Deamhan

by Isaiyan Morrison

  “I ask the questions, researcher.”

  “Would you stop calling me that? I’m not a researcher.” Her voice screeched. No way would she tell him about Sean and her father. They were irrelevant. But she was curious on how much he really knew about her.

  He was losing his patience. His eyes narrowed and she caught a glimpse of his fangs that had now dropped.

  Veronica took a deep breath. “I’m looking for someone important to me.”

  “Well.” He leaned back. “That’s all you had to say.”

  “I’m looking for my mother. Her name is Caroline Austin.”

  “Are you?” He placed his arms on the back of the couch.

  “My mother and my father worked for The Brotherhood, and the Minnesota Chapter that disbanded right after she disappeared.” She waited for his response, but he remained quiet. “I’m just trying to find out what happened to her.”

  “Your parents were researchers?”

  Veronica nodded.

  “And you’re not.” He slowed his speech, emphasizing each word that came from his mouth.

  “I was raised in The Brotherhood because of my parents,” she said slowly. “But I didn’t follow in their footsteps. I’m here on my own.”

  He smiled. “Ah, now we’re getting somewhere, my curious sleuth.” He clapped his hands, and Veronica jumped at his odd behavior. “You’re here to find your researcher mother.”

  Veronica sighed in relief. She could move on from defending herself to learning about her mother’s disappearance, or so she thought.

  “You say you’re not from The Brotherhood, you’re not a researcher, and we all know you’re not a minion. This just makes you a nosy human who knows too much.”

  “Look.” Veronica slammed her hands on the glass table. She immediately regretted her outburst, and she lifted her hands and stepped back. For the first time, Veronica wished vampires could read her thoughts. “Do you know anything about my mother?”

  “Sassy.” He grinned. “I like it. Have another grape, my dear.” He pushed the bowl of grapes to her.

  Her body grew stiff, and her hands were tightly curled into fists. “Do you know her?”

  His eyes scanned her, again making her feel uncomfortable. “Your heartbeat is fast. I can smell your sweat. Are you angry?”

  “What?” Dumbfounded, Veronica shook her head.

  “Alexis was right. You smell so sweet, like cotton candy.” He smiled and this time his fangs showed. “Please, eat.”

  “I’m not hungry,” she replied. “Please, do you know anything?”

  He exhaled. “As you might already know, The Brotherhood hasn’t been in Minneapolis for decades, so I doubt your mother is lurking around. If she was, it would’ve made vampire headlines a while ago.”

  There was something unique about him, which Veronica couldn’t figure out. His face held a smirk only noticeable when she looked into his eyes. His witty and quick comments. He was a thinker, and from the prosperity of Dark Sepulcher, she surmised that he was also a good businessman. She couldn’t believe he didn’t know anything about her mother. The Deamhan and vampires knew all researchers in their cities. She suppressed her doubts and began to explain.

  “I’m not here to interrupt your lifestyle. I don’t like coming to Dark Sepulcher as much as your customers don’t like seeing me here. I know this place was here when The Brotherhood was here. I also know that you’re the type of person who knows everything that occurs in Minneapolis.”

  “Never heard of her.” He smirked. “But I do remember when the researchers left.” He placed his right elbow on the edge of the couch, in a comfortable position to think. “You come here in need of answers . . . why don’t you ask The Brotherhood?”

  His attack made Veronica a little hesitant to reply.

  “They didn’t tell you, or they couldn’t tell you?” He moved his head to the left and rubbed his chin.

  Veronica lowered her eyes to the floor. “They wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Interesting.” Lambert nodded. “And your father?”

  “We aren’t on speaking terms.”

  “Your father is still a member?”

  “This is not about my father. This is about my mother.”

  “Answer the damn question!” Lambert jumped to his feet in breakneck speed. He loomed over her, his eyes dilated and his mouth opened. Veronica couldn’t help notice that his sharp canines extended further than even the Ramanga twins.

  She gripped the side of the couch, taken back. The couch’s springs dug into her rear. “Yes, yes, he’s still a member.”

  He stepped back and closed his mouth. His fangs retreated and he straightened his shirt. “Excuse me. Sometimes I do get carried away. But a daughter at odds with her father. How cliché.” He drummed his fingers together. “And what would your father think of his daughter associating with vampires?”

  “I think I made a mistake coming here.” Veronica disregarded his question. “It’s obvious you don’t know anything about my mother.” She stood up from the couch and turned to walk to the door when Lambert opened his mouth to speak.

  “Your father is the president of the Midwest Division.” His words stopped Veronica in her tracks. She turned and watched him stand. She expected him to lash out, to bite her and suck every ounce of blood from her body just in time for Alexis to appear at the door and finish her off. Instead he stood, watching her. This revealed piece of information turned his smirk into a defined smile, and Veronica felt a need to defend herself.

  “I know how it sounds.”

  He raised his hand to interrupt. “I do admire your courage to waltz into my venue and start digging for info, but I suggest you question your father about such matters.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I suggest you find a way.”

  “I wouldn’t be here if there was another way.”

  “There is always another way.” Lambert approached her. “You don’t know the resources your father has at his disposal.” He threw his head back in an earsplitting laughter, which caught her off guard. “My dear, you really don’t know much, do you.”

  Veronica folded her arms in displeasure. “Apparently I don’t,” she said in a monotone voice, “so why don’t you tell me?”

  He reached out his hand to touch her cheek and she moved back.

  “Humans are so cocky, so authoritative these days.” He lowered his hand. “And so clueless.” His eyes attenuated themselves on her. “You’d make a great vampire. I can see you committing many talented atrocities.”

  “I don’t have a desire to become a vampire.”

  “A moment alone with me and I’ll have you begging me to be your maker.”

  “No thank you.” Veronica lifted her head high. She held her ground. She didn’t want Lambert to sense any fear from her. Vampires craved it. So did the Deamhan.

  “Are you just gonna keep on trying to scare me?” she asked. “Or are you going to tell me what you know?”

  Lambert’s lips stretched to a wide grin. “Sure.” He sighed, releasing the last of his laughter. “Have you heard of a Deamhan by the name of Lucius?”

  The name didn’t sound familiar to her.

  “He was the oldest living Lugat in Minneapolis during the time your parents were in the city. He kept order and made sure that all Deamhan followed the Dictum. He disappeared around the time the Chapter left. Most Deamhan believe he was murdered by his consort, Kei.” Lambert’s eyes began to dance in excitement while he continued the story. “And many Deamhan believe The Brotherhood was involved. His consort is now the most hated and dangerous Lugat in the city.”

  Sean didn’t mention anything about Lucius and Kei to Veronica and the documents he provided her didn’t mention him at all. Her eyes lit up to the new information, but she didn’t know what they meant in regards to her mother’s disappearance.

  “How do I know you’re just not making this up?” Veronica questioned Lambert.

  “You don’t.” He held o
ut his hands in front of him as if he waited for her to embrace him. “But if I’m lying, strike me down.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Is this Kei person still in Minneapolis?”

  “That bastard has never left.” Lambert rolled his eyes in disgust. “Can’t blame him. Can you imagine your reputation if you killed your all-powerful sire? Lucius wasn’t any Deamhan; he’s one of the oldest on this continent. He was an Ancient. He was respected.”

  An Ancient? Veronica’s thoughts tumbled around the phrase. Ancients didn’t live in Minneapolis. Why would they?

  She continued her questioning. “Why would they believe The Brotherhood had anything to do with it?”

  Lambert gave her a look of suspicion. “Are you defending them?”

  She quickly replied no. She couldn’t defend an organization that didn’t explain why they left the city without her mother, an organization that claimed to know nothing. Now she knew why things became unstable when they left. It didn’t match the story her father told her and what Sean was telling her. They didn’t leave because the Deamhan were out of control. They left because they had involved themselves in the Deamhan’s personal affairs.

  “Lucius was no ordinary Deamhan. He ruled the Lugat in the city with an iron fist. He kept other Deamhan in line. No Deamhan and vampire were strong enough to take him out.” Lambert paused. “But a Deamhan with the backing of The Brotherhood . . .”

  “So you’re telling me that my father worked with Kei to kill Lucius?”

  “Your father’s organization placed that lunatic on a pedestal.” He sneered. “Why? No one knows. Now Kei summons his Gatherings for the riff raff who slither from their dens. He kills any Deamhan, vampire, or human who stands in his way. He burns sanctuaries for his own pleasure. He’s violent and uncontrollable.” He paused. “Don’t get me wrong, I like a little violence in my life, but they’re creating unwanted attention and that’s the last thing we vampires and Deamhan need from the humans.”

  Veronica found his descriptions of Kei antipathetic and full of distaste. He hated him more than he hated her being inside Dark Sepulcher. “What kind of benefit would The Brotherhood get for helping Kei?”

  Lambert shrugged. “Again, that’s a question you should ask your father. What I do know is that Lucius is gone and Kei rules in his place.”

  Veronica didn’t know if Lucius or Kei had anything to do with her mother’s disappearance, but it had to be of some importance if Lambert was telling her. What he told her didn’t seem far from the truth and if what he said was true (and she trusted him as much as she trusted her father), it exposed a level of The Brotherhood her father purposely hid from her.

  She whispered, “So where can I find Kei?”

  “You don’t want to find Kei,” Lambert said. “Believe me, human. You don’t.”

  Veronica felt a rush of unwanted adrenaline pump through her, increasing with anger toward her father. She wanted Lambert to tell her more.

  “I’m not leaving Minneapolis until I know what happened to my mother and if I have to find Kei to get answers, then I have to look for him.”

  Lambert shook his head. “Stubborn, human.” His eyes drifted from amusement to annoyance. “You wouldn’t survive another week looking for Kei. Your protection status won’t help you.”

  Protected. It was the second time she’d heard that word. She didn’t know exactly what it meant.

  She heard a loud grumble echo from his stomach.

  He walked over to the table grabbing his cup, and he continued to the window. He glared at the crowd below. “Go and don’t come back.”

  “What?”

  “Go and don’t come back,” he repeated. “Your protection can only take you so far.”

  She approached him. “I keep hearing that I’m protected. What does that mean?”

  “It means exactly what it means.” Lambert patted his toned stomach and ignored her question. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m hungry.”

  She gulped loud enough for the noise to echo. She knew the vampires became extremely unpredictable when it came down to a good, easy meal. If he attacked her, she’d know how to deal with it, but there wasn’t any sunlight around nor any sharp objects. She missed her stake.

  Veronica watched him grab a bottle of bourbon from behind the desk. He poured himself a shot and he quickly downed it. Like Deamhan, vampires were capable of consuming liquids and digesting human food, opting for regurgitating it later. Alcoholic beverages proved necessary for the vamps who liked being in a drunken state, even if the affect was not as potent as it would be in humans.

  “Relax,” Lambert said in an impatient voice. “You’re not dinner.” He looked at the black curtain.

  “Is it because I’m protected and that you can’t hurt me?” she questioned again.

  “You wouldn’t be protected if you didn’t belong to anyone.” He slightly turned his head over his shoulder. “Someone, a Deamhan, has claimed you as their own.”

  “But I don’t belong to anybody—”

  He raised his hand to interrupt her. “Be careful where you tread, my dear.” He slowly lowered his hand. “It would be wise to belong to somebody in this city, especially if you place yourself in their world. And even so, being protected doesn’t mean much.” He walked over to the curtain. “If Kei wanted to, he’d have his followers kill you.” His voice was deafening to her ears. With every step he took, his voice grew louder and filled with anger. “He kills without remorse. He bathes in tubs of blood and flesh.” He stopped for a moment, in thought. “That sounds pleasing: a bloody bubble bath.” He quickly returned to his statement. “He’ll kill you on sight or maybe make you his bitch.” He stopped in his tracks; his eyes had widened, and he balled his fists, breathing deeply. “Now, what kind of morals would I have if I just told you where you can find him? It’s like signing your death warrant.” His voice seemed cold as ice.

  “Morals? Vampires don’t have morals.”

  He wrapped his hand around the tassel. “We like to believe we do.” He pulled back and pushed the white button. Veronica looked toward the door, seeing Alexis standing in the doorway. She heard the victim whimper and moan. The horrid contraption went to work again, and the grips tightened. Blood flowed from the spout and into his cup.

  He walked over to Veronica, holding the blood-filled cup. He closed his eyes and sniffed the liquid, reopening them while he drank it. Veronica heard the door open behind her and she turned to watch Alexis walk into the room and slowly approach Lambert. She placed her arms around his waist and licked his neck until he finished his meal. He gently rubbed the side of her head in euphoria. They were completely engulfed in their diminutive blood ritual.

  Alexis turned her sight on Veronica. “Can we kill her now?”

  Lambert wiped the blood from the corners of her mouth. “No, Alexis. We can’t.” He placed the empty cup on the counter. “I’m sure you know the way out, Veronica.”

  Veronica didn’t wait and hurried out of the room and down the hallway, repeatedly looking back.

  She watched Lambert grip Alexis in a kiss of extreme passion. He embedded his fingernails into her back and slowly began to scratch, drawing blood. She moaned, letting her head drop back freely. He brought his nails up to his mouth, sucking the thick, rich blood from them. He locked eyes with Veronica as she glanced back from the hallway. He grasped Alexis again; biting into her neck with such force that her legs became flaccid and he became her only support to stand.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Veronica rushed down the stairs. The music blasted from the speakers shaking her eardrums violently. She excused herself through the crowd, heading toward the exit. She felt a cold grasp on her wrist that twisted her around by force. Remy stood in front of her. He wore a black leather jacket with a black button T-shirt and dark blue jeans. He placed his other hand on her waist, pulling her closer to him. Veronica tried pushing him off her but she felt helpless in his grip.

  “I’ve missed you.” A devili
sh smile appeared on his face. She attempted to pull away again, but he increased the pressure on her wrist.

  “Let go of me.” Veronica tried to push him away.

  “We didn’t get to finish our conversation from the other night.” His grasp only became stronger. The beats streaming from the speakers snuffed her screams for help. The patrons continued to dance around them. They swayed back and forth in a dance too slow for the music. He stood taller than her. She looked up, and his eyes stared back into her own. She felt her body beginning to melt within his grasp. The more she struggled, the more she belonged to him.

  Her heartbeat increased and he stroked his hawkish fingers over her smooth skin. “You smell like a vamp.”

  Veronica cleared her head free from thoughts and waited for the burning sensation to start but it never came. Instead he placed his finger in front of her mouth to quiet her.

  “Shhh,” he said in a faint whisper that she heard underneath the music. Their dancing tempo increased while he dragged her along the dance floor.

  “Let me go,” she pleaded to him.

  “Do you think I’m going to hurt you?” he asked her in a soft voice. “And I thought I made a great first impression on you.”

  She remained quiet.

  “Would you care to join me at the bar? They have two for ones.” His brown hair was still pulled back in a ponytail. The smell of his new black leather jacket and expensive cologne radiated from him.

  “Care to join me?”

  “What do you want?”

  They continued to dance across to the opposite end of the floor. He placed his hand behind her head and gently pressed her face in his chest. She felt his hard and cold body through his shirt. Her head began to throb slightly, and his words dilated sensually in her brain.

  I want you.

  What she wanted was to run from him, to break free through the crowd and toward the exit.

  “I just want to get to know you more,” he replied. “You ran out unexpectedly.”

  “I don’t like being threatened,” Veronica said.

  He pulled her along the dance floor, spinning her around. He placed his hands back on her hips, and they continued their dark jig. “Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention.”