Book 1 in the Deamhan Chronicles
Release Date: August 12th 2013
Publisher: Isaiyan Morrison
ISBN 13: 978-0692447826
FORMAT: Print and E-book
Deamhan have survived by remaining hidden in the shadows. Ramanga, Lamia, Metusba, and Lugat have been overshadowed by what humans know as the modern vampire. But what if vampires aren’t the real threat?
One woman’s search for her mother who disappeared without a trace on the streets of Minneapolis takes her into the precarious world of Deamhan, psychic vampires who rule the underground nightlife in the city’s most darkest corners.
She gains the trust of the only other human familiar with the Deamhan lifestyle. With his help she finds not only can the Deamhan not be trusted but it s her own father, president of a ruthless organization of researchers, who has diabolically maintained that distrust.
Deamhan Chronicles #2: Dark Curse
Veronica snapped her eyes open when a male voice told her to not be afraid. She whipped around, but no one was near.
The voice came from within her head.
“It’s okay,” the voice said.
She looked at the man, who still fixed her in his stare, and he slid from his seat and headed her way.
She dropped her head and stared at the counter. She fought the urge to fling her glass at him and run. Leaving Dark Sepulcher wouldn’t answer the questions about her mother’s disappearance. Don’t think of Mom. She quickly visualized the brick wall.
“Your thoughts stick out,” the man said, taking the empty stool next to her.
His penetrating stare caused Veronica’s head to tingle again, but the tingle stopped as quickly as it started. She’d clouded his attempt to rummage through her mind.
Veronica cupped the whiskey glass and stared into its glowing liquid.
“Beautiful women like you shouldn’t drink whiskey.”
What a line. His respectful approach did nothing to impress Veronica. The Deamhan were naturally devious.
Veronica remained quiet. The stranger smiled and reached for the glass, grasping it from the rim and placing it front of him.
“I’m trying to start a conversation,” he prompted.
From the corner of her eye, Veronica saw him examine her. His eyes roved her short, formal straight brunette hair, her face, and finally her hands. Even over the din of music, she could hear him inhale her virginal scent. She tried hard to block her thoughts from him, but the tingle told her she was failing.
“You should know it turns me on when you do that,” he said.
She glanced at him, making eye contact for a second and then quickly looked away. He mumbled something, but his voice was too low for her to hear over the blaring speakers.
Veronica’s thoughts caught his attention again, and he leaned back on the stool, studying her.
Veronica understood now how a woman could fall for a man like that. Most of the men in Dark Sepulcher were attractive, but this man was hot. She stole a covert glance from under her eyelashes. Tall, medium build, long, glossy hair—stop it. Stay off that bandwagon.
His full lips broke into a smile. “Sorry I intruded on your thoughts. But I gotta admit, I like what I see in there.”
Veronica felt heat rise in her chest, neck and face. Busted. He offered his hand, another trick she wouldn’t fall for.
“I’m Remy and you are?”
Remy. The name sounded too familiar. Veronica recalled the name listed somewhere on the documents she’d stolen from The Brotherhood. His name was just one of the many that stuck out to her but at the moment she couldn’t remember why.
She fixed her thoughts on her napkin, staring at the condensation ring left by the wet glass. Still her mind wouldn’t quiet. What Deamhan type is he? Until she knew which, she couldn’t be sure of his level of threat. She couldn’t get too close.
Despite herself, she stole a quick look in his direction. He flashed a ready smile.
Teeth aren’t sharp and pointy. He’s not a Ramanga. She stared again at her drink, wiping the droplets of water from the side of her glass.
“Am I scaring you?” Remy’s voice interrupted Veronica’s thoughts. She shook her head and remained silent.
“Do you talk?”
“Not to strangers.” She immediately regretted her gutsy remark, knowing it would intrigue him further.
“Maybe you should.” He traced the rim of the glass with a slender, pale finger. “You’re new here.”
Veronica wanted to check him out but knew she should avoid his eye. She looked over her shoulder and then at the ceiling. She glanced at the sticky floor and studied the woodwork on the bar.
He’d read her like an open book. She felt a tiny tingle as he tried again to read her thoughts.
“Your thoughts. They come to me kinda like a movie: sometimes clear, oth- er times fuzzy.” He chuckled. “Right now, they’re crystal. Do you really find the bar’s wood grain that intriguing?”
Veronica couldn’t help but grin.
“Do you smell that?” His voice dropped to a loud whisper. “I smell a vampire.” Remy’s eyes fixated over Veronica’s shoulder. The dark woman from the bathroom sashayed over and leaned against the bar on the other side of Veronica.
Veronica hardly recognized her. She now wore the professional attire of a business woman: grayish slacks, a red blouse, and a gray suit jacket. She’d styled her hair into a chic ponytail and glossed her lips in red. Remy and the woman locked eyes.
Veronica felt a fierce, electrical tension emanating from the two, and glanced back and forth between them. The woman smirked, and Remy smiled nonchalantly.
“She’s mine, Remy,” she said. “He said I can have her.”
Remy revealed his even, pearly teeth, his finger still tracing the rim of the glass. “Already tired of the other one?” he asked.
Unable to stand the crackling air between the two, Veronica slid from the stool.
The woman placed her hands on her hips, blocking Veronica’s escape with her elbow. Remy smiled. “Not every female who strolls into Dark Sepulcher belongs to you, Alexis.”
Veronica made a mental note of the vampire’s name.
“But this little catch is stirring up the attention.” Her lips puckered. “Oh, that’s it,” Remy said. “You just want to be the first to take her.”
Veronica eased sideways. They were playing a game to see who would be the first to have her. Well, she wasn’t going to be “had” by anyone.
“Please sit.” Remy respectfully motioned to Veronica. “Don’t let Alexis scare you.”
Leaving again entered Veronica’s mind. If I ran, would they stop me? Alexis seemed to be the more violent of the two. Remy appeared relaxed and comfortable in the mini-altercation. Veronica wondered how easy it was for them to sense her discomfort. She decided to leave.
“Excuse me.” Veronica slid past Remy, intending to walk away.
Remy reached out his arm, blocking her path. “But we haven’t talked yet, researcher.” Remy tapped his index finger on the counter.
His comment stopped Veronica in her tracks.
“Researcher?” Alexis visibly cringed at the mention of the word. “Well, then. You can have her.” She snarled her lip in distaste. “I don’t like researchers. Their blood tastes funny.”
A cold chill blew up Veronica’s spine. Try as he might, Veronica couldn’t allow herself to be associated with The Brotherhood. She was not a researcher, her father made sure of that. He kept her away from it, shielding her just enough to tell her what she needed to know. Even if her father wanted her to follow in her mother’s footsteps, Veronica wouldn’t allow herself to be used in the way that her mother was. The bad memories of The Brotherhood were fresh in the execrable minds of the vampires and Deamhan alike. She couldn’t risk allowing Remy to peg her with the title of “researcher”, thus immediately black-listing her in the club and in the city.
“I’m not a researcher,” she blurted. Not like my father.
“Then who are you?” Remy asked, fixing her with his penetrating stare.
She buried the important pieces from her memory like names, cities, places, and the reason why she came to Dark Sepulcher from her mind.
“What? What is it?” Alexis asked Remy. “What do you see?”
Remy smirked. “Nothing now.”
“That’s why she interests you?” Alexis rolled her eyes. “Because she knows how to hide her thoughts unlike the whores you prefer?”
Remy tilted his head to the side, still studying Veronica.
“That should make you want to kill her even more.” Alexis turned her body toward Veronica, gloating over the fear she saw in her eyes.
“Now, now, Alexis,” Remy said softly, “let’s give Veronica a chance to explain.”
Veronica again felt the tingling sensation. He even knew her name. This time, it hurt. Remy persisted.
Veronica ran toward the front exit. She plowed through the crowd, knocking past people and Deamhan alike. The sensation continued until she passed the security guards outside. Her heart thumped in her chest, and she drank fresh air in huge gulps.
As she reached the corner and turned in the direction of her apartment, she slowed her pace. When she neared the end of the block, she paused and checked the street behind her.
Sloppy. Mother would never have acted like that.
As she continued her walk home, thoughts about her father’s warning before she left San Diego repeated over and over in her mind. He’d said she wasn’t ready to come back to Minneapolis. Nonsense. She had to be.
The full moon filled the night sky. Veronica zipped her jacket as the wind picked up. She turned her face to the wind and inhaled, letting the crisp air fill her lungs. Fall was the best time of year in Minnesota. She shoved her hands into her pockets and mounted the steps home.