Mr. Austin refused.
“Or I could just give you my blood. Sire you. Make you into what you hate.” He folded his hands across his chest. That should get this old asshole to eat.
“I don’t want your demonic blood inside me,” Mr. Austin snarled and grabbed the bottle of water. He nestled it between his chest and his right arm as he twisted the top opened with his left and began to gulp the contents.
“Good.” Remy nodded, satisfied that he had won the small battle. “Now, don’t forget to eat. If you eat everything, I promise to bring some coffee tomorrow. I know how much old people love coffee.”
Mr. Austin finished off the bottle and wiped the excess water nestled on his lips with the back of his hand. “Why are you doing this? Are you holding me for ransom?”
“Ransom? I told you already. I’m doing this for your daughter.”
“Leave Veronica out of this.”
Veronica. He never grew tired of hearing her name. Not once could he forget her smell, how smooth her skin felt, how her plush lips begged to be kissed by his own. How badly he wanted her that he would kill anyone or anything who stood in his way just to see her. He promised himself to never forget the first time he laid eyes on her when she walked into the vampire club, Dark Sepulcher. After she found out about her father, she spent countless nights in her room, sobbing quietly. He wanted to caress her then. He wanted to hold her and tell her that he would do whatever she wanted him to. She called his love for her nothing more than infatuation, but Remy begged to differ. She said that Deamhan didn’t have the ability to love and he wanted to prove her wrong. I love her, I love her. He repeated the phrase so many times in his head that he couldn’t do anything but believe it.
If my sire could only see me now.
Mr. Austin threw the empty bottle at Remy, hitting him in the chest.
“That wasn’t nice.”
“What in the hell do you know about nice?” Mr. Austin’s shoulders moved up and down as he laughed. “You Deamhan aren’t exactly known for being cordial.”
Remy grabbed the food off the table and placed it on the bed. “Now eat up.”
Mr. Austin started with the sweet roll, gobbling it up in large bites. Remy’s sight didn’t sway from his mouth, noticing how human spit mingled with the food, making the contents soft and wet enough to chew and swallow.
Again, it reminded him of the food he loved to consume as a human. “You never know how much you miss something until you’re no longer able to do it.”
Mr. Austin peeled back his banana and stopped to glare at him.
“I know I can eat and swallow, but my body won’t digest it. I don’t like the idea of puking it back up and out of my mouth. It’s such a hassle and it’s messy.”
Mr. Austin returned to eating his banana.
“But I understand the necessity of it.”
After he finished, he threw the peel at Remy’s feet. “You have no right to keep me here.” He wiped his left hand on his dingy pants.
Remy sighed. Here we go again.
“What you’re doing is illegal.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m doing this to protect you? Your Brotherhood fan-boy club can’t be trusted.” Every night the old man went on a tangent about keeping him prisoner at the farmhouse, regardless of how many times Remy mentioned the dangers lurking in the city. In no way would he allow Mr. Austin to place himself in danger. He had to stay alive if he wanted to get to Veronica back. Her father was his only leverage. “We’ve been over this before. The Brotherhood considers you dead and your shining example of a protégé, Kenneth, has become the President of the Midwest Division. May I remind you that he betrayed you and left you for dead? It’s his fault that you no longer have a right hand, and your daughter is being held against her will.”
“As long as she’s far away from your kind.”
He scrunched his lips. “You know, we aren’t as bad as you make us out to be.”
“Bullshit. All you Deamhan care about are yourselves. No one else.”
Remy couldn’t deny the truth. It wasn’t the first time the old man spurted out nasty, evil, little tidbits about a Deamhan’s nature. If a Deamhan did anything good in his or her life, they did it for their own gain and nothing more. If Mr. Austin wasn’t Veronica’s father, Remy would’ve left him at Ollie’s warehouse to die with the other humans. Even the thought of what he did for Nathan came down to the fact that he received something that benefited him in return. Remy jumped at the chance when Nathan allowed him to stay at Blind Bluff Manor. What Deamhan wouldn’t when it came to free room and board? Everything he ever did since becoming a Lamia was for his own benefit and nothing more. He couldn’t fathom going out of his way for anyone except Veronica, but his desire to free her came down to exactly that. What he desired and what he craved became the only tolerable thing in the world. Her.
“And I’ve said it before,” Mr. Austin continued to bark. “I can handle that son of a bitch.”
“Kenneth?” He laughed. “Like you handled him at the warehouse? How’d that work out for you?” That will make him shut up. He gathered the trash and stuffed it back in his saddle bag. “I would love to chat, but I have important things to do before sunrise.” He draped it over his shoulder. “I’m leaving now. Oh, I don’t think I have to remind you how important it is that you stay here.” He turned and headed for the door.
“Hazelnut.”
Remy paused in his step. “Excuse me?”
“You said you’re going to bring coffee tomorrow night,” Mr. Austin said. “Make sure it’s hazelnut flavored and bring a fucking coffee maker. And I want a cigar.”
“Smoking isn’t good for you.”
“Bring me a fucking cigar!”
Remy grinned. “A cigar and hazelnut coffee it is.” He walked up the stairs, closing the door behind him. He grabbed the chain and lock, securing the door shut before venturing out into the open.
1
DECEPTION. DEAMHAN CHRONCILES #3
CHAPTER FOUR
Kenneth Dearhorn’s car took a sharp right, heading down a dirt path surrounded by thick, large evergreen trees. With his hands on the ten and two position on the steering wheel, his eyes shifted slightly to his right at the darkened scenery that passed by in one thick blur. The moon cast a bright glow over the treetops of the wooded area.
He released his right hand and began to feel the interior of the roof of the car until he made contact with the light switch. He turned it on, brightening up his surroundings and making it difficult to see his exterior. His eyes shifted from the road in front of him to a crude piece of paper endowed with directions written in Johanna Rahn’s horrible penmanship.
“We’re almost there,” she said.
He made a quick glance at her and noticed how her upper body bounced. She was overly happy, and this made him worry. “We would’ve been there hours ago if you knew how to write.” The squiggly words, written in broken English, made it difficult for him to locate the exact location. The darkness and the desolate area also made him rethink his agreement to meet with her secret vampiric weapon against Deamhan: The Dorvo Coven.
Johanna knew good and well that Deamhan were the cause of the strife plaguing the humans. As a young girl, she immersed herself in The Brotherhood, learning the ins and outs like all researchers who came before her. When older, she found herself working as a researcher in the East Division. She vented her frustrations, believing that the organization had become too soft about Deamhan in general. When Kenneth found out that she had connections with the Dorvo Coven, he jumped at the chance.
The idea of reestablishing ties with them made the majority of researchers wary. But Kenneth saw the true potential of such a friendship. The history between The Brotherhood and the Dorvos went as far back as anyone could remember. Deamhan, regardless of their age, feared these vampires. Scattered across cities in countries around the world, Deamhan found themselves being hunted day and night by these supernatural
creatures who shared their same traits.
Up ahead, Kenneth saw an opening and he slowed down and parked the vehicle. He turned off the headlights. Before exiting, he patted the breast pocket of his business suit, making sure that he didn’t forget his wooden stake. Just like Deamhan, a sliver of wood was enough to stop a Dorvo vampire dead in their tracks.
“Nervous?” Johanna asked.
“No. Just cautious.” They exited the vehicle.
“You don’t have to lie to me.”
“I’m not lying.” Again he patted the breast pocket of his shirt and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He placed one between his lips and lit it.
“I’d leave that in the car if I were you. If she suspects that you have a weapon, she won’t hesitate to kill you.”
“My pack of cigarettes?” He grinned.
“No. You know what I’m talking about.”
“Oh, the stake? It’s coming with me.”
The secluded area, about 100 miles away from downtown Minneapolis, did little to make him feel comfortable. He glared around, and the sound of rustling bushes made him quickly snap his head to the right. A small rabbit appeared and hopped steadily across the open area, disappearing into another row of bushes. “Who’s this Dorvo vamp we’re meeting, anyway? How important is she to the coven?”
“You’ll find out soon.”
“I’d like to know now.”
“Relax. We aren’t enemy number one on their list, remember?”
“I hope you’re correct. I don’t want to risk my life for an assumption.”
“I’m not assuming,” she said. “My family has known the coven for a very long time. Trust me.” She turned to him and sneered. “Are you sure you aren’t nervous?”
He folded his hands and didn’t reply. Just the idea of meeting in a secluded area made him nervous.
“After all this time, you still don’t trust me, do you?”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I don’t trust them.”
“Believe me. We aren’t their enemy,” she said. “We need them as much as they need us.”
Now interested, Kenneth turned to her and lifted one eyebrow slightly. “Is that what you believe?”
“Yes. I thought you believed that too.”
While their goal to rid the city of Deamhan remained the same, she never looked beyond that. A city overrun with any supernatural creatures only pushed humans further down on the food chain. Although he personally preferred vampires and Dorvo vampires over Deamhan, it wasn’t like he considered them to be less violent. In general, vampires had their share of brutality that couldn’t be ignored; but lately, Deamhan had outranked them in terms of violence and murder, making vampires seem like fairies in comparison.
“When this is all over, The Brotherhood will thank me for cleaning up their mess,” she replied. “And my family will finally be able to get what we should have years ago. Respect.” They heard rustling on their right, making them snap their heads in that direction. Kenneth dropped his cigarette to the ground and smothered it with his foot.
“She’s here,” Johanna said.
He continued to stare straight ahead as the bushes parted. Out stepped an average-height woman with long dark hair. Dressed in a black jacket, black shirt and pants that blended with the nighttime background, she moved forward slowly, her face showing no signs of emotion. When she walked by him, her eyes shifted in his direction for a quick moment.
“Ruby.” The name slithered in delight from Johanna’s mouth.
Kenneth remembered the Dorvo’s name. The Brotherhood didn’t bother to research or document any of them unless they somehow appeared on their radar, and Ruby managed to do so. She was also the same individual who hunted Anastasia and her sire to the ends of the Earth. Cruel and quite capable of making any historical torturer look like a child in comparison, her representation of the coven matched their ferocity. However, they continued to remain discreet in their kills, unlike Deamhan. Still, Kenneth couldn’t look over one simple piece of important information when it came to them. Kashshapu, Sumerian magicians, create Deamhan, to protect their people against the vampires in that day. Now Dorvon vampires went to great lengths to distance themselves from what they considered ‘ordinary vampires’ who adjusted to their popularity among human wannabes. These ordinary vampires enjoyed the spotlight, relishing in its moments, while Dorvon vampires remained elusive with one goal in mind: to destroy all Deamhan. This desire remained intertwined in their dark DNA.
“It’s been a long time, Ruby,” Johanna said. “I was getting tired of having to speak to others just to get a message to you.”
“And for that, I’m truly sorry.” She slowly motioned for her to approach. “I’ve been extremely busy these past few years. I haven’t congratulated you on your new position as Midwest Region Leader.”
Nothing could have prepared him for Ruby’s beauty. She looked absolutely stunning, breathtaking. Her eyes revealed a distinct coloration, which added an aura of mystery about her. Startled, he’d never seen anything like it, even in humans, which made her more intriguing. Her left eye had a bluish tint and her right eye had a brownish tint. It was abnormal.
He watched in silence as she walked toward the vampire. She then nestled her head against Ruby’s chest like a child looking for comfort from their mother.
“You’ve always been my favorite human.” Ruby began to caress her gently. “I do wish we’d meet more often and under different circumstances.” Their relationship had to go deeper than just providing information to one another. Johanna’s facial expression changed. She closed her eyes and slowly smiled.
Ruby then turned her attention to him. She licked her lips in a sensual fashion. “So, this is him? This is the researcher you’ve been telling me about?”
He quickly looked away. Unlike Deamhan, all vampires had the ability to control the mind of others with just a glance.
Johanna regained her composure, pulled back from Ruby, and straightened her clothing. “This is Kenneth Dearhorn. He is—”
“I know who he is.” She approached him.
Don’t look her in the eyes. He mentally repeated the order he gave himself over and over.
“This is the researcher who wants to rid the world of Deamhan.” Ruby lowered her head slightly and with her brow creased, the left side of her mouth curled upward.
“Yes.” He continued to avoid her gaze.
“So. Tell me. What makes you think that the Dorvo Coven can help you?”
He had prepared himself for this moment. He had memorized his speech, stitched together with historical facts and reasons that ended with the destruction of both the Dorvo Coven and The Brotherhood if they refused to get their act together. He couldn’t lie. Even a little misstep meant that she’d kill him without a thought.
“You know how The Brotherhood feels about Deamhan and now, with Amenirdis loose, they pose an even greater threat. No one knows where she is or what she plans to do, but we can all assume that she’ll release the remaining Pure Ones from Limbo—and soon. We can’t let that happen.” He proceeded to move on to his distaste for Deamhan, which reeked from his very being, hoping that she wouldn’t overlook it.
“Oh, we are quite aware that you humans fear Amenirdis,” she replied with her eyes staring down at the ground. “Your Brotherhood couldn’t stop a simple ceremony from happening.”
He felt her eyes locked onto him like a hook to a fish.
“Such a shame.”
“If I remember, you failed your efforts over a century ago.” His short reply lingered in the air. “So, I guess both parties are to blame, but I didn’t come here to argue about the situation. I’m here to find a solution for it. Things have changed and both parties are obligated to fix what Deamhan have broken.”
“And what have they broken?” She moved toward him.
“Stability.”
“Hmm.” She rubbed her chin in thought.
“We’ve worked together before. The Brotherhood a
nd the Dorvo Coven used to be on the same side.”
“Same side?” She bent her neck to the side, gawking at him.
“Yes, the same side.”
“I know you’re not telling me everything. I know you have one of the two pieces of the Dark Curse. I know you want our help in taking over The Brotherhood.”
She read him like a book and in return, he nodded. “They’ve grown soft when it comes to Deamhan matters.” He finally looked at her.
“Can you blame them? You humans were never known for sticking through the rough stuff. As long as you have what you want, why stay around for the scrapings? You have one piece of the Curse, but you want more. You want it all and you see Dorvo vampires as a way of getting what you desire. What you think you deserve.”
“Having the piece in my possession isn’t important to your coven.”
“Tsk, tsk, researcher. You know,” —she turned her body slightly right and began to circle around them— “the Dark Curse is connected to us as well. It doesn’t belong in the hands of a human or a group of feeble-minded individuals who think they can protect themselves from the supernatural with weapons like that wooden stake in your pocket.”
“It’s for my own protection.” Kenneth stepped back. “I wouldn’t use it on you. I need your help.”
“That you do.”
“And how is the Dark Curse connected to you?” He watched her closely.
“In ways you don’t understand.”
“Regardless, Deamhan would’ve never been created if vampires didn’t go around killing humans because they felt like they could. The Brotherhood was created to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. We didn’t make them turn to dark magic. Your ancestors did.”
“You’re clueless about our history.”
“I know enough to place appropriate blame.”
Deception (Deamhan Chronicles Book 3) Page 4
