Deception (Deamhan Chronicles Book 3)

by Morrison, Isaiyan

  She laughed at his request. “I’m her friend, Kenneth. Not her superior.”

  “You’re human. That makes you superior. You’re also the Midwest Region Leader, so act like it.” He pulled out another shirt from the closet.

  “I can’t exactly order her to move the pace along. She’d kill me.”

  “You will. Now put some clothes on and let’s get to work. I’m tired of staring at your sagging breasts.”

  Her lips scrunched into a tight-lipped smile. “You didn’t say that last night when you were suckin’ on them.”

  1

  DECEPTION. DEAMHAN CHRONCILES #3

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Dark Sepulcher kept the same outside appearance as the last time Remy ventured to the club. As usual, lines of patrons waited outside for their moment to enter and become a part of the inner vampire bliss that he now so much hated. Humans, not knowing the dangers that awaited them, paid ridiculous amounts of money for the chance to enter and drink themselves into a stupor. They dressed in dark clothing with black makeup caked on their faces and fake vampire teeth adorning their mouths. They had no idea they were walking blood bags on display. Nothing more than snacks.

  At least he no longer had to worry about rogue Deamhan getting revenge for their beloved, fallen leader, Kei. They didn’t threaten his existence. That job now belonged to vampires, regardless of their origins. He had to tread carefully if he wanted to make it out alive.

  Only a year ago, Deamhan outnumbered the vampires two to one, both in the city and the club. His best vivid memories of Dark Sepulcher were scouring the crowds for a quick snack for the night. He loved the human women who threw themselves at his feet. In those days the city’s vampires knew their place. They made damn sure they never stood between a Deamhan and their meal. Life was much easier then.

  At the club, under dim lights, sheltered by human bodies, he had met Veronica for the first time. She wandered into the establishment on a mission to find out what happened to her mother. He had tried to sweep her off her feet and charm her with his beauty. The moment he laid his eyes on her, he thought of her as a delicate human that he’d have one day. Now that The Brotherhood had her, he had to figure out a way to get her back. He had no choice but to rely on Lambert, the vampire, to get that information.

  Remy walked by the line of humans before he approached two bouncers standing at the front door. One of them, a large, bald, white man with deep-set brown eyes, placed his arm in front as a barricade.

  “Are you sure you want to go in there?” he asked.

  “Of course I want to go in there,” Remy replied. “Vampires don’t scare me.”

  The bouncer lowered his arm, shrugged, and stepped aside. Remy walked in, past the cashier, and pulled back the long black curtain fashioned as a door.

  Almost immediately the thick air carried vampire scents to his nostrils. He covered his nose and stopped in his tracks. Rotating disco balls replaced the macramé figurines on the ceiling. The black boxes that housed scantily-clad humans were now gone. Lambert had expanded the dance floor farther than before, with its edges now reaching far beyond the booths that Remy loved to sit in. The music also sounded different. Instead of rhythmic Techno beats, he heard the slow wails of a female singer echoing from the speakers. Vampires of all different shapes and sizes danced slowly to the beat. They twirled their arms in the air as if they reached for the heavens. Some of them had blood caked onto their mouths. Others danced with humans who looked terrified at the sight of real vampire teeth.

  He decided to stay near the back and remain close to the wall to avoid swimming through the crowds. When he smelled a vampire nearby, he picked up his pace until he found himself near the staircase leading up to Lambert’s VIP room. He examined the stairs like Mount Everest, waiting to be climbed. Before he moved, a cold hand slapped his left shoulder and he heard a female’s voice.

  “You’re stupid for coming here.”

  Alexis. Lambert’s consort and all-around the most annoying vampire he had the pleasure to know. Never in his long existence had he wanted to kill someone as much as her. She was the gnat attacking his ear. He found her appearance appalling, down to the short pink miniskirt and the short matching pleather shirt, complete with a short female tie that she wore. Her brown crow-like eyes gave him the once over as she moved her hand from his shoulder.

  “Yeah, well, what can I say? I love being where I’m not wanted.”

  Her fangs already made an appearance. “What do you want?”

  “To talk to your master.”

  “He’s not my master.” Her tongue swirled around the pointed end of her right fang. “We’re equals and you know that.”

  The things she could do with that tongue. “C’mon, Alexis. Don’t kid yourself.” He turned back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He climbed the steps and she tried to stop him. This time, with a hardened grip, she spun him around, almost knocking him over the railing and onto the floor below.

  In reaction, he felt his eyes turn. In response, she snarled with her mouth open wide and her fangs fully extended. He heard a whooshing sound and soon three vampires, who had caught wind of the growing altercation, stood behind her, ready to join in the attack.

  The door to the VIP burst open. “No fighting in my establishment.”

  Somehow Lambert’s voice brought an end to the vampires’ show of strength. The ones that jumped to Alexis’ side, now looking defeated, wandered off. She retracted her fangs and stood tall, regaining her composure.

  “That goes for Deamhan too,” Lambert said.

  Remy made his eye color return to normal. “We’re not fighting. Just sorting out our differences.” He looked over his shoulder, staring at Lambert who stood on the top stair. There was something about that vampire that Remy found respectable and almost attractive. The way he took control of the chaos, the way he put his foot down—he didn’t tolerate any disobedience and he demanded respect without having to resort to pugilistic spectacles. Nathan admired him and considered him a trustworthy friend. Then again, what did humans know when it came to all things vampire?

  “Alexis, make sure that the workers bring up the remaining alcohol from the basement.” And with that, Lambert walked back into the VIP room, leaving the door opened for his Deamhan visitor.

  Remy returned his gaze to Alexis, lifting his eyebrows quickly to signal that he had won against her threat. The majority of the time, Lambert took the side of Deamhan. He saw the anger in her face, which he found oddly enough, pleasantly attractive, in a sadistic kind of way. “Let’s continue this some other time.” He waved and proceeded up the steps.

  “Let’s not,” she replied.

  He continued to climb the steps. “Don’t get mad at me, love. This is all your consort’s doing.”

  “Yeah, like he wanted you to be here. All you Deamhan are the same. Annoying little fuckers.”

  “You're so cute,” —he smiled— “thinking that you can harm me with big words.” He entered the VIP room and closed the door behind him. Lambert stood near the large, paned windows, viewing the club down below. In the corner, sprawled on a leather couch, Remy saw a human woman, barely alive, with her neck covered in puncture wounds. Speckles of blood littered the glass table in front of her.

  “You must excuse Alexis.” Lambert clasped his hands together behind his back. Wearing tight-fitting dark pants and a white wife-beater, his eyes remained forward.

  “No worries, my vampire friend. I’m used to her behavior by now.”

  “So why are you here this early in the evening?”

  “I miss you?” His joke fell on deaf ears. “Well, actually, I need some information and maybe some money.”

  “Money? For what?”

  “To spend!” He backtracked and walked around the small enclosure, examining every corner and crevasse.

  “What makes you think I have any to give?”

  He smirked. “You’re rich. You have money to give.”

  “As do you.”r />
  “Not as much as you have. I need more.”

  “Again, I ask, for what?”

  “Oh, you know. Shopping, buying things for my room, travel expenses.”

  “Travel expenses? You’re leaving Minneapolis?”

  “Not exactly. Well...” Remy paused. “How can I say this?”

  “Just say it.”

  “I’m taking a vacation trip to San Diego. All expenses paid by you, of course.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Remy made his way over to the woman and he bent down in front of her. “Can I have the rest?” He remembered that he hadn’t fed for the night and, by viewing her, his hunger pangs began.

  “Why San Diego?”

  “I’ve never been there.”

  “But, San Diego?”

  “You know why.”

  “Humor me.”

  Remy placed his hand underneath the woman’s chin, opening her mouth just enough to see her tonsils. “I’ll give you a moment to think about it...while I eat.” It was one thing to drink blood but another to drink the essence, the psychic energy of a living thing. For a Lamia Deamhan, like himself, it kept him youthful. His victim’s energy replenished his own, filling his body with the strength and warmth he needed to keep his body from rotting away. It kept him alive, it kept him immortal just like blood to a vampire. When he finished and opened his eyes, the soul of the human departed, leaving behind shriveled skin and sunken eyes.

  “Why San Diego?”

  He stood up, savoring the moment, waiting for his body to give him the signal that he had achieved enough for now. He looked back at Lambert whose eyes reminded him of a deer caught in headlights. “They have Veronica. I want her back.”

  “The Brotherhood Headquarters? Are you insane?!”

  “No. Just determined.”

  “You are insane.”

  “No. I just hate it when someone comes and takes away my plaything.” Remy walked back over to him. “I don’t like to share my playthings.”

  “She’s not a plaything. She’s human.” Lambert returned to the view of the crowd below.

  “My human.” He thought about Mr. Austin, making him swiftly recall the promise he made to the old man that he’d return to him that night with supplies. Cigars and something else. He couldn’t remember the entire list.

  “You should be more worried about your own safety right here, in the city, than hers.”

  “I’m not afraid of vampires.”

  “Vampires aren’t the only people you need to worry about.”

  “Is that so?” He let his tongue glaze over his bottom lip. He placed his hand in his pocket, rubbing his fingers along the amulet—Maris’ amulet—that he had in his possession. The green amulet had magical properties, one making the wearer immune to Deamhan attacks and the other, killing Deamhan by touch alone. He used it on Kei for his crimes against Veronica’s mother. He wasn’t sure that it’d work on vampires or any other supernatural creatures, but he desperately wanted to give it a try.

  “My spies have told me that Kenneth met with a female from the Dorvo Coven.”

  “So.”

  “Dorvo Coven, Remy. Don’t tell me you don’t know who they are.”

  I know all too well. He expected as much. “They sure did take their time coming here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When they came and took Veronica, that researcher guy—”

  “Kenneth.”

  “Yeah. Whatever. He threatened us by saying that The Brotherhood was going to rejoin with them or something.” He chuckled. “He thought that we’d quiver in our boots.”

  “It isn’t anything to laugh at.”

  “Says you.”

  “The female is their leader. I was also told by the spy that she was intrigued at the mention of your name.”

  “Me?” He pointed at himself. “Am I that popular?”

  “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  He gazed out the window, eying the crowd below. He had an idea of who this particular female Dorvo vampire was, but he kept his suspicions to himself. “So, where are they?”

  “They’re everywhere.” Lambert walked over to the huge window glass overlooking the crowd. “Do you happen to personally know who she is?”

  “I know a lot of women, so it’s possible.” Remy placed his right hand on the glass.

  “According to the spy, she was hardly forgettable. Her eyes stuck out. Each one had its own distinct color...”

  It couldn’t be! Remy dropped his hand and swallowed hard. He tried to push his concerns from the furthest reaches of his mind and concentrate on the task at hand. Veronica. “No, she doesn’t sound familiar.” His brown eyes moved to Lambert and in a brief moment he saw the vampire shake his head. “You think I’m lying to you?”

  “It’s the only trait you Deamhan are good at.”

  “Well, I’m not. I don’t know who she is and I don’t care. A vamp is a vamp.”

  “You do know there’s a difference.”

  “Like what? I mean, besides referring to them as Dorvon or whatever the hell they want to be called, there isn’t that much difference. Don’t they also swear allegiance to some vampire god or something, and you don’t?”

  “Mentally and physically, there is a difference. Let me educate you.” Lambert cleared his throat. “They claim to be descended from a vampire by the name of Dorvo. That is why they would rather be referred to as ‘Dorvons’.”

  Remy turned to him with a blank stare on his face. “Oh now, that’s stupid.”

  “And they’re branded on their shoulders.”

  “Oh yeah. That.” How could I forget? “Just another stupid attempt to separate themselves from the regular ol’ vampires like yourself. Do they still think that branding a big ‘D’ on their back makes them special?” He laughed at the thought.

  “Oh. So you have dealt with them before?”

  “Yep. They’re a nuisance.” His eyes fluttered. “But the women...mmm the women.”

  “Well, if they’ve teamed up with The Brotherhood, that isn’t good for anyone.” He turned around. “Not to mention, the newer Dorvo vampires easily blend in with the rest of us.” His voice lowered in a sense of urgency. “They’re in the city. They’re in my club. They’re everywhere.”

  He had no choice but to acknowledge the concern. While the thought of Dorvo vampires running around unleashed struck a nerve, he couldn’t force himself to care. The only thing that mattered most was Veronica. Nothing else compared to her: the city’s future, Lambert’s burden. Nothing.

  He leaned against the glass with his arms folded across his chest. “You know about the Brotherhood Headquarters, like, how to get into the building?”

  Lambert whirled around to face him. “Have you not listened to a word I just said?”

  “I listened.”

  The vampire grumbled in discontent and moved away from the window. He stood, uncommunicative, and Remy began to think that soon he’d tell him everything he needed to know.

  Instead, Lambert confronted him with a truth that many Deamhan suspected from the get go. “You love Veronica?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “And they say that Deamhan are incapable of loving anyone but themselves. Even that’s an understatement.” Lambert’s concern warped into a gleeful expression. “Somewhere, in that vicious mind of yours, are leftover remnants from your human life.” He walked over to the couch and lazily pushed the human body aside. “How interesting.”

  His dead-on observation did little to bump Remy from his goal. “When did vampires suddenly think they could read our minds?” He grew aggravated, refusing to reveal any behavior that would make Lambert speak about love. His feelings for an ex-researcher, booted out from The Brotherhood, was just that. His own.

  “I just find that it’s...interesting.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why. Besides the fact that she hates you down to your core. She’d stake you in a second if given the opportunit
y. She called your feelings for her ‘dark and crooked infatuations,’ remember?”

  “I get your point. Just tell me what you know about their Headquarters.”

  “Let’s just say she actually fell for your charm, that she wrapped her frail arms around you...would that be enough?” He lowered himself comfortably on the chair and crossed his legs.

  “That’s all I need. Now, what do you know about the Headquarters?”

  “I’ll tell you, but it may be outdated information.”

  “I’m all ears.” Remy stood in front of him and waited patiently.

  “The last time anyone tried to break into that place was a decade ago,” Lambert said. “A young vampire out for revenge. Researchers, following a Deamhan, had run across his lover, feeding on a human. They staked her and, in fear, they left the city. The vampire wanted revenge. I told him not to go but he went anyway. I was surprised that he returned weeks later. This is what he told me.” He cleared his throat. “From the outside, the building looked relatively small, but it had a massive underground structure. When the vampire entered, two mercenaries confronted him at the front door. They had weapons that could not only hurt Deamhan but vampires as well. Like portable solar lights. They also had shotguns and supposedly, the shotgun cartridges had slivers of wood in them so they could spread...like buckshot.”

  “I don’t care about their weapons. Tell me about the structure. I need to know how many floors there are and where they might be keeping Veronica.”

  “I was told the Headquarters has six floors: the main floor, a second floor, and four floors below ground. Their Archives is on the second floor. Whatever you do, don’t go in there. If you do, you won’t leave alive. It’s heavily guarded. The floor beneath that is where they might have Veronica but again, you have to be careful. Some of these floors split into different sections and like every area, they have cameras.” He paused in thought.

  “Go on,” Remy said, anxious to hear the rest.

  “Are you sure you want to go there?” He eyed him suspiciously. After Remy nodded, he continued. “The vampire said that each of these sections were separated with thick metal doors that can withstand a vampire’s strength so he had to find the keys to unlock them.”