Deception (Deamhan Chronicles Book 3)

by Morrison, Isaiyan

  “I’ll help you go through these ones if you want,” Hallie said to him while lifting a journal from the table.

  “I told you that you don’t have to,” he replied. “And before you tell me that I should rest instead of reading, remember that...I don’t have time to rest.” He opened one journal. “From what it says here, Limbo isn’t a self-sustaining place.”

  “Self-sustaining?” Anastasia repeated, curious.

  “It needs inhabitants.” He flipped through it. “I think that’s what this means. Or it could be blood.” He looked up at her. “Maris’ blood, perhaps?”

  “Good thing she left Minneapolis with Ayden when she did,” Hallie said. “She did leave with him, right?”

  Anastasia nodded.

  She placed the book back on the table and walked toward him, hearing the wooden floor creak underneath her weight. “Maybe there’s more in these journals about Amenirdis.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “She scares me.” Hallie cupped her hands in front of her chest. “Everyone has an idea about what she wants, but no one really knows.”

  “What about Amenirdis’ blood?” Anastasia questioned. “Is there anything in the Journals that describes the blood of a Pure One?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t come across anything referring to that. From my knowledge, Selene and Lucius are the only Deamhan who drank her blood.”

  “What about Kyra?” Hallie asked. “I thought I read somewhere that she also drank that stuff?”

  Just the mention of that name made Anastasia angry. She wanted to hate that woman more than she already did, but Kyra acted as all Deamhan did to secure their own survival. She played the role perfectly and in doing so she lived to walk the Earth for another night while Lucius, Selene, and many other Deamhan perished.

  “Did someone mention Kyra, the Queen of Liars?” Again, Remy’s surprise appearance caught Anastasia off guard. He leaned against the open door to the study with his arms folded across his chest. His retort carried a hint of sassiness. He only had harsh words for the previous so-called savior of the Deamhan race.

  “We were just talking about the ongoing situation,” Nathan answered.

  “Oh, yeah. That.” Remy passed through the threshold and walked over to the Journals resting on the table. “Where’s the one about me? It’s here, isn’t it?”

  Uninterested in his snippy remarks, Anastasia glanced at the Journals and sighed loudly. “All this talk about Kyra annoys me. I’m going to eat.” Suddenly, she saw Hallie’s body shiver, revealing the same reaction she knew all too well. All Deamhan did. It signaled hunger, warning them that they had to feed soon. The pain always started with unpleasant rumbling and the feeling of something attempting to gnaw its way out. If Hallie ignored it, Nathan would turn into the only substance that would quench her feeling. Having human sounded pleasant, but Anastasia knew the reality. The only time the youngest Deamhan in the manor killed a human was a detective. Before and after that incident, she stuck with furry, four-legged creatures that lived in the vicinity.

  Oddly enough, Nathan also appeared delectable to her, but she quickly pushed that thought out of her mind.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Hallie said.

  “You’re going to hunt?” Remy laughed.

  She rolled her eyes at his statement.

  “You’ve killed every rodent around here.” He shrugged. “There’s nothing left.” He approached her. “I have a suggestion. Why don’t you go outside the gates with your big sister, Ana? Find a succulent human in the city or a Dorvo vampire? God knows they’re breeding like cockroaches.”

  Nathan crossed his legs and placed his hand between the pages of his book, using it as a makeshift bookmark. “It’s dangerous in the city.”

  “It’s dangerous anywhere,” Remy replied. “Plus, it’s good for her. She needs to learn, if she wants to survive. She can’t stay with you forever. You probably won’t last another year. She needs to stop sucking on your teat and graduate into Deamhan adulthood.”

  “Shut up!” Hallie screamed at the top of her lungs, which did little to stop his shenanigans. Instead he continued.

  “You know I’m right. She has to start eating normally, which means killing. Nathan, you’ve studied our kind for decades. You know our behavior from head to toe. We’re Deamhan. It’s what we do.”

  For the first time, Anastasia wanted to hear Nathan’s thoughts regarding Deamhan behavior. Before the sanctuary fires in Minneapolis, he spoke against it, giving them options of feeding from animals that lived in the vicinity. Now he couldn’t object to the idea, especially when he knew that rodents provided little sustenance for them.

  Nathan lowered his head and returned to his books.

  “You’re an asshole!” Hallie screamed at Remy. “I’m not going to kill anyone.”

  Unwavered by her outburst, he shrugged. “You’ll thank me later.” He turned to walk out when she spoke again.

  “Yeah, well, if I wanted your opinion I would have asked for it!”

  His shoulders jumped up and down as he laughed silently.

  “Let her make her own decision.” Anastasia walked out of the study and to the front door. Both of them followed her.

  “You would say that.” Remy picked up his pace and positioned himself in front of her. “After all, wasn’t it you who ordered Hallie to not leave this place?” He tapped his chin as if he were deep in thought. “Or did you order her to stay because of The Dictum? I don’t remember.” He giggled.

  “The Dictum is dead. It died along with the only other two Deamhan who followed those outdated rules religiously.”

  “Oh, you mean Lucius and Selene? The ones who committed ritual suicide to release Amenirdis, who’s after your precious Maris?” He attempted to play her for sport. “Didn’t you used to follow that crap as well? Guess you can’t do that now. There’s no Deamhan left in the city who’ll help you enforce it.”

  “You guys can’t tell me what to do anymore,” Hallie said.

  “You’re right, my littlest Deamhan,” he joked. “There’s nothing holding you back from sheer craziness. Time to let it all out.”

  “Go if you want.” Anastasia stepped aside and motioned for Hallie to leave. “Here’s your freedom. Go to the city and feed. Go have your human fill for the night.”

  “I told you. I’m not going to kill anyone.” She held her head high, defiant.

  “Then stop talking about it.” Anastasia stepped outside, letting the warm air brush against her skin for a moment. It rushed at her face, carrying along with it the smell of grass and dew and another scent that made her pause in her step. “Maris?” The name hung on the tip of her tongue. She smelled her offspring’s scent as clear as day. It moved all around her, through her hair, brushing up against her face.

  “Maris is here?” Picking up on her confusion, Remy’s eyes looked around the horizon. The sun had set, coloring the horizon in hues of blues of purples. Coming up empty, he shot her a confused look. “What you’re smelling is horse shit, my dear.” He returned his attention to Hallie. “You’ll have to leave sometime. How else are you going to get medication for Nathan?” He shot her a playful smile. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  Hallie now turned her anger at him. “No.” She began to waver in her strong stance. Her eyes blinked rapidly and she turned to look away.

  “You might as well go to the city,” he said, “and pick up a human and medication.”

  Noticing Hallie’s growing need to feed, Anastasia stood fast. “What you’re feeling is hunger. Regardless of who or what you eat, the fact is that you have to eat eventually. You can stay here and ignore it, placing Nathan in danger, or you can go out and find a meal. Either way, you’ll have to eat something.”

  “Or someone,” Remy joked.

  “I know. I’m not an idiot.” Hallie’s body shook again. She stared out at the horizon, her voice now empty, with no signs of a comeback. Like an untrained Deamhan, she exposed her thought
s in the open. Anastasia picked up on them, sensing fear and anger. Hallie’s ultimate goal was to go to the city whenever she wanted without having to worry about her shadow swallowing her nature into an abyss. Now she had the chance, but the current population of vampires held her back. She didn’t want to go to the city with her, yet she knew that Anastasia was strong and old enough to guarantee her safety. She didn’t trust Remy enough to provide that for her.

  “I have no intention of staying with you in the city,” Anastasia said. “But if you want me to, just ask.”

  Hallie snapped her head in her direction. “Stop reading my thoughts.” She tilted her head as her thoughts continued to rush from her mind like a waterfall. She tried to block them but failed. She feared for Nathan and didn’t want to leave him. Blind Bluff Manor had been breached before. It wasn’t safe like it used to be. Her desire to protect him at all costs ran deep.

  “First thing I’m going to show you is how to block your mind from other Deamhan,” Anastasia said. “Then I’ll show you how to hunt.”

  “Have fun with that,” Remy said. “I would join your little party, but I have prior obligations.”

  She glared at him with stark eyes, knowing full well that he enjoyed the unsettling argument.

  Hallie sighed before rushing off in Deamhan speed down the pebble driveway and Anastasia waited for a split second before following her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  From the outside, the farmhouse had a slight tilt to the right, surrounded by overgrown weeds and wild and tall Garden Phlox, which came in a multitude of pink, white, and yellow. At night, the colors’ vibrant glows remained blocked from human view, but Remy wasn’t a human. As a Lamia Deamhan, he considered his appreciation for landscape an unusual gift, especially when the faint twinkling light from the stars above added to the serene terrain. He couldn’t help but appreciate the value of well-placed flowers.

  He had found the farmhouse years ago on his way to the city. Back then, an elderly couple lived on the ten-acre land for over fifty years. When the husband died, his wife had no choice but to put the farm up for sale. After her death, the farm went on the auction block to pay for her funeral expenses. Remy grew fond of the abandoned area and the thought of purchasing it crossed his mind. He figured from the lack of upkeep, no human would dare trespass on the property. He imagined a little addition near the rear of the home where he’d keep the victims he met in the city of Minneapolis. In his little cave of horrors, he’d fatten them up and feed on them later without having to worry about Deamhan or researchers from The Brotherhood watching his every move.

  His caution about the place remained as sturdy as the wooden planks beneath his feet, laid out in a path straight to the cellar. He feared that one day a relative or new owners would appear, claiming ownership of what he considered his own personal sanctuary. Until then, he went on his night-time business as usual.

  He dropped his huge saddle bag to the ground and slowly pulled back the rotted wooden door that lazily blocked the entrance. Lifting his right leg up, he climbed over a metal beam, grabbed his saddle bag, and proceeded to descend slowly into the dank area. He quickly smelled the human scent he’d grown used to in the past few days, signaling that his guest still survived in the decrepit makeshift room below. He didn’t know that farmhouses had cellars until he came across this one. To him, it was abnormal, but the more he learned about the city and its weather, finding out that tornadoes frequented the area, he came to appreciate the efforts of the humans who built it.

  When he made it to the dirt covered floor, he overshot the first step and immediately placed his hand on the weathered brick wall for support. His hand smacked in the middle of a thick spider web, filled with gnats and dead flies that made him shudder in disgust. He wiped his hand free from the filth on his saddle bag. His vision narrowed, focused on the wall, and for the first time he saw peeling red and white flower wallpaper, hanging on by strips. Only humans would try to decorate a dark environment in an attempt to spice it up a notch.

  He then heard the old man cough and call out, “Help me.”

  Every night that he made his way down the stairs, Samuel Austin called out the same distress call. He had to know by now that no one was coming to save him. Yet he held on to the hope that his organization, The Brotherhood, would eventually find out that he didn’t die months ago. They’d come in droves and save him from the scary, bad Deamhan.

  Remy glided his hand along the wall until he found the light switch. He flicked it on and, instead of seeing Veronica’s father, his eyes settled on ruffled dingy-white sheets on an empty bed. He carefully placed his saddle bag on the floor and his brown eyes scanned the area from left to right. He knew that Mr. Austin hadn’t left. Body odor, urine, and sweat fumigating his nostrils, and his weak plea for help told him so. He surrendered his vision to his hearing—listening intently and picking up of the sound of lungs constricting and expanding behind him.

  Remy couldn’t come up with anything else to curb the hatred Mr. Austin had for him. He killed Kei in revenge for what happened to Veronica’s mother. In doing so, he suspected that Mr. Austin would break down the concrete wall he placed between himself and Deamhan. He would thank him for finally closing a long, dark chapter in his life and for fixing his mistake. After all, Mr. Austin was responsible for the death of his wife, which made Veronica pack up and leave for Minneapolis in the first place. She broke through the ice and found out that her own father made a deal with Kei after he learned that his wife became romantically obsessed with Kei’s sire, Lucius. It was Mr. Austin who struck a deal, which lead to Deamhan infighting in the city. Now everyone and their mother knew the dirty family secret.

  All of this didn’t change how the old man felt about the species. He continued to stir in his hate for anything Deamhan-related, and Remy had no choice but to accept it because of Veronica. Anastasia handed her over to The Brotherhood like a bartering chip. She called it ‘a sign of good faith’ and in return the humans agreed to call off their mercenaries and join forces to battle the biggest threat at that time: Lucius.

  It wasn’t the first time Mr. Austin tried to catch him by surprise. He was persistent. Remy imagined what it could be this time: a piece of wood, his own shoes, or some other weapon the old man crafted from the crap scattered in the cellar. Whatever the case, the human didn’t have the strength nor two hands to grip anything heavy. Selene, Lucius’ offspring, saw to that when she ripped off his right hand and gave it to The Brotherhood so they could access their Archives for the Dark Curse.

  A slight gust of wind tingled the back of his neck and Remy immediately turned. Mr. Austin stood with his left hand raised, gripping onto a long metal rod. He swung to strike, but Remy easily caught him by his wrist with one hand and snatched the weapon away from him with the other.

  “You know that won’t work on me.” He saw rage in Mr. Austin’s glossed-over eyes. The old man grunted. Remy eyed the crude instrument. “Now, what did I tell you about playing with sharp objects?” He dropped it to the ground. “You shouldn’t over exert yourself.” With his hand around Mr. Austin’s wrist, he dragged him back to his bed.

  “Let me go, you son of a bitch!”

  He felt Mr. Austin pulling back against his own strength. “Not until you act like a civilized human and sit.” In one yank, Remy managed to swing him onto the bed. He stood, watching Mr. Austin rub his left wrist and scoot back, ruffling the sheets underneath his buttocks. “How’s the hand?” The gauze Remy wrapped around the nub of his right hand last night had turned brown. The smell of decaying flesh replaced its once fresh and clean smell. “Has that fully healed yet?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Now, now. That isn’t any way to treat the only person in the world who wants you to live.”

  “You’re not a person.”

  “I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear that.” He walked back over and grabbed his saddle bag from the floor. “I brought you some food.” He walked over to a table just
to his right and emptied the contents onto it. He assumed humans still ate the things he enjoyed eating when he was human himself—bread, water, fruit, and a sweet snack. He eyed the loaf of bread, three bottles of water, two bananas, and a sweet roll before presenting them to Mr. Austin. Besides bringing food, he also brought a fresh shirt and pants he’d stolen from a clothing shop in downtown Minneapolis after he killed the owner.

  “Pretend all you want. I’m not eating anything you’ve touched,” Mr. Austin replied in a stone-cold voice.

  “You didn’t eat yesterday. You have to be hungry.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “How do you expect to heal if you won’t replenish your strength?” He stood over Mr. Austin as the old man moved back slightly from him. He thought that no one could be as hard-headed as Veronica, but that was until he had the pleasure of her father’s company. He saved the old man from certain death, nursed him back to health, and killed Kei. Not once did he invade Mr. Austin’s thoughts or blame him for the actions of his fellow researchers...so what more could he do to gain his trust?

  “I’m not hungry,” Mr. Austin said again.

  Underneath his wrinkled skin, Remy saw the man’s tiny veins, signaling that his body hadn’t begun the healing process. To investigate further, he reached out to touch his cheek and almost immediately Mr. Austin swiped his hand away.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “I’m trying to help you, for the thousandth time.” Remy dropped his hand.

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “Oh c’mon, researcher. You know that’s a lie. I understand that you have to flex your balls to the big bad ol’ Deamhan, but you’re only hurting yourself.” He grabbed a bottle of water from the table and placed it on the bed. “Now, drink. If I remember correctly, humans get dehydrated, which doesn’t help the healing process.”