Divination Page 2

  “Who hasn’t?” Bothered, Ayden rolled his light-colored eyes. “This is Anastasia.”

  “Anastasia!” Her eyes lit up. “Yeah, yeah… I’ve heard about you¬…” She held out her hand. “Krerina.”

  Anastasia glared at her palm. “And I’ve never heard of you.”

  “Oh yeah, no one has.” She dropped her hand. “We kind of remain hidden… you know… not known because well… if we didn’t, Deamhan would just try to kill us again.”

  The teenage girl spoke with such uncertainty that Anastasia didn’t know whether to think of her as shy or as a human who purposely tried to hide something from them. It was easy to read the mind of a human in such situations, but she didn’t want to cause drama by invading her thoughts.

  “Aren’t you a little too young?”

  Sia quickly moved things along. “I understand. The history between both factions hasn’t been the best. But this time, we have a common enemy. Let this be the beginning of a well-needed relationship.”

  “I hope so,” Krerina replied. “It took a lot of convincing, but the others—”

  “There are more of you?” Anastasia questioned.

  “Oh, yes. They all agreed to help and they gave me some items that I can use.”

  “Items?”

  “Yeah.” She pointed to a wooden crate on their left. “They’re in there.”

  They quickly approached the large crate a few feet away from the other supplies the humans had taken off the ship. The box smelled of weathered wood and old dirt. Sia rubbed her hand along its surface and smiled. “Come. We must get this inside.”

  They helped to carry it a few feet to a large warehouse. Ayden broke the lock on the door and, once inside, Anastasia surveyed the interior to make sure they were alone.

  Sia easily yanked the top of the crate free. The wood shattered, leaving large shards on the floor. The contents inside made everyone pause.

  “Some of them weren’t really eager to part with it,” Krerina said.

  Sia nodded. “Of course. I understand.”

  The interior of the box was filled with old dirt. Sia dug like a mad, wild dog, tossing the dirt over her shoulder and to the floor. Some of it floated in the air, creating a brownish mist around them. Soon, the dirt revealed its hidden contents. It was a small chest decorated in faded gold and white colors. Small gems adorned the hinged lid, along with an emblem of an unknown female’s face on the front.

  She opened the lid and revealed a sharp, long knife with a wooden handle, and also what looked like a small, crude bowl with etched spiral writing from the rim to the center of the object.

  “What is this?” Sia asked.

  “Incantation bowl.”

  A brown, thin, leather vial, when opened, contained a tightly bound scroll. Anastasia also saw small ruby quartz-colored vials with corked lids. She gently picked one up and studied it.

  “Vials?” Ayden snatched it from her. “I don’t get it. What does a Kashshapu need this for?”

  “Nothing because Kashshapu don’t exist,” Anastasia answered.

  “We do exist.” Krerina moved quick to correct her. “Who do you think I am?”

  Sia placed the chest on the ground. “I can’t say that I’ve come across Kashshapu throughout my lifetime. I don’t think any of us has.”

  “You wouldn’t because, again, we keep a low profile.”

  “So, they just sent you?” Anastasia stood face to face with her. “You’re just one girl.”

  “I’m twenty and yes, they only sent me. Most of them are still skittish, especially around Deamhan. Not to mention the rumors about the other person out there, killing your kind.”

  “Yes, the woman,” Sia jumped in.

  “The Defiler.” The name felt like hard stones in Anastasia’s mouth. “What a ridiculous name.”

  “I bet you don’t believe she exists too,” Ayden joked.

  “If she does, she isn’t anyone to fear. But I do know that Kashshapu don’t exist,” Anastasia continued. “If they did, they would’ve shown themselves the moment Amenirdis was released from Limbo.”

  “Wow, you do know how to scare the help away, don’t you?” he grumbled. “You should be thankful we found someone who practices dark magic to help us.”

  “I would be grateful if she was a real Kashshapu.”

  “Anastasia, that’s enough.” Maris put her foot down. “You’re here because Sia thinks you’re viable, but so far, I haven’t seen one thing from you to support that.” She pushed her back.

  Anastasia swallowed her discontent with the situation as Ayden’s smuggled smile only made her feel worse.

  He eyed the vial. “This feels light.” He popped the corked lid.

  “No!” Krerina snatched the vial from his hand. “You can’t open it. Not yet!”

  The vial looked empty. However, a fragrance expelled from it. It smelled distinctly different and it rattled their noses. A sharp pain in Anastasia’s head made her stumble back. It was a powerful headache that struck them all at the same time. Ayden squinted in agony and Sia dropped to one knee. However, Maris remained unaffected. She stood, enthralled at what she witnessed around her.

  “What is that!?” Anastasia’s eyes turned dark and her fangs extended from her gums. Fear pushed her.

  “Items infused with dark magic forged centuries ago and now it’s wasted.” Krerina quickly replaced the lid.

  The pain slowly subsided and Anastasia retracted her fangs. Whatever escaped from the vile sent her senses on fire.

  “You know, creating Deamhan isn’t the only thing that dark magic has been used for,” Krerina said. “Dark magic has been around since the beginning of time. It has its uses and misuses, of course, but our extreme loyalty to our culture and practices remains the same.”

  “So, was that proof good enough for you?” Ayden egged Anastasia.

  Maris grabbed the knife from the box. “So, I can stab Amenirdis with this and it’ll be over? Sounds too easy to be true.”

  “And it can be,” Krerina replied. “All Deamhan have dark magic in them. That’s what keeps your bodies from rotting away. This baby can suck it out. Jab it into her chest and BAM! No more Dark Mother. If you can’t stab her in the chest, stab her in the back or the arm… it doesn’t matter.”

  “So, there’s no need to aim for the heart?”

  “Not with this magical baby!”

  “And what happens to Amenirdis?” Sia asked.

  “She’ll die.”

  “If she dies, the entire bloodline of Ekimmu Deamhan die as well.” Maris handed the magical object to Krerina.

  “Correct. Kill the Pure Deamhan and Deamhan from that same bloodline die with them.”

  “Then the knife should be our last resort.”

  Krerina placed the knife back in the box, closed the lid, and placed it underneath her right arm. “We have what we need. We should go.”

  “Where to now?” Maris asked.

  “A place to rest for the remainder of the evening. Plus, I need to perform an incantation or two, just to be on the safe side.”

  Anastasia huffed under her breath.

  Sia took Maris’ hand and they walked out of the warehouse with Krerina close behind.

  Now alone with Ayden, he locked eyes with Anastasia and she knew that look. She’d seen it from him before, back in Minneapolis at the sanctuary, Blind Bluff Manor, and many other times.

  “You know, you shouldn’t be here, with Maris. You don’t deserve to.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not your enemy.”

  “And how many times do I have to tell you that you are?”

  “Ugh, what you think doesn’t matter.” Her headache continued and she desperately wanted to rid herself of it.

  “Doesn’t matter?” His eyes turned black in color. “You, along with one of your sired maniacs, killed my sire with a smile on your face. I don’t trust you. I don’t like you.”

  “Once again, what you think of me doesn’t mat
ter.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m here for Maris. That’s it.”

  He folded his arms. “Maris—the offspring that you sired because it only benefited you. Maris—the one you abandoned…”

  “Are you that blind to not see the real issue here?” she asked. “We’re putting our faith in this girl’s claim that she’s a Kashshapu. There’s no proof of that, besides a magical vial that anyone can obtain. Can’t you see the flaw in that?”

  “Of course, I see the flaw.” His body stiffened. “But it’s better than anything you have to offer.”

  “You can’t seriously think that.”

  “I do.”

  “No, you’re blinded by your hate for me, for what happened in the past.”

  “I watched you repeatedly stab my sire with a stick for fun. Even after he impaled you, he showed you mercy, and you repaid him by ripping his head off. So, excuse me for not letting the past stay in the past while your actions glorify all the horror you’ve done to not only me, but to countless others, including Maris.”

  She found it hard to explain her actions. Her plan to be a perfect predator was the main reason she caused so much harm to him and countless others. Everyone else, including his sire, meant nothing to her. At one point, Maris also fell into this category. “I’m not the same person from that time, Ayden. I’m different.”

  “Then act like it.” He pointed his finger in her face. “If Maris thinks what we’re about to do will help, then I’m with her. I’m willing to do what it takes to protect her with my life. The same thing can’t be said about you.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  REMY

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  The branch from a nearby tree scraped against the basement window glass as the wind whistled outside. The smell of old grass and the coming precipitation seeped through the cracks and infiltrated the air inside the basement.

  Remy pulled back the small rotted curtains, gazing out at the night. Using his superb Deamhan sight, he saw the headlights of vehicles on the freeway in the far distance. He grew increasingly annoyed with his current living conditions. His assigned room contained only one queen-size bed with dingy sheets that smelled like old dust. The mattress was stiff and the pillows were flat. He missed his own room back at Blind Bluff Manor. He couldn’t wait to go back, but it wasn’t safe as long as one Dorvo vampire still remained in Minneapolis.

  It felt like only yesterday when Ruby, defeated and out of options, ran with her tail between her legs. In two years, there’d been little word of where she ran off to and in that time, Lambert made his loyal vampires scour the streets of Minneapolis every night in search of her.

  Until then, all they could do was wait and prepare for the worst and he grew tired of waiting. If she planned to make a move, she would’ve done so already. In the meantime, he spent these boring nights toying with Kenneth who he kept in the basement, chained to the brick wall. Anastasia sired the ex-Brotherhood researcher before leaving the city with Sia. The least he could do while she was gone was to remind Kenneth of all the bullshit he committed against them. Not even Kenneth’s current condition could bring him out of his slump, but at least he had something to keep him occupied.

  “Open up. Wide… wider… almost there.” Remy dangled the blood vile a few inches from Kenneth’s mouth. Just as a drop was about to escape, he pulled back and laughed. “Awww, so close yet so far away.” He stepped back and viewed his tortured captive. The poor man’s right arm was missing and, in its place, fresh skin covered the wound. Kenneth’s dark eyes narrowed in on him and he snarled, showing his pearly white Ramanga Deamhan fangs. “I know you’re hungry. All you have to do is tell me where you hid the Dark Curse piece you stole. Do that and I’ll give you a drop or maybe the whole vial.”

  “You’ve been asking me for years and I’ve already told you. I don’t fucking remember!”

  “Researchers,” Remy snickered. Ruby had found the information first and literally ripped that thought from his then human brain. “So hard headed. You have ways of dealing with a vampire’s attempt to scrape your precious memories away. Think harder.”

  “I said I don’t know!”

  Seeing Kenneth in his current state should’ve, at least, satisfied him. They’d won! They made Kenneth pay for what he’d done and pushed the Dorvo vampires back. So why didn’t it feel like a victory? Remy contributed that to his boredom and his inability to return to Blind Bluff Manor.

  “You have no real power here anymore. Didn’t you get the memo? Why do you want to protect the Brotherhood? You’re not human. You’re one of us—a Deamhan—and the threat of being eradicated by some powerful Deamhan who wants us to call her ‘Mother’ should be your top priority now.”

  “I’d rather rot.” Kenneth struggled against the chains.

  “I didn’t say rot. I said eradicated.” He stared at him in thought. “You know your hunger pains won’t go away anytime soon. You need to eat before you start to smell worse than you already do.”

  “I don’t need that shit in me.”

  “Oh, you need blood. That’s what you Ramanga Deamhan drink. You need the psychic essence inside it.” He touched the tip of the vial with his index finger and examined it, noticing a spot of the red substance. “You should thank me. If I didn’t force feed you, you would’ve died a long, time ago.” With his index finger, he tapped his tongue and suddenly shivered. “Ugh, tastes like iron.” He gagged, replaced the top on the vial, and placed it in his pocket. “I don’t know how you Ramanga can live off that.”

  Being Lamia Deamhan, Remy didn’t survive off the blood of others. Instead, he needed the psychic energy of a victim, their life force, to ensure that his body remained strong.

  He heard footsteps cautiously descending the stairs, followed by Hallie’s Metusba Deamhan scent. The young baby Deamhan grew up quickly, but being the youngest of their damned and small crowd, she had no choice not to. She shaved her head and fed on countless rabbits and squirrels for a week for it to grow back. Now it rested on her shoulders, dark and smooth. She romped around their home as if she feared no one. She frequently went to the city on her own, when it was dangerous for their species and she tried hard to erase the ‘old her’ by putting on a bravado, which only made Remy smile.

  All of it was a cover-up for what she was dealing with. Enlai, the only Deamhan she loved, left the city to save her from another terrifying and old Deamhan who reminded Remy of one of those kids from the movie, Village of the Damned.

  She stood by the steps. “Lambert wants you to come upstairs so, if you’re done playing your torture games…”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Ask him.”

  “Tell him I’ll be right up.” Hopefully, the vampire had returned with some good news, like telling them they could finally return to their own sanctuary. Finally!! “Hang tight and don’t go anywhere.” He slapped Kenneth’s cheek. “I won’t be long.” He followed her up the stairs.

  He closed the basement door behind him and walked down the narrow hallway. His hearing picked up on Lambert’s voice coming from the front and his body shivered at the smell of another vampire scent.

  The night was still young and he had yet to feed. The promise of having vampire blood, specifically from Alexis—Lambert’s consort—plagued him. Never before had he been so addicted, craving the warm liquid like he did now. Then again, she just wasn’t some run-of-the-mill vampire. She was older than most that lived in Minneapolis among Deamhan and Dorvo vampires. With her aged blood came power. Not to mention, no other vampire could backtalk him the way she could.

  Hallie stopped in front of Nathan’s bedroom door.

  “How is the old man doing?” he asked.

  “Worse. He won’t leave. He won’t talk to anyone. He doesn’t take the medication I stole for him.” She knocked and opened the door. “I don’t know how long he can last like this.”

  Almost immediately, Remy recognized Nathan’s pasty skin. Dark bags sat under his eyes. The smell of sickness i
n the air was thick. He wore a red robe, too heavy for the humid Minnesota summer.

  “Nathan.” He entered the room. “Hallie says you aren’t taking your meds.”

  “I don’t need them,” he whispered.

  “You have cancer and those cherry-flavored cough drops you’re suckin’ on won’t help with that.” Everyone knew that his cancer had taken a turn for the worse but when confronted, he told them all not to worry. Remy saw the color of his wrinkling skin change slowly into a muddled pasty hue.

  He didn’t want to admit it but his human friend needed vampire blood. It helped his cancer, which, from the smell, had now spread to his lungs. His friend was dying and how ironic it felt that there were people around him who could solve his condition by just sharing their blood or making him immortal, if it came down to it. Nathan refused both options and grew sicker with each passing day. He kept mostly to himself, cooped up in his cubbyhole of a room, doing God knows what.

  “Nathan, you look and smell awful.”

  “Thank you.”

  Remy noticed an open researcher journal in his lap. “What are you up to?”

  “Reading.”

  “So, did you have a chance to think about what I told you last night? You know, going to a regular doctor and getting a checkup?”

  “No.”

  Nathan’s short response bothered him. He looked back at Hallie.

  “Told you,” she mouthed in silence.

  “I didn’t know it’s this bad,” he mouthed back. He didn’t check on him as often as he wanted. That was Hallie’s job, but with her recent distraction, he could no longer ignore that responsibility.

  “Lambert’s back and he might have news about when we can go back to the sanctuary.” Their temporary home was more eerie and quiet than Blind Bluff Manor. He even missed Hallie’s pacing footsteps and their snappy, one-sided conversations. Nothing felt the same here and he held his discontent for their current living situation inside him for now.

  Nathan slowly nodded his head. “Let me know what he says.”

  Remy left the room and closed the door. “Well, that went well. I have to admit, I miss the old, healthy Nathan.”