The Artifact of Dissium (Demona Book 2)

The Artifact of Dissium

DEMONA SERIES

BOOK TWO

By
Megan A. Hepler

Copyright © 2014 by Megan A. Hepler

All rights reserved. No part of this novel may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic, physical, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, dialogues, locales, religions, or cultures is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

First Edition, 2014

Megan A. Hepler

www.meganhepler.com

[email protected]

Cover Art by K. C. Designs

Cover Model
- Miranda Hedman

Back Cover Blurb by Mary Clayton

To Ben Cohick, my nephew.

Chapter 1:

The Thirst

Demona’s hair cascaded down over
her shoulders as she stood with her ear pressed firmly against the cold oak door. She listened intently to the hushed voices coming from the other side. Demona knew that her parents had been discussing something that they had not wanted her to overhear. They only closed the door when they were talking about her, which naturally piqued her curiosity.

“He was watching her again,” her mother said in a panicky whisper.

“Where was he?” her father asked.

Demona heard the concerned tone of his voice.

“He sat in the car watching Demona as she left the house for school.”

“This has to stop!”

“Shh! She’ll hear you,” her mother hissed. “I’m scared, Darryn. What if he tries to take her?” Her mother paused. “Or hurt her?”

Demona could hear the shuffling of feet.
Who wants to hurt me?

“I know, I know. We’ll figure something out,” her father said. “I’ll make a call.”

“It’s a start,” her mother replied. The reassurance from her father, Darryn, had done nothing to ease the shakiness of her mother’s voice.

Demona heard the clicking noise of a phone being lifted off of a receiver and the shuffling of her father’s feet as he began to pace the room. Demona stared at the antique table situated next to the door she leaned against. The family photo of the three of them was barely visible in the dimly lit hallway. She could distinguish the outline of her tall, lean father with his brown hair and the figure of her mother’s petite, delicate frame. She squeezed her eyes shut as if it would enhance her hearing.

“It’s Darryn,” her father said. There was a pause. “Good, good. How are you?” There was silence once more. “Listen. Shanon saw him, again. His visits are becoming more frequent and quite frankly he’s coming a little too close to home.”

Demona pressed harder against the door.

“I think we need to consult the Council, again. He’s not just watching us anymore, it’s Mona.”

Demona heard her mother’s trembling words.

“They must do something!” her mother said.

What are they keeping from me? I have a right to know!
Demona pressed harder against the door once more, as if it would allow her to hear the other end of the phone conversation. She traced the grooved wood with her fingers, as she anxiously listened. The sound of her father’s footsteps continued with a rhythm as he paced the room on the other side of the door.

“Yes, it is a concern! And she doesn’t know…which is how we would like to keep it, for now.” Then silence. “I’m starting to fear that he has realized how special she is. This could be very bad. Very, very bad. What if he tries to take her?” There was another long pause. “I understand. Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Demona heard a click as the phone was slid back into its proper place.

“I’m going to check on Mona,” her mother said.

Demona promptly withdrew from the door and scurried away. She stormed up to her bedroom, as quietly as possible, and slammed the door behind her. One of the many trinkets that were sitting on a shelf came crashing to the floor. Demona went to pick it up. A sliver of shattered porcelain stuck her finger as she picked up a large portion of the broken fairy figurine.

“What was that?” her mother said as she entered the doorway.

“N-nothing.” Demona avoided eye contact with her mother. “My fairy just fell from the shelf.”

Her mother bent to help her pick up the pieces. “This was your favorite.”

“Nah, it’s just baby stuff anyway.” Demona turned from her mother and placed the broken pieces into the garbage can, and crossed her arms. Demona attempted to hide her sulkiness from her mother. She made her way to her bed and plopped down on the soft down mattress.

“You are still my baby.” Shanon looked at her daughter carefully and tried to understand Demona’s sullen mood.

Demona turned to her mother with a scowl on her face. “I’m not a child anymore! I’m fourteen!”

****

Demona woke up as she was partway through sitting up in her bed. She bumped her head on the low ceiling above. It took a moment for her to gain her bearings. Demona lay back and rubbed her fingers over the sore spot on her forehead.

The flashbacks still came whenever they wanted, while she was awake and sometimes in her dreams. Since the incident at the Masquerade Ball in Club Chamber, Demona’s visions had changed. They were no longer the painful, horrifying memories of the night she had been turned, but were now filled with pieces of her past that she had forgotten. They were of her parents and the life they had shared, but the memories only came in fragments. Still, she always came back to reality with feelings of loneliness and longing. Demona wished that she knew more about whom they were and how they had died, if they even had died.

Demona now knew that many of the things that Darius Grier, her former boss and master, had told her were lies. The whole history they had made up for her had been lies. Darius had turned Demona almost two and a half years ago and abandoned her in her fledgling vampire state. It was not until the masquerade when the demon priest, Abd al-Malik, gave her a vision of a conversation between Darius and her former boyfriend, Kerrick Balen. It was then that she began to understand their betrayal. The vision of their conversation is where she learned that Darius had been the one to turn her into a vampire.

She had been told that her parents were killed when she was a young child and that she had lived in foster care the majority of her life. Instead, she had lived with her parents through most of her adolescence. She still did not know what had happened to her parents, because for some unknown reason Demona had lost her memory of the events before her transformation.

Darius.
His name was always the first she came to when something seemed out of place. Demona had been the only fledgling vampire without a master to guide her through the transition. For some reason he had wanted to conceal his identity as her master. The vision she had received from the demon priest had informed her that Darius had been watching her for many years because he had suspected that she was the
Mythos
, the chosen one.

She recalled the first day she was sent out on a field assignment with Kerrick Balen, who had also been her field partner. The thought of his betrayal made her skin feel aflame and she could have sworn that she caught a whiff of smoke. Demona glanced around to make certain that she had not accidently set herself on fire. It would not have been the first time that her
mageia
was out of control because of her emotions.

The thought triggered even more memories. She was reminded about how much she had been in denial about her
mageia,
and the prophecy that Darius had once recounted to her in his office.

Demona recited the prophecy from memory. “She will come as half of one and half the other, born from both death and life. A power of great strength will rise within to conquer all who oppose her. Love and hate decides her course. No two outcomes are there, but one. She will change the world for one and the other she will smother.”

Demona rolled her eyes and swung her legs out of the bunk. Her hair was a mess and she tugged on a knot as she shuffled her way to the tiny recreational vehicle’s bathroom only a few steps from her bed. She dressed herself and made her way slowly through the maple grove towards an old rickety church. The headquarters of the Good Light Council, called GLC, was now her home.

GLC was an organization of light beings and protectors of all against the dark beings of the world. The members of GLC had given Demona refuge after she left TGHC, known as The Grier Hemo Co., the organization run by Darius. After the revelation she was given by the demon priest, about Darius and Kerrick, she left the dark side for the light. She had fulfilled part of the prophecy by choosing a side. Even if Demona was a vampire, one of the dark beings, GLC had welcomed her with open arms. She still had so much to learn about the way they operated and the history between the two organizations.

The headquarters was a quaint operation. Its base was out of an old church in the middle of farm lands. Some of the members resided in RVs around the structure, while others lived in the nearby town, Melville. Demona had been given an RV of her own. It was something that she had greatly appreciated, but she knew there was another reason for their kindness.

Demona passed the bon fire that continuously burned in the grove. A human volunteer sat with some of the members huddled around the fire and drinking coffee. Demona’s mouth watered as she caught the scent of human blood. She had almost expected her stomach to growl, except for the fact that her body no longer operated in the human way.

The only real hang-up to the decision that she had made to side with GLC was that her regular food supply was no longer accessible. TGHC had been a food distributer, for vampires and werewolves, disguised as a blood bank. It made for the ideal situation to keep the hunger of the supernatural beings at bay. It also helped to keep their world a secret from the humans.

I really hope Ileana is able to get rations. The humans are looking a little too tasty today
.

Demona entered the church and sat on one of the pews located inside. Her green eyes sparkled as the patch of sunlight shone through a broken portion of an old stained-glass window. Demona’s black hair glistened in the sun’s rays. A few loose strands of hair had escaped her pony tail and fell around her ivory face.

“Come, Demona. Let’s have a talk,” Ezekiel said.

Demona rose from the pew and followed Ezekiel Holmes across the sanctuary. The old planked floor boards creaked with each step that she took as she followed him through the doorway into the back of the church. They turned to the right into another doorway that led to Ezekiel’s modest office. He took his place at the chair behind his large desk that seemed to fill most of the room.

Demona sat on one of the cold folding chairs across from him. She looked up at Ezekiel for a moment. She often thought that if his hair and beard had been white, he would have looked like Santa Clause. Demona admired him for his unwavering inner strength and kindness. He was like the grandfather she wished she had. She could talk to him about her fears and struggles and he would listen to her.

Ezekiel sat back against his desk chair and it squeaked with every movement. “How was your night?”

Demona shook her head. “I had another flashback.”

“Hmm… Do you want to talk about it?”

“I guess.” Demona glanced at her hands resting in her lap. “I saw my parents. Well, I mean, I heard their conversation. My mother was pretty much telling my father that Darius was watching me.”

Ezekiel’s head slumped against his chest. “Had we known—”

“Known what?”

“Had we known that Darius had planned to turn someone we would have intervened,” Ezekiel said.

Demona sat forward. “Why? It’s not like you could have done anything.”

“Maybe not, but GLC, as you know, protects the light and neutral beings from harm. Had we known that Darius would break even his own rules, we would have stepped in and tried to prevent the transformation from taking place.”

Demona looked at him quizzically. “You mean that I might not have been the
Mythos
if I had never been turned?”

“No, you have always been the
Mythos
.” Ezekiel studied Demona. “Your fate was decided before the creation of our world. I wish I could tell you more. Even I do not know all of the answers. I’m afraid we can’t know what happened to you, or your parents, until you remember more.”

Demona’s hands clenched so hard that her knuckles lost their color.
This is so frustrating
! Demona knew that she was impatient, but she wanted to know what had happened to her parents. She needed to know. She needed to find the answers for her own peace of mind.
Did Darius do something to them?