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Category:
Fantasy
Publisher: Isaiyan Morrison
ISBN-10: 0692069267
Type: Fiction
Pages: 305
Copyright: March 6, 2018
ISBN-13: 9780692069264
Price: $1.99 (eBook)
For Deamhan, revenge is the best dish of all.
In 1840s Paris, vampires aren’t just at the throats of humans. Split into two warring factions, Dorvo vampires wage war against the Deamhan, their paranormal cousins created by dark magic and who feed on the psychic energy of their human victims. In this strange new world, Remy, a bourgeoisie, is sired as a Deamhan by Julian. But the intoxicating rush of becoming a powerful psychic vampire is soon eclipsed by the presence of Ruby, a beautiful yet elusive Dorvo vampire.
Betrayed by his own, Ruby feeds his undesirable urge to have his revenge against Julian and the rest of the Deamhan. But he doesn’t know if he can trust Ruby. She may have given him his freedom, but she’s still the enemy who has vowed to vanquish the Deamhan, the very same Deamhan that betrayed him. Now it’s up to Remy to decide who to trust -- and who to destroy.
In Remy, The Brotherhood Files, author Isaiyan Morrison presents a paranormal urban fantasy about fractured relationships, mistrust, and forgiveness. Here in the City of Love, it’s anything but, as Remy’s caught between two warring sides who both want him gone. Will his desire for revenge cloud his judgment? Or will he figure out who he can trust once and for all? In this wild journey from the graveyard and through the dark alleys and cobblestoned streets of Paris, Remy is both hunter…and prey.
Excerpt
I expected Pruett to take me to another side of Paris I’d never been before. Instead, he took me to the last place I could ever think of.
A cemetery.
He pushed the gated entrance opened and we walked in. My hearing homed in on crickets in the grass, birds flying overhead, and the faint sound of water in a nearby river.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“Shhh.” He silenced me. “We mustn’t scare her.” He tiptoed slowly over the gravel road and unsure of whom we didn’t want to frighten, I followed.
“Do you smell her?”
“I don’t smell anyone. There’s no one here but us.”
“Wrong.” Still holding onto Monsieur’s head, he paused momentarily. “I smelled her back at Maison des Bénédictions. Their scents are usually strong, stronger than a vampire’s.”
“Vampires? There are vampires?!” My eyes bulged from their sockets.
“Yes, now hush.”
The wind picked up and swayed the branches and their leaves overhead.
“I haven’t seen one of them in a very long time,” he whispered as we trekked forward. “They keep to themselves and avoid anywhere there are Deamhan.”
“So, this person who you can smell is supernatural, like us?”
Out of nowhere, he stopped, squatted, and rubbed his hand through the wet grass. “Not necessarily. They are much easier to kill when you have the upper hand.”
“So, you’re going to kill this person once you find them?”
“Oh yes! They taste so sweet, like a mixture of savillum and grapes I ate a long time ago.” He turned to me. “Have you ever tasted savillum?”
I shrugged.
“Eh, that was way before your time.”
Exactly at that moment, a citrus scent swam across the bridge of my nose. My ears perked up and my eyes darkened instantly. “What is that?” The scent made me pick up speed while I tried to find exactly where it was coming from. “It isn’t like anything I’ve smelled before!” Interested, I also scoured the cemetery around us. I stepped over toppled headstones, trampled over graves, some old and some fresh. I even searched the trees, thinking I would find the source up, somewhere high.
“There! Do you see her?” He pointed off into the distance.
I did see the person who caught his eye and whose scent tickled our nostrils. It was a woman with long, wavy, dark hair extending to her waist, dressed in a long dark dress, suitable for those attending funerals. She held a small, black, matching parasol which partially covered her face.
Oh, how bad I wanted her! How bad I wanted to feed from her. She smelled so good, it almost made me lose control of my actions!
“Go!” Pruett whispered. “Take her!”
And so, I did. I ran faster than I ran before at her. I thought I was quick enough and could get to her before she realized what was going on. Instead, she looked over her shoulder. She had big beautiful eyes and thin lips.
Distracted by her scent, I failed to notice a brightness emanating from her hand.
A blast of light struck me square in the chest. It tossed me back, in midair, and I landed just a few feet from Pruett, who laughed obnoxiously. I blinked to stop the world from spinning and my chest felt as if it was on fire.
The woman didn’t speak, nor did she follow up on her attack. Instead, she gripped her parasol before yelling, “Stay away from me, Deamhan!” and calmly walked away.
“Oh! I didn’t think you’d actually go after her!” Pruett laughed aloud at my expense.
Feeling like a doltz, I stood and wiped the dirt from my clothing. “What was that?” Annoyed, I gripped my chest in pain. “Did you know she would do that?” I turned back and watched the mysterious woman until the darkness of the cemetery swallowed her outline.
“I wanted to see if she was really one of them,” he replied. “And now, I have my proof.”
“She could’ve killed me!”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“And what if she did?” I raised my voice at him. “How would you explain my death to Julian?”
“Don’t be so upset, Remy.”
I glanced at my shirt and noticed the blast had burned the cotton away, revealing my bare chest. “Is she a witch? Is she a demon?”
“Oh, we’re the demons,” he corrected me. “And no, she isn’t a witch. She is just one of many who have access to dark magic, like we do.” He winked at me. “Do you want her?”
“Yes!” I agreed without any hesitation. “Oh, yes!”
“Then you must do something for me in return.”
“Anything!” What could I offer a Deamhan who had lived long before my fifth great grandfather came into existence? What did he want from me? I dreaded his answer.
“If you want her, I have to go now and track her before it’s too late.”
“Yes! Bring her back here so we can share her!”
“Or I could just kill her for myself.” His eyes widened, and his face contorted into what I could only describe as the look of a psychopath.
“Would you be so kind as to bring him back with you? He can’t go where I must go.” He held out Monsieur to me.
Still unable to get over the mummified head, I took hold of it with uneasiness.
“He won’t hurt you,” he insisted. “He’s dead.”
“I can see that.” I placed the head on the ground.
His features returned to normal. “I must go now, and you mustn’t tell Julian what happened here.”
“Why?”
“He wouldn’t like it.”
“Does he know about those types of people?”
He nodded.
“Why wouldn’t he tell me?”
“There are many, many things he hasn’t told you.” In a blink of an eye, he left down the dirt road.
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