Deamhan (8 page)

Veronica looked to her left then to her right. The club music seemed low-set as all eyes in the vicinity were on her, including Alexis’. Chelsea released her grip and waited for Veronica to drink.

Veronica grasped the cup, lifting it to her lips. She closed her eyes, paused, and then tipped the cup. When the liquid touched her lips, she opened her eyes. The Deamhan now encircled her, standing close enough that Veronica felt Chelsea’s breasts pushed against her forearm.

“Drink,” Chelsea whispered, “or I’ll drink you.”

Veronica took a long, deep swallow; thick liquid slid down her throat. The wretched taste of iron and blood made her choke, and she dropped the cup onto the floor, gagging. The Deamhan laughed.

Veronica shoved a napkin to her mouth as the liquid circled in her stomach. Her eyes filled with tears and her mouth frothed. She rushed to the bathroom, elbowing her way through the crowd. Her stomach gurgled and heaved. A sudden gust of air pushed her forward, and cold hands grasped her arms and yanked her into the bathroom.

“Please struggle.” The voice of the taller twin tickled Veronica’s ear.

“Yes, please.” The voice of the shorter twin tickled Veronica’s other ear.

With the bathroom door slammed shut behind them, the twins pushed Veronica to the cold, dirty floor. She winced as her ribs smacked the tile; pain shot through her stomach and into her back. She stole a glance under the stalls before she raised her head. They were alone. Bare fluorescent bulbs flickered overhead, giving the room an ominous glow.

The taller twin gripped Veronica’s arms in her powerful grasp. She easily lifted Veronica to her feet and violently slammed her against the bathroom wall. Breathless, Veronica made a dash for the door, but was shoved back. The taller twin wrapped her fingers around Veronica’s neck. Veronica clawed, trying to break free, but the Deamhan was too strong.

Veronica stared into the twin’s dark, menacing eyes. Her vision twisted in and out. The bathroom floor rippled as if water suddenly covered the floor. Veronica’s head swooned and fear dissipated. The drink flowed through her veins, intoxicating her.

It was a high she hadn’t felt since she smoked weed for the first time in her teenage years. A sense of invincibility and relaxation overtook her. She tried envisioning a brick wall in preparation for the Deamhan twins to invade her thoughts, but the tingling sensation never came. Instead she drifted into the furthest part of her mind where she kept sacred memories of her mother carefully hidden from human and Deamhan alike.

“I told you, sister.” The tall twin licked her lips. “She’s ripe.” The Deamhan twins knowingly locked eyes and giggled.

With a handful of Veronica’s hair in her grasp, the taller twin pulled, yanking Veronica’s head violently to the side. She opened her mouth and her canines protruded from her pale gums. “Her scent is strong, Brandy. And her skin,” she said, sniffing Veronica’s neck, “is so soft.” She stuck out her tongue and licked Veronica’s neck from her ear to her collarbone.

Veronica shivered from the trail of wet spittle left on her skin.

“What to do with her.” The tall twin increased her grip around Veronica’s throat. “She doesn’t have the markings of a minion.”

Brandy stepped away from the door. “But, Branda, I heard she is protected.” Her mouth opened, exposing sharper and longer fangs than her sister’s.

“What Deamhan would be stupid enough to give a researcher protection?” Branda scoffed. “Especially one as stupid as her.”

Protected? Veronica struggled to keep her eyes opened. Darkness toyed at her periphery, and she thought she might faint from lack of oxygen.

“I want her first, sister.” Brandy’s eyes widened. “Oh, can I? Can I please have first bite?”

“Sure.” Branda slowly released her grip.

Veronica gasped, her lungs searing as they engulfed fresh air.

“But don’t get greedy.”

Brandy replaced her sister’s stance and shoved Veronica back against the wall. She sniffed the side of Veronica’s face and chortled as Veronica struggled against her. “I like it when they fight.” Brandy closed her eyes and swayed her head back and forth as she spoke in a singsong voice. “Like a fly, caught in a spider web, about to meet its maker.”

“Protected.” Branda huffed, her nostrils flaring. “What a crock of shit.”

A strong wind manifested, and Brandy instantly released her grip. Her head jerked to the bathroom door as it flew open on its own.

Veronica’s legs crumbled. She fell to the floor gasping for air. She looked up in time to see a fuzzy image of the Deamhan twins running out of the bathroom with Deamhan speed and the door slamming shut behind them.

Whatever scared them away had impeccable timing.

Veronica leaned against the wall, coughing up phlegm. She rubbed her tender neck and lifted herself to her feet. Veronica shuffled over to the sink and turned on the water. The euphoric feeling from the drink had subsided. Her hands now trembled. She splashed warm water on her face. Her breathing relaxed. She examined the red and purple bruises on her neck in the mirror.

“Shit,” she said, her voice hoarse. “But I’ll be damned if I’ll let these freaks run me out of Dark Sepulcher again.”

She touched the wall to steady herself. The Sensual Appetite ravaged her body. The drink’s stimulating effects returned with a punch. Veronica hurried out of the bathroom and to the main room.

The club walls swirled around her. White and gold streaks trailed behind the patrons dancing on the dance floor. Afraid to walk any farther, she rested against a pillar and dropped her head into her hands.

Who would protect me?

She knew what it meant. If a human or even a Deamhan was said to be protected it meant that someone claimed them as their own. They were off limits, untouchable. To achieve this status, the one being protected was usually a minion or claimed their loyalty to a very strong and old Deamhan. But she wasn’t anyone’s to claim and she wasn’t any Deamhan’s minion. Her curiosity grew. Who protected her and what was she being protected from?

Veronica lifted her head from her sweaty palms. Flashing strobe lights semi-blinded her; however, she found her vision acquired more depth. She could see into the darkness and make out shapes, people, Deamhan and vampires she hadn’t noticed before. Noise from the crowd grew quieter, more distant. The drink was altering her senses!

Just as the thought occurred, her vision became crystal clear. Immaculate. She now could single the Deamhan out in the crowd. They looked taller, darker. Their fluid movements, their hardened skin. When provoked by one of their own or a vampire, the Ramanga threatened with their fangs. White light pulsated from the Lamia’s mouth and the Lugat’s hands, and there was a weird glow around the body of the Metusba. They fed indiscriminately in the crowds with Deamhan speed, only taking enough from their human victims to not notice. Blood dripped from Ramanga lips. Lamia embraced their victims in intimate kisses as they sucked the life from their mouths. Veronica watched in horror as a white streak of light flowed from the mouth of a pretty young blonde into the mouth of a muscled Lamia. Victims dropped to the floor, their energies weakened by the Metusba. Desperate Lugat on the dance floor swiped their hands on railings, disposed cups and napkins—anything to get a psychic taste of their victims.

And that was the Deamhan. Vampires were just as repulsive.

“Now you see what we see.” A voice caressed Veronica’s ear.

Veronica quickly turned, standing face to face with a jubilant Alexis, dressed in a short and shiny black pleather dress. She sported a pink wig, the hair cut into a short bob.

Alexis snaked her cold hand up Veronica’s arm and moved in closer, standing inches from Veronica’s neck. “It’s a funny drink, isn’t it?” She dropped her hands to Veronica’s hips and sensuously slid them up her stomach, over her breasts, and to her neck.

Electric vibrations ran through Veronica’s body and she found herself unable to move, unable to struggle.

“What did she give me?” Veronica’s breathing raced. “Vampire blood? I’m dying?”

Alexis threw her head back in laughter. “You researchers aren’t the sharpest tools in the box.” Her body swayed with the pulsating beat of the music, and her hands caressed Veronica’s face. “To be made a vampire, researcher, you’d have to be drained of your blood and have it replaced by vampire blood. It’s a simple process which takes only a night.” She curled her fingers into Veronica’s hair, tilting her head to the side. “To be made Deamhan, your physic energy needs to be drained and replaced by the energy of a Deamhan. A somewhat complicated process that takes several days.”

“Then what did she give me?”

“It’s not for you, you know,” Alexis answered. “But it’s so entertaining watching a human on it.” Her mouth engulfed Veronica’s in a passionate kiss.

Veronica stiffened, feeling Alexis’ tongue slide past her lips, her own tongue, and down into her throat. Her gag reflex repressed, and a warm, acidic liquid regurgitated from her stomach. Her entire body shuddered as Alexis suckled violently, sucking out the contents of Veronica’s stomach into her own mouth.

Oddly, Veronica experienced total relaxation when Alexis released her.

Alexis leaned to the side, spitting red liquid onto the floor. “There. All better.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and licked her full lips.

“Wh-what did you do to me?” Veronica’s buzz slowly faded.

“Nothing much.” Alexis grinned then grabbed Veronica’s wrist and placed a small envelope in her palm. “He wants you to come back.”

“Who?” Veronica stared at the envelope. By the time she looked up again, Alexis was gone.

Veronica wiped her damp forehead. Her body felt loose and weak. Her senses returned to normal. As she gawked at the small puddle of red liquid near her feet, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Veronica?”

She turned and stood face to face with Murphy.

“Murphy?” She willed her eyes to focus, surprised he was there.

“Are you okay?” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the sweat on her forehead. “You look sick.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d check this place out.” He wrinkled his forehead. “You don’t look so good.”

He shouldn’t be here. Still, she welcomed his presence even if his form-fitting blue jeans and loose white T-shirt made him stick out in Dark Sepulcher more than she did.

“Were you leaving?” he asked.

Veronica nodded weakly. “Can you get me out of here?”

“Yeah, sure.” He took her hand and led her toward the exit.

The floor felt uneven to Veronica’s steps, and she fought symptoms of vertigo as Murphy led her through the heavy black curtains and out the front door. A cool breeze rushed against her face and up her back. Overhead, the sky glowed with an orange haze, and she wondered if it was pollution or the streetlights that lit up the city.

“Feeling better?” Murphy asked.

She tensed at a loud buzz and looked up then sighed in relief when she realized the sound originated from an airplane heading to Minneapolis International Airport, which wasn’t far away.

“Veronica?” His voice drew her eyes back to his face.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Let’s go.”

“Did you drive or walk?”

She looked behind him at Dark Sepulcher in the distance. “Taxi. I called a taxi.”

He pulled out his cell phone.

“No, don’t.”

“Are you okay to walk back?”

“Yeah, I could use the fresh air.”

He nodded and put his phone away.

Veronica leaned against his body while they walked down the street. She held on to his arm firmly. Every so often she looked over her shoulder. She didn’t know who would come for her. She expected Branda and Brandy to finish what they started. Maybe walking back to Palm Oaks wasn’t the smartest thing to do after all.

They walked down the street and passed a group of men dressed in dark clothing. Veronica looked over her shoulder, watching them walk into Dark Sepulcher.

“What’s wrong?” Murphy asked as he removed his arm from Veronica’s side, forcing her to stand on her own.

“It’s nothing.”

“Well, are you feeling better at least?”

“A little. Thank you.” Veronica put her hand to her head, suddenly embarrassed.

 “You still look tired. What happened?”

“I ordered a drink that was too strong for me,” Veronica lied. She carefully excluded the name of the drink. It contained something that gave the drink a magical element. Whatever it was, she didn’t want Murphy to try it.

 “That place is kind of weird,” he continued. “Just as I walked in, I saw this guy and girl biting each other. Are all gothic clubs like that?”

“Dark Sepulcher is, well, special,” she answered, resting her fingers around his forearm. “It’s creepy.”

Veronica and Murphy crossed the deserted street and headed down Hennepin Avenue. They passed boarded up stores and vacant facades. “For sale” signs lined the windows of several empty buildings, and an odor of urine lingered in the cool air.

Murphy made small talk, chattering about his family and life in the Florida sunshine. He explained that his mother worked as a receptionist, and his father was an electronics technician. Veronica half-listened as she repeatedly glanced over her shoulder, looking and listening for the unknown. Tiny hairs on her neck danced and, despite Murphy’s proximity, she still didn’t feel safe.

 “What is it?”

“I just want to get home.” She forced a weak smile.

“Yeah, me too,” Murphy replied. “My warm bed sounds good about now. So um, what do your father and your mother do?”

Veronica quickly changed the subject. “What did you say you’re majoring in at college?”

“I’m taking generals now,” he answered. “I haven’t declared a major yet. I’m thinking maybe engineering or criminal justice. My father wants me to become an engineer, but I don’t know yet. What do you think? Can you see me as an engineer or a police officer?”

Just ahead, two dark figures shadowed the street at the end of the block.

Murphy stared at her, waiting for an answer.

She pressed his arm and halted, nodding her head toward the two in front of them. “Who’s that?”