Gangpire III (Gangpire Trilogy, Volume 3)

By Sentu Taylor

When Tacoma finds out that the Honored Elders gave his wife, Helen, an ultimatum under a death threat he asks her to hide with Seattle and his son Menelik as he plunges head first into preparations for war. He blackmails FBI agent Shane Tyson to give him the classified weaponry used to kill vampires. Tacoma sends Iron Head and Slow Poke to different cities to recruit new GANGPIRE disciples, while he and Raider join forces with a vampire revolutionary group called The Modern Collective. Yes, Raider is back and asserts himself to be Tacoma's right hand again. It seems as if the Gangpire gang has it all figured out, and then chaos erupts. Helen's hide out was the farthest thing from safe, Iron Head gets unexpectedly side tracked on his mission, and Slow Poke can't find enough soldiers on his out of state trip. After becoming separated from Helen, Seattle disobeys her brother and takes the mischievous Menelik and his pet hyena to the exact place Tacoma didn't want them to be, Oakland, California, which turns into a fiasco within itself. Starburst resurfaces to wreak havoc, and on top of all that Tacoma learns that he himself is a bigger danger to his family and friends than his adversaries are. Find out who will survive this anarchic journey of torture, slaughter, and black magic as new enemies are established, old feuds are rekindled, and friends become traitors in this final installment of the critically praised Gangpire trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sentu Taylor
• Release date: Dec 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370417179

Sentu Taylor

Reading was always something I enjoyed. I favor horror/ vampire stories, and even though there are many, I never found a good book that relates to african american urban hood horror. I started researching various obscure African originated myths, and inspired by them, day dreamed a bloody, crazy tale into existence. This is my first book, and part 1 of a series, with Gangpire II to be released October 2014. I hope you take a ride into this dirty, twisted, and comedic story with me. My favorite writers are too many to name, and tend to change, but Chuck Palahniuk and Blake Crouch are usually on top of that list.Thank you for stopping by, and make sure to order a copy of Gangpire today!Yours trulySentu Taylor

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Shane Tyson’s body lay in shivering cold sweats when the indescribable pain of transformation began to subside. Slowly he rolled himself over from lying on his stomach onto his back. Breathing heavy, staring up at the chrome ceiling of the elevator, he bore no reflection. As if he needed any confirmation of what Raider has done to him. He turned his head to the side and looked at his right arm. The right sleeve of his sport coat was torn apart but the wound Raider inflicted upon him, when he was slamming his fangs into the tender bend of his right arm, was no longer visible.

On wobbly legs he stood up, took off his sport coat, and hung it over his arm to conceal the condition of his garment. What have those dirty motherfuckers done to me? He thought rhetorically to himself as he unpressed the emergency stop button on the elevator’s service panel. Bing! The doors opened on the same floor he entered the elevator on just twenty minutes ago.

He looked upon the faces of several fellow FBI agents that were in the act of prying the elevator doors open. Sir, are you okay? One of his subordinates asked having noticed the ghastly look on Shane Tyson’s face. Yes I’m fine; it was just awfully hot being stuck in that damn elevator for so long. Get someone to fix that ASAP, please. Shane Tyson pushed through the agents briskly and walked straight into his office. He locked the door behind him, closed the blinds, and slumped himself into his chair. After he called his secretary and told her that he’d be unavailable for the day, he poured himself a shot of Crown Royal. A habit he picked up from his former superior Gus Logan. He threw the shot back and let the tumbler fall to the ground. Pushing the bottle’s opening to his mouth he guzzled the whiskey. That’s more appropriate, since I’m a fucking vampire now. He thought as his harsh new reality began to set in.

Chapter 1

The first thing Tacoma and Raider embarked on after leaving the San Francisco FBI building was robbing a bank. Tacoma used to try to leave out of a bank with no less than 2 million dollars, but now since it has become commonplace routine he’d only take about$ 15,000 to $ 20,000 according to his daily plan. Raider on the other hand tried his best to balance as many filled moneybags as he could.

After that they retrieved Tacoma’s vehicle from Helen’s house in Berkeley and went to a store to get Raider a phone activated. Tacoma checked a text message on his phone, unaccustomed to wearing dark shades that hid his yellow eyes caused him to squint at the phone’s screen as well as feel like a douche bag for wearing shades indoors, while Raider was flirting with the store clerk. Raider Nation, it’s about that time we go meet up with Carlos. Poke and Iron Head are already heading up there. Tacoma interrupted. Well let’s ride, loc, Raider answered turning away from the giggling girl and walking out of the store like a soldier on duty, surprising Tacoma who followed him out.

Like how I did that cuzz? Walk away from her without saying bye or asking for her number or nothing. Raider smiled ear to ear while walking to the passenger’s door of Tacoma’s ‘87 Monte Carlo.

I was gonna ask you about that, that was hella weird, homie Tacoma said while unlocking his door. Raider climbed into the passenger’s seat, fingering his pockets for his cigarettes.

I bet that fucked her lil’ head up. Cuzz, I ain’t want her number, she works at a damn cell phone store and had no ass on her. I was jus’ practicin’ my mouthpiece on her so I can make my game tight enough to pull me a Helen like you, nigga. Raider declared earnestly, Tacoma shook his head at his friend and cranked the engine up. The car stereo immediately drowned out any more of Raider’s philosophical ideas.

45 minutes later Tacoma pulled into the parking lot of Mizz Pinky’s, one of Oakland’s raunchiest strip clubs. Oh yeah cuzz, this is where we s’posed to meet at? I like this nigga Carlos already. Sho’ glad I took hella money ‘cause we finna have a bachelor’s party after all, huh locster? Raider could barely contain his excitement while reaching over to the back seat for two moneybags from his bank heist. Before Tacoma could respond or set the park break Raider was out of the vehicle and skipping towards the entrance.

A Samoan bouncer as wide as a pair of refrigerators placed side by side stepped in front of Raider, I.D. lil’ homie, the man gruffed. Raider visibly annoyed at being slowed down from entering paradise reached into one of his moneybags and gripped a handful of cash stacks taped together in increments of a thousand dollars. He pulled the money out and cocked his arm back as if he was going to slap the burly man in the face with it. Which was actually Raider’s plot but Tacoma came up behind him and grabbed his friend’s elbow before he could do so. Raider smirked at Tacoma but calmly handed the man the bulk of cash. Nigga this my I.D. cuzz, this for me and my homie. Raider said disgruntled. The bouncer ignored Raider’s displeasure and with a gold encased smile pocketed the cash, Now that’s town business nigga, hope you gentlemen have a good time. He said as he opened the door for them.

Three Freaks by Turf Talk and Keak da Sneak was blasting through the stereo of the dimly lit establishment. It only being a few minutes past noon, except for a couple construction workers having their lunch break, the strip club was near empty and Tacoma quickly spotted Slow Poke and Iron Head in a corner booth nursing drinks. Raider never made it past the stage, his functional eye honed in on the curvy, caramel complected stripper swaying her hips to the music. The strobe lights accentuated the bright hues of her royal blue hair weave and a tattooed sleeve that was capped off with a hot pink Oakland Raiders logo at her shoulder I. Love. This. Bitch. This is my Helen, Raider thought as he fumbled with the banding tape holding a cash bundle together that he snatched out of one of his bags. Impatiently he ended up just launching the cash brick at her. It struck her in the bend of her leg as her butt was facing him and instantly caused a bruise to swell up. The woman had to grab a hold onto the stripper pole to keep from tumbling forward from the impact.

Without skipping a beat in her performance she spun herself around, hands gripped on the pole to face Raider with utter disdain. Nigga, what the hell is wrong with you? She snarled at him. Too transfixed by her looks to match her anger he just smiled at her, My bad baby, I...I...think I love you very much. He mumbled in genuine confusion. Just then a waitress tapped him on the shoulder, Can I get you something to drink? Raider couldn’t get himself to look away from the stripper who was giggling at his last comment. He pulled out another cash stack and handed it absentmindedly to the direction of the waitresses’ voice and in a barely audible voice said, Yeah...uh…uhmm...get me whatever..., and my niggas too.

Meanwhile Tacoma scooted himself into the booth his comrades occupied, lighting up a Newport cigarette. Slow Poke couldn’t help but grin as he gazed over in Raider’s direction, He ain’t waste no time did he? Hehehe guess being fresh out the crossroads is like being fresh outta prison.

"Shiiiidd, if Barlos don’t show up in the next twenty seconds, I’m finna get me a lap dance too, blood." Iron Head added and coincidentally at that moment Carlos walked in. As Carlos made his way towards them an entourage continued to file in after him. The strip club quickly was filled to capacity by men and women. Most of them looked to be in their twenties with a few aged ones trickled in the group. But all of them were vampires and part of the Modern Collective.

"Barlos, what’s popular, blood? Iron Head was the first to greet the tall, slender vampire. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Iron Head. Please from here on out I want you all to refer to me by my secret revolutionary alias of Savage." Tacoma stood up and shook his hand.

Savage it is, and I’m grateful to have the aid of you and the Modern Collective.

No, we’re grateful that the revolution has been finally ignited by you guys. We’ve been waiting on this opportunity for many generations.

Slow Poke eased into the conversation and got directly to the point, So what we gonna do? They gave my young thumper three days, cuzz. I say we go to Cuba right now and bring the war straight to ‘em.

Savage shook his head, The element of surprise may not be our best tactic, I say this because although the Honored Elders’ base may be in Cuba, all the islands in that region; Trinidad, Haiti, Puerto Rico, Jamaica, Barbados, V.I., are all strongholds for them. We’d be surrounded with no exit strategy. I strongly believe that if we build our numbers up and have them come here to your turf, we’d have the advantage. These are not all the members of the Modern Collective by the way; there are many of us arriving from all over the world as we speak. The revolution is under way! You have no idea how good it feels to be finally able to say that. Savage’s passion in his words wasn’t missed by anyone seated at the booth, and they all nodded their heads. A slim, beautiful woman with long curly hair and copper skin tone came up behind Savage. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and therefore was not mistaken for a stripper, I can’t believe this is finally taking place Carlos...I mean Savage. She mused as she draped her arms over his shoulders. He patted the top of her hand softly, This is my wife Whitney. She’s an expert martial artist so don’t let her slim physique fool you, it actually accentuates her fighting style. They greeted respectfully and she sauntered away so as not to intrude on their discussion. So why did you choose a titty bar for us to meet? Tacoma asked. Look around, this is perfect in being inconspicuous. Savage answered.

Yeah girl, just wait ‘til your ovaries get a load of me, I promise you I’ll have you wetter than a mermaid on her period. Raider rambled engaging the girl he beamed his money at in a V.I.P booth. The woman was holding her stomach in laughter and oddly seemed more intrigued by Raider’s awful pick-up lines than his hoards of cash. Never in my life have I heard no mess like that, boy you’re way past stupid.

No. I’m Raider, well unless you mean stupid in a sexy, erotic way then so be it. But anyway, how’s your sex life? I bet you never been pounded down by a vampire before.

Walking past them, Tacoma could only imagine what his best friend was telling the woman. He headed towards the exit and all eyes from the vampires seated in different booths and tables were on him, something Tacoma was used to since he was regarded with stares every time he showed up at his child hood stomping grounds. Stepping outside the noisy strip club he pulled out his cell phone and scanned down his contact list, tapped on a name and put the phone to his ear.

Shane Tyson was sitting in his office engulfed in depression. Each time his cell phone rang he hit ignore. As he was about to do it again as the phone rang yet again. He glanced at the caller I.D., it read Asshole #3, and he decided to take this call.

You sick, twisted fucks. He said through gritted teeth.

Shane, listen I know this is bad but I promise this wasn’t part of my plan. I’m gonna make this right.

Wasn’t part of the plan? Seems like it to me; make me a vampire so I’m forced to assist you in vampire wars. How the fuck could you possibly think to make this right? Do you have some sort of vampire cure?

That, I don’t. But just listen man, you’re a good guy and now you can be like a super-agent on some real heroic comic book type of shit. You’d never have to kill innocent people. You know about our reanimated heart that we use to feed, aid us with the guns, and I’ll make sure you have access to the same source of nourishment.

Shane Tyson was silent on the other line. He knew Tacoma had him. Before he could form a response Tacoma added, And look, only Helen knows how to create these hearts, so if you try to somehow take ours away from us, she can easily make it stop working. But once this fiasco is over she’ll create you one that you can keep in your house. Until then I’ll personally deliver your nourishment every two days.

You pompous little shit. I’m a senior FBI agent, how dare you try to ever so politely blackmail me? Shane Tyson spewed into the receiver.

Time is ticking Shane; it won’t be long before you need to feed. I’ll call you in a couple hours to pick up my guns. Tacoma said and hung up the phone.

Lighting up another cigarette before making a second call, Tacoma heard loud music blasting that rivaled the volume of the music leaking out of the strip club. He looked up and saw a caravan of customized cars pulling into the parking lot. In the lead was a candy painted, dusk blue convertible late model Jaguar. The Jaguar was outfitted with a hydraulic kit and showcased its three wheel motion capabilities before springing into a bounce in front of Tacoma who stood in awe. Then he recognized Slow Poke’s friend Tramp Loc in the driver’s seat of the vehicle, and stepped forward. Tac, what up loc. Tramp greeted him. Dude, you put switches on a Jag? That’s hella dope. Wow, wish I woulda thought of that. Tacoma mused with little reserve causing Tramp to beam proudly. Wait till you see what I did to my Excursion, I turned it into Sac Town’s first convertible S.U.V, lil’ homie. That nigga Poke inside?

Yeah, everybody in there. I’ll see you inside.

Tacoma walked back to lean against the wall of the building as the countless cars driven by members of South Sacramento’s Garden Blocc Crip Gang created places for them to park. He then dialed Helen’s number.

Chapter 2

In Ethiopia, Helen was in her room studying ancient Yoruba spells out of a grimoire that she bought from a merchant at a market in down town Addis Ababa. In return for giving Seattle crash courses in sorcery, the girl would baby-sit Menelik as she was doing now. Menelik’s consistent growth spurts pained him causing occasional tantrums, added to the boy already being more than a handful who spared Helen very little free time to conduct her studies. She was glad Seattle had taken him and his playmate/ hyena pet/ brother Barracuda out to play at a nearby lake. Yet within 30 minutes she missed her son and cohort already, as well as her husband Tacoma who had only been gone since the previous day. She daydreamed of how much she longed to be in his arms right then when her phone rang. Seeing his name on the contact I.D. she grinned from ear to ear like the moment they met and he charmed her with flustered attempts at sounding more educated than he really was. Hey hubby, she answered with childlike glee. Helen Selassie-Washington, how is my bombshell of a wife doing?

I’m fine honey, just studying this spell that will allow me to turn solid components into liquid, just nerd stuff. You just missed the junkyard gang; Seattle took them to the lake.

Damn, that sucks. I kinda wanted to talk with them too. Tacoma stated.

Well they’ll be back in couple hours. How’s Pedro holding up after Mama Marcella’s passing?

He’s trying to keep it bottled up, but that’s just Raider being Raider. Me and him...sort of... turned FBI Shane into a vampire and it’s dawning on me that we’re going to need like hella reanimated hearts to feed this army we’re putting together. Tacoma confessed.

You guys did what? Tacoma Washington, are you mad? Shane is a freaking high ranking prude, he’d never accept that.

Baby, it just happened. But now I’m holding the nourishment as leverage.

Helen laughed into the phone picturing what might have led to them sort of turning Shane Tyson into a vampire. Yes, I guess that will keep him in check. Gosh that’s so criminal. Now about the nourishment, you guys just need to have a few murder eligibles on stand-by for me and I’ll handle the rest.

Okay, I’ll get on that. I’ll call you back later to talk to the trio. Love you.

Love you too, tell everyone I said hi. Helen hung up the phone and jumped back into her studies in a much brighter mood.

At that same moment Helen’s brother Belete was in a nearby brothel doing some serious day drinking. He slammed back a shot and then glared, idolizing his brooding stare in the mirror behind the bar. His usually tapered beard that glided up to his afro has become just as wild and thick as his hairstyle.

After a hyena attack caused the remaining mangled stub of one of his arms to be amputated, Helen magically replaced the missing limb; but with a puny, pale arm that would look more fitting on a Japanese schoolboy than a full-grown black man. To avoid glances of curiosity which usually turned to a sneer of distaste, he constantly wore a jacket and his motorcycle gloves. Beads of sweat on his forehead reflected the dim lights in the brothel and looked like diamonds decorating his face as he ordered another drink.

Belete, mind if I have a seat? Someone asked him, but Belete saw no one but himself in the mirror he stared into. When he turned his head at the question draping in the air a muscular, bald, dark skinned black man stood next to him. The man was dressed immaculately in a black silk shirt, and grey dress pants. His smooth black skin glistened like the silk that he wore. I know what you are, you bare no reflection. Belete said unmoved. The man pulled out a bar stool next to him.

Would you like to become what I am? Rumor has it that you and your sister despise each other and now...

What do I need to do? Belete cut the stranger off in midsentence with his own inquiry. The stranger smiled satisfactorily unveiling large fangs in his mouth. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, flipping through the variety of different nation’s currencies he decided a 100 U.S. dollar bill would best suit the bar keep. My name is Majnoon. I have my friends waiting outside in the car where we should finish our talk, Belete.

   

At the lake nearby Helen’s parent’s house Menelik, Seattle, and Barracuda played in the water amongst the company of several hyena’s that traveled for miles just to get a glance at the fabled child. Menelik was unperturbed by the attention of the animals since has spent the entirety of his very short life in the midst of hyenas. Neither was Barracuda, since he himself was a hyena after all, though he was able to speak. But Seattle felt weary at times around the animals, especially during the occasions when Menelik, knowing he was under their protection, would use that reassurance to balk at her authority.

Ok, Menelik it’s time to go back home now. Seattle said while playfully splashing water in the boy’s face. Menelik’s grin quickly vanished.

Grrr, fuck home. Fucky fuck, fuck, fucky home. I’m no done. Barracuda no done. The boy growled and splashed an angry wave of water back at Seattle.

She glanced at the on looking animals with a phony smile to make them assume they were playing a game and then went under water. Seattle swam the nonexistent distance between her and the boy and pulled him under by his stubby legs, then pinched him hard on the inner thigh. With her arms around him in a hug they resurfaced when she whispered, Dude, you better behave or you’re not getting any of my ice cream that I got at home, and I will stop letting you say ‘fuck’ when no one’s around.

Menelik’s eyes quickly became moist, bottom lip poked out like any sad little boy’s. But I like ice cream and fucky. I’m sorrrry CeCe.

Seattle giggled at his pitiful state, I bet you are homie. She then called the generally well-behaved Barracuda and together they paddled out of the water. Menelik waved at the hyenas, crouched along the embankment and said, Bye, bye. Me and Barracuda gonna have ice cream. The animal’s bowed their heads and then let out a snickering howl of adoration mixed with pride.

Chapter 3

In Oakland, Tacoma, Slow Poke, and Iron Head shook hands and exchanged small talk with the Modern Collective. Tramp and his platoon mingled as well. Raider trotted out of the V.I.P booth with a huge grin, speckles of blood on his cheeks and chin and strutted straight towards Tacoma once he located his friend in the crowd. Cuzzo, we got us a new Gangpire member already and that bitch is hella fine. He said excitedly.

Tacoma laughed at him, Dude, you turned that stripper you been chilling with? I hope ya’ll get along better than you and Starburst did.

I do too. This could be my wife and shit, cuzz. Raider responded seriously. So what’s her name? Tacoma asked.

Oh shit... lemme go back there and ask her, she should be about done with her transformation. With that remark Raider spun on his heels and hurriedly headed back to the V.I.P. booths. Slow Poke who stood next to Tacoma shook his head, He hasn’t changed a bit.

Nope Tacoma concurred and the two shared the type of laugh that only close friends do. Iron Head stepped in front of them and cleared his throat.

Say blood, I’m ‘bout to leave out and go to my ‘hood. I should be back the day after tomorrow with a mean team, hit my phone if anything changes, dog.

Alright man, and thanks bro, Tacoma said.

Blood, don’t mention it. You niggas broke me out the joint where I was gone be forever. I’ll never forget that shit, plus busting heads is my hobby.

And at that you’re a pro, but aye homie please don’t get sidetracked when you get down there, cuzz. Slow Poke added.

"Don’t worry blood, I got this. I’m the king of Barson Ballafornia, and my Cabbage Patch Piru thumpers love me to death and shit after all the work I put in. But I’m gone, dog."

With uneasiness Slow Poke watched Iron Head walk towards the exit of the strip club. Turning back to Tacoma he said, "I hope he don’t do nothing outlandish when he gets home. That’s my homie, but that fool is a real live wire, I done seen him drink a nigga’s blood years before we

was vampires. Anyway cuzz, I think I should snatch some thumpers from up north. I got a cousin in Washington whose squad is hella active. You and Raider can pretty much cover the Bay, Tramp got his Sacramento soldiers here already, and with Iron Head going to SoCal I might as well recruit outta state."

Yeah, that does make perfect sense. Thanks again Poke, I swear I’d be lost in this shit without my big homie. Oh and I’ll have some of them high tech straps when you get back. Raider turned FBI Shane.

Hahaha fuckin’ nut, that move alone makes up for some of the dumb shit your homie is prone to do. Slow Poke bellied over in laughter, just as the topic of discussion approached them with his an arm slung over the shoulder of the stripper. Told ya’ll niggas her name was Keisha. Raider grumphed and led her away before his friends could expose his bluff.

Iron Head was glad to step out of the crowded strip club. Him being the only Blood in a room full of boisterous Crips throwing the ‘cuzz’ word around was infuriating him. When Slow Poke and Tramp, said the word it didn’t bother him but that was because they’ve been through hell and back together and he knew they wouldn’t hesitate to lay down their lives for him as he would for them. But hearing it said by anyone else made him feel treasonous especially now that he was set to go back to his long missed stomping grounds. Iron Head spat the distaste out of his mouth onto the windshield of one of the blue low riders that made the parking lot look like a rap video shoot and then threw his body into a soaring flight.

Chapter 4

After her fight with Raider that she decided to retreat from, Starburst did not stop gliding through the horizon until she reached the