Ruth, Clarence, and Biscuit were proof that there were at least two groups of supernatural users – one that embraced the darkness and a second that fought against the darkness.
Derrel’s thoughts were interrupted when a spike of pain shot through his skull. He almost blacked out, and then an all-encompassing, full-body agony replaced the sharp pain in his head. Derrel felt as if someone was trying to rip his skin from his body. No, not his skin; it was something else... something inside of his body – not his muscles or his organs... something less physical.
Life force?
That was it; he was being drained not of blood, but of life.
Azza cried out weakly. He turned his head, and it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Derrel saw her lying a few feet away, her hands clasped to her chest and her eyes shut. She was feeling it, too, and it was killing her. Derrel shifted his eyes back to Demon-Damilola. Whatever evil magic she was doing, it was literally tearing their souls from their bodies.
Demon-Damilola shrieked in triumph as she rose toward the high ceiling of the warehouse. Wings beating, her intention was clear; the overhead skylights would be her escape.
Clarence jumped, repeatedly grabbing for her legs, but with a flick of her wings, she was able to slip away from his grasp.
Derrel’s eyes fluttered, and his vision dimmed. He was fading, and he was smart enough to know that he was not passing out; he was dying.
Then Biscuit blinked into existence next to Clarence. He grabbed the giant gorilla-man around the waist.
“On three!”
Clarence snorted.
“One, two, three!” Biscuit yelled
They blinked away… then reappeared in the air above Demon-Damilola.
The demon shrieked.
Clarence dropped. He landed on Demon-Damilola’s back with a dull thud back. He started shredding her wings as she struggled to fight him off.
Biscuit blinked back to the ground then collapsed onto his knees.
Clarence and Demon-Damilola crashed to the ground a second later. Demon-Damilola shrieked in agony as Clarence kept tearing at her.
Ruth smacked Clarence on the back of his neck. “Clarence!”
The gorilla-man’s enormous head snapped around; his eyes were on fire, and he growled at Ruth.
Ruth held her hands up and, in a very calm, soft voice, said, “Stop. We need to question her.”
Clarence huffed, but he stopped savaging Demon-Damilola then stepped away. He reached out one of his deadly gorilla-man hybrid paws, and with gentleness that Derrel would have thought impossible, patted Biscuit on the head and chuffed.
“I love you too, big guy,” Biscuit whispered.
As Derrel stared at these real-life superheroes he smiled, content in the knowledge that with people like them around, the world had a fighting chance against magic-vampire-people-eating-demon-women.
Then, the darkness took him.
CHAPTER eight
Is it supposed to hurt so much when you’re dead? Derrel felt as if he was standing in the middle of a razorblade whirlwind. Or at least what he imagined standing in the middle of a razorblade whirlwind must feel like, since he had never actually stood in the middle of one. But the horrible, overwhelming pain he was currently experiencing had to mean he was not dead.
Derrel tried to open his eyes to assess his surroundings and any injuries he may have sustained.
Huge mistake.
The light exploded through his eyes, threatening to tear his head apart. He groaned.
“You’re not dead. Cool.”
Derrel could tell it was Biscuit speaking, but even the sound of the boy’s voice sent waves of pain through his entire body. What was wrong with him? He experimented with moving an arm – more pain. Then, it felt as if a giant piece of sandpaper was being dragged over his skin. No, not sandpaper, he thought. A blanket; someone has placed a blanket over me. His skin was extremely sensitive.
“Derrel?” The voice was soft, comforting.
Derrel forced his eyes open again. The light still hurt, but he no longer felt as if his head was going to explode. Azza was smiling at him. She also had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
“Are you okay?” Azza asked, real worry in her eyes.
Derrel tried to answer “yes” but was only able to make gurgling sounds. He took a deep breath then forced himself into a sitting position. He almost blacked out.
“Hold up, bruh,” Biscuit said, concerned. “Y’all, he’s definitely not dead or dying.”
Derrel looked at Biscuit, who smiled and gave him two big thumbs-up. From his seated position, Derrel was able to get a better look at the room. It did not look any different. The damage he could see had been caused during the initial fight.
Azza held a bottle of water out for him, but there was no way he could manage the coordinated body movements necessary to take a drink, although he was really, really thirsty. Azza realized his predicament and held the bottle up to his lips so he could take a sip.
Derrel gulped. His tongue and throat cooperated for the first two swallows and then seemed to snap shut. He sputtered, water spilling down the front of his blanket.
“Easy there, Mike,” Ruth said as she sauntered over.
“Uh, I’m pretty sure his name is Derrel,” Biscuit corrected her.
Ruth smiled down at Derrel. “Sure it is.” Ruth held his gaze until he looked away.
“You are one lucky man, Mike.” Ruth emphasized the name that Derrel had shortened to just “M” years before.
Derrel did a double take when a massively muscled man walked into his field of view. He was well over six feet tall and probably weighed in at a bit over three hundred pounds. He was naked, except for a very tight pair of shorts.
Clarence?
By process of elimination, he had to be the monster gorilla. So he’s some kind of what? A were-gorilla? Derrel wondered. How does that even happen? Was he born or made? Bitten... that’s how werewolves become werewolves, so maybe a gorilla had bitten Clarence? The world had just become a mysterious, wonderful, and terrifying place, and Derrel wanted to know everything.
But where was Demon-Damilola?
Derrel attempted to speak again, “What... what...” was all he could croak out. Azza offered the bottle, and Derrel nodded. This time, he took small sips, and his throat did not rebel. Progress.
“Seriously, Mike, you should be dead. That blood witch sucked in all the living energy she could tap to pull off that metamorphosis spell at the end. Real nasty stuff.” Ruth indicated her companions. “The three of us are warded for protection from that kind of shit. So, besides the naturally occurring energy in the air, the only other available sources were this frail... thing,” Ruth tapped Azza with the toe of her boot, “and you.”
The fiery pain Derrel had been experiencing was starting to settle into a dull ache.
“What’s your problem?” Derrel managed to croak out.
Biscuit whistled then backed away. Clarence chuckled. Ruth’s eyes narrowed, focused on Derrel, and then she became very still. After a moment, she crouched down so that she and Derrel were face to face.
“My only problem with you, Mike, is that most of the time, you’re a condescending asshat. My problem with her,” Ruth nodded at Azza, “is that she’s a blood witch. And I really hate blood witches, Mike. They have a bad habit of killing and eating people to fuel their magic. They travel the There Road.” Ruth spat.
“The There Road?” Derrel frowned.
“Yeah, the one that ain’t here,” Ruth replied. Some call it black magic path or the dark side, but I’m black and dark, so to call it that would be some self-deprecating bullshit.
“She’s not like the others,” Derrel said, tilting his head toward Azza. “They were keeping her in a cage.”
Azza had curled into herself, eyes closed tightly. Derrel wanted to reach out and reassure her but did not have the strength. Instead, he flicked his eyes toward Ruth. “Do you know what they were planning for
us?”
Ruth rolled her eyes. “Of course we do. They were going to do what all blood witches do – eat you. Unfortunately, the last one with the wings died during questioning.”
Demon-Damilola was dead? Derrel was confused. “You killed her, but you told her she did not have to die.” Even though Derrel had thought death was the appropriate punishment for the magic-vampire-demons, he was shocked that Ruth had killed Demon-Damilola after she had surrendered. The good guys were supposed to have different standards of conduct.
Ruth pulled Derrel to his feet. His blanket slipped from his shoulders, but he was way past being bothered by his lack of clothes. She turned him around so he could see Demon-Damilola, where she lay sprawled, still in her winged form, her neck obviously broken.
Ruth gave Derrel a little shake when he tried to look away. “Oh no. You take a long look, Mike. Do you think there’s a prison that could hold something like that?”
“I don’t know...”
“That’s right, Mike, you don’t know, and trust me, you don’t want to know.”
Derrel was sure that she was going to drop him back to the floor, and he braced his body for a painful impact, but surprisingly, she set him down gently on the sofa.
“But Azza’s not like them. She—”
“Yes I am.”
All eyes turned to Azza. She stood up, pulling the blanket tightly around herself. Clarence moved behind her; he looked relaxed, but it was clear that he was positioning himself within striking distance.
“I’m the one who figured out how to blend the magic with the science. I may not have killed anyone, but I’m just as guilty as my friends.” Azza choked back a sob when she mentioned her friends. In all of this, Derrel realized it was easy to forget that the four of them had been best friends. “You’re the Root Woman, aren’t you?” Azza asked Ruth.
Ruth’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You know about me? How?”
“When we first started experimenting with the magic, we met a guy. He had some power... nothing special but enough to scam people out of money. He told us about you. You’re like the police of the supernatural or something, right?”
“Or something,” Clarence grumbled. His voice was a deep rumble, with a hint of a Central African accent.
Ruth shot Clarence a look, and he shrugged. “We ain’t no goddamn pigs,” Ruth spat. “But yeah, I enforce the Here Road Law. My colleagues assist in that regard.”
Ruth stepped closer to Azza. “So, excluding the multiple murders for now, the four of you knew you were getting into something dangerous? Or at least forbidden?” Ruth asked.
“We were young, super smart, and cocky. And we had just discovered that science, for all its hubris, had only scratched the surface of what’s possible.” Azza shook her head. “Also, do you like to be told what you can and can’t do?”
Biscuit laughed. “Yeah, right.”
“Could you two chill, please?” Ruth snapped at Clarence and Biscuit.
Biscuit pantomimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key. Derrel almost smiled but then remembered he was standing in a warehouse where countless people had been murdered and ground up for lunchmeat... a warehouse that, until just a little while ago, he was convinced he was going to die in. And, of course, there was the matter of the two freaking magic-vampire-demon-women who were lying dead just a few feet away.
Derrel politely held up his hand before interrupting. “Um, okay so you three,” he waved at Ruth, Biscuit, and Clarence, “you’re some kind of law enforcement? Is that Federal or Military? Special Ops? You know what, that doesn’t matter. When does the rest of the squad or team or whatever show up? I’d like to speak to whoever is in charge, because this woman,” he pointed at Azza, “while a participant in the early stages of what occurred here, is as much a victim as me and should be treated accordingly.”
Ruth laughed long and hard. When she had caught her breath, she placed her hand on Derrel’s shoulder. “Mike, we’re it. Nobody else is coming, shawty.”
Derrel stiffened at her tone. “My name is Derrel, and I would appreciate it if you could show a little more respect.”
“And my name is Savannah Swan, not Ruth, but you don’t hear me complaining, do you?
“Savannah who?
Savannah dismissed him, turning away without a word.
Derrel was growing angrier by the second. I almost died, for crying out loud.
“The question,” Savannah said as she stepped even closer to Azza, “is what we do with you?” Savannah fingered the silver bracelet on Azza’s wrist. “What is this for? What did the others think you could do that would scare them enough to put this on you?”
“I had more innate ability than they did. It bothered them.”
“Really? Because blood witches have no abilities, except those they steal... through murder.”
“It’s probably the protein,” Derrel interrupted.
Clarence and Biscuit stiffened just a bit, but Derrel noticed. Savannah turned slowly to face Derrel. “What did you say?”
“The... the protein. The thing they were killing everyone for,” Derrel said quietly.
“Holy crap,” Biscuit said stunned.
“Savannah—” Clarence took a few steps forward; he was now standing directly behind Azza. Derrel did not like the implied threat.
Ruth, or Savannah, or whoever she really was, moved so fast that Derrel could not track her. She grabbed Azza’s arm then demanded, “Explain. Now!”
Azza’s voice shook when she answered. “The Mocha Latte Protein. That’s what it’s called, right? That’s what Chioma and the others have been harvesting – well, trying to harvest – from their victims. But because it’s super rare, they weren’t that lucky.”
“Holy crap,” Biscuit said again.
“Azza, blood witches... their power comes from dark blood magic; not a protein,” Savannah explained.
“Yes, I know that,” Azza said. “But the three of you... your abilities come from the Mocha Latte Protein, correct?”
Ruth turned her head in Derrel’s direction, ignoring Azza’s question. “Mike, why would you attribute Azza’s supposed innate abilities to a protein?”
“Because she’s got it. She’s a... you know, carrier. That’s why they were going to try to breed us. Didn’t Demon-Damilola tell you all this when you questioned her?”
Savannah shook her head. “No. She died before she could share that with us.” Then to Azza, “You’re a carrier?”
“Yes.”
Savannah let out a huge sigh then closed her eyes.
“When you say ‘breed’ you,” Clarence did a pointy thing with his fingers, “you mean...”
“Yeah, breed us just like cattle,” Derrel confirmed.
“For the protein?” Clarence asked, obviously seeking clarification.
“Yes,” Derrel said exasperated. He wondered how they could all be so dense. “Breed us for the protein.”
“Holy crap,” Biscuit said again.
“This can’t be the first time someone has tried this?” Azza asked incredulous.
“As far as I know, nobody has ever even tried to harvest the protein.” Savannah shot a glance at Clarence.
“And you guys were successful in harvesting it?” Clarence asked.
“Yes. I helped perfect the process using my own blood. But I couldn’t produce enough, and that’s when they started—”
“Shopping for victims,” Clarence stated grimly.
“Yes.”
Savannah started talking fast. “We’ve got to move now. You two take her to the safe house. I’ll take care of Mike and nuke the building.”
“Wait. What?” Derrel demanded. “I’m going with Azza.”
“No. You’re not. Azza, you’re sure you don’t know where your friend went? Any clue at all?” Ruth asked.
“No. I didn’t even know that portal thing was possible, and based on Damilola’s reaction, I think Chioma may have kept it a secret from everybody.”
/> “Yeah. It’s kind of rare,” Savannah agreed.
“I’ve never seen it,” Biscuit agreed.
“I’m going with Azza,” Derrel insisted again.
It was as if he had not even spoken. Derrel was furious. He was not going to be left out of this. He was sitting on the story of all time; a Pulitzer or Nobel was within his reach. The life he had imagined for himself... the life he had all but given up on was going to become a reality.
Clarence and Biscuit hustled Azza toward the door. Derrel shouted, “I said I’m going with Azza, damn it!”
Clarence and Biscuit paused at the blown-out doorway. Derrel was momentarily impressed with himself.
“Mike, you really are a pain in the ass,” Savannah said, shooing the other three out the door. “Go, go, go. I got this.”
Derrel made a move toward the door, and Savannah slapped him. Every muscle in his entire body instantly stopped working. He was frozen in place. He could not even move his eyeballs in their sockets. He could sense Savannah standing directly behind him.
“Mike, I’ve only known you for a couple of weeks, but I bet I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking you’re going to write about all this, correct? Magic and monsters... heck, even the Root Woman, who came to work for you under the guise of the intern, Ruth. You’d be famous.” Savannah walked around to face him. “The thing is, one of my main job descriptions is keeping all of those things a secret. And Mike, I’m really good at my job.”
She’s gonna kill me.
Derrel could not believe it; they had saved him from the magic-vampire-demons just to kill him themselves? It did not make sense. But his mouth was just as frozen as the rest of his body, and so he could not protest.
Q-T-Pies (The Savannah Swan Files Book 0) Page 6
