Viper Returns

Staring into the hazel brown eyes of the woman who used to fuck the man you are in love with is not fun. Had it not been for the fact that Michael is damn near comatose, I am certain that this encounter would have led to a fight to the death. Tall, lean, with a thick head of naturally curly raven hair that hung loosely past her shoulders; full cherry red lips, high cheek bones set atop a perfectly symmetrical face-yeah, I will give Michael his props. She is taller than me by almost a foot, and as she glared at me with hatred oozing from her pores, I knew this is a bad idea… Scotland is a long ways from here, and the last thing I want to do is travel abroad with a bitter bitch.

“Where is he?” She demanded, pushing past me, barely giving me time to step to the side.

“Let’s make one thing clear bitch,” I say through clenched teeth. “The only reason why you were called is because I do not know how to heal him.”

She stops mid-step and turns to face me, her expression unreadable.

“It figures vampire,” she says coolly. “What knowledge would you possess on healing Vampire Hunters? We kill your kind and have proven ourselves to be effective at doing it.”

“Yeah, well for you to be so effective I don’t see too many of you around-“

–“I don’t think it is best that you accompany us to Scotland,” she snaps coldly.

“I didn’t ask you to come here to think.”

She glares at me. “Just because you walk in the sun does not mean you cannot be killed,” she threatened, her tone menacing and filled with murderous promise.

“I have killed werewolves, vampires older than me, and monsters among men,” I warn inching closer to her, “which means I will have no problem killing you. I am trying to get this man to Scotland so he could receive the help that he needs. Now if I am willing to risk my own survival with full understanding that I will be surrounded by very old and experienced Vampire Hunters that should tell your silly ass something. “

We glare at each other in a heated stand- off that extended past just a few minutes, and it was her who decided to stand down.

“Just watch your step vampire,” she threatens, and returned her attention to Michael, whose coloring had turned to a ghastly white. “So he was bitten by a werewolf AND a vampire?” She quizzed, pulling the sheet back and examining the wound.

“No. He was bitten by a werewolf/vampire hybrid,” I say, feeling slightly annoyed at having to re-explain what had transpired prior to her arrival.

“That cannot be…” she said quietly.

“Well it is. Even vampires are experimenting in the scientific communities now.”

She replaces the covers over him. “I don’t know how we are going to be able to transport him by plane to Scotland. He is gravely ill, and one look from the flight attendants and he will be asked to leave.”

“And not to mention that he is a wanted suspect for a series of what humans refers to as murders in Florida. He would never make it past the TSA,” I add shaking my head.

“And how the hell did he end up a wanted man ? He is the most honorable man I know and he wouldn’t dream of getting caught up in the likes of …” She scans me up and down. “…in the likes of your world.”

She has one more time to cross me with another slick ass comment before this whole thing becomes a wrap. “Clearly you don’t know him as well as you wished you did,” I snap. “And if he is so honorable then why the hell haven’t you seen him in how many centuries?”

She glowers at me, before focusing her gaze on Michael. Her eyes soften at the sight of him in such a vulnerable state.

“Because we were both young and reckless at the time…and incredibly foolish. I always knew that I would come back to him at some point…”

Irritated doesn’t even begin to cover the desire to rip her head off of her shoulders. I glare at her, fangs lengthening by the second.

“Well I hate to break it to you,” I say lethally. “But he is taken.”

“By you?” She scoffs in disbelief. “What possible future could he have with you?”

“One that he clearly didn’t want with you, otherwise we wouldn’t be in this position now would we?”

Game over. She says nothing more and looks longingly at Michael before reaching into a small sack that he held tied around her waist, pulling out a handful of herbs and then gently placing them on top of the wound. Her expression was incredibly pained, and from what I could gather full of regret. I suppose in her mind Michael was the one that got away, but what she fails to understand is that the feeling is not mutual. He grimaces, and his eyes flicker open in surprise of her appearance, and then he returns back to a peaceful sleep.

“That should help draw out some of the pain,” she says softly.

“What is that?” I ask curiously.

“Hunters Bane. It is an herb that is grown in the lands of Scotland, Ireland and even in certain parts of Africa. We use it to help us heal faster.”

We watch as he sighs in relief even in his sleep, and I wonder if perhaps keeping him here would serve all of our interests. I may not have to travel all the way to Scotland after all, especially if I can locate enough Hunters Bane from one of these off the market herb stores that offer holistic alternatives that give humans a false sense of hope in the art of healing.

“We have to get him out of here,” I say out loud. “As much as I would like to keep him comfortable in this hotel room, we just raided the lair of one of the most notoriously feared vampires the world has seen, and I expect there to be an army after me.”

Rowena shoots me a quick look before returning her gaze to Michael.

“He can come with me. I have plenty of places to shelter him. Considering the fact that you are responsible for this man’s current condition, transporting him to Scotland would probably kill him. I can contact his parents and the rest of the elders and have them meet me-“

“You have got to be out of your goddamn mind if you think I am going to allow you to take him anywhere alone,” I growl between clenched fangs.

“Tread carefully vampire,” Rowena whispers with a hint of poison. “It is because of you that he is even in this predicament-“

“And it will be because of me that he lives. You are here because of me. You would have never known he was in need of help had I not reached out to you-“

Suddenly, there is a crash just beyond the hallway. Both of us key in, our sense on high alert, and I detect the disgustingly potent smell equivalent to that of a wet dog: werewolf.

She looks at me, her green eyes littered with distrust.

“We have to get out of here,” I say. “Now.”

“How are we going to transport him without us being seen?” She asks, her gaze dancing between myself and Michael.

“I can transport him through vapor. You just have to tell me where to go,” I say moving quickly towards the bed where I bundle him into the blankets.

“And where does that leave me?” She demands.

“You’re a huntress,” I say, gently lifting possibly one of the largest men in the history of the world into my arms. His pain filled groans tug at my heart, threatening my concentration. “I am sure you can handle yourself just fine. Now, where did you park?”

I can taste the shift in the electricity that saturates the air. Familiar howls, and snarls from shifting werewolves are approximately ten feet away from the hotel room in which we stand.

“Listen,” I say firmly. “We don’t have time for bullshit. We have to leave now. Where the fuck did you park so I-we can get this man to safety!”

“I am parked underground in the black Lexus truck,” she says quickly.

“Take the window. It’s about a thirty foot vertical drop. Once you hit the ground, there is a side door which leads to the underground parking structure. Meet you there in 20 seconds.” With that I dematerialize with Michael in tow.

“More like 15,” I hear Rowena whisper as she rushes to the window and takes a sprawling leap.

Traveling through the vapor, I see how we managed to leave just in time, because as soon as Rowena makes it out of the window, the double latched door goes flying off the hinges and in comes three massive wolves, fresh from transition with fangs dripping with frothy white saliva. The news of Lucas’ Barnes death clearly travels fast, and with that in mind, I move Michael and I through the airwaves and materialize in front of Rowena’s truck just as she came running into the parking structure. She unlocked the door and started hit the ignition button that is on her key chain, and I gently ease Michael into the backseat, strapping him in. Rowena is already in the front seat, and there is a brief moment in her gaze where I can tell she is debating on pulling off without me or not, however I am not about to give this bitch one second of wishful thinking because I am strapped in the passenger seat before she can complete the thought. She scowls but hits the accelerator and we speed out of the underground garage and onto the busy streets of New Orleans.



Viper Book 2 Teaser 2


Escape: Coming 12/31/2015

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.

Viper: Chapter Excerpt 2

Viper: Chapter Excerpt 2


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.

Viper: Chapter Excerpt

Chapter Six

After several attempts to reach Rio by phone, I run to the guest room where Kevin had taken refuge, phone, wallet and box in hand. The door was locked, no surprise there so I break the knob clean off and push the door open. He jumps off of the bed in shock and disbelief. “Ay man, what the fuck are you doing?” I hand him his wallet, and his phone, and shove the box in his hands. I am not sure if I have enough energy to do this (and I pray that I can bring this man out in one piece), and grab him by his shoulders and dematerialize without a second thought. He screams his lungs as I drag him through the molecules, and because I am traveling with more than just myself I struggle to maintain that form as we move at almost light speed back to California. The fact that this man is nearly twice my size in weight, not to mention the stress of knowing that someone has located us and was bold enough to flex a move, mixed with Kevin just acting like a straight up pussy, I barely manage to poof us to back to Rio’s townhome in Baldwin Hills.

We collapse in a heap on the manicured lawn, and I can feel the slight tingle and burn of the sun’s rays cresting over the horizon. I have less than forty minutes to find Rio and get myself to safety. There was also the slight complication that I need to feed. I tried to be patient and give the man a minute to orient himself, but as he blinked several times at me like a blind man given his sight for the first time, I picked him up the collar and drug him to the front door, where we were greeted by his personal guard. With the sun’s rays less than an hour from burning me to a crisp and knock both men down, and force my way through, dragging Kevin with me. The house goes into an uproar, I find myself and Kevin surrounded with guns drawn, and with the surge of adrenaline building, I eye the thick blue-green vein pulsating in the broad neck of the white body guard that was built like a brick house.  He will definitely do.  Just as the shit is about to get real with every last one of the men (except for Kevin) becoming a part of my breakfast, Rio comes strutting down the stairs, dressed in a black silk robe followed by a woman who was a least ten years his junior following behind in a similar garb. His face is beet red, and his nostrils flare and as I watch every muscle in jaw flinch in anger, I wonder if he will ever have enough nerve to drive a stake through my heart.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” He roars, bypassing his men and leaving his plaything for the night at the base of the stairs. “Are you fucking insane? He is supposed to be In Miami! He has a show tonight and two nights from now, he has a meeting with the press!” “Well if you had not been so concerned with getting your dick sucked you would have answered my calls,” I retort sharply. I turn towards Kevin, whom was standing a little too close for comfort next to me, and ask for the box. “Someone was kind enough to send us not only his cell phone and his wallet, but the eye of his road manager.” Kevin inhales sharply upon receiving word of his manager and what I could assume long time friend’s demise. His sudden grief saturated the air, with a heavy, dewy scent and although not much moves me anymore I motioned for Rio to let Kevin pass and find solace in another area of the house while we discussed what needed to be discussed.

Once Kevin was out of sight, I hand the box over to Rio and he reluctantly accepts it. Once he opens it, the smell of the decaying contents was enough to make him toss it to the side, nearest the stairwell. He smoothed his broad hands over his bald head, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He motioned for his guards to take refuge elsewhere and then beckoned for me to follow. His little play thing decided that she should come too, but was quickly reprimanded and sent right back to where she belonged: the bedroom. He led me to his office where most, if not all of our arguments have taken place, and closing the door behind me, he plopped down on the cream colored sofa, his robe sliding up his thighs and bunching into his more “private regions”. I really wish the man had put some pants on at least. We are close, but we are not that close.

“What happened?” He finally said through clenched teeth, and once I gave him the rundown, his expression grew more serious by the minute.  When I was done, he got up and punched a hole in the wall facing the sofa.  “This is all the way around fucked up.” He said with a hint of exhaustion. “I know.” I say nodding my head. “I don’t have many options left Viper.” He adds softly. “I know.” He sighs and moves over to his desk, and reaches into the bottom drawer and pulls out a .45 and several hallow points and took a seat on the leather office chair, and stares at me intently from behind the desk. “This could be the work of C Dollas. I have not spoken to him, haven’t been able to reach him…” “C Dollas works for Lucas,” I anxiously reply as I march over closer to his desk. He looks at me in disbelief, and to be honest, I could not believe it myself. But whatever Lucas was up to, it was something big because C Dollas was no rookie in the industry or in the streets. “I found out that one of the promoters from the Kevin’s former record label invited Kevin and his crew to the mansion. C Dollas doesn’t deal with anybody that he is not in cahoots with.” “Maaaaaaaan Viper…goddamn!” He groans, massaging his temples. “Cancel the press conference,” I say firmly. “Send out a statement stating that it did not work out between you two professionally and you are hereby releasing him from his contract. Therefore, to most of the other record labels would see him as a free agent…or better yet tell the media that Kevin has opted to go independent, and in the mean time we can quickly stage a dummy record label under his name to give the world the impression that he is in fact independent.” I hold my breath as I let my suggestion sink in. “I don’t know Viper,” he said warily. “Neither Lucas nor C Dollas is gonna buy that. When I found Kevin he was completely broke and on the brink of eviction from his landlord.” “For all they know Kevin could have been stashing whatever money he was paid…” “And what exactly is that going to do?” “Buy us, better yet ME some time.” He stares at me with a mixture of defeat, regret, confusion and something else I cannot exactly pinpoint. “You know what Viper,” he begins slowly. “I told you that I wanted to retire. I am tired of all this street shit and even when I was really at the top of my game, I ran my organization with a plan: to leave it for the next man hungry for a come up and start my label and go legit. I think I have done more than my fair share of making good on my word: I gave you Lucas’ brother. I fucking handed him to you on a silver fucking platter and you still bring this bullshit to my door. Look, I tried to convince you to just in some shape or form to move on, but since you insist on embarking on this suicidal plan that is going to not only get you killed, but Kevin killed too, I don’t want any more parts of it.”  The long silence that followed as I processed every single word that this selfish and greedy former Brazilian kingpin had to say and if it wasn’t for the that blasted sun I would have- “I have to go Rio,” I say urgently. “The sun is rising which means you have 12 hours to figure out what the hell you are going to do. You are in this shit as deeply as I am and for all of the bodies that I have drained, murders I have cleaned up, men whose lives I have ended on your behalf, I would have thought that your balls would have been a bit bigger at least on the strength of loyalty. But I see, loyalties like people change. Good day Rio.” With that I dematerialized myself back to my Hollywood apartment, unfortunately leaving Kevin alone with Rio to sort out the mess.

If Rio is thinking what I know he is thinking, then he will have more than one reason to fear the night.

An excerpt from Redemption, a book from the up coming Dark Royals Series

Chapter Six


I cannot believe the nerve of that arrogant bastard, Terri continued to fume as she finally slipped her key into the lock and turned the knob to the apartment that had been her permanent residence for the past year. After fighting almost forty minutes of traffic thanks to a three car collision nearest the freeway, all she could think about was ordering a pepperoni pizza, with bread sticks, some fudge brownies and washing it all down with a nice cold glass of Coca Cola before climbing into bed.  She pushed the door open and to her surprise and horror Mr. Thomas was sitting on her couch with a bouquet of red and white roses, a Dior gift bag and she could be wrong but a remorseful expression. She didn’t know if she should attempt to run for her gun or just run period. The bastard had broken and entered into her home and had the nerve to be sitting on her couch waiting for her. He stood up and quickly approached her before she had time to bolt down the hallway and back to her car. He closed the door behind them, forcing her to back into the corner like a cornered animal. “I just wanted to apologize for what I said. My intentions clearly did not match my words and I am truly remorseful for the anger that I caused.” He said, his mouth inches away from hers; his big brawn hunched to her level, both hands pressed against the wall behind her and his eyes intensely fixed on hers. “In order for me to properly accept your apology, I think you should give me some physical space.” She breathed, her heart racing a mile a minute from just being in such dizzying close proximity to so much man.

He straightened his posture, and only backed away just enough to give her some breathing room…but not much. He had made it painstakingly clear that he was not allowing her room to get away from him, and Terri reasoned that if he really wanted to hurt her, he could have easily done so. But, he needed to know that annoying the hell out of her would be the quickest way for him to get his feelings hurt.  “So do you?” He asked, or better yet demanded. “Do I what?” She asked, finding herself once again annoyed by his demeanor. “Accept my apology?” “For being a pompous ass? Sure. Now could you please leave?” She stepped around him, and dropped her purse on the dining room table and then kicked her shoes off leaving them right by the table and chairs as if totally unbothered by his presence. “I annoy you don’t I?” He asked following her to the living room and watching her take a seat by her answering machine and pressing play to gather today’s unanswered messages. “Yes, you do. Why? No one has ever told you that you ‘oh great one’ have an annoying presence?” She almost laughed at the sight of his jaw actually dropping at her comment. He looked downright astounded. “No woman has ever told me that I annoyed them. They have always enjoyed my presence.” “Well there is a first time for everything,” she mumbled as she hit the play button to her answering machine. He went to say something as she motioned for him to be quiet as she listened in on the dozen or so messages that were waiting for her. The first five were from Lee: “Terri, I know I wasn’t always a good man to you but we can work it out.” She didn’t bother to finish listening to them, she just erased his pathetic pleas for second chances, all the while reaping the benefits of a heat seeking gaze coming from Luther. If she hadn’t known better she would have sworn the man was jealous. But that was ludicrous, they just met. The rest of the messages came from her attorney explaining to her that the court date had been moved up and basically all she needed to do was sign and then she was free, and then of course there were bill collectors demanding payment. When she was done, she realized Luther had taken a seat on the couch, clearly demonstrating the fact that he was going nowhere.

“I came all the way down here to apologize, just for you to tell me that I annoy you,” he said with a hint of sarcasm. “Well that is your problem. You have this way about yourself that irks the hell out of me. I am done dealing with men who are assholes.” She retorted. “And how am I an asshole?” He demanded with his nostrils flaring, and his jaw set so tight she thought he would break a tooth. “It is your demeanor,” she replied coolly. “You act as if the world owes you something and everyone in it is born to worship you. You know that money talks and therefore provides you with great amounts of power over people that you carelessly flex and I refuse to be a part of it. I have enough issues of my own and I don’t have to deal with a man who would treat me any less than what I demand and what I deserve. You can’t buy everyone. At least not me.” “I don’t want to buy you,” he said appearing somewhat defeated. “You challenge me and I like it. At least let me buy you dinner and to prove to you that I am not always such an arrogant prick, I will bring you safely back home, see you to your door and leave like a perfect gentleman. Please.” “Dinner?” She mocked with a raised eyebrow. From her limited experiences with men, she had concluded many a time that when men typically bought a woman dinner, there was an expectation of a returned favor that did not involve food. “Yes, dinner. That is why I came over.” “You broke into my house-“ “I entered the same way that I did last night, so technically I did not break and enter.” The stared at each other in a sort of silent stand-off until Terri relented with an “Ok.” It took Luther a second to comprehend that she actually agreed without much of a fight when she said, “But only one these conditions: you stick to your word-no funny business. You asked me, I did not ask you and so I owe you nothing. And, you have to honestly explain to me how the hell you ended up on my couch last night.” He smiled, flashing those dazzling bright whites that could light up a room. “Fair enough.”

Three Months Time

Three months ago I said I was not going to submit to anymore agents or publishers. I said I “was not going to wait for someone to tell me that I am good enough”, but three months ago I had just barely stepped into the ring, joining the legions of self-published authors swimming against the tide to claim the title for “Best Seller”. I had no idea that there was more than agreeing to the terms and conditions that Amazon required before one’s book was live and ready for purchase. Writing the book was easy. The hard part is marketing and building a platform. I am a part of Lord knows how many Facebook author/writer/blogger/editor groups my news feed is a long list of confusion. And, in each and every one of those groups that claim to offer support and advice to authors is just another place for authors to saturate news feeds with their latest works, and it makes it difficult for anyone to make any sense of it all.

Then, there are the authors who consider themselves established because they are selling more than $1.50 a week, and their noses are so up their own behinds they hardly want to offer any advice to a newbie author for reasons that are more than obvious. Self-publishing has become a cut throat swamp of authors who only think about themselves-which they should to some degree because the hard work as well as the costs fall on their shoulders, but still. Authors should support each other because who is better suited to understand the highs and lows of writing? So unless one can quit their day jobs and live lavishly off of their work, there is still much more ground to cover and it doesn’t hurt to at least throw someone who is new to the game a bone.

Three months ago I did not have anything else in completion that I could believe in again that would capture the attention of an agent or a publisher. Now I do. I finished Blind Salvation two weeks ago, spent hours working on my queries, synopsis, outline and researching potential agents and publishers that might spend less than 15 seconds on my submission and I decided to give it another go. Self-publishing is fine…its perfect for those who want 100% control over their work but I could not go another year writing something that I am in love with without trying to see if an agent would love what I had I had devoted a great portion of myself too. 11 agents and 13 publishers later, so far I have been declined by four, which is fine and I am waiting to see what the others will have to say. In three months I will know if I will be offered a contract, or if I should go back to the drawing board or just focus on developing my career in self publishing.

In the mean time I am working on four additional works to keep my mind off of sitting around checking my email every 15 seconds for a reply. In the mean time I have also created a personal website, an author page, and I have been offering my services to other independent authors to help promote their newest releases. I have also scored a book on self publishing to help me further understand what I am up against and in three months time when I reflect on this blog, I will be much more in tuned with myself as writer, as a business person (because let’s face it, the books that we authors create are our brands), and should a newbie author ask for a bone, I will give him or her a whole dinner plate. I guess I should use the quarter system to evaluate my personal growth: all I need is three months time.