Dark Curse (Deamhan Chronicles Book 2)

by Isaiyan Morrison

  Both of the sisters nodded slowly. She stood up and stared at them in silence. She contemplated her next move. She couldn’t leave them here but could she? Walking away was better than tearing their little bodies apart.

  Her eyes reverted to the window blinds. The sun is extremely bright this morning.

  “I will take you to someplace safe.” She turned around and walked out of the room. She didn’t hear them following her and she looked over her shoulder. “I have a human friend who will help you. He will keep you safe and get you out of the city.”

  The friend she referred to was Nathan, the owner of Blind Bluff Manor. She knew that he would indeed shelter them and take care of them.

  She continued to walk, listening carefully to their slow, cautious footsteps following her.

  The girls followed her down the hallway and to the stairs. Anastasia descended down the steps and back into the carnage she had left earlier. She turned around, seeing that they had stopped abruptly at the bottom step, glaring at the bodies below.

  Annabelle grabbed her sister’s hand and immediately turned around, rushing back upstairs. Anastasia stopped briefly before she picked up her speed, knowing that she was much faster than they were, and she caught up with them.

  Knowing that she couldn’t let them get away, she grabbed Annabelle’s arm and Aisha by her waist and descended back down the stairs. She drowned out Aisha’s screams and Annabelle’s cries by repeating just one sentence in her thoughts.

  The sun is extremely bright this morning.

  “Please,” Annabelle cried out. “Please, don’t do this. Please.”

  Their cries continued and Anastasia, now knowing what she had to do, ignored them.

  A sharp pain in her forearm made Anastasia quickly drop Annabelle to the floor. She saw that Annabelle’s fangs were covered in blood. The little girls fought back, doing what they could to get away from her, but Anastasia knew that they didn’t have the strength to stand up to her.

  Anastasia grabbed onto Annabelle again and the little girl’s cries turned into piercing screams. She slapped at Anastasia’s arms. Anastasia held on tight as she approached the blood-stained blinds. She twisted them open allowing the sunlight to blast through, blinding them all at first. Her motherly thoughts bombarded her mind again.

  Do not kill them.

  Let them live.

  Save them.

  But she couldn’t—she wouldn’t.

  Anastasia tossed Aisha into the sunlight letting the bright light do its work. Aisha let out one last terrified scream before her skin began to bubble. She ran for the dark corner of the room but Anastasia pushed her back into the light. The child then burst into flames.

  Annabelle covered her eyes and dropped her doll as Anastasia picked her up. The little girl didn’t cry nor did she fight when she entered the sunlight.

  Nothing more but smoldering ash and pieces of clothing remained of the little girls. Anastasia closed the blinds and she leaned up against the wall. Her body tingled and her skin felt loose. Either way, it was better that they didn’t continue to exist.

  She noticed the tattered doll and picked it up from the floor. Its right eye was missing, the socket stuffed with cotton. She smoothed back the doll’s tangled hair and examined it before tossing it into the kitchen.

  She let her body slide to the ground and she clasped her hands together. She had to wait for sunset to leave and she hated waiting.

  1

  DARK CURSE. DEAMHAN CHRONICLES #2

  CHAPTER THREE

  Anastasia slowly opened her eyes.

  A couple of seconds passed before her sight adjusted to the dark environment around her. Cracked lines on the white stucco ceiling of her bedroom came into focus. They spread along the surface like varicose veins. She lifted her head slightly from her pillow, glancing at her feet near the edge of the bed with her mind still recovering from her reoccurring dream.

  What does it mean?

  The same dream she had yesterday and the night before about her human family haunted her again, but this time the dream left her empty and angry.

  As a little girl, she watched from the windows of her family’s home while her father sat on horseback in the fields, watching their servants till the ground for harvest. The sun’s rays warmed her skin and she loved basking in its light. She became anxious, like any little girl would while waiting for her father’s return. When he opened the door and walked in, smelling like wet grass and outside air, Anastasia grabbed his hand and led him over to his favorite chair where he plopped her on his right knee and began to sing to her. Only ten years old at the time, Anastasia remembered the song. It was her father’s favorite and hers as well. He grabbed the hair brush from the table and began to run it through Anastasia’s long, black hair.

  She closed her eyes and she let his hoarse voice fill her ears. At that age, she knew her father wanted a son and he prayed for a miracle. However, it didn’t stop him from loving her, and giving her all the attention a little girl her age needed.

  “Auerelia, is your mother filling your head with thoughts of acting?”

  Auerelia. No one had called her that in a long time. She shook her head no, remembering that her dream of becoming an actor was a secret only she and her mother knew. If she promised to hide her fascination and give more thought to the idea of becoming some lucky man’s wife, her mother promised to take her to see a Shakespeare play in London someday.

  Her father handed her a small brown box. “Here, daughter. I have a present for you.”

  Excited, she opened it, only to find a bloody and fresh human heart.

  She felt her stomach beginning to twitch and she grew tired. Her eyes fluttered and she slightly turned her head to look over her shoulder. Her father’s icy hands slid further down Anastasia’s small framed body and to her back.

  She immediately stood up and turned to face her father.

  “Honey, what’s wrong?” Her father’s lips moved slowly.

  Anastasia noticed a gaping hole in his chest and she looked back down at the box.

  A female voice echoed inside her head. At first she had trouble hearing it. Then it became louder and louder and she realized that she’d never heard the voice before but she felt that somehow she was connected to it.

  Come to me, Anastasia. The voice also echoed around her.

  She looked back to her father who held out his arms and he opened his mouth. “Come to me, Anastasia.”

  “Who are you?” She continued to step back, away from whoever had taken over her father’s body. “Why are you invading my dreams?”

  Come to me. Come to me. The voice repeated over and over, deafening her.

  She then woke up.

  She turned off her night lamp, which rested on a stand next to her bed. Enough sunlight crept from underneath her bedroom door to see in her semi darkened room. A pile of bloodied clothes rested on the floor near the edge of her bed.

  No matter how many times she dreamed of the day, running into her father’s warm arms, her father kissing her on the forehead and telling her that everything was going to be okay…she knew her parents were dead and they would never come back to her. The realization proved more than what Anastasia could handle and she picked up her night lamp, throwing it to the floor.

  Before the lamp landed, she quickly got out of bed in Deamhan speed and she dressed herself in a loose white T-shirt and blue jeans. The noise of the lamp crashing into the floor didn’t break her stride. She slipped on an old pair of house shoes and left her room.

  The silent hallways of Blind Bluff Manor soothed her calm nerves. Sometimes dark during the day, depending if Remy or Hallie roamed them, she never felt threatened by its atmosphere. Thick multi-level Greek curtains blocked out the slivers of sunlight that reached the floor. The cold air fondled her skin and her footsteps vibrated through the silence as she walked down the hallway and toward the balcony.

  From the edge she saw the light from Nathan’s study. She slowly proceeded
down the stairs, remembering the first time she had stepped foot inside his mansion years ago.

  Had it been so long? Time seemed irrelevant to a Deamhan, especially one such as herself. Being over four hundred years old, she made sure nothing, not even life, would have a chance of becoming sacred to her. The first time they’d met, she threatened Nathan, thinking that he had something to do with Lucius’ disappearance. After finding out that he did, he welcomed her with open arms and invited her to stay with him at his home. In return she kept him off her menu, protected him, and headed off his calls. Never did she think that she could ever be this close to a human.

  Through all of this she made a mental decision to mention nothing about the children she encountered and killed at the sanctuary the night before to Nathan and the others. No one in the sanctuary knew about her nighttime activities as well.

  She reached the bottom steps and slowly walked by the Roman statues that decorated the front foyer. Beautiful, constantly kept free from dust by Nathan himself (and why he didn’t hire a maid for the morning hours confused her,) the statues showing Nathan’s curiosity about the history of Rome, the birth place of The Brotherhood, an organization he was once part of that watched, studied, and documented her kind. Human researchers gave their lives to write down every piece of information on every Deamhan they could find. Only in recent years did the organization move toward a neutral stance when it came to Deamhan affairs, or so the Deamhan thought. That all changed when Veronica’s mother, a researcher, disappeared while following Lucius years ago. Veronica came back to Minneapolis to retrace her mother’s footsteps, only to find that her own father, with help from Kei, had killed her mother and placed Lucius in Limbo, a magical hold void of time for Deamhan.

  Anastasia smoothed her hair back with her hands to straighten the wild strands and she peered into Nathan’s library, watching him resting in his chair with his head immersed in a brown withered book. She picked up on his thoughts that circled in hypersonic speeds, revealing to her the book he read. It once belonged to a fifteenth-century researcher from Madrid by the name of Gustavo. It chronicled Lucius’ brief appearance in the city in 1530 and the confrontation with his sister, Lucia, on the shores of River Manzanares on a Friday, shortly after midnight.

  Nathan’s interest didn’t surprise her. For years, he took special interest in Lucius and helped Veronica in her search. When Lucius and Selene left Minneapolis, hot on Kei’s trail, he promised Lucius he’d look after Veronica. After all, Lucius had fallen in love with Veronica’s mother and he believed that saving her from harm was the least he could do. Now Anastasia didn’t know what was going on with Lucius. He commanded her to raid every sanctuary in Minneapolis with ties to Kei and she followed his orders blindly. Nathan’s eyes drifted from the book to her. He removed his reading glasses from his face and smiled, revealing wrinkles extending from the corners of his mouth and crow’s feet from the corner of his deep blue eyes. He hadn’t slept yet. She could see it in his tired eyes. There was also something else she sensed about him. He was different and his body was starting to show years of neglect.

  “Morning.” He closed the book and placed it on his lap.

  Anastasia remained quiet. She paid close attention to the aging process for a human. When she’d first met Nathan, he had brown hair and his face showed no signs of stress. Now gray streaks extended from roughly around his ears to the back of his head and his hair thinned on the top.

  “You look tired. Did you sleep well?” he asked her. He knew only because she allowed him to know. She thought maybe, just maybe, he knew why she suddenly dreamt of nothing but her dead human parents.

  “Same dream. Same outcome,” she replied. “I can no longer sleep. It wakes me when the sun is out.”

  “Have you tried going back to sleep?”

  “Yes, but it starts all over again. From the beginning. I will deal with it.” She heard a light tapping behind her and she quickly looked over her shoulder, staring at the front door.

  She could already smell Veronica’s scent traveling through the small crevasses of the door’s frame. She heard the jingling of keys and the door knob twisting. Veronica’s thoughts also seemed to circle wildly through her head. They felt commingled and thought of nothing but her mother, Lucius, and her father.

  The door opened, exposing Anastasia’s body to the sunlight. It singed her skin but she didn’t move. When Veronica saw her, she immediately closed the door. Soon her thoughts went silent and she blocked them from Anastasia. It was one thing Anastasia detested about anyone associated with The Brotherhood. They knew how to block their thoughts from Deamhan.

  Veronica slipped off her brown hoodie and she draped it over one of the Roman statues. She walked quickly past Anastasia and into the study, cradling a bag of donuts and holding two cups of coffee. “They were out of decaf.” She handed a cup to Nathan and she placed the bag on his lap.

  Anastasia felt her skin beginning to heal itself. Her attention turned to the fireplace. “Ever since I left the cave after Lucius was released, my dreams have become more disturbing.” She turned her attention back to Nathan.

  He sipped his coffee and paused before speaking again. “Have you heard anything from Lucius or Selene?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “You’d think Lucius would confide in you since you practically worshipped his very being,” Veronica spoke up.

  Anastasia’s eyes darted in her direction. The human still didn’t like her and didn’t trust her but Anastasia couldn’t blame her. In reality, she didn’t care, but Veronica’s snotty remarks dug into her cold skin and this time she felt the need to reply.

  “Humans can’t understand the bond a Deamhan has with another,” she said with clenched teeth. Since Lucius freed her from the casket her sire put her in centuries ago, she felt a sense of loyalty when it came to Lucius. She considered him to be her true sire.

  “No, I guess we can’t.” Veronica leaned back in her chair. For a moment her thoughts became unblocked and Anastasia picked up on them. She sensed Veronica’s lack of reassurance in regards to her father and The Brotherhood. She still didn’t know what they did to Sean, her best friend who came to Minneapolis to help her in her search. She felt betrayed by those around her and the only confidence she had left remaining was to Nathan.

  “Once Lucius returns, Silvanus will let me know,” Anastasia said. “Until then I’ll assume that he hasn’t found Kei yet.”

  The smell of cold death filtered into Anastasia’s nostrils. She knew that annoying scent like the back of her hand. She watched Nathan glance behind her at Remy.

  Anastasia looked over her shoulder. Veronica’s thoughts leaked from her conscious again and became available for her to hear. Veronica trusted Remy just as much as she trusted her. She also sensed that Remy picked up on Veronica’s thoughts as well, like any Deamhan coming across a free thought would.

  He gently tapped his fingers on the wall and his lips pulled back, forming a mischievous smirk while his eyes danced. “You’re both up early.” He slowly crossed his arms over his chest then he turned slightly over his shoulder, looking out the window and hummed lightly. “It’s about ten thirty in the morning, isn’t it?”

  “Are you also having problems sleeping?” Nathan asked.

  “Me?” He placed his hand on his chest and chuckled. “Not even in the slightest.” He straightened his crisp white shirt and he glared down at his black pants before saying, “Although, you all speak so loudly that I can hear you in my sleep.” He then focused in on Veronica. “Good morning,.”

  Veronica remained quiet.

  There wasn’t anything about Remy that Anastasia liked. His selfishness was apparent. He liked to sulk in the darkened corners of the Manor, eavesdropping on others’ conversations and like all Deamhan, he couldn’t be trusted. He offered nothing and that made him a Deamhan she wouldn’t mind killing one day. However, like her, Remy had grown attached to Nathan and he had his own personal reason to stick around. Sh
e began to wonder if Nathan wasn’t the only human person Remy became attracted to and that maybe, he had started to grow fond of Veronica.

  “Remy, is there something I can help you with?” Nathan asked.

  Remy walked into the study and leaned against the mantle on the fireplace. He stared at the smoldering fire for a second before answering. “Just curious on how that research is going.” His eyes meandered over to Veronica.

  “It’s going,” she finally replied back to him.

  Anastasia’s eyes centered on each of them individually. Clueless on what Veronica searched for now, she tried to read her thoughts but found herself blocked again.

  “If you’re wondering, Anastasia,” Remy said, “I’ve offered my services to Veronica.”

  “Services?” Anastasia’s eyes narrowed.

  “Yes.” Remy stood tall and he cleared his throat. “She’s a researcher. That’s what she’s trained to do. With The Brotherhood Chapter reopening their services, I’m sure she’ll cross paths with them in the near future. And well, since Lucius is so bent on her protection and with you being busy with your nighttime activities, I thought I’d step up to the plate.”

  Anastasia wondered what he had planned. Every smart Deamhan, who still remained in the city, knew of Veronica’s protection so there wasn’t any need to coddle her anymore. Now an outsider, Veronica found her itch by researching and helping Nathan. The only thing Remy could possibly offer her was trouble.

  “You’re wasting your time,” Anastasia replied. “Those human researchers are small compared to the real dangers.”

  “Like who? The Deamhan you kill at those god awful sanctuaries?” Remy rubbed his hand along the surface of the mantle.

  Nathan and Veronica turned their attention to her.

  Anastasia saw confusion in their eyes. “There are Deamhan in the city who still support Kei,” she said. “Lucius wants them destroyed.”