Siring a Deamhan at a young age is strictly forbidden.
“I offered to sire her, but she screamed.” I said to Nash.
We stood in the kitchen, staring down at Bobbi’s lifeless body, still lying where I left it. Nash knelt and inspected the scene like a detective examining the clues of a homicide.
“What are you checking the body for?” I questioned. “She’s dead.”
He didn’t look at me when he spoke. “I was thinking maybe we won’t have to move her if we could somehow make this look like a robbery.”
I smacked my lips. “Remind me why I should care. I just want to hear it again, and see if it makes sense to me this time.”
He stood up. “She’s well known in this community, Kei. Her murder will no doubt cause a mini panic here. Her father is a fair man, but very strict at times. Knowing that his only daughter is dead will undoubtedly ravage him.”
“He’ll find out sooner or later.”
Nash shook his head. “She didn’t deserve to die like this.”
“You’re acting like you personally knew her.”
“I did personally know her,” he snapped back. “After you left me, I didn’t know what I would do or how people would react to what I was. So I hid for years, feeding off animals, and keeping to myself.” He walked to the other side of the kitchen. “When I finally managed to deal with who I was, I came out and I passed myself off as the only surviving Strongfeather descendant. That’s when I met her.” He pointed to Bobbi. “She was about twenty-five, and real young and wild at the time. One night, she and her friends went to a small swimming spot about half a mile from where I was staying. I could hear and smell them, but I managed to restrain myself and my hunger. She saw me, approached me, and invited me to come over and swim with them. I had fun that night until the sun rose.”
I yawned.
“Everyone in this town knows me. They come to my bar and grill,” he continued. “Back then, I wasn’t Nashoba Strongfeather. I was the son of Nashoba Strongfeather. And every twenty years, I disappear and return with a new persona. I dated her for over a year. I got to know her quite well, but as you know, human and Deamhan relationships never last. Either you reveal what you are or they just find out sooner or later. I couldn’t let her find out.”
“I can’t believe these humans are too dumb to realize it’s you,” I said. “And not your son.”
“You’d be surprised how quickly and easily people can reinvent themselves these days,” he replied back.
“Enough story time. Let’s get rid of the body so I can eat!”
“You know, as my sire, there was one thing you didn’t tell me.” Nash leaned over Bobbi’s body. He placed his hands underneath, lifting her up over his shoulder. “You told me how to live in this world as a Deamhan, but you never taught me how to blend in with it. I had to learn that on my own.” He walked toward the door, adding, “There should be a shovel in the backyard.”
I folded my arms. “A shovel?” His melancholy attitude started to get under my skin and I wanted to tear the body from his grasp. “You’re going to bury her?”
“Yes, but far from here. Near the swimming spot she liked so much.” He opened the door and looked back at me. “Are you coming?” He walked out. I was hesitant to follow him, but eventually, I did.
He pointed to a rusted, metal shovel near the garage in the back. Usually, I don’t take orders very well, but I grabbed it anyway.