The Best Black Vampire Story
You've Ever Read
No, it's not a misprint. That really is the title of my book.

Now, I'm not boasting or anything, but I really thought it was time the famous vampire myth had a non-comedic style story which focuses exclusively on the exploits of a powerfully seductive black vampire named Darius Champion. If you prefer vampires who are more traditionally sensual and romantic, then this story has all that and a lot more!

It’s a misty morning in this quaint upstate New York town with a population of around twelve thousand. A light dew has settled gently onto the bench outside of city hall where a disheveled young woman, with smooth skin—the color of dark honey, lounges lazily with her head buried down into her chest. Unruly dark hair obscures her face completely.
She wears a slightly worn black leather jacket with matching leather pants. Her black
t-shirt, with the words “Bite Me” scralled across the front, completes her biker chick look. It’s 6:01 a.m. on a Saturday and no one else is around but this sleeping figure.
The morning silence is interrupted by the sound of light, almost hesitant, footsteps walking down the sidewalk towards city hall. The footsteps come to a complete stop right in front of the woman with the zoned-out expressionless face.
“Excuse me. Miss?”
The voice belongs to an attractive black female wearing sensible shoes. The folded up map in her hand is a dead give away that she’s a stranger in town.
“Do you know if there’s any motels near here?”
The woman on the bench doesn’t move a muscle. It’s not apparent that she even hears the stranger speaking to her. After a good minute goes by, the biker chick finally looks up at the visitor as if she doesn’t see her, then slowly shifts her gaze over towards some object of interest way off in the distance.
Rochelle Prescott wasn’t sure if something was wrong with this woman, but she decides to try again.
“Miss? I’m passing through town and I really need a place to stay for the night. Can you tell me . . .?”
Rochelle gives up when she sees the woman isn’t going to acknowledge her presence, let alone speak to her. Curious, she moves in a little closer to look into the woman’s glazed eyes. They were pretty eyes, Rochelle thought. Light brown with long lashes.
“Are you okay?”
Instead of getting an answer from the leather chick, Rochelle is startled by the sound of heavy footsteps coming up quickly from behind.
“I’can help you, ma’am.”
Rochelle turns around to find a middle aged man dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans smiling cordially at her. Thank goodness someone in this town was alert and totally with it. Although, it had spooked her a little that he seemed to come out of nowhere.
“Thank you, sir.”
“The nearest place is the Sleepy Trail Inn about one mile up the road from town.”  He points toward the trees for emphasis.
“You got a car?”
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll find it okay.”
Rochelle walks away from the two townies quickly. This brief encounter makes her feel uneasy, but she brushes it off as just an isolated incident. When she glances back, the man was still staring at her. She also noticed that the biker chick still hadn’t moved from her frozen position. The woman still stared blankly at nothing in particular.
Rochelle mumbles to herself as she heads for her car.
“Must be drugs.”
After Rochelle drives off, Zoey Spangler gets up from the bench and silently walks away towards parts unknown.

************************

On the sidewalk outside of a convenience store located in their picturesque neighborhood, Lonnie Fontaine, a slender, Seneca Indian, with long hair and a laid back attitude, and his good friend Chang Lee, are sharing small talk when they both notice Lonnie’s ex-girlfriend, Nina Pham, crossing the street and heading their way.
“Man, she looks stoned,” Chang said.
Nina, whom Lonnie hadn’t seen for a while, appeares to be in some kind of trance-like state, like a heroin addict who’d just had a fix, although Lonnie knew she’d never done drugs in her life. Although he’s concerned about his former girlfriend’s well being, he decides to make light of the situation.
“Hey, look who came to see me, Chang. I knew you couldn’t stay away forever, darlin.” Lonnie purposely stands in Nina’s way, preventing her from passing him. He looks deep into her glazed eyes.
“How are you, Nina?”
Nina looks into Lonnie’s worried face and vaguely seems to recognize him. The voice in her head was all that she’d been concentrating on. The voice was telling her things that she desperately needed to hear—like how much she was loved and needed.
“Lonnie? You shouldn’t be looking at me like that, Lonnie. I’m not your girlfriend anymore.”
Lonnie wasn’t about to be deterred by this hurtful truth.
“Nina. Why don’t you stick around and talk with us awhile? I’ve missed your sweet face,” he said.
Nina stares at Lonnie without a trace of emotion.
“I have to go, Lonnie,” Nina said.
The pretty and petite Nina lapses back into her trance and walks slowly down the sidewalk. As Lonnie watches her walk away, he knows it’s useless trying to talk to her while she’s in that condition. He resented it deeply.
“She’s probably going to walk around like that until she can go see that bloodsucking vamp. Look at her, Chang. Walking like a zombie. I can’t believe it’s the same girl I used to hang with, man.”

************************

Inside the wooden tool shed, that sits somewhere on the lush acres behind the Sleepy Trail Inn, Reg Nickerson is being tormented. His body wrenches around uncontrollably and he continuously knocks his head against one of the shed’s walls in a vain attempt to rid himself of whatever painful thing is residing inside his brain.
“No. No! Please stop. I . . .I can’t take it! I’m sorry.”
Reg holds both hands over his ears as he bangs against the wall again. The pain was almost unbearable. It burned like fire through his whole body. A hot white heat that no words could possibly express. The voice in his head was particularly loud—and angry.
“I’m sorry. I promise not to do it again,” Reg cries.
“Please . . . stop!”
Reg screams out in agony. Suddenly the pain disappears as quickly as it had come and his head begins to clear. Grateful to be relieved from his torment, he whispers to someone or something his eyes cannot see with a mixture of respect, fear and humility.
“Thank you, master.”

************************

On the west end of town, Pilar Hutchinson walks up to a three story blue and white building with a wooden facade. She double checks the instructions written down on a small piece of paper just to make sure she’s at the right place.
“Plain Ole Bar and Grill. Yep. This is the place he said he’d be.”
Pilar pushes in the ornate wooden door and walks inside.
There are a few people scattered around the bar for an afternoon drink. They barely seem to notice the pretty Puerto Rican woman with her designer jeans and tan suede jacket. The bartender, however, notices her right away. It was his job, after all, to be aware of any strangers coming or going. You never knew who was going to come in unexpectedly or what kind of trouble they might bring with them.
Pilar put on a friendly smile as she approaches the bar. The bartender looks at her suspiciously as he wipes a beer mug clean.
“Nice place.”
“It’s a living. Can I help you, miss?”
Pilar hops up on one of the worn leather bar stools and put both hands on the counter, right where the bartender could see them. This was so she would appear less threatening. It was one of those “non-verbal cues” her husband had taught her.
“I hope so. I’m looking for a guy named, Hutch. He’s supposed to be staying at your fine establishment.”
The bartender squints his eyes. Pilar felt he was trying to sense something about her. Something that the average person wouldn’t notice unless you knew what to look for. She knew he was sizing her up in that way—and she knew why he was doing it. But Pilar was careful not to reveal any more than she intended someone to know.
“That name doesn’t exactly sound familiar,” he replies.
Pilar whips out her drivers license and shows it to the bartender.
“I’m Pilar Hutchinson. His wife.”
The bartender relaxes and suddenly becomes very friendly.
“Why didn’t you say so before? He’s staying in one of the rooms upstairs. You’re welcome to go up if you want.”
Pilar smiles and puts her I.D. back in her jacket pocket.
“I will, thanks. After you fix me a drink.”
“What’ll it be?”
“Your best imported lager.”
“Comin right up.”
The bartender winks at her before going off to select one of his specialty German imports. This lady was something special. His female regulars never ordered lager. He didn’t know how that guy Hutch had gotten so lucky. Maybe he could pry it out of him in exchange for a free drink.

************************

Karen kept glancing at the doorway nervously. All the while she wore a big bright smile on her face. She didn’t want to give the impression that anything was amiss. Their dining experience must be made to feel as natural as possible. It was her job to make sure that impression came off perfectly.
So far so good.
Suddenly, the hair on the back of Karen’s neck stood up. It was time. Time to see who were the real guests and who were the selected ones. Sometimes it was several of them. Sometimes it was only one or two—but someone was always selected.
“Ah, hi everyone. As soon as the mistress of the house arrives we can . . .”
As if on cue, Delijah Champion makes her grand entrance into the dining room. All eyes turn to look at this tall, diva-like woman wearing designer shades.
“We can, begin the big pig out,” Delijah said.
Everyone laughs. They watch Delijah stride across the room with the aura of a queen. She wears blue jeans, a white shirt, high heeled black boots and an ornately decorated brocade jacket. Her hair flows down her back in dark, thick waves and her perfectly manicured nails are painted a deep shade of red.
“Hello everybody. I’m Delijah Champion. Mistress and co-owner of this sweet little inn. Hope your stay here has been good so far.”
Delijah gestures with her hands as she talks. Her voice was rich and melodious. She had no problem speaking with self confidence and conviction. This was a woman who had presence. When she entered a room you definitely noticed her. As for Delijah, she enjoyed soaking up the spotlight. In another life she could’ve been an actress. She certainly had the flare for it.
“Here at the Sleepy Trail we aim to please. And please. . . and please,” Delijah said.
One of the male guests speaks up.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Champion.”
The man stares at her lustily as she sits down in her seat at the head of the table. Delijah captivated people and she knew it.
“Oh, call me Delijah. I can’t stand too much formality, except from my servants.” 
Delijah glances over at Karen who was busily placing small portions of food on her mistress’ plate. Delijah spreads her long brown arms outward in a grand gesture of sharing.
“Help yourself everyone. There’s plenty of food here.”
January is one of the first to dig into the plates of eggs, home fries, quiche, pancakes and other assorted goodies. She greedily watches a big slab of butter melt down the sides of her fluffy pancakes, then follows up with a healthy helping of pure maple syrup.
“It’s breakfast for dinner. I’m diggin it,” January said.
Delijah politely watches her guests fill their plates with food, then takes even more delight in watching them enjoy the delectable home cooked meal. The cook here was one of the best in the area and he was definitely worth his weight in gold. The free meals were one of the inn’s main attractions. It also kept the guests, fat and happy.
The Johnson’s are at the opposite end of the table filling their plates as well. Mr. Johnson leans over and whispers into his wife’s ear.
“I wonder where that other couple is? If they don’t hurry, they’re gonna miss out.”
“Are we missing someone?” Delijah inquires.
Mr. Johnson wonders how she could have heard what he said from way across the table.
“Yeah. The Tishermans. They’re stranded like us,” Mr. Johnson said.
“Last we saw, they were back there in the woods looking around.”
Delijah looks at him reassuringly.
“Well, I wouldn’t worry too much. Some people get extremely fascinated by our little nature area out there.”
The cleaning lady joins them at the table. She had changed back into her silk lounging pajamas.
“I’m sure they’ll be here soon. I specifically told them not to stay out there too long.”
The Johnson’s nodded their heads in agreement. She had indeed told them not to wander too far off the property. What could the Tisherman’s be doing out there all this time? What were they, some kind of nature nuts?
The cleaning lady serves herself up a big slice of spinach quiche. She made no attempt to introduce herself and neither did Delijah. Everyone figured she must be Delijah’s assistant.
Delijah sticks her fork into a piece of potato but doesn’t eat it. In fact, she still hadn’t eaten a bite of food. She makes a good show of using her utensils and distracting the guests with conversation.
“Anyway, they’re not the only ones missing,” she said.
Mrs. Johnson looks up from her plate.
“They’re not?”
She wondered who else on earth could be missing. Delijah looks directly at Mrs. Johnson and gives her an extremely charming smile.
“In case some of you were looking forward to meeting my brother, Darius. He sends his deepest apologies that he won’t be joining us for dinner. Alas, he’s not feeling up to it.”
Rochelle wondered who Darius was in relation to the inn. This is the first time she’d heard his name mentioned. So what? He was her brother. Why should they care about meeting him? Rochelle was there for a few days of rest and relaxation. She didn’t care if she ever saw this Darius person.
An amused chuckle escapes Delijah’s lips, as she reads the woman’s mind. She then  looks straight into Rochelle’s eyes, which startles poor Rochelle for a second. Delijah’s gaze is deep and piercing. She almost seems to be looking right through Rochelle. Right into her very soul. The moment passes quickly, though, and Rochelle feels a bit foolish for being intimidated, just because this charismatic woman was looking at her.
“But at least I’m here, right?”


Buy this book right now:

Amazon.com

Booklocker.com (This is where you can read the first two chapters from the book-FREE)

BarnesandNoble.com

BooksaMillion.com

Oh yeah, and if you're curious about what happens next--all I can say is ... keep reading {wink}

Meanwhile, I wish you the best. And, as Darius would say in his rich, silky voice: "I'll see you in your dreams, my sweet."

Donna Monday

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