Deamhan (7 page)

His friend Rick wasn’t a high-ranking member of The Brotherhood. Yet the casket he laid in told otherwise. Thousands of dollars from Sean’s own pocket—plus donations—paid for it. Not a dime came from Presidents of the Western, Midwest, and Eastern Divisions or the Head of The Brotherhood. Sean dropped his head, pretending to be in prayer. He covertly scanned the mourners from behind his dark glasses. As best he could tell, all of them were researchers from the local Chapter.

A fresh onslaught of uninvited tears coursed from behind his dark glasses. He felt so angry and so helpless. This funeral shouldn’t be happening.

The priest closed his Bible. Sean joined the line of mourners, each carrying a bright red rose to place atop the casket. He stared at the rose in his hand and huffed. Rick hated red roses.

“Sorry, buddy,” he said as he placed the rose in the pile. “I’d have preferred a lily, too.” He stepped aside and watched Kenneth Dearhorn place a rose on the casket, mumble a prayer, and step away. The President of the Western Division, Kurt Luzier, followed Kenneth. Sporting a dark suit and tie and dark glasses, he approached the casket and placed his own red rose on top of it. Behind him and the last one in line, stood Veronica’s father. Gripping the handle of his black cane, Mr. Austin hobbled forward. He placed the largest and darkest rose atop the mound of flowers.

One by one, the mourners dispersed, but Sean lagged behind in covert surveillance of Kenneth’s conversation with Mr. Austin and Mr. Luzier. He’d give anything just now for one of those high-tech eavesdropping devices he’d seen on the Internet. He wondered what lies Kenneth spoke in their ears. He didn’t doubt that Kenneth would do anything to secure his position as the next President of any Division. He loved power, just like his dead father.

Disappointed and downhearted, Sean ambled back to his car and waited until Mr. Austin was ready to call on him. Images of Rick’s well-dressed, motionless form pierced his mind. The mortician’s expertise made it possible for the funeral to be an open casket. It was hard to believe that just days ago, Rick’s face was unrecognizable.

He glanced down the hill at the flower-strewn casket, and observed the intimate way Kenneth held Mr. Austin’s elbow as he guided him back to his limousine. Kenneth’s hands tightened into fists. It still incensed Sean that Mr. Luzier chose Kenneth to give Rick’s eulogy. The way Kenneth pretended to mourn . . . hell, Kenneth didn’t know Rick at all. Not like he did. The tribute had been so generic, so common, and so impersonal; Kenneth could have pulled it from a handbook.

Rick deserved better.

The Brotherhood took responsibility for the grand funerals and interments of its members, insisting that employees were actually family. That’s what the name “Brotherhood” meant. They were brothers and sisters, by oath and loyalty. Well, that’s what they were led to believe.

Of all the coffins Sean saw emblazoned with The Brotherhood’s cross, his own great-grandfather’s had borne an extraordinary gold cross, not like Rick’s silver-embedded casket. When Sean’s great-grandfather died at the age of a hundred and one, The Brotherhood hired the area’s best-known caterers, and the grieving family members were handed rare orchids and exotic flowers to place atop the casket in lieu of red roses.

Sean rubbed his chin. He unlocked the driver’s side door when he heard Kenneth’s voice behind him.

“Hey,” Kenneth called from halfway up the sloped hill.

Sean sighed and looked over his shoulder. Kenneth approached with a smile on his face. Water droplets fell from the ends of his light brown hair.

“Why the long face, comrade?”

“It’s my friend’s funeral, Kenneth.”

Kenneth still grinned. “Mr. Austin is ready for you.”

Tense, Sean exhaled.

“No need to get nervous, Sean.” Kenneth slapped him on his shoulder. “It’s just a talk.”

Mr. Austin limped up the hill with the support of Mr. Luzier. A recent hip surgery forced Mr. Austin to rely on his cane as temporary support. Though frail, Mr. Austin could still invoke nervousness into any researcher.

Sean’s throat tightened as he waited for Veronica’s father to speak. Instead, the old man greeted Sean with a firm handshake.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Austin.”

“Any time of day during a funeral is not good.” Mr. Austin gazed at the sky. “But we need the rain.” He raked his fingers through his wavy dark hair. Sean noticed no signs of gray; parallel wrinkles banding his forehead being the only telltale on his face that signaled his age.

“Yes, sir,” Sean replied. “Much needed rain.”

“Oh, please, Sean. Call me Samuel when away from work.”

“Ahh, Samuel. Of course.” Sean nodded. I knew that.

Mr. Austin turned to Mr. Luzier. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Luzier.”

Mr. Luzier nodded and he took the umbrella from Kenneth and placed it in Sean’s hand. “If you need anything, Mr. Austin, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Mr. Austin motioned at Sean to follow him. “Walk with me for a moment, Sean.”

The walk. Sean cursed the thought. This is about Veronica.

Sean measured his steps to match Mr. Austin’s hobbling gait as the two ambled deeper into the heart of the cemetery, passing weather-beaten monuments and new headstones. The older man’s silence weighed heavy on Sean. His palms dripped with perspiration. He wiped them on his shirt, tipping the umbrella to one side, exposing the older man to the rain.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Austin.”

“I told you to call me Samuel.” Mr. Austin stopped, hooked his cane over his forearm, and pulled out a pipe and a pouch of tobacco from his overcoat.

“Sean,” he said, returning the pouch to his pocket and pulling out a small box of matches, “I’m sure you understand why I’m concerned about Veronica.”

Sean suppressed the impulse to heave a deep sigh. “Yes, sir, I’m well aware.”

Mr. Austin struck a match and lit his pipe. “Are you also aware of her intentions?”

Sean nodded.

“I know she updates you on her progress.”

“Mr. Austin—er, Samuel—I’m just as concerned as you are about her being in Minneapolis.”

Mr. Austin held his pipe steady between his teeth and snatched the umbrella from Sean’s hand. “No, you’re not.” Smoke billowed from the side of his mouth.

The rain dissipated, turning into a light drizzle. Droplets still covered the leaves and grass, causing their color to appear brighter than they were. Mr. Austin’s presence provoked Sean, and he knew Sean had to choose his words carefully. Being in the presence of the President of the Midwest Division and the overseer of all the local Chapters in that region was intimidating. He had to think before he spoke.

Mr. Austin sucked hard on his pipe, expelling smoke while he spoke. “I heard she went to Dark Sepulcher.”

“Yes, sir. I begged her not to go, but she went anyway.”

“It’s obvious she isn’t listening to you.” He fixed Sean in his gray-eyed stare.

“But, you see—”

“You’re a valuable asset to this organization, son. More than that, Veronica likes you.” He turned his pipe upside down and smacked its stem against the side of his hand, knocking ash onto the ground. “I spoke to Mr. Luzier and we both agreed that you’re perfect for the task.”

“Yes, sir, I know, but—” Sean paused. “Task? What task?”

 “Mr. Luzier has agreed to promote you to field researcher,” Mr. Austin replied. “And you’re to go to Minneapolis and bring my daughter back unharmed.”

“Sir?”

“My daughter trusts you.”

Sean shook his head. He didn’t want any of it. A field researcher? Just the thought created a mild pain in his chest. “Sir, she’s only called me once. I mean, I’m grateful you decided to choose me, but I’m not right for this.”

“You can make her listen.” Mr. Austin’s voice grew louder. “Kenneth informed me and Mr. Luzier that you acquired documents for Veronica. You violated your oath by acquiring these documents and giving them to someone who isn’t a member of The Brotherhood.”

“Sir, I—”

“What you did by helping my daughter is punishable, Sean.” Mr. Austin puffed on his pipe. “Do you understand?”

Sean quickly zipped his mouth shut and he nodded.

“But I persuaded Mr. Luzier to hand you over to me in exchange for dropping the charges against you and bringing shame to your family.”

“Yes, sir.” Sean stared at the ground but forced himself to nod.

Mr. Austin again reached into his pocket, this time pulling out a folded manila envelope. “You will leave tomorrow.” He placed the envelope in Sean’s hand. “And you won’t tell anyone where you’re going.”

Sean stared at the envelope. “Sir, I appreciate what you’ve done for me but I have no experience as a field researcher.”

Mr. Austin held up his hand.  “Your parents were loyal members of The Brotherhood, Sean. Being charged with treason will bring shame on your family name.” He grabbed the umbrella from Sean and he walked forward. “After you arrive, you will report to Kenneth via email. He’s now the new Region Leader of Minnesota.”

Sean looked over his shoulder at Kenneth who stood against Mr. Luzier’s limousine. Kenneth waved at him and a feeling of anger ripped through Sean’s mind. That bastard.

“You won’t inform my daughter that you’re coming,” Mr. Austin continued. “You will keep in contact with Kenneth Dearhorn via email and phone. You will sway my daughter away from Dark Sepulcher. Any information from here on out will be about the sanctuary fires and that alone. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” Sean replied in a defeated voice. “I do.”

Mr. Austin nodded. “Don’t mess up this opportunity, Sean.”

Tentatively, Sean unfolded the envelope and peeked inside and found a short stack of bills and a small piece of paper topped by a single plane ticket to Minneapolis.

CHAPTER SIX

A line filled with provocatively dressed young men and women wrapped around the block which led to the front doors of Dark Sepulcher. Veronica froze, shocked to see how the line had grown since her last visit. Perhaps they’d scheduled a special performance for tonight? Had the club’s popularity blossomed so quickly? She took her place in line behind a tall man wearing a ruffled white shirt, black pants, and long artificial nails. Amused, she watched him press his fingers against his fake vampire-style teeth, trying to make them adhere to his natural overbite.

She surveyed the crowd, finding it difficult to separate Deamhan and vampires from humans. Deamhan meticulously disguised themselves with make-up and clothing. And with so many wanna-be humans dressed like vampires, she couldn’t tell one from the other.

The line inched forward. Veronica eavesdropped on several conversations until her gaze met the eyes of two women in line behind her. Except for their height, they looked identical—long brown hair and deep brown eyes. The shorter of the two wore a white mesh shirt revealing a black bra and a white miniskirt. The other wore purple leather pants and a pink tank top.

Twins, Veronica thought. Great.

“Aren’t you cold?” the taller twin asked Veronica.

Surprised, Veronica pointed at herself. “Me?” She knew she wasn’t dressed for Minnesota weather, but neither were they. She no longer owned gloves or a scarf. She sacrificed warmer clothes for club apparel. She shivered then nodded.

“I’ve never seen you here before.” The taller twin’s eyes roved Veronica’s body.

Not again. Veronica wanted to stop the conversation before it started. She turned her back on the twins and stared straight ahead.

“Don’t scare her, sister, especially on her first night here.”

Veronica cringed as they conversed behind her.

The line crept forward and when she reached the front door, the bouncer waved her through without checking her ID. Veronica walked through the curtains and into the stodgy air and interior of Dark Sepulcher. She pushed her way through crowds of contorting dancing bodies, trying to create distance between herself and the Deamhan twins. Music thumped throughout her body.

“You’re back,” a familiar voice said from behind Veronica.

She turned to find the waitress who’d served her the night before.

“You ran out in a hurry the other night,” the waitress stated as she placed a napkin on a nearby table.

“Oh yeah, I-I lost track of time. Sorry about that.” Veronica had no idea why she apologized. She looked over her shoulder. Realizing the twins weren’t following her, she caught her breath and relaxed.

“Wow, you look like you just saw a ghost,” the waitress said.

“I’m fine.” Veronica slicked back her hair.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, nothing right now. Thanks.”

“You look like you need a drink.” The waitress ignored Veronica’s answer. “I’ll tell you what. We have a new drink. It’s on the house.” The waitress playfully slapped Veronica on her wrist. “It’s called Sensual Appetite, and it’s delish!” She patted a chair next to the table. “Sit and relax.” She leaned toward Veronica and whispered, “My name is Chelsea. If you need anything else, just holler.”

Before Veronica could refuse, the waitress pushed through the crowd and disappeared. A fresh burst of fog spewed from a machine above, engulfing the dance floor. The gyrating crowd cheered in approval.

Veronica’s eyes moved to the back at a small room nestled in the corner directly above the dance floor. A rowdy cheer to her left caught her attention. A group of scantily dressed men and women hovered around a circular table. The light flickered above them. Veronica recognized Alexis; her arms draped around the neck of a man sporting a business suit and red tie. He sipped from a chalice and pointed to the crowd on the dance floor.

Chelsea returned and placed a clear plastic cup on the table in front of Veronica. The dark red drink had no ice, but a hint of blue had settled at the bottom of the cup. “Here you go,” she said, tucking the tray underneath her arm.

“I’m not thirsty.” Veronica pushed the cup away.

Immediately Chelsea latched onto her wrist and pulled Veronica’s hand toward the cup. “Nonsense.” Chelsea’s eyes narrowed in on Veronica. Her eyes turned black and her mouth opened slightly, revealing her fangs. “Now drink up, researcher. Don’t let a good drink go to waste.”