The Vampire Hunters Academy

October 2015…

Sanaya watched her mother sit by the window sill, Jack Daniel’s in one hand and a cigarette in another. Her father had yet to come home, and whenever her mother had a bottle of liquor in hand, she knew things weren’t good. Patrice hadn’t said a word since she’d come home from a long day at the Post Office, and Sanaya knew something wasn’t right. As a matter of fact, she’d been walking on eggshells around her mother all week since her father; Roland went away to the store and never came back. Patrice had yet to file a missing person’s report, being that this would not be the first time Roland disappeared without a trace. Sanaya sighed, secretly wishing some self-esteem was at the bottom of the liquor bottle so that her mother would just divorce him and move on. The man was a cheater and showed no signs of changing any time soon. Sanaya assumed that he had always been that way, but could not figure out for the life of her why her mother would put up with it. The last time he disappeared, he ran off with one of Patrice’s ex-friends for two years before coming home with his tail between his legs. For the first six months after his departure, she had to live with her Aunt Shawna while her mother struggled through a serious bout of depression and drinking. After she almost drank herself to the point of a coma, she finally began to clean herself up, found a new job at the Post Office as a clerk, and things began to look up for Sanaya and Patrice-until her dad came home, and well…things went downhill from there. And now, they were back in the shit hole.

Sanaya crept into the kitchen, trying to block out her mother’s thoughts-which was another thing: she could actually hear what people were thinking as they were thinking, something that at one point freaked her out. She smoothed the fine hairs that framed her face back into the freshly flat ironed ponytail she could feel bouncing against the back of her neck as she stealthily opened the fridge.

The son of bitch got me all the way fucked up, her mother seethed mentally, still staring out of the window. As soon as he comes back, I’m leaving his ass and he can see for himself what it’s like to raise a child all by hisself…

Sanaya quickly grabbed her left over foot long sandwich from Subway her mother picked up for her after school and headed back to her room while she could. If Patrice caught wind of her moving about the house in the state that she was in, Sanaya would have to bear the verbal brunt of her mother’s tirade until it was time for her to get to school.

Fuck him!

Sanaya gently eased the door to her room shut and cut the volume down just low enough not to disturb her mother…and because as of late, her hearing had become much more sensitive and acute that even at the television’s lowest volume, it still sounded like her ear drums were going to explode. As a matter of fact, since she was twelve her senses had heightened to the realms of abnormal. She could see things at least a mile away with total clarity, all the way down to most minute detail. She could smell which equal acuity, having spent many a day in the nurses office for extreme nausea and vomiting from the nasal sensitivity. One time, after being picked up from school for vomiting, her mother asked her if she was pregnant, and drove her to a local free clinic where she was forced to take a pregnancy test despite her still being a virgin.

She hid most of the changes that took place within her body other than the typical issues that all females went through as they transitioned into young adulthood; but everything else such as the heightened sensitivity to her environment, and the awareness of the ever present feeling that something darker, and stronger than herself, she kept locked away. Besides, her mother had other issues to worry about other than the fact that her daughter’s developing “gifts” that should have by rights placed her in the nut house. She learned a long time ago that there just wasn’t room for special people like her; and whatever these gifts are…well, there is no such thing as super heroes. Those characters only existed in the pages of a Marvel comic book.

Sanaya tightened the strings of her berry pink pajama bottoms and plopped on her twin sized bed, decorated with a purple comforter set and covered with stuffed animals she collected since she was old enough to walk. Yeah, it was kiddish but how else would she sleep at night when she always felt like someone was watching her?

Taking a bite of the leftover Philly cheese steak sub, she listened for her mother, happy to have distanced herself from her mother’s toxic thoughts, but dreading what the night may bring from Patrice’s drunken stupor. Sanaya finishes her sandwich and tosses the wrapping her purple waste bin by the door before crawling into bed. Patrice would more than likely sit by the window all night if left undistracted from her thoughts, which Sanaya intended to do. Sanaya wrestles underneath the welcoming comfort of her covers, and allow her thoughts to drift to the sound of MTV’s Cribs, and the hauntingly eerie silence which begun to blanket her street. She shrugged off the horrifying sensation as paranoia, and cursing herself for never being able to relax.

She grabbed the remote and cut the television off and just listened. She heard the sound of her father’s 2002 Honda Civic pull up into the driveway of their two story duplex. The hum of the engine coming to a stop as he stepped out onto the pavement, his heavy footsteps tapping against the pavement. Her whole body tensed as she listened to the jingle of his keys clink against the metal door. Something wasn’t right…she did not know how she knew, but somewhere deep inside of her knew her father’s return just wasn’t right. She detected the presence of someone else just outside of her home’s iron gate, and she sat up quickly. Her eyes adjusting to the dark as if it were day. She listened intently, tuning more into what may have been going on outside than in.

The presence moved through the shadows with the stealth and agility of a trained assassin before coming to a stop just underneath her bedroom window. She got up to take a peek when she could hear her mother’s drunken outburst slam into her cranium.

“So which bitch was it this time, Roland?” she demanded.

Sanaya could see it in her mind’s eye: her mother leaning against the wooden dining room table with a multicolored scarf on her head full of tightly coiled locks she kept hidden under various wigs; her large brown eyes tinged with red from hours of crying and drinking; her once beautifully smooth brown skin marred with worry lines and few wrinkles here and there; her 5’9” frame draped in an old tattered red robe; and all signs of hope and happiness completely drained from her pores. Standing before her father was a shell of a woman who lacked the one thing she wanted most in the world: the love of her husband.

Sanaya listened for her father’s reply, which came out in a melodic echo that caused her skin to prickle.

“You’ve been drinking,” was all he said.

Hearing her father’s voice made something within her snap, and she mentally shot her mother a message: Run mama!

However, the message fell on deaf ears because her mother instantly began her verbal tirade, belting out curses, threats and everything else she could think of. Sanaya quietly eased the door open and slid out, and crept down the hall, cautious to remain hidden in the shadows, careful not to be seen by the version of the man she knew as her father. All of her instincts began to fire off the instant she laid eyes on her father. He looked like Roland, sounded like Roland; and said things that Roland would say…but Sanaya shuddered… Roland wasn’t Roland.

She peered out just in time to witness her mother slap her father with a force that should have knocked the wind out of him, but he never staggered. He never flinched. He just glared at her with such intensity, that even in her drunken and enraged state, Patrice took a step back. And that is when Sanaya noticed the difference. Roland’s mouth crested with two pointed teeth that were as thick as switch blades and equally as sharp, which extended to near the end of his jawline. His normally hazel brown eyes flickered a deep crimson, and his honey brown skin appeared more ashen and dull.

Patrice took another step back, unsure of which direction to go, and Roland stalked after her.

“Get the hell away from me Roland,” Patrice warned. “I mean it.”

“Or else what?” Roland asked coolly.

No longer able to sit back and wait for her father to seal her mother’s fate, Sanaya sprang to her feet, armed only with her bravery and fear for her mother’s life she charged at her father, only for him to knock her into the wall with the sweep of his hand. Her head connected with the 8 x 12 mirror her mother insisted on purchasing from Ross a year ago, before she collapsed to the ground.

“Sanaya!” Patrice called out, her back now pinned against the cupboard and her husband’s face just inches away from hers.

“I am terribly glad to be rid of you, you miserable, useless bitch,” Roland articulated slowly. “I long ago grew tired of your endless ramblings…” He leaned in closer. “And to answer the question you begged of me long ago, yes your sister is better.”

Patrice’s gasp was followed by her scream as Roland slammed her into the cupboard and sank his teeth into her throat. Sanaya, dazed and bloodied, struggled to get to her feet when the window from which her mother gazed out into the night shattered, and the watchful presence emerged, dressed in all black and armed with a long sword and a mission burst through the shattered window. With the speed and agility of a panther, the hooded assassin’s sword sliced through the air with a chime, taking Roland’s head clean off of his shoulders. Patrice’s body slumped to the floor, her hands clutching her throat.

Sanaya managed to get on her feet, forcing herself to stumble to her mother’s aid. Slightly dazed, she inched closer drawing in deep breaths as she watched her mother spew up her own blood. Kneeling beside her, she brought her mother’s head to her chest, unsure of what to do or who to turn to. The hooded assassin, still clutching the sword approached them, pulling out a small vial of clear liquid and removing the spongy cap. Before Sanaya could respond, the assassin sprinkled a few drops of the mystery fluid onto her mother and the instant the drop made contact, her mother began to incinerate.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Sanaya sobbed jumping back, as her mother screamed and thrashed about as her body became consumed with flames.

The hooded assassin regarded her with a disinterested stare before returning to Patrice’s body as it slowly turned to a pile of ash. Patrice’s screams abated, her arms no longer thrashing about as the flames continued to consume her. Sanaya’s sobs became louder as she fell to her knees once more. Whatever her father had done, he’d brought it home to her mother and now…both of her parents are gone. Overwrought with grief, she buried her face in her hands, not expecting the sudden strike of a small dart to the base of her neck. She flinched, and scrambled to her feet to address the sudden threat, however, the specially calibrated toxin sent a shock to her nervous system and the last thing she remembered was the heavy hand of the hooded assassin catching her by the waist before her face hit the floor.

Release Date: TBD

****All works are created and written by Delizhia D. Jenkins 2016****

Stay tuned.

Coming November 23, 2015: Blind Salvation

“And so the light fell in love with the dark, even though it was the light that could not see and it was the dark that bathed in the sun…”- Blind Salvation

The first installment of the Dark Royals Series, Blind Salvation is an interracial, paranormal romance novel about a vampire prince who finds his soul in the heart of a blind woman. Damien is being forced to marry through the will of his father, Hadrian, The Great Vampire King of their bloodline due to a prophecy that he perceives to be a threat to the races’ survival. Kennedy, legally blind since birth, is an African American woman nearing her thirties has spent the last five years of her life alone-her only companion, an incredibly intelligent Golden Retriever by the name of Hubert, is rescued by none other than Damien one evening from a gang of thugs and as fate should have it, he connects with her instantly. Awed by her independence despite of her obvious handicap, Damien is smitten by her and desperate to protect her from what should have been an ordinary and mundane existence of a blind person. Unfortunately, his kind are being hunted by a relentless Slayer by the name of Rothbart all because of a misunderstanding orchestrated by his older sister Lucinda, in the quest to protect his family and the new love of his life, Damien and Kennedy discover that she is an heir to the “lost” Fae King and as the story unfolds both of them fight against time to find the salvation they both had been searching for all along.

Preorder links are available. Order your copy today!

http://www.amazon.com/Blind-Salvation-Royals-Delizhia-Jenkins-ebook/dp/B016MWUJZK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1445707733&sr=8-1&keywords=Blind+Salvation+by+Delizhia+Jenkins

Another excerpt from Raphael…(Current WIP)

Chapter eight

Raphael swung at the air in frustration. His so called “savior” had not only abandoned him, but now she was pulling out all stops to ignore and evade his advances. To finally have met her in person, and not as an apparition or in the form of a vision had been the greatest joy he had experienced since his imprisonment. Sure she was a bit inexperienced in her gifts, but the fact remains that she is gifted indeed, and perhaps much stronger than she knew. Her grey eyes were unmistakable; such a peculiar shade of grey, smoky and indistinct; with a deep blue tint to it. He wondered where she inherited the gene. But besides all of that, she fooled him, disappeared and then using not only her powers but her wit to avoid him. However, he doubted her wit would best him when it came to a test of wills. Since she mentally blocked him from visiting her in her dreams, he would appear in every single one of her reflections until she is driven to the point of madness. He would disrupt every moment of her daily life until she consented to freeing him from this cursed dungeon. He would free himself and his brothers, and rid the world of the person responsible. He knew she had the power to not only free him but send him back to his time where he could regain his life back, raise his children and recommit himself to his wife. After that, she could go back to whatever life she was living undisturbed.

He opened his mind to search for the connection to her, and to his dismay, she was sleeping and therefore had him blocked. He would reach out to her again in a few hours when he was sure she was awake. But in the meantime, at least he knew for a fact she was of age and ready to assist, and he would do whatever it took to convince her to do so. He took a seat against the wall, and rested his arms onto his knees. It had been centuries since he had tasted food and drink; centuries since he felt the tender touch of a woman and almost a millennia since he wielded his sword. He had been suspended in time, trapped in isolation and for the life of him could not figure out why-well, he knew why or at least part of the why: the bastard was after his land…and his poor wife.

He knew that he and Annamarie were not exactly on the best of terms prior to his capture. For whatever reason she had distanced herself from him, perhaps to deal with her fears regarding the pregnancy alone since she wasn’t one to really share her thoughts and feelings anyways. But no woman could resist him. He had never had a problem when it came to winning the heart and body of a woman, but for this woman, he actually had to put in effort to win her affections; and when he did the victory that followed felt…hallow. Even when he took her on their wedding night, he recalled her response to be less than enthused…

The eating and drinking and the rest of the festivities that took place from the moment their vows were exchanged would probably continue well into the next sunrise for this was a momentous occasion for the Caspian men. Raphael was the first of his brothers to wed, and the people that his family had protected since the dawn of time were anxious for another heir. Raphael whisked his new bride away to a small castle that his father had built from the ground up as a wedding gift to his mother. After her death, Raphael had sworn that he would give whoever the lucky woman that won his heart the very home that his father had built for a woman that had done more than won his heart. And so, that is what he did. Once he secured her onto his horse, her long white gown flowing across the back of the white mare and onto the grassy plain, he hopped on effortlessly and off they went into the wind. The crowds behind them cheered them on, and although he himself was filled with joy, his new bride did not possess the beaming quality most women wore when they finally wed the man that their hearts desired. He managed to brush it off as wedding jitters, and with her still being a virgin, he could understand her fears. But he promised himself that he would take his time, be as gentle as he could with her, and make sure that she enjoyed every second of his love. He kissed her lovingly on top of her head as they rode off into the distance.

Night had come when they reached their destination. The castle had been prepped for their arrival; the staff was ready at the gates to greet them; the banner with his family’s crest was lifted and on full display, and once she was safely off of the horse, he carried her across the threshold just as any doting husband would. Once inside, he personally gave her a tour of the home he grew up in, and every now and then she would admiringly gaze at the pictures of his family that hung sporadically throughout the halls. She seemed impressed with the décor: a cross between two periods of Gothic and Medieval and a few items here and there that differed in culture and theme. He wanted to show her every nook and cranny of the 14 room abode, but there were more pressing things that he was anxious to get to, and one of them creating a magnificent bulge in his britches.

He guided her to their room, where he had hoped to spend a great deal of time in; and she nervously glanced around at the hundreds of tiny candles that he had his servants light to create a romantic and calming ambiance to set the mood. The massive bed was scattered with rose petals from the garden, and he had the purple drapes opened just so that the light of the moon could serenade them a silent song of light. He wanted to show her that he was more than a warrior-he was a man of worth; someone who was thoughtful, open and ready to give whatever she asked for. He would be her slave tonight and she would be his master. His manhood thickened in anticipation. She took a seat on the edge of the bed and when he neared her, she jumped up quickly and said, “I-I need to freshen up.”

“Don’t worry about that Annamarie. I know that you were bathed and prepped for this moment,” He whispered gently to her. “I want to taste everything about you…and I don’t mind a little sweat.”

“But we were on the horse a good while and-“

“Come to me as you are darling. I cannot bear to wait another second for this moment…”

She tried to resist but he quickly took her mouth with his and he held there, tasting every nook and cranny of her mouth… he scooped her up and gently laid her on the bed, positioning her beneath him. Kicking off his boots and removing his sword, he went to work on unfastening each button, untying each lace before her smooth naked body tremored beneath him. His mouth went dry the moment his eyes were greeted with the most perfectly large breasts that fit so naturally with her curvy body. Her green eyes staring back at him in nervous anticipation. He unfastened the tightly wrapped coils that were her hair and watched it cascade down in waves across her chest. The creamy mounds of flesh that made up her breasts were topped with a cherry of nipple that tightened from the chill of the night air, and once he spread her legs before him, her valley, now fully exposed and ready for his exploring made him dizzy from the sight. Her legs were already trembling and he had yet to do anything other than kiss her, but he figured it was nothing but anxiety from this being her first encounter. He crushed her body with his, and she gasped while he kissed her deeply and lovingly. He left trail after trail of kisses until her face flushed crimson and she cried out for more.

Delirious from pleasure and hungry for more, he hurriedly stripped from his clothing before crushing her again, this time anxiously easing the tip of his prized possession into her core. She flinched only slightly from the invasion, but even in his pleasure maddened state, he realized that there was no barrier as other maidens had upon their first encounters. He should know… As he pushed himself deeper, and she cried out from the pleasure, and still…no barrier…no resistance at all. His body responded in kind to her slick, wet, cavern and he proceeded to take her in the manner that any other man would. All gentleness went out of the window as his demands took over; and she responded in kind. She bit her lip, scratched his back, and opened her legs wider to take more of him into her, and he rode her until her legs could no longer tremble and she was weak from exhaustion. His climax was intense and when he finally rolled from on top of her, she rolled over and said not one word until the time came for breakfast that morning. He never brought it up to her either, he simply let the concern go in hopes of being able to enjoy what was supposed to be the happiest moment of his life. Although, when he did take her several more times before heading back to his main fortress with the rest of his family, the fact that there was no barrier plagued him; and since that day he never brought her back to that castle. He would allow one of his brothers to have it if requested.

He shook off the memory. There were many more like that and most of them he swept under the rug for the sake of his marriage. There was no question Annamarie had been with another, perhaps that man he had wooed her away from, he was not that naïve. The question that had always remained in his heart was did her love equal to that of which he carried in his own heart? The only way to find out would be through this Winnie woman. She could set him free and send him back. He would just have to work harder to convince her; and he would do so by any means necessary.

(Release Date: TBD)

Sin: Daughter of the Grim Reaper-Available September 1, 2015

Sample Chapter.

There was nothing like having his powers once again in his possession and at his command. As he sped through the atmosphere like a meteor on a mission, he blazed through the night sky plunging deep beneath the earth’s surface, opening a portal into the lower realms. Hell had recognized that the Reaper of all Reapers had returned to his full glory, and he could sense the tremors of the souls of the damned and the thousands of entities that occupied the cursed place as they realized he had returned. With his mind, he opened a secret gateway into a realm he had created specifically for the one soul who mattered most to him, and he quickly stepped inside and made sure to close the portal behind him.

He had created for her scenery mimicking that of what is found in the country of Ireland. He remembered her saying before she died that she had wanted to travel to Europe, with Ireland being at the top of the list, and so to honor her vision, he created for her a never ending landscape of lush green pastures that transitioned from a flat surface to a sloping hilltop. He made sure to filter in the sun’s natural light to give it the dreamy, early morning appearance with the bright pinks and oranges dancing about on the horizon in an abstract version of a dream world. And just beyond the hilltop, he built for her a one story home made from brick and stone. He wanted to build her a castle, but she insisted on something smaller and to his dismay he built her dream home and furnished it with everything he could imagine. He even made sure to create a small lake for her; however it broke his heart to not have the power to fill it with life. No birds could grace the sky, and no fish to fill the lake…everything was an illusion but it was the best that he could do considering what he put her through.

He could sense Sin’s distress, but he knew his daughter: she would fight until the very end. Asmodeus would die by his hand: he would rip his wings from his body, only to plunge the Scythe deep into his chest before his tore his head from his shoulders. The only thing keeping him partially sane is the fact that the Dominion could hold Asmodeus off until he arrived to unleash his wrath. Besides, from what he had picked up telepathically, the Dominion would assist her until he arrived. He needed to get the Seal first. As he inched closer to the home where Mina permanently resided, he could hear her voice filling the atmosphere with a soft melody. He could sense her anxiety and her worry for their daughter and he couldn’t blame her. He had done a piss poor job of raising her. In his grief over Mina’s demise, he had been less than nurturing or caring towards Sin’s emotional wellbeing. It was a wonder that she still developed into a semi reasonable person without the personality of a psychopath. The only thing he really taught her is how to survive, which may be the only thing that gets her through this.

He tried not to focus on the flooding memories of his time with Mina when she was alive, otherwise he would forget his purpose and remind Mina of the very special bond that they shared. He would return to her when all of this was over, and rededicate himself to her and maybe if he could prove that what they shared transcended the physical, she would be granted a second chance…stranger things have happened and even entities such as himself required a little bit of hope just to get through each day.

She must have sensed him coming because she came outside looking every bit as lovely as she always did. She wore a white, fitted robe with her hair swept up high above her head and her hazel eyes gazing at him expectantly. He hurried over to her, and without a word, took her into his arms for a long embrace. She was the first to let go and when she took a step back from him, his heart sank.

“What is going on Grim? Why would Sin send me your Scythe and a box with the Seal of the Apocalypse? And where have you been? I could sense your thoughts and when you didn’t manifest-“

“A lot has taken place my love, and I am afraid time does not allow me room to explain,” he replied sadly.

“Grim I have watched from afar in this beautiful haven of a prison as our daughter suffered at the hands of your duties as the Grim Reaper and because of your wishes I sat idly by and watched her struggle to live up to your legacy and-“

“Mina, I did what I thought was best. She could not be raised in the human world because she is too different. At some point when her powers started to develop the humans would have either worshiped her or killed her or she would have killed somebody. I know I haven’t always been the best parent, but Hell is no place for the weak. I cannot be in several places at once and my warriors, along with the rest of the terrors that take place would have eaten her alive!”

“Grim-“

“And I could not allow her to see you much because it hurt her when she did…a part of her hates me for what happened to you.”

Mina’s eyes filled with tears at the memory of what took place. Just hours after giving birth to Sin, a demon posed as a nurse injected her with a toxin that human doctors had yet to identify, and before Grim could do anything to save her, she died with Sin still in her arms. Grim found out the moment he sensed her death and instead of allowing her to be taken by his men to be tortured for an eternity for simply loving him, he brought her to this safe haven where she has remained ever since.

She gently touched his face, and he relished the calming sensation of her touch. She had always been good at that: calming his inner storm.

“Grim…the Seal is next to the Scythe in the master bedroom of the house. When all of this is over, come see me and we shall talk then. And bring Sin too…I need to see her…”

Grim gently placed a kiss in the center of her palm and then once more on her lips before he dematerialized into the house and retrieved his Scythe and the Seal. He tucked the Seal underneath his arm, and turned around to see Mina standing in the doorway looking at him adoringly. Throughout everything, she still loved him and that was the strength he needed to survive.

“I will return to you Mina with Sin. Stay here.”

“Where else am I going to go?” Mina chuckled.

“Right. And one more thing…”

“What is that Grim?”

“I love you Mina…”

“I love you too Grim. Now go save our daughter.”

Grim nodded and then disappeared, leaving Mina alone a world that belonged to only her and Grim. She took a seat on the bed Grim had built with his bare hands from the finest of Oak wood, with cushions stuffed with the finest of goose down and blanketed with the softest of silk, and wept.

******Coming September 1, 2015

Book Blurb: Viper (Coming July 1, 2015)

She is the reason why the gangsters, the murderers, and drug dealers fear the night…Working as a hired assassin for drug dealer turned record label founder, Rio Mendez, Viper is on a high stakes mission to bring down one of the biggest music industry moguls in the world-Lucas Barnes, the man responsible for turning her into a vampire and murdering her entire family right before her eyes twenty years ago. Relying on her wit and will power and with the help of some unlikely friends, Viper must uncover some hard truths before facing the entity that stripped away everything that she once loved.

“I have more than nine lives you son of a bitch. I am coming for you.”-Viper

I failed you mommy. I failed you Lindsay. Daddy you can still kiss my ass. Kevin, I am sorry. I welcome the darkness that surrounds me, and I hope that I am not awakened to the fiery pits of hell and brimstone. — I failed you mommy.
I failed you Lindsay.
Daddy you can still kiss my ass.
Kevin, I am sorry.
I welcome the darkness that surrounds me, and I hope that I am not awakened to the fiery pits of hell and brimstone.

Author Spotlight: Jessica Cage

Many of you may know her for her hit story about a sort of coming of age telling of a girl who discovers she has a lot more kick to her than what meets the eye in Siren’s Call. Others may have fallen in love with her new werewolves series, The Alphas, the first book entitled Malcolm and just this passed Saturday, the sequel in the series, Jeremiah has been released to the world. I have been following Ms. Jessica Cage for a few months now and I am impressed. She has taken the indie world by storm and has no plans on stopping. Ever. She was kind enough to give me a few moments of her time in an interview. Check her out!

Interview With Jessica Cage

When did you realize that writing was a passion for you?

For me writing has always been a part of my life. I guess I didn’t realize it was a true passion until later in life when someone else pointed it out. I always just did it, a natural habit that helped me deal with everyday life. When I was in my 20s I decided to do more with it, take it further. I am so glad that I did.

For the readers out there who are just discovering your books, what is the name of the first story you ever written?

First story ever written (that is available to the world) would be Let Me Protect You. Technically I wrote that story when I was in the 7^th/8^th grade… funny how life works as I was told at that time that it was too risky for the Young Authors Program I was in. Instead I submitted a story about a girl wanting a boy to ask her out to prom. It won an award but I never really liked it. First story ever published would be Revitalized (Book 1 of The High Arc Series).

How would describe yourself as a writer?

Random, unconventional, unorganized, unpredictable. I never plan. If it weren’t for having such an awesome team of people in my corner I am sure that this entire author life would be a total mess! I let my characters run free and I never attempt to tame them. That only leads to total devastation and my receiving a silent treatment from the invisible people living inside my head.

Why the indie route instead of the traditional publishing route?

I am a DIY girl who never even attempted to submit to a traditional publisher. I just love having creative control, no deadlines, and being able to cultivate real relationships and learn so much about the industry. My progress may be a bit slow but it is so much more rewarding this way. Now, that isn’t to say I wouldn’t jump on a contract now, but I doubt I would ever be given one as I have never submitted any inquiries.

What often inspires you to create?

Life. My son. My own brain. I have always been a creator. Art has been a part of my life in many mediums and writing just happens to be the one I can never step away from for too long. I took it public for the sake of my son. I wanted to show him that he can chase his dreams, do what really makes him happy. That is the most important thing in life. Living a life that fulfills you. Creating things of beauty, things that will stick with the world after I am long gone, well that fulfills me and makes me so unbelievably happy.

What inspired the Alphas Series?

My brothers. The bond between those two is one that will not be broken. That includes me as well. As I said in my dedication to them on the first pages of the book, No matter how far apart our lives may take us, our bond will remain strong.

I wanted to write a story that focus on the strength of men. I wanted to show that men can be as complex as women. My other stories all focus around the lives of women and show how they come into their own. I grew up with nothing but boys (in my age range anyway) and I was able to witness those parts of them that most females might not get to. They are strong yes, but they are emotional, irrational, just like women. I thought The Alphas was a great way to show that. I just hope I did them justice.

Do you ever place yourself as one of the main characters in any of your stories?

I have not, I am sure bits and pieces of myself live within all of my characters. Writing is after all a form of therapy. To say that any one character is me, well no. I don’t think I am brave enough for that one just yet.

What can readers expect from your newest installment of the Alpha Series: Jeremiah?

They can expect a faster pace than what was in Malcom. Jeremiah’s story is full of adrenaline. There are of course softer sides. There is drama, love, heartache, forgiveness. So much packed into this story.

What can your fans expect from you in the upcoming months? Year?

I will be releasing a few anthologies this year as well as the first High Arc Novella revolving around the life of the villain of the High Arc series, Jocelyn. I will also be release the highly anticipated second book to the Siren Series coming this September.

Where do you see yourself five years from now as a writer?

I see myself writing more and more. I want to be traveling meeting more readers and using that platform to reach out to the youth. There is something missing for them, the connection to the arts. I want to use my writing to be able to help them. Whatever their creative medium is, I want to encourage that to grow.

What advice would you give your younger (beginner writer) self? What have you learned in this journey as a writer that you wished you had known when you first started?

Take your time! I really did a lot of rushing through the first stages of my writing/publishing. I would also tell her to promote more. Don’t hit publish and walk away for 2 years, so much valuable time lost. Most importantly I would tell her to be brave and work on that thick skin because this industry can really get to you.

Is there anything that you want your readers to know about you that they never knew before?

I will be leaving the world of paranormal writing for a bit. I have a few projects that are lingering and I want to explore another genre. I plan to begin this at the end of 2016. I am so nervous about this switch but I know that the witches, demons, vampires, wolves and of course the sirens won’t let me stay away for long!

And last but not least, which book of yours is your personal favorite? And why?

I would definitely have to say Siren’s Call. It is my favorite simply because I felt like with that book I took my writing to an entirely different level. With that book I shook away the safety cord and took that leap. It was like I was tip toeing as a writer until that point and once I started, I knew I had to write Syrinada’s story from a different voice. It was difficult but I am so glad that I did. It continues to be my bestselling book even though I have published several titles since publishing it!

Jeremiah was released this Saturday, April 18th and is available to satisfy your reading cravings. If you love sexy werewolves and kick ass scenes click on the link provided to get your copy of Jeremiah. I wish this author nothing but the best and for more updates follow her Facebook page at: https://www.facebook.com/jessica.cageauthor/about

Another Excerpt of Viper ( 3 More Chapters to go)

We make it to the inside of my warehouse successfully. However, I am drained to the point of exhaustion, leaving Michael responsible for loading her into her tank. She had started to wake up and slowly begun to uncoil herself, when Michael without any real effort tossed her over into the Olympic sized pool, large enough to make Shamu and his friends happy. I peered over into the glass and she seemed a bit confused as she thrashed about and swam in circles, and when she neared the glass, staring at me through the Plexiglass with idle curiosity. Her large black eyes staring straight through me before she opened her mouth to introduce me to a wide set of knifes for teeth. Forty feet of raw muscle is now swimming around in my holding pool. I am not worried about her slithering out, for with push of a button I can seal the top of the pool off.

I remain stretched out on the concrete flooring of the warehouse: 20,000 sq. feet of what used to be a metal processing plant. It cost me damn near a million dollars to renovate this place to my liking: a double level dungeon of pain and suffering and a habitat for my snake babies. Michael stands over me, surveying my version of paradise. “What the hell Viper? How many snakes do you have in here?” In row after row of snake tanks, varying in size and shape and placed on shelves specifically built for that purpose. “I don’t know…like 200 maybe?” I mumble, my brain trying to calculate exactly how many I have in my collection. “What the fuck did I get myself in to?” “Let’s see, I own a couple of King Cobras, a few water Moccasin’s also known as Cotton Mouths, uh.. a dozen diamond backs, a Boom Slang-which was quite difficult to acquire…a spitting cobra, I think three Taipan’s…about five or six Bush Master’s, ten Black Mambas’…” I continue to name what I could remember in my collection all to Michael’s dismay.

There is still a lot of daylight left surprisingly, and I have completely worn myself out. Too tired to feed or do much of anything else I pass out right in the middle of my warehouse. I awake to the vibration of my phone a few hours later. Damien had done his job and now I owed him. Michael has 300 years’ experience in warfare, bloodshed, and mayhem. But I can hope that his stomach is strong enough for what is about to take place next.

Michael offers me his vein and I accept it-from his wrist of course- and I do not take long to take what I need. He is always watching me with a quiet yearning, and as I can take him I can taste it in his blood. His blood is powerful, rich and laced with something that fuels every cell in my being. Flashes of memories from a past too distant for record, and in the mix of all of that, I see his face. I cannot wait for this conversation, to know about more about the man who kneels before me, offering me than just his vein, but his life. I owe him more than what he desires, and when all of this is said and done, I can rebuild a life that I had dedicated to darkness, into something guarded by the sun-with him…maybe. I seal his wound and close off all thoughts of a happy ending with Michael. I have work to do.

The sun has set, and after a few silent moments of both of us engaged in our own thoughts, there is a loud bang on the metal door, and of course screams of terror. I can recognize those screams anywhere. It’s Rio’s bitch ass, and he is not happy. I quickly slipped on a pair of black denim that I had brought along for the trip before opening the heavy door. In comes Damien, his mouth dripping with blood and flesh, dragging a very panicked Rio. His arms were tightly bound behind his back, as were his feet. Blood dripped from a huge gash on his forehead, his mouth swollen and his face bruised. His eyes widened when I came into view. “Hello there Rio,” I say calmly. “Long time no see. Did you like the renovations I made to your house?” “You stupid bitch! That is why I ordered you dead-“-“And you see how far that has gotten you. I am still here. So how have you been? Heard from C-Dollas?” He gasped at the realization that it is I whom was responsible. “You’re a muthafuckin’ psycho you know that?” “And you are a lying bitch of a man,” I say without emotion. Damien dumped him in the middle of the concrete floor, directly in front of the holding pool where Rosa swam around anxiously. She approached the side of the glass facing us, staring at Rio whose face grew paler by the minute. “What the fuck is that?” He stammered. “Oh,” I say casually piling my braids into a big bun. “I know how much you miss your homelands in Brazil, so I thought I would bring a little bit of that luster to you…That is Rosa. She is the legendary anaconda of the Amazon that is in fact the largest ever discovered. And guess what? She is all mine.” I smile, flashing my perfect pearly whites and Rio screams again in terror. “You are a sick bitch!” “Yes I am,” I declare proudly. “And you should have known better than to fuck with me Rio. How could you? You have been lying to me for twenty years! I trusted you-you of all people I trusted after everything that happened to me. I trusted you, I did all of your dirty work without question, often times with minimum pay…I killed your enemies, protected you…I am the reason why the streets feared you…and all this time you were under the thumb of the one vampire you pretended to hate so much.” “Vipe-Viper it wasn’t like that,” he stuttererd, struggling against the rope that held him tied. “It wasn’t like that…-“ “Well what was it like? Because your little friend C-Dollas told me everything-“ “C-Dollas was lying!” “Now, the man was many things, especially a liar, but I can smell a lie a million miles away. He didn’t lie. But even as death stares you straight in the face you still lie.” I turn to Damien whom was nervously pulling at what remaining skin he had on his hands and asked him to grab a chair from the back of the warehouse. Michael had disappeared and I could not blame him. This is going to be a long night.

When Rio is strapped in the leather office recliner, facing the holding pool where Rosa remained submerged in, it was time for some unanswered questions. “Rio, you are going to die in some shape or form tonight, “ I say standing in front of him and gazing deep into his eyes. His bald head had become glazed over in sweat, and the purple robe that Damien had drug him in apparently was his only article of clothing. Rio must have been entertaining a female guest when Damien burst in on him. What a surprise. “But how you die, depends on your level of truthfulness. Understand?” He nodded as a single tear slid down his cheek. “Now, let’s begin. I know that you have been working for Lucas for as long as I have been working with you, which means when we met you knew all there was to know about me before I told you. I know all about the Immortal Gene, what it means and now that it is activated, a part of me wishes to use you as a messenger to Lucas….” His eyes widened in surprise at the mention of the gene being activated. “How?” He asks, squirming in his seat. “Not going to tell you, but trust me I have done the research.” I continue. “Why did you leave town when I brought Kevin back after the attack in Miami?” Before he opens his mouth to answer I answer for him, slowly putting together the pieces. “Wait, let me guess: you were supposed to bring Kevin and I on a silver platter to Lucas. But you ended up having to hand only Kevin over, right?” He nods. He is telling the truth, good. “That was the whole purpose of my stint in Miami.” He nods again. “That night when we” (referring to Damien, Michael and myself), “attacked the hotel I had a brief encounter with Kevin and your sorry ass turned him into a werewolf. Why?” Rio took several deep breaths before answering. “Why Rio? If Kevin was supposed to be made vampire to act as Lucas’ second in command and you are under Lucas’ wing, why did you turn him into the one thing that vampires hate?” When he didn’t answer, I beckoned for Damien to come and the zombie-vamp’s eyes lit with excitement. Rio, in a fit of terror, spilled the beans on everything. “Lucas is trying to create a new breed of vampires. Since he couldn’t access the Immortal Gene he went with another option-werewolves. Kevin is to be the first of the experiments being done. He wants the ability to walk in the sun. Vampires can’t turn into werewolves if bitten, but if vampire saliva enters the blood stream of a werewolf, something happens-“ “What happens?” I demand, having some sort of a clue. I instantly remember the white werewolf with the blood dripping from its fangs. “They become vampire wolves, with all of the perks and abilities of both species, including the ability to walk in the sun. He is creating a serum that fuses both to inject in himself.” Now everything made sense. “And with you, C-Dollas, and whatever Lucas had going on with your record labels, it was all a plan to recruit new guinea pigs for this experiment. How successful has he been so far?’ “Viper please, let me walk away,” he pleaded. I can’t stand the sight of traitorous men who think it is fair that they beg for their lives when they have ruined the lives of many. “Let’s not do this Rio. You and I both know that cannot happen. You betrayed me, tried to have me killed in the Everglades by two werewolves, and you sent someone to my house-“ –“I didn’t send anyone to your house! I thought you were dead!” Well if he didn’t send someone, who the fuck did? “Since you won’t tell me how far he is in to his research, tell me this: where does Lucas lay his head?” “Why the fuck do you think I would know something like that?” “Because you know everything about everyone. Every mission you sent me on, you knew the victim’s address, telephone numbers, work numbers, the wife’s cell phone number, where their kids if they had any went to school, how much was in their bank accounts, and even the side bitches they were fucking when their wives or girlfriends were getting their hair and nails done! Don’t fucking play with me Rio! Where does Lucas Barnes lay his head?!” Without thinking I punch Rio hard in the jaw, cracking the bone and snapping his head back.

His head bobbles around in a daze, his mouth swelling even more. Michael appears out of nowhere looking like a million bucks as always and I really could do without his presence right now. Rio mumbles something unintelligible and I grab him by the shoulders and force him to look at me. “Rio, tell me where Lucas’ lair is.” “Lucas…Louisiana,” he struggles to spit out from a useless jaw. Louisiana! That makes sense. The fucker has a soft spot for the state and that is where my adoptive family’s originates and where all of this bullshit started. “Where in Louisiana?” I demand. “He has a mansion, near the swamps and the mausoleum. That is all I know.” I know exactly where that is. My father used to visit Louisiana quite often and he often spoke of one his private client’s estates-the mansion, and now I know which client and why.

I take once last look at Rio, and regret ever thinking for one second that he was my friend-or something close enough to it. His head slumps to the side, his mouth agape and drooling uncontrollably. “You have two options,” I say stooping down to his eye level. “Option number one: I feed you to Ms. Rosa over there. She is starving and let’s just say she had a rough travel.” He struggled against the rope in a desperate attempt to escape, and Damien and I look on in amused delight. “Option number two,” I continue, “You have already met Damien.” I point to Damien, whom is standing next to me with a huge toothy grin, fangs fully extended and dripping with saliva. “Damien has been quite lonely for some time now since his maker met his unfortunate demise, and upon meeting you at the Hotel in Miami, Damien has taken an extreme liking to you.” Rio takes one look at Damien and releases an ear piercing scream. “Well that is no way to treat someone who has a crush on you,” I scold making it clear that I am enjoying every second of this. “Viper please!” He begins to sob. Huge drops of tears stream down his faces as he begin praying in his foreign tongue. “Prayer is not going to save you Rio. So what will it be? You can spend the rest of your life as his bitch –“ I say pointing to Damien whom is rubbing his hands together greedily. “Or you can find yourself in Rosa’s starving belly. Now what will it be?” Rio continued to sob, and I almost felt bad for him. Almost. “You have ten seconds Rio otherwise I will decide for you…10, 9…” “You said you would give me the mate of my choosing and I choose him!” Damien exclaimed excitedly. Fuck it. I will have to find Rosa something else to eat before I send her back home. “Well, Rio consider this your lucky night. You will not find yourself in the pit of Rosa’s stomach, although personally that would have been my first choice. However, do not get too excited. When I turn you and you don’t transition into a zombie-vamp as Damien had become, you will still find yourself as Rosa’s date and Damien will be out of luck.” I turn to face Damien whom is prancing around with joy. “I cannot wait to taste your sweet dick in my mouth,” he coos, forcing Rio to dry heave over the side of where he was strapped. “Seriously Damien, I do not need to know about your plans. Whatever goes on between you two love birds is none of my business.” “Well before you turn him,” Damien said stroking himself through his torn scrubs. Michael frowns with disgust. “Fuck dude, take that shit elsewhere.” Rio fights against the robe to no avail. “You know what?” I say stretching. “I will leave you two alone. Hopefully, Damien doesn’t forget about how badly he wants you as a mate and kills you in the process.” I motion for Michael to follow me. “No! Wait!! Viper!! Nooooo!” Rio shrieks; his eye wide with terror as Damien continues to pleasure himself in front of him. Michael pushes the metal door, holding it open for me to walk through like the gentleman he is. I don’t even bother to face Rio. I simply call out behind me, “It won’t hurt so much if you actually allow yourself to enjoy it.” With that, Michael closes the door behind us, and thankfully my warehouse is sound proof. I had grown tired of listening to Rio scream.

Escape: Coming 12/31/2015

I awoke with a start to the sounds of an engine roaring to life. I shivered in the chill of the early morning, the sky had not yet been greeted by the first rays of light, and though every muscle and bone ached with a vengeance, I knew I had to get up, otherwise it would have been well into the afternoon before I would have returned to my bleak reality, and I definitely did not want to miss my opportunity to shower and regain a sense of normalcy. My eyes burn with fatigue and my corneas feel as if they are being scratched by sand paper, and as I stretched and yawned and tried to regain my bearings I cannot figure out how I managed to sleep for so long in such uncomfortable conditions.

I am begging my aunt to let me stay with her, even if I have to drop to my knees to do it.

I folded my ratty blanket and double check that my only three outfits which included two pairs of faded blue jeans, two bras, three pairs of colorful panties that my former social worker bought for me three years ago, a couple of pair of black socks, two hoodies, a matted ball of Scrunchies, half a bar of soap, an old tooth brush and a comb that was missing half of its teeth, a couple of sanitary napkins (thank goodness my cycle is irregular), my ID, my social and birth certificate, and three crew necks. That was all that I had to my name. Tying my hair back and smoothing my edges down as best I could, I pull my dingy hot pink hoodie over my head, slip on my beat up grey and white Nikes, hook my duffle bag over my shoulder and prepare to walk the fifteen or so blocks to the mission and I send up a silent prayer that all will go as planned. I believe that someone upstairs owes me for the life of pain that I have had to unfairly deal with; and just maybe, today, my life was going to turn around for the better.

I made it to the mission in less than 45 minutes. The local vagabonds that walked the city streets nodded in my direction before returning to their daily routines towards survival. A man whose path I have crossed many a time since I opted to remain in the downtown area screamed violently at the invisible offender; cursing and flailing his skinny and frail arms about, while blank black eyes stared in my direction. He looked as if he had not had a bath in years, and judging by the yellow and thick callous that covered his bare feet, he had not. I used to wonder if he had a family that was somewhere out there looking for him, but then, I remembered that I once had a family and they stopped caring to look for me. I reckon that is what happened to him too.

Bums, vagabonds, homeless folk, society’s failures, whatever you want to call us make up our own society-our own community. One would never understand the struggle to simply achieve the basic of necessities unless one walked in those shoes. And what wearisome shoes they become. The crazy thing about me being homeless is that I often have felt like I was right where I needed to be: I could disappear into the shadows of the streets, away from…

A nun greets me at the door, and welcomes me with a warm smile. She is familiar with me and my situation and has offered several times to let me stay in the nunnery, but I quickly got the impression that she was hoping to recruit, and I have to face it, my situation is too fucked up to even want to dedicate my life to a being that never showed He cared about me in the first place. No, I am not an atheist; I do believe in God, but I think the Lord and I have some unresolved issues that we have to work out before I give one prayer of thanksgiving.

The nun goes by the name Sister Mary; she is barely five feet tall, with peachy toned aging skin, stringy blonde hair and welcoming brown eyes. Dressed in the typical head to toe black and white nun garb with a gold cross hanging from her neck, she guided me inside the Cathedral where row after row of sporadically filled pews of sinful parishioners sought penance for whatever sins they committed. The colored glass windows with varying depictions of the Madonna and her child graced the walls of the massive church. The melodious melancholy hum of the organ playing in the background reminded me of my mother’s funeral, and as the nun quickly guided me into the hallway that led past the cafeteria where they fed what they could to the starving masses of people that greeted them day in and day out, I fought back the surge of emotions threatening to break free. I did not cry for neither of my parents…not even my mother when I found her lying in a pool of her own wastes, and I was not about to start now.

Sister Mary and I engaged in the usual small talk. You know, the “how are ya’s”, and “Why wont you come stay in the Mission” to “God is merciful and forgiving”, etc… I don’t see why I need to be forgiven for dead parents who happened to be drug addicts, but I let her go on with her attempt at laying on the guilt trip on me in hopes that I will see that my sinful nature is the reason why I am living on the streets. I suppose she is under the impression that I am involved in some sort of prostitution ring, which is the only reason in the world why a young woman such as myself would be destitute and living on the streets. For someone who claimed to love God and took pride in doing God’s work, she never once asked me why and what led me up to this point. She already had in mind my history and everything was my fault. Typical.

We bypassed a row of occupied rooms and continued down the stretch of the corridor until we finally reached the last door in which she removed a heavy bundle of assorted keys and opened the door. Flipping on the light, inside the tiny space was a cot with several blankets laid on top of it, a full length mirror that leaned against the plastered wall, and there was a single window that overlooked the parking lot that was saturated with last night’s festivities: used needles, used condoms, and shattered glass. What a view. “I just need a shower, some food and I promise I will be out of the way,” I say, struggling to find that balance between sounding grateful yet firmly against what was being offered to me at the same time. “And where will you go?” Sister Mary pushed with a frown that deepened the lines in her face. “Back to your pimp?” “Um excuse me?” I say feeling slightly offended. “You are too young to throw your life away to the streets,” she scolded. “Stay here. If anyone comes looking for you trust me you will be safe.” “I don’t have a pimp Sister Mary,” I say dropping my duffle on the ground. “I am not a prostitute. I am more of a runaway than anything, and like I said I just need food and a shower and then I will be on my way.” “A run away? Good heavens child! What could you possibly be running away from?” Her normally even toned voice hit a higher pitch and before could say or do anything more she ushered me out of the room and into the room next door where I was greeted by several shower stalls and a couple of unoccupied toilets. “In the long cabinet to your left is soap, clean towels and some shampoo. When You are done I need for you to head to the cafeteria where a hot meal will be waiting for you.” “But-“ “But nothing young lady! It has been placed in my spirit that I am supposed to look after you. Do you know how many times I have thought about you since our last few encounters and I swore to the Almighty that the next time you walk through those door I was not letting you go on in the manner that you are. No woman should be on the street. So shower, and please do something with your hair. I know dread locks are a form of cultural expression but you do need to wash them!” And with that she slammed the door behind her.

I hope that my aunt forgives me. I do not think that my destiny begins and ends in this Cathedral.

I lock the door even though the room was meant to accommodate multiple people, but even on sacred ground one could never be too careful. I choose the larger shower stall which was built to accommodate the handicapped, turn the water on to as hot as I could stand it, grabbed the soap and shampoo and let the hot water transform me into a new person with a new beginning. But, even with a shower, freshly washed hair and a new attitude, nothing was going to change the fact that Fate definitely played a hand in what I was to become: and most importantly, what I am to remember.

Author of the Month: Jessica Cage

It takes a lot to impress a reader such as myself. It takes a lot to convince me to try something new; to give an author whom I have yet to discover a chance at becoming a permanent fixture on my bookshelf. But Ms. Cage is something different. She is fearless; she takes her readers on a journey, and once that journey is complete, she leaves you begging for more. From mermaids to vampires, to werewolves, she is unstoppable and I am anxious to see what else she has up her sleeve. So with that being said, Jessica Cage is my Author of the Month. And please check out her books that are posted below and dont be afraid to stop by her Facebook page to say hello.

https://www.facebook.com/jessica.cageauthor?fref=tl_fr_box&pnref=lhc.friends

Viper: Chapter Excerpt 2

Viper….

I take my time dematerializing to Miami. I stop along the way in a few cities including Dallas, Texas, Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and then finally Myrtle Beach, North Carolina to feed. There is no way I am depleting my energy resources all at once especially not knowing what type of dangers I will be facing. I feasted on a young hustler whom was busy getting his dick sucked in the alley by what I would assume to be one of his clients, followed by an under dressed woman with bullying tendencies at one of Louisiana’s local bars, and then finished off with a police officer who busy doing everything else but protecting and serving. And three hours later I was back in front of the same snobby hotel that Rio had set me and Kevin to.

I can’t pick up Kevin’s scent anywhere, or Rio’s musky scent. I check my phone and search my email for the itinerary, and Kevin is scheduled to perform at a very popular strip club called King of Diamonds. I hate strippers. I hate strip clubs. The only good stripper is a stripper writhing underneath my grip as I tear out his or her throat. The smell of sex, money, greed, lust, lies, deceit…irritate the fuck out of me. Not that I am a saint. I probably have a first class seat in hell (if there is such a place) with my name on it. But I am full, and I have a mission to accomplish. Besides, places like strip clubs, night clubs and bars are swarming with vampires, werewolves, and other beings that I don’t fuck with.

I flag down a cab, and the driver is a middle aged and disgustingly overweight bag of human filth and disease. Even if I were dying of thirst I would never sink my teeth into that living sack of puss. The only reason why I am inside this piece of shit called a cab is because I have no clue where King of Diamonds is actually located, and I do not have the patience or the time to try to figure it out. I have been inside many strip clubs, but this would be my first experience at King of Diamonds. This is going to be very, very interesting.

The sack of puss attempted to engage me in unnecessary conversation, but after delivering a glare that should have killed him, he resumed his drive, which was less than 30 minutes from where he picked me up at. I gave him his ridiculously high fare and no tip, and he skirted off into the night. The club was packed, there was a line wrapped around the corner to get in. Every hustler with a few dollars in his pocket to spend, every rapper that happened to be in the area, women of all colors and body types and barely dressed came out to support Kevin…and of the course the silicone fused strippers. I will give King of Diamonds its props, however. The strippers were of high caliber since this was no ordinary strip joint found in shadier parts of the city. No, this was where real ballers came to play, and one was spending a few thousand on a round of top shelf liquor, then that he should just stay home. King of Diamonds is not a place for rookie hustlers even though many tried to get in.

Fortunately, I did not need to worry about getting passed the bouncer. I dematerialized inside the building. The interior was built similar to that of a stadium, circular seating surrounding an actual boxing ring where I guess the contests ranging from twerking, to advanced forms of stripping took place. I stick to the shadows, avoiding eye contact with the vast array of men seated nearest the bar area. The scents that clouded the atmosphere were intoxicating, mixture of blood types laced with variant levels of liquor, drugs and hormones. I also picked up the all too familiar scents of older vampires lurking around looking for their next meal, and there was something else that I could not quite figure out….the scent was vague, yet heavy enough for me to pick up, and awfully thick. It made the saliva in my mouth thicken and my fangs lengthen, and my body tensed as if preparing for a fight and then the realization slammed right into me: werewolf.

Great. Exactly what I needed at a time like this. Why the hell was a goddamn werewolf in King of Diamonds in the presence of several and very old vampires? Something was not right and now was not the time for me to find out. Moving past the bar I near the VIP section, and nothing but ass and tits bounced near and around me. One stripper sashayed past me and gave me a look that was clearly an invitation for some fun, and I ignored her. Even though I do not do men, I don’t do chicks either and I am not about to now. She looked surprised but my rude decline but just as quickly found her someone who was more than happy to accept whatever it was she offered. Several women ranging from tall and busty to short and curvy bypassed me and asked if I needed something, but this time I was forced to lie and say I was waiting for someone otherwise I would have drawn unwanted attention to myself.

I found an empty table nearest an exit and took a seat. Still no sign of Kevin or Rio. I glanced at the flyer that was lying on the table, and it confirmed that he is definitely performing tonight. As I read the flyer, a dark entity crept up next to me and took a seat. Another vampire, and an old one at that. She was dressed in dark blue business attire, with creamy white skin with peachy undertones, blonde hair piled neatly on top of her head in a bun and green eyes that eyed me with a delighted curiosity. She smiled and said, “Wrong night for a baby vampire to be out alone. Where is your maker darling?” I glared at her. “And why should that be any of your concern?” “Normally, I don’t entertain younger vamps but you my dear intrigue me. And those that intrigue me get a warning.” She smiled once more, but this time showing me a fine set of lengthy and sharp fangs. “Whatever you are here for, drop it and leave. All of these people are dead, they just don’t know it yet.” “What the fuck are you talking about?” I lean in closer to her, listening intently to what she has to say. As much as I would like to run a stake through her heart, I know that I have to listen. She chuckles to herself as if what she is about to tell me is a joke, and she motions for a server, a short haired and thickly built young woman dressed in nothing but a thong and some heels struts over to our table carrying a trey with liquor filled cups. “Thank you so much darling,” the vampire said taking a drink and seductively eyeing the stripper. The stripper winked at her and quickly left to attend to the other patrons. “Tonight is the annual blood fest. That is why I asked you about your maker because this blood fest started half a century ago taking place in business establishments that sell sex, liquor and drugs. KOD is the perfect setting for such a feast, and all of the more seasoned vampires know about it….” She leaned in closer and added in a whisper, “And babies are not allowed unless by invite.” She sat back to watch my expression as the energy in the building darkened. More “seasoned” vamps had entered the premises. I sigh and then lean in towards her, beckoning for her to lean in closer as I say, “So if there is supposed to be a blood fest,” I whisper. “Then why the fuck is a werewolf here?” Her eyes widened as she glanced around nervously. “Where?” She asked anxiously. “I caught the scent when I first entered and I can still smell it. You don’t?” She inhaled deeply and the center of her irises illuminated a soft red glow. Translation: Get the fuck out of here. She got up quickly and with a speed that clearly wasn’t human and disappeared into the crowd.

Vampires don’t fuck with werewolves. Ever. I was still a newly turned vampire right after Rio found me when I got into a fight with a werewolf. He was older than me by twenty years, and had Lucas been decent enough to properly school me on the life of a vampire, he would have told me that werewolves were no joke and the only threat to a vampire’s existence. I fought him with everything I had but the bastard was stronger, faster, and much more experienced and if it wasn’t for another vampire who had watched the whole thing take place, I would not be here. It took two of us to kill the fucker, and once it was done the vampire informed me that a bite from a werewolf is lethal to our kind and that they are our natural enemies. He told me that my best bet to deal with a werewolf is to run like hell, because once they have one of us in their sights a fight is imminent.

I don’t blame blondie for leaving. Once I became aware of its presence I wanted to leave too, but unfortunately, duty calls.

I could simply leave both of these foolish men to die gruesome deaths on general principal for fucking me over. Rio already had it coming, and Kevin probably just on association…But in all real honesty I need Kevin to track down Lucas. Or to at least draw him out of whatever hell hole he was hiding in.

A light skinned stripper with long mermaid like weave, with thick legs and more than bountiful assets stepped into the arena taking center stage. The guy dressed as a referee came out and introduced her as “Candy Cane”. The crowd went nuts, as she demonstrated showmanship by parading out in front of the crowd dressed in a red and white bikini, courtesy of her nickname when one of Kevin’s songs came on called “The Trap”. The audience cheered, and even the strippers that worked the crowd became hyped over the heavy, slow bass of this popular song. She gyrated and clapped her ass cheeks together and then whined her way down to a perfect split before tossing away the top. Several ballers who had the ring side seats rained thousands of dollars on her as she continued to put on a show. As the song winded down I caught Kevin’s scent somewhere off in the crowd nearest the stage. I guess the stripper was his introduction.

Once she was off the stage, the referee was met with the promoter of the club to introduce the performer. The promoter, a muscled Latino with perfectly bronzed skin and arched eyebrows stepped into the forefront, dressed in denim, a jean jacket and a Polo took the mic and yelled into the crowd, “Ladies and Fellas it is my pleasure to introduce to you my friend who is also one of the greatest up and comers in the game to the stage. Ladies hold your panties, Fellas hold your drinks. Please give it up for my boy, Kevin Baaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrnnnnnnnneeeeeeessssssss!” Kevin struts up into the boxing ring looking as if just the other night never happened and he was still signed to his brother’s record label. He takes the mic and scans the crowd and smiles like a little boy in a candy store as the stripper struts by him and plants a kiss on the cheek. He playfully slaps her on the ass, which for some reason makes me want to kill him more, and then cues the DJ to drop the beat.

The audience is captivated by his lyrical flow, the content based around his life in New York and how his father left a legacy shrouded in fear and pain. I had to give it to him, he was good but time was of essence. I slipped closer to the front, receiving a few hateful glances from patrons who actually paid to sit where they were seated. I did not see Rio, but I could sense his presence just beyond the ring. I also had the displeasure of sensing the very close presence of the werewolf who had called in reinforcements because just three rows ahead of me I detected three more, all male and looking more than ready for a fight.

Kevin breaks into another song that is just as hyped, and the strippers lost their ever lovin’ minds. Lap dances ran rampant, thongs and skimpy tops came off. The liquor kept coming and so did other things…I wasn’t sure exactly how I was going to make it past the three werewolves. Clearly these entities were hired because whoever the owner was knew about the yearly blood fest and was taking protective measures. Why vampires would be this sloppy is beyond me. As the song concluded, all hell started to break loose. One of the patrons got a little too hostile over a stripper paying too much attention to another paying customer and started an argument with the other customer, bringing attention from the werewolves. That was my cue to disappear behind the ring and make my way into the “Employees Only” entryway.

Once my heart rate normalized, I followed the scents and sounds that filtered down the corridors. Thankfully the halls were empty, but the sound of my boots slamming against the linoleum floor did not help my cause. I dematerialize and ride the airwaves, searching the halls until I come across Kevin’s dressing room, and guess who is inside? Rio. I materialize inside and the man is not very happy to see me. He was in the middle of entertaining another one of his associates in the spacious room, and for me to magically appear out of thin air sent him over the edge. His associate turns ghastly white at my appearance, and just for show, I smile at him with lengthy fangs on full display. Both one of them seemed to know what to say, and quite frankly it would be better for them to not say one mumbling word.

I should kill both of them. No. I should kill the middle aged acquaintance of his and make him watch. As I deliberate on what would be my best course of torturous action, I caught the associate hit a button on his phone, and I knew right then he activated a call for security. “Son of a bitch,” I growl as I snatch him and toss him to the other side of the room like an old shoe and I grab Rio and dematerialize. His screams could be heard echoing throughout the halls but I get him outside of the club and into the safety of the dark parking lot. I drop him onto the pavement as I take form. He attempts to scamper away but stomp my foot down on his leg, stopping him right in his tracks. His fear spiked the air with an intoxicating smell that triggered a very familiar hunger despite the fact that I am already well fed. I lower my fangs to intensify his fear. Yes Rio, you have absolutely and positively without a doubt fucked up, I think to myself. I should drag his ass back to my storage facility and force him to pick his own snake. Too bad my Anaconda had not reached maturity for me figure out if constrictors were capable of swallowing a human. I find myself completely lost in my own sadistic thoughts that I don’t even hear them coming.

Someone nailed me in the back with 6000 volts of electricity that made me forget that I am a vampire with unlimited strengths and abilities. The last thing I remember as I hit the ground was Rio’s face smiling in relief.

I have more than nine lives you son of a bitch. I am coming for you.

Miss Jenkins Books

Where Magic and Melanin are One

Tag: African American