the issue. For him, he didn’t see it as a major concern. However, he owned the manor and without any children to inherit it, the future of the estate rested in urgency. That much she knew. In the meantime, Hallie cared for him—a trait that wasn’t strong in a Deamhan. She bathed him, cooked meals for him, cleaned his clothes, and straightened his surroundings. She also spent most of her nights in his study, reading the research journals in his possession. Slowly, she was becoming educated in everything ‘Deamhan.’
“I don’t mean it that way. I just. . .it’s not like I go out at night like the others do,” she said.
“You should be out there with the rest of them. If you stay around me long enough, you’ll turn into a miniature me.” He laughed and began to cough.
Anastasia placed her hands on the railing and continued to peer down at the dust on the collection of Greek marble statues in the foyer.
“I’ll go to the city. Get you some medicine,” Hallie said.
Just then Remy’s Lamia-commingled scent hit Anastasia gently. The aroma also carried a thick smell of cologne, masking Nathan’s own sickly scent still drifting in the air. She turned her head to look over her right shoulder, eying him standing firm behind her. His presence startled her. Never had she been this distracted to allow someone to sneak up on her and invade her thoughts. She fel
t his stare nipping at the back of her neck and finally she maneuvered around to face him.
“Your thoughts are exploding right now.” He stood with his arms to the side; a Deamhan ready to make the first move if the situation allowed it. He wore a tight-fitting short-sleeve dark shirt, which matted and outlined his nipple piercings, and dark blue jeans. His frame blocked the moonlight entering through a tall window in the hallway behind them. His brown hair rested on his shoulders.
“What do you want?” Her question came off brash, but in reality, she knew exactly what he wanted. Since the night The Brotherhood took Veronica from the manor, he had been patiently waiting for the right moment to get her back. He couldn’t do it alone. She promised to help him, but they couldn’t just walk into their Chapter and demand her return. Like their main building in San Diego, it was heavily guarded. Veronica fared better surrounded by other humans.
“I’m not sorry for prying.” He placed his hands on the railing and leaned forward, looking down at the main floor. “It’s not like you’re trying to hide them.”
“Of course you’re not sorry.” Stubbornness overtook her and she returned to listen in on Nathan and Hallie’s conversation.
“You know, that baby Deamhan is right,” he said, referring to Hallie. “Nathan is sick and he isn’t getting any better.” He then nodded in the direction of the study. “He’s going to die on us soon. Do you think we should do something?”
“Sire him? Just like you wanted to do to Veronica when you thought she was also going die?” She watched while his hands squeezed the railing. “He doesn’t want to be a Deamhan. Lambert offered to make him vampire and he refused. He wants to live a normal life and die a natural death—so I say, let him.”
Remy shrugged. “What about vampire blood? Did you ever think of that?”
The thought never crossed her mind.
“He’s your friend. He’s our friend. You and I both know that creatures like us don’t have many of those,” he said. “He’s wasting away.” He rocked his body back and forth. “Unlike you, I like to help when and if I can.”
She felt the conversation taking a drastic turn, just like their previous conversations seemed to do the past few weeks.
“Your problem is that you can’t see beyond Veronica. You only care because somehow, in your distorted mind, you think it’ll help you free her. There are more important things than what you desire.”
“I’m talking about Nathan now, not Veronica,” he said while raising his hands in surrender. “All I’m saying is that when he dies we’ll be shit out of luck. We won’t have a sanctuary to call home and we don’t know any human who understands The Brotherhood like he does.”
“Ahh, yes, The Brotherhood. It always goes back to them because they have your Veronica.” Anastasia sighed in her captious approach.
“Or because they set up their Chapter right in the heart of downtown. How about when that asshole came here and threatened us? Did you forget about that?”
“They aren’t a threat.”
“Not yet.”
His constant nagging only angered her along with whatever secret activities he did outside Blind Bluff Manor. She never questioned how much he spent venturing on his own, only to return shortly after sunrise, smelling like human. What she felt in her gut told her that he had a plan up his sleeve and whatever he decided to do, she didn’t want any part of it. His behavior wasn’t worth risking her life for.
“What’s happening around us is more important than freeing Veronica or worrying about human researchers.”
“There you go again.” He leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “Always trying to lie your way out of a situation. I don’t think I’ve known anyone in my hundred-plus years of existence who lied better than you.”
She grunted.
“Hit a soft spot, did I?” he said with an underlining giggle in his voice.
“No. You’re just annoying me, like usual.” Her thoughts turned to subdue him, which she could easily do. It came with age and experience. She had both which helped her survive for over 400 years. It helped her heal after Selene nearly killed her at the warehouse. Age helped all Deamhan.
“You’re still on that remorse train about betraying Maris, aren’t ya?” he asked. “I don’t like this new and improved you. You’re all emo now. I bet you still eat squirrels.”
“Remy. Back off.”
“Or what?” He lowered his voice and moved closer to her.
Her brown eyes gazed into his and for a moment his thoughts moved aimlessly into her own mind. He hated her offspring, Maris, with a passion and he wouldn’t hesitate killing her the next time he saw her. It was then that she had to let him know that wasn’t going to happen. Better yet, Amenirdis wouldn’t allow it.
His thoughts continued to speak to her. I’m no one’s bitch. Finally, he opened his mouth. “Amenirdis doesn’t scare me. I’m not going to get on my knees and serve her, wherever the fuck she is.” He placed his hand on her forearm. “You and I both know the moment she comes back here, she’ll kill us without hesitation.” He glided his hand to her shoulder. “Whether you like it or not, it’s just you and me. We’re the only ones in this city who can rely on each other.”
But Anastasia wasn’t so sure. Her dreams told her otherwise. Amenirdis needed her, but she didn’t know why. She kept her dreams confidential, never telling anyone at the manor. Not even Nathan, who was the only human she trusted.
She felt her body tense as Remy’s hand moved, resting over her cleavage. With every other heated argument they’d had in the past, he turned to sexual advances when he wanted to make a point, but this time she had no patience for it. Quickly, she grabbed his hand and twisted it with such force that his body lifted onto the tips of his toes.
“I could never trust you.” She strengthened her grasp and, instead of fighting back, he laughed in enjoyment. “I know you’ve been leaving the manor a lot lately. You always come back smelling like human. What are you doing, Remy?”
“I’m keeping my end of the deal. That’s more than I can say for you.”
She squeezed harder, feeling his finger bones crack underneath his skin.
“I thought you didn’t give two fucks about what I do?” he replied in pain. “You’re a little stronger than usual. You haven’t been missing your Wheaties.”
He tried matching his strength to hers. The more he pulled back, the stronger she increased her grip. His scent reeked of Lamia, but she found herself attracted to it in an unusual kind of way.
She eventually let him go. “I don’t care what you do, but you know where I stand when it comes to Veronica.”
“Yeah, yeah. You have more important things to do. I get it.” He moved back and rubbed his hand. “But you made a promise to me.” He examined his palm while the bones healed themselves back into position. “You said you’d help me get her back.”
“And I will, but not now.” Very few humans remained on her ‘to care for’ list. Unlike Remy, she didn’t miss Veronica. Showing that she did only revealed a sign of weakness.
“When?”
“When there’s time.”
“You used me and I don’t like it.” Darkness hazed over his eyes and they stared her down. “You may be the oldest Deamhan living under this roof, but that still doesn’t make you invulnerable.”
“Is that a threat?”
“What do you think?”
His uncanny ability to turn the situation back in her direction didn’t impress her. Like all Deamhan who whispered great things in her ear, she found his reply bland and unforgiving.
“Make your move, Lamia.” She waited for him to go on the attack. Instead he straightened his composure and shook his head gently, which somehow made his eyes revert back to their natural brown color.
“I thought so.” She proceeded down the steps and into Nathan’s study, finding him and Hallie standing over a long table covered in research journals. As soon as Hallie saw her, she halted in mid speech. Her
face changed from concern to annoyance and she had every right to be. She considered Nathan the only one in the manor who understood her wants and needs. While Anastasia ordered and pushed her around, and Remy treated her like a second-class citizen, Nathan made the youngest Deamhan in the household feel comfortable and wanted. He gave her access to his study where he kept hundreds of books written by other researchers. When bored, she read up on the origins of their kind. Only when he found his father’s cryptic journals did all the information about Deamhan fill in the holes and answered her questions. In those journals she learned more about the Pure Ones and other supernatural creatures in the world. She learned about Deamhan, now dead and gone, who existed before her. For a long time she believed that Deamhan sat on the top of the food chain. That was before she read about the Dorvo vampires and their coven.
“I found a few mentions of Revelation in the journals.” Nathan made his way back to a plushy, dark chair centered just shy of the fireplace. His feet shuffled across the floor with his upper body bent slightly forward. His white skin now looked pale and dark bags rested underneath his eyes.
“Have you come across the name ‘Sia’?” Anastasia caught a whiff of cough drops mixed with Vapor Rub coming from his direction.
“No.” His tired hazel eyes turned to her.
“I wonder who she is. I heard her name in my dreams.” She paused. “How are you. . . feeling?” She stuttered.
“I’m doing fine.” He lowered himself in the chair. “Why do you ask?”
“You look more tired than usual.”
“So do you,” he replied. “Are you getting enough rest?”
Her thoughts turned to her dreams. “I’m sleeping fine,” she lied to him. “So, what did you find out about Revelation?”
He looked through just one of the many Journals of Blank Pages they found months ago packed away in boxes located in the basement. No one in the sanctuary knew enough about them to truly understand how important they could be in finding an answer to the dilemma they faced. Although one journal did help them locate the missing piece of the Dark Curse, Anastasia felt that he recently spent more time shifting through these journals in order to not face the possibility that nothing could prepare them for the future. To the human eye, the journals looked empty; but for Deamhan, they carried a wealth of information that could only be accessed with help from the moon’s illuminating glow.
Deception (Deamhan Chronicles Book 3) Page 2
