Q-T-Pies (The Savannah Swan Files Book 0) Read online

  “You produce the protein. You’re a Mocha Latte.”

  “Ding, ding, ding! I wasn’t sure you were going to get there, M. Derrel,” Chioma said. “And now that we’re all on the same page, we can get down to the particulars of our little science experiment. It’s the only reason your bloodless body isn’t piled with the others awaiting processing.”

  Derrel felt Azza tense. She was afraid, and that terrified him.

  “You should know, there’s no way I’m a Mocha Latte. My life is the antithesis of lucky,” Derrel admitted.

  Damilola laugh-snorted. “We figured that out, dumb-dumb. We don’t want you for the protein. Well, at least not that specific protein.”

  Ini and Damilola both broke into belly laughs over that comment. Chioma just rolled her eyes.

  “M. Derrel, you get the honor of becoming our in-house stud,” Chioma said. She did not laugh, even though Derrel was sure it must be a joke. He looked from her earnest face to the other two, who were still laughing.

  “What?”

  “Yep. Azza with her oh-so-precious protein is going to be our brood mare, and you... well, let’s just say you’ll be donating part of yourself to science... on a regular basis.” Chioma winked.

  “Chioma, please,” Azza whispered.

  “Chioma, please,” mocked Ini, and this set her and Damilola off again.

  Derrel sat in stunned silence. They wanted him and Azza to make babies. Why? How would that possibly help them? How could...

  Oh, no.

  Chioma reached out; her fingers stroked Azza’s chin then tilted her head up. “Sweetie, we could have just bled you like the rest. But you’re our friend. We love you, and we want to keep you with us. It really is the most perfect solution. And don’t worry, we’ve worked out a really amazing piece of magic, if I do say so myself. The spell is intricate, and there may be complications, but if it works, it will speed up gestation. You will only be pregnant for two months at a time.”

  Derrel shook his head as if the mere act of doing so would stop what Chioma and the others had planned. He had to get out of here. His eyes darted frantically around the room, but nothing had changed: there was only the one door and the only windows were the skylights up in the ceiling.

  “M. Derrel, are you having performance anxiety?” Chioma teased.

  “This is crazy. You know this is crazy, right? I can’t just... you can’t be serious!” Derrel was babbling, his mind racing for a solution.

  “A two-month gestation and then two months of rest for our girl Azza equals three possible Mocha Lattes a year. Now of course this is all theory and may not work. You two are our guinea pigs. But if it does work, well then the sky’s the limit. We can hunt down more Mocha Lattes and create our own damn harem with a limitless supply of the protein,” explained Chioma.

  “Enough jibber-jabber,” Ini said. “Let’s get to the good stuff!”

  “I agree. I want to see some hot boy-on-girl action now!” Damilola demanded.

  Azza sobbed quietly. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest then pulled her feet in close.

  Derrel wanted to comfort her, tell her everything was going to be all right, but he was fairly certain he would not sound very convincing.

  No matter what Chioma and the others said or did, there was no way this was going to happen. Derrel was not a rapist; he was not going to force himself on Azza. The situation may have been making the psycho evil magic vampires horny, but he was as far from aroused as a brother could be. He was whatever the opposite of aroused was.

  Derrel had to convince them, but what then? Would they immediately kill him? Probably, but there was no alternative. “I can’t. Seriously, there’s no way any of this,” he gestured to his flaccid penis, “is going to work under these circumstances. It just ain’t gonna happen.”

  “Are you trying to say Azza is ugly? That you don’t find her attractive?” Chioma was incredulous. “We gave her a shower, washed the kennel stink off her beautiful skin, she’s not fat, and she has pretty eyes.”

  “No, it’s not—”

  “Then what’s the problem?” Chioma roared, her voicing dropping an octave or two and her eyes flashing black.

  Derrel froze, anticipating a painful swipe from Chioma’s clawed nails. When no attack came, Derrel let out the breath he had not realized he was holding.

  “I’m sorry. That was rude,” Chioma apologized. “The thing is, M. Derrel, this is going to happen. We just thought that at least you two could enjoy the experience a little... you know... as a treat. But if you refuse, well then we will just have to milk you.”

  “Milk me?”

  “Yes. You saw the lab. We will strap you down, shoot you full of an amazing piece of modern magic called Viagra, then milk you dry.”

  Derrel tried to swallow; his mouth was as dry as paper.

  Chioma continued, “Then it’s turkey baster time for our little flower,” she patted Azza’s hand, “and the experiment will begin.”

  Something exploded.

  At least that’s what it sounded like to Derrel. A concussive boom ripped through the air, and the entire room shook. It felt like a small earthquake. Chioma jumped to her feet, instantly alert. Ini and Damilola untwined themselves then sat up, their eyes flashing black simultaneously. Ini let out a low growl.

  A second, smaller boom brought Ini and Damilola to their feet. They sniffed at the air, as if they could smell whatever was causing the disturbance. For all Derrel knew, they probably could. Even he could feel the tension and it was becoming oppressive. Whatever was about to go down he did not think it was going to be fun and the couch was ground zero. He glanced at Azza; she, too, was looking around, trying to discern what was happening. Derrel wiggled a finger to get her attention. When she looked over at him, he nodded ever so slightly toward the back of the room-it wasn’t perfect but hopefully being out of direct line-of-sight would provide some safety. She glanced at Chioma, Ini, and Damilola; they were clearly focused on whatever was causing the building to shake.

  Azza locked eyes with Derrel then nodded her agreement, but before they could move, the door with most of the surrounding wall exploded in a shower of plaster and wood. Azza screamed in surprise, throwing her hands up to protect her face.

  Derrel grunted, and then he saw who was standing in the middle of the blown-out door, and for the second time that day, he almost fainted.

  Ruth the intern, dressed, head-to-toe, in black leather with a wicked-looking dagger in one hand and a big ass gun in the other, stood framed in the smoking hole in the wall. She smiled and said, “Hey, boss. Wow. Four chicks at once? You are a playa!”

  CHAPTER seven

  Ini let out a banshee scream, and with blinding speed launched herself at Ruth. Her nails had become talons... full-on rip-the-flesh-from-bones bird of prey talons.

  Ruth’s big ass gun barked. Silver fired erupted from its barrel.

  A moment later Ini’s body catapulted through the air, flying over Derrel’s head. She crashed into the bookshelves at the back of the room, unconscious. Ruth’s gun – a revolver right out of a Dirty Harry movie – was covered in strange glyphs that glowed green after the shot.

  Ruth has a magic gun? Derrel held his head in his hands. Is this real, or have I gone batshit crazy?

  Ruth touched a spot under her right ear and said, “I found them downstairs, to the left.”

  Okay, Ruth is some sort of magic gun-toting commando, Derrel thought. Does she work for the government? Is she a freelancer? Why is she working as my intern? And who the hell is she talking to?

  Derrel received an answer to the last question immediately.

  A teenager, dressed in a chocolate hoodie, brown joggers, and chocolate retro Jordan’s appeared out of nowhere behind the couch.

  Half a heartbeat later, a small quake shook the building just before a huge silverback gorilla crashed through the wall, apparently entering from the stairwell just beyond. The ape was the size of a Volkswagen, and Derrel immediately
understood that all the shaking must have been caused by this behemoth crashing around the building.

  The gorilla snorted plaster dust from its nose and then roared.

  Derrel’s eardrums came dangerously close to bursting. Even Chioma and Damilola rocked back from the skull-splitting din.

  “Clarence, stop showing off,” Ruth scolded the ape and then said, “Biscuit, grab the naked guy and go!”

  Clarence?

  Biscuit?

  Derrel shook his head as if that would jump-start his brain to start processing information correctly. If the gorilla is Clarence – which, by the way, was a ridiculous name for a monster pet gorilla – then the magically appearing dude must be Biscuit.

  Derrel’s eyes went wide. “Wait! She’s with me!” He intuitively grabbed for Azza’s hand. Biscuit grabbed Derrel’s shoulder, then… poof… he, Azza, and Biscuit were no longer on the couch. Instead, the three of them bounced off the wall next to the large hole Clarence had created with his grand entrance, falling back into the room in a tangle of arms and legs.

  “Uh-oh,” Biscuit said.

  “Spelled against teleportation?” Ruth stated with some surprise. She turned to Chioma and Damilola. “I’m impressed.”

  Derrel was fairly certain that nothing scared or shocked Chioma; she carried herself with unwavering arrogance. So it was very telling that it took her a couple of moments to overcome the shock of being attacked on her home turf.

  Chioma lashed out with a hand, which, like Ini’s, had become an inhuman claw. A ring of fire exploded out in a fast-moving circle, and Derrel prepared for searing pain, but the gorilla leapt between Derrel, Biscuit, and Azza and the oncoming fire. He moved quicker than anything his size should be able to move, and as the fire reached his massive side, it just disappeared, almost as if the gorilla’s body absorbed it somehow.

  Ruth thrust her knife toward the flames, drawing an invisible circle around her feet. The fire died.

  Ruth pushed a loose braid behind her ear. “Biscuit,” she began. “Keep them as safe as possible. Clarence… do yo’ thang!”

  The big silverback snorted again, but this time, Derrel was sitting right next to the beast, and the snort seemed more like... a laugh... an anticipatory chuckle. The gorilla was chuckling with relish at the thought of ending Chioma and her magic vampire friends.

  Derrel glanced at Azza, who watched the unfolding scene with hopeful awe.

  Biscuit whispered to Derrel and Azza, “We may need to blink a few times. It’ll be quick, though, but it’s probably gonna make you earl. Sorry.”

  A groan from Ini at the back of the room signaled that she was coming around. Chioma and Damilola looked at one another and grinned. They apparently liked the odds of three against two. Derrel thought they were nuts; Clarence the gorilla counted for at least two if not three.

  “Ini, sweetie, we could really use your help right about now,” Chioma crooned.

  Ini slowly stood, cracked her neck, flexed her pointy talons, then growled. Derrel should have been pissing himself, but instead, he was fascinated. He was witnessing a battle of supernatural beings. It was something straight out of a movie like Blade. I’m gonna write the bestseller of the century... naw, of two centuries.

  The room thrummed with power. Derrel could feel it tingling on his skin like static electricity, ruffling his hair as it passed over him. Derrel blinked, and the sexy ladies of Que-T-Pies were gone. Left standing in their place were creatures with black eyes, several rows of razor sharp teeth, like those of a great white shark, and scaled skin with a baby powder hue.

  Azza let out a small sob. Her friends had become monsters. A shudder passed through Derrel because he understood that this was their true appearance. The gorgeous, super model bodies and sexy smiles had just been disguises... nothing more than cosplay.

  Biscuit gave a low whistle. “Dang, you don’t see that every day.”

  The creatures that had been Chioma and Damilola skittered across the floor directly at Ruth, while demon-Ini sprang through the air, screeching, all talons and pointy teeth. The intention was clear; Chioma and Damilola were supposed to distract or incapacitate Ruth, and demon-Ini would finish her off the old-fashioned way – by ripping her to shreds.

  Ruth bobbed, weaved and shifted her feet in quick, explosive steps. The brunt of the skittering women’s attack only managed to push Ruth backward, her feet sliding along the rug beneath her.

  Clarence launched himself into the air, transforming mid-leap into a half-gorilla, half-man hybrid thing that was even scarier than the monster ape he had been an instant before. Clarence tackled demon-Ini to the ground then, with a quick swipe of one of his gorilla-man hybrid monster paws, slapped her head off.

  Demon-Ini’s head spun across the floor like a top, before thudding to a stop in a far corner of the room.

  Demon-Chioma slashed her hands in front of her, letting loose her talons, which flew from her fingers with a tearing noise and a bloody mist. The nails sped helter-skelter through the room, rending furniture and tearing chunks of plaster from the walls.

  The talons almost instantly regenerated. Chioma slashed with her arms again.

  Ruth quickly evaded before two claws slammed into the floor next to her.

  Clarence swatted at the talons that dared fly within arm’s length of him, smacking them to the ground. Unfortunately, he missed a couple, and while they did not penetrate his flesh, the force of the talons struck like a cannonball, knocking him across the room.

  Derrel watched in horror as a volley of talons sped straight toward him, Azza, and Biscuit.

  “Hold on to your hats!” Biscuit shouted.

  In a dizzying blink, the three of them were on the opposite side of the room. The talons speared the far wall.

  Just as Derrel’s equilibrium started to even out, Biscuit yelled again.

  “Hold on! Incoming.”

  Derrel, Azza, and Biscuit were now at the back of the room against the bookcase.

  Derrel’s stomach threatened to revolt for the second time that night. Waves of nausea hit him as the room seemed to tilt left and then right. Derrel noticed that they had ended up near Demon-Ini’s head, and that did not help his nausea one bit.

  The room settled into a more tolerable swaying motion. Derrel was able to focus on the battle raging before him.

  Demon-Damilola had used the storm of talons as cover and was now attacking Ruth from behind, swiping ferociously with her claws.

  Ruth’s fired her revolver at Demon-Chioma.

  Demon-Chioma flitted sideways. Silver fire whizzed past her ear.

  The bullet struck the wall behind Demon-Chioma, leaving a smoking hole the size of a man’s fist.

  Clarence was back in the fight. He let out another of his bone-rattling roars then leapt straight for Demon-Chioma, fists raised for a killing blow.

  Demon-Chioma threw her arms wide and then clapped her hands back together. A sound like thunder filled the room. Clarence somersaulted backward through the air. Ruth and Demon-Damilola fell to their knees.

  There was nowhere for Biscuit to teleport to escape the force of the wave, and it crashed into the boy, Azza, and Derrel, tossing them in separate directions.

  As Derrel slid to a stop, he noticed the air behind Demon-Chioma begin to warp, like space was bending in on itself.

  “She’s opening a portal!” Ruth shouted.

  Clarence grunted, regained his feet, then jumped.

  From her prone position, Ruth threw her dagger with experienced precision.

  Demon-Chioma laughed as she back-flipped through the warped air.

  And she was gone.

  Derrel squinted, but the air just looked like air again.

  Ruth’s dagger sailed through the exact spot where an instant earlier Demon-Chioma’s head had been. Clarence landed in the now empty space with a growl. He swiped the air a couple of times just to make certain Demon-Chioma was gone; she was.

  Derrel glanced over at Biscuit. “Can’t you..
. just... you know,” he waved his hands, “go after her?”

  Biscuit shook his head. “What I can do and what she just did are two completely different things and the room’s magic’d against my ability. Heads up, this ain’t over.”

  Derrel turned to see Ruth and Clarence turning to square off with Demon-Damilola.

  “Your friend left your ugly ass to die,” Ruth said. “But that doesn’t have to happen.”

  What does she mean ‘that doesn’t have to happen’, Derrel thought. These things – vampires, blood witches, demons... whatever – eat people. Killing them seems like the only viable and sane option.

  Ruth had one hand out in a gesture of peace, and the other rested on her revolver. There was no way Clarence could make himself look less menacing, so instead, he moved slowly to the side, which allowed Ruth to draw the focus to herself. Of course, even at the slightly different angle, Clarence was still within range of a quick attack.

  Demon-Damilola’s creepy black eyes darted around her head in what was clearly abject panic. She emitted a low, keening sound – not quite a moan and not loud enough to be a shriek, but it built in intensity. Derrel thought it had to be fear. She was afraid. She should be; Ruth, Clarence, and Biscuit had crashed the party of this little house of horrors and totally kicked ass.

  Demon-Damilola’s keening grew louder.

  No.

  Wait.

  That was not keening; she was chanting something. Derrel had time to think, Oh, this can’t be good.

  And it wasn’t.

  Ruth shouted, “Shit!”

  Too slow, she and Clarence were too slow. Even as Ruth fired her revolver and Clarence lunged forward to make a grab for Demon-Damilola, she rose into the air in a whoosh of wings.

  Demon-Damilola had sprouted a pair of giant, leathery, bat-like wings. And that was not all; her feet had morphed into wicked-looking hooked claws to match her hands.

  The metamorphosis was complete. The incredibly sexy woman Derrel had flirted with not hours earlier was now a flying demon – a visage straight out of every nightmare vision of Hell that artists had been portraying for centuries. Maybe those artists had been so accurate in their portrayals because what they were painting was not some imagined fantasy but an eyewitness account of living, breathing evil. Derrel had no delusions that the ladies of Que-T-Pies were the first to discover whatever nasty magic had transformed them into what they had become. Somebody had written the book that had started all this, and that fact sent yet another chill down his spine.