Neema Umayma, a fledgling member of The Sisterhood of Shadows, must confront an ancient enemy believed long dead. When her best friend is murdered at the hands of a vampire, Neema is forced to use her powers in ways she never imagined. Wounded and desperate to understand the truth of her strange heritage, Neema must kill in order to save herself from a fate worse than death. But even with her astonishing abilities, Neema must survive long enough to answer two questions; One: How do you kill what's already dead? And two; If blood-drinking vampires are real, how are they related to the Sisterhood?
Warning this title includes strong sexual situations.
Then two women walked out of the shadows of the alley. One of them opened the door of the car.
"Dante Williams," she said. "Asshole."
She was thin, with skin the color of caramel. Shoulder-length reddish-blonde dreadlocks hid parts of her face, revealing only hints; full lips and high, sharp cheekbones, and eyes…
There was something wrong with her eyes. They shone in the darkness, the color of molten honey, of amber heated to translucence. They were the eyes of a lioness, a hunter's eyes. The same color as the snake's eyes.
"Please,"' Dante gasped. "Help…me…it hurts…"
The golden- eyed woman reached past him. She undid his seatbelt and grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled. Dante screamed again, the pain in his legs too monstrous to hold back.
"Don't…!" he shrieked. "My…my legs! Don't touch…don't touch meeeeee…!"
The golden-eyed lioness pulled him out of the car with one hand and tossed him, screaming, onto the ground. The other woman went around to the hood.
"This one's still alive," she said. Dante couldn't see her fully in the shadows, a flash of long straight black hair framing twin slashes of shining silver and crimson; eyes like blood and lightning. The second woman was talking about Cray. "Hurry up and do it."
The golden- eyed woman grinned.
"You picked the wrong city to go hunting, Dante," she purred. "Chicago was claimed before your granddaddy was born."
A stream of piss flowed down Dante's leg.
"Please, " he said, and now he was crying. Because he recognized her voice. It was the voice that spoken inside his head. The voice that had brought the snake. "Please...please don't hurt me."
From somewhere in the darkness, Dante heard another scream. Leverge. It was Leverge shrieking. It sounded like somebody was skinning him alive. A moment later, Cray began to moan.
"Daddy," he said. "That hurts, daddy!"
Cray's whine built in volume, became a roar of horror.
Dante's eye was drawn as something moved through the skies overhead. A moment later, a dark shape descended out of the night, dropping down from the clouds to land on the roof of the car. It was a tall woman, dressed in white and tan, her eyes flashing, luminous, pure molten silver. The tall woman with white dreads smiled, but her smile was cold, and Dante's terror doubled.
"Alright, ladies," the tall woman sang, and her voice was like an echo of windblown across the most ancient desert. "You've had your fun. Let's be about our business, shall we?"
The golden-eyed woman nodded. She grabbed Dante, ignoring his screams, glared into his eyes and whispered.
"I am the snake."
Her eyes flared, bright as twin suns. Dante felt his life drain into her, felt himself dying, memory by memory, felt her sifting through his life as she drank his mind.
The alleyway echoed with the screams of predators. 2 Tight Crew had fallen victim to hunters of a different sort than even Dante could have imagined.