AVIA II: Bullets and Betrayal

Greg Locke is the detective who thinks he can put away both Avia and Benton in the next book in the Avia series. When their heist goes bad, these two are faced with a choice: jail time or a tropical escape to Hawaii. Stuck in a life of crime they can’t seem to leave behind, Avia and Benton drag readers through every twist, turn, and betrayal. Thriller author Stacey Carroll shows you that crime can pay—in the worst ways.

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Chapter 1 — Avia and Benton

Avia coughed, choked and gagged before hanging her head over the hotel toilet and vomiting. Once her stomach was empty, she laid with her back across the stone tiles and looked up at the ceiling while she tried to catch her breath.

In the other room, she could hear her cell phone screaming, alerting her to the fact that she needed to shower, dress and get the hell out of the door so that she could fly to Texas. She groaned. The noise did nothing for her heroin and alcohol-induced headache.

Avia crawled out of the bathroom and grabbed her cell phone off the bedside table before pressing every button to get it to shut up. She then yanked open the bedside drawer and fumbled for her pack of cigarettes.

After pulling one out, she checked the end. Avia barely remembered turning half of them into coco puffs before shooting-up and drinking far too much whiskey. She fumbled the lighter, nearly dropping it before she finally lit the damned thing and inhaled deeply.

Her lethargy and mental fogginess dissipated immediately, having been replaced with the chemical alertness offered by cocaine.

Avia picked herself up off the floor and looked around the hotel room. She was alone. For half a second, Avia couldn't remember why. Then, she remembered the argument. Benton had stormed off to get a separate room under the guise of sleeping.

“Fuck my life,” she muttered before turning and exiting the bedroom for the bathroom.

She needed to shower, dress, pack and get to the airport. She doubted Benton would show. Knowing him, he'd book a commercial flight and arrive in Texas hours after her just to avoid traveling with her.

As she stepped into the shower, Avia decided it was fine. She'd fly by herself. It'd make things easier since she wouldn't have to explain the condition of the Seneca or why it wasn't fixed.

Going down to Texas meant dealing with L, and Avia was not in the mood. Being ordered to travel down there today put her in even less of a good mood. There was a vacation in her immediate future, and she was tempted to take it by herself.

Avia finished showering. She wrapped a towel around her hair and one around her body before walking into the bedroom. Her suitcases were on the floor. She lifted the largest one onto the bed and opened it. Jeans. T-shirts. Socks. Underwear. Avia opted for a light summer dress and sandals. She tied her hair back in a sloppy ponytail and called it good enough. She wasn’t going to a party. She was flying a beater Seneca for 13 hours.

After dressing, she packed her clothes and took one last look around the room for anything she had forgotten. Her black zippered case was inside the bedside table drawer next to the hotel-issued Bible. Forgetting it was not an option.

She reached for it. Avia was 90 percent certain Benton would take a commercial flight. However, the 10 percent chance that Benton would join her stopped her from opening it. Instead, she slid the black zippered case into her bag. If he didn't show, she'd shoot-up in the air after setting the autopilot.

Avia grabbed her bag and walked out of the hotel room. There was no line at the front desk. Avia slid her card. Normally, Benton would have paid, but Avia didn't see him in the lobby and when the elevator doors opened, two elderly couples exited, embroiled in a debate over the best pain relieving muscle cream.

“The gentleman in the room with you?” the desk clerk asked.

“He rented a different room last night,” Avia said as she signed the credit card slip with the name that appeared on the card – Tasha Quade.

She crumpled and trashed the receipt on her way out the lobby doors. The weather looked good. It was still slightly chilly but nothing intolerable. By the time she arrived in Texas, it’d be 80 degrees.

Standing under the carport, Avia scanned the lot for the car before it occurred to her that she'd arrived with Benton. The car in the lot was Benton's, and if she stole his $80,000 Corvette, he’d kill her the next time he saw her.

Avia rolled her eyes. It occurred to her to call a cab to drive to the Dodge Stratus she'd left on the side of the highway, but that was weeks ago. If no one had bothered to steal it, it was impounded somewhere, which was fine with Avia. If it was impounded, no one would find it for years, and it was guaranteed the tow yard would eventually auction it to recoup their storage fees.

Avia walked out of view of the hotel cameras. Most of the cars in the lot were new, which meant automatic, preinstalled, car alarms. None of those would help her this morning.

She started to set her bag on the ground when a 1991 Chevy caught her attention. It was located at the back of the lot but closer to the street than she would have liked. At least, it was dark.

Avia stepped off the curb and walked across the lot, paying attention to any footfalls that might be behind her and sounds of the lobby doors opening. She didn’t hear anything as she approached the car.

She tested the door handle, betting the car was so old the door locks no longer worked. Avia grinned when it opened and tossed her bag into the passenger's seat.

Now, she needed a screwdriver. There was one in her airplane, but it didn't help her here. Avia opened the glove box. Car registration. Pen. Miscellaneous paperwork and a metal nail file. The file would work in a pinch, but she preferred to have the durability of a screwdriver, especially if she had to crack open the underside of the steering column. The nail file was more likely to break in the ignition than start the car.

Avia slid the switch on the dash for the trunk and heard it pop open. She stepped out of the car and walked around to the back. Opening the trunk farther, she noticed it contained a set of jumper cables, an emergency flashlight that plugged into the cigarette lighter, oil, antifreeze, windshield washer fluid and no immediate sign of a toolbox or a screwdriver.

In a car this old, there had to be a screwdriver. Even a rusty one would work. Avia dug a little deeper in the trunk and found a small box. When she reached to grab it, her hand was immediately assaulted by grease, spider webs and God knew what else. Avia gagged as she moved the box to the front of the trunk. She flipped the lid and immediately found the screwdriver she desired.

Avia closed the trunk and walked back to the driver's side of the car. She slid in and closed the door. She had two choices. She could jam the screwdriver into the ignition or break apart the underside of the console. She decided jamming the flathead into the ignition was the better option. Avia turned the screwdriver and listened. The car cranked once. Twice. Three times before the engine roared to life.

Someone was going to miss this later today. She wiped her nasty hand on the passenger’s seat, put the car in gear and backed out of the parking space.

The airport was a 30-minute drive, and soon she was walking around her Seneca with a flashlight, performing a needless preflight. These checks and tests were designed to ensure the plane was safe to fly. Avia already knew it wasn't. They were going to crash in the middle of a tumbleweed and cactus field. There would be an FAA investigation to determine the causes of the bullet holes and other suspicious damage. Technically, Avia needed a ferry permit for this mess, but she didn't want to deal with the paperwork or the fucking A&P who would sign off on it.

Avia walked back to the car. She pulled out a roll of duct tape out of her bag and started retaping the holes in the sheet metal. They didn't call it 500 mile an hour tape for nothing. When she was finished, she checked her watch. It was 4:30AM with no sign of Benton.

She pulled out her pack of Pall Malls and lit one, taking a deep drag. When she felt the rush of cocaine, she dropped the cigarette onto the tarmac and crushed it. She wanted to calm down not amp up. Avia made sure the second one was plain before lighting it and inhaling deeply.

She still needed to fill the hydraulic lines with a bottle of water. She had a second bottle for the landing. While gravity was great for getting the main gear down, it almost never locked the nose wheel into place, and Avia wasn't in the mood to wait for new propellers when she spun hers into the ground.

Avia crushed the half-smoked cigarette under her sandal and picked her bag up off the tarmac. She threw it in the aft cargo hold and put the bottles of water on the front seat. She was ready to climb in when she saw headlights coming towards her from across the tarmac. Avia hoped to hell it wasn't a cop or airport security. Though, she was confident she could talk her way out of both situations by showing her pilot's license or offering a blow job. She didn't care which. Whatever got them off her back and onto someone else's.

As the car approached, Avia realized it wasn't a cop. It looked like Benton’s new Corvette, but under the haze of the airport lighting, she wasn’t certain. Avia stepped down off the wing and walked around to meet the individual in the car. She was alone out here. There was no way they were here for anyone else.

When the man stepped from the car, she realized it was Benton. He hadn't opted for a commercial flight after all. Avia couldn't decide if she was happy or angry.

“Where'd you get that?” Benton asked as he stepped out of the car and motioned towards the 1991 Caprice.

“I wasn’t going to walk here,” Avia said. “And since you decided to leave last night, I didn’t expect you to be here.”

Benton sensed a continuation of last night’s argument and decided to avoid it. If she pushed the point, they could stand here and argue, but arriving in Texas at midnight was not preferable. “Is the plane ready?”

“Yeah,” she said. “If we want to land in Texas at some point today, we need to take off now.”

Benton nodded and walked around to the copilot's side door, which was misleading. It was the only door that led directly into the cabin. “Up and in, Captain.”

Avia stepped onto the wing with a butt-boost from Benton. She slid into the pilot's seat and started her preflight checks as Benton made himself comfortable.

Once the door was closed, Avia started the engines and taxied towards the runway. Since it was an uncontrolled runway, all she needed to do was make sure no one was landing behind her or at the other end of the runway. She also needed to stay below 1,500 feet, or she'd have to talk to ATC at the controlled airport.

Avia saw nothing ahead of her or behind her in the night sky or on the runway, so she pushed both throttles forward along with the propellers and stood on the breaks until the engines reached full speed.

She released the brakes. They were in the air and climbing 20 seconds later. Avia set the autopilot and leaned back in the seat. “Get comfortable. It's a long flight.”

“Shorter than a commercial flight,” Benton said.

“Just because there are no layovers,” Avia said. “The flight time is longer.”

Flying was notoriously boring at night. There was nothing to look at but lights. Small lights in straight lines and predictable curves indicated highways. Large batches of lights were towns and cities, and over the years, they had simply grown larger. Avia remembered when Indianapolis and Plainfield were two different sets of lights. Now, they were continuous, and the map indicated it.

Like most pilots, Avia found flying to be a serious exercise in not falling asleep interjected with moments of mortal terror, and given the status of her plane, she expected terror at some point along this flight. She hoped it wasn't until they crossed into Texas.

As they traversed across the early morning night sky, she could see Benton glancing at her periodically, but he wasn't saying anything. Avia didn't want to talk. What she wanted to do was keep an eye on the gauges, listen to the engine and pump crap through her veins until she passed out, but Benton's presence made the latter impossible.

To her surprise, the Seneca flew well enough. It wasn't perfect, but the autopilot seemed to be able to compensate for the increased drag and other factors that kept their airspeed low and the engines revved high, but Avia couldn't complain. They weren't crashing, and they were almost to L's ranch.

Landing at L’s didn't fill Avia with exuberance either, but staying in the air was not a possibility. They had flown the entire flight without refueling, and the extended tanks were almost empty. She'd get one, maybe two attempts to land before the engines shuddered and choked from lack of fuel.

Avia lined up her black and maroon Seneca for the straight approach into L’s private runway – airspeed 70 knots, flaps 10 degrees, gear down.

Forty-five seconds until touchdown.

She flipped the landing light switch. It flickered. Something was sizzling in the dash. Under ordinary circumstances, she would have turned off the lights, but L’s runway contained zero runway lights, and after a 13-hour flight, the sun was setting.

“The minute this plane lands, L is dead,” Avia said.

“You can’t kill him,” Benton said.

“There’s a 45 under your seat,” Avia said. One headshot was all it would take.

“No,” Benton said.

“Then you kill him,” Avia said as she compensated for the crosswind and added a second notch of flaps while checking the hydraulics’ gauge. Zero pressure. She had the water bottles, but it was too late to fill the reservoir.

“We’re not talking about this right now,” Benton said as he watched her. She was staring at one of the gauges. He couldn’t determine which from his angle.

“We are,” Avia said.

“Land the damned plane,” Benton said as he looked out the windscreen. The runway was approaching too fast and too crooked for his liking.

“It's a crosswind,” Avia said. “Be glad it isn't covered in tumbleweeds.”

She trimmed the plane for 60 knots, pulled the throttle back and watched as the airspeed decreased to 55kts. She pushed the throttle forward. Pulled it back. Fucking wind. Fucking short runway. Ground effect was not her friend this evening, and Avia watched as half the runway disappeared behind them.

Finally, the left wheel touched down followed by the right. Avia pulled the throttle all the way back and pulled the yoke to her chest in an effort to keep the nose wheel off the ground for as long as possible. She suspected it was down but had no way to determine if it was locked.

The short runway had her slamming on the brakes much sooner than she would have liked. The nose of the plane dropped. Avia cringed, waiting for the nose down angle and grinding and shuddering that indicated her propellers were being destroyed by asphalt.

When it didn't happen, she breathed a sigh of relief. Avia kicked the right rudder peddle and revved the engines, spinning the plane around and back-taxiing to the hangar. She turned the engines off for the last 10 feet.

They rolled to a silent stop in front of the closed hangar doors. The mechanics had long since gone to their cabins for the night. Avia was tempted to take a Jeep out to see if any of them were still awake. It wasn't that late – not yet.

Avia turned her head when she heard the door open. Benton was getting out. Avia was tempted to grab the 45 under the seat but knew Benton would confiscate it.

She moved over to the copilot's seat and waited for Benton to get off the wing-step. Avia was halfway out of the plane when she felt his hands around her waist, lowering her onto the dull-gray asphalt tarmac.

“They need to repave this,” Avia said.

Benton slid an arm around her petite waist as they walked toward the Jeep. “Money he doesn't want to spend.” He cast his gaze to the Jeep near the hangar. No driver. That was typical. The keys were under the floor mat. He’d drive.

Avia glanced at the hangar. “I need to talk to the mechanics.”

“Not tonight.”

“Yes. Tonight,” Avia said. “It needs parts. They have to order them.”

“We need to talk to L and get settled. Do it tomorrow morning.” Benton tightened the arm around her waist and guided her towards the waiting Jeep.

Avia broke away from Benton’s grip. “It'll take days to get the damned parts if they don't order them tonight.”

“And just how are they going to do that?” Benton asked. “It's almost 8:30PM. None of our suppliers are open.”

“They can order them online, and the supplier will see the order in the morning,” Avia said.

“There's no online order form. They have to call. The guys have to pull the parts, and we have to pick them up,” Benton said. “There's no UPS in our line of business.”

“That is bullshit.” Avia opened her own door and stepped into the Jeep, making herself as comfortable as possible on the barely padded seat. Both doors slammed in unison. “Then, what are we doing here?”

“Probably that damned run L keeps talking about,” Benton said. “But seriously, whatever the fuck he wants.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Avia said.

“Not kidding. The sooner we get this shit done, the faster we can leave.”

Avia grumbled and leaned back in the seat. “Fine.”

Benton resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was a damned argument every time they came down here. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Let's just get to the damned house,” Avia said.

Benton watched her cross her arms and shook his head. She was mad because he didn't want to fuck, left and got his own room. “Sometimes, people need to sleep. Your overactive sex drive can wait.”

“Then, we can wait the entirety of this trip,” Avia said. “I'm sure that would make L happy.”

“You're impossible.” Benton downshifted and turned the Jeep off the dirt road. If they were going to have this discussion, they were doing outside the view of the cameras and any patrols.

“What are you doing?” Avia asked.

Benton gave no answer as he parked the Jeep behind a line of trees. He grabbed the emergency brake and yanked. This was far enough from the mansion to avoid the cameras. It was outside of the patrol areas, and L seldom ventured out back.

Benton slid his seat back with one hand and unfastened his pants with the other. “Come here.” He grabbed her waist and spun her into his lap. His level of frustration was enough to give him a raging erection.

“Benton!” Her right leg slid between the door and the seat. The other settled somewhere near the emergency brake.

 

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AVIA - 1 Thunderstorms and .45s: 2018 Avia Version

 

 

Avia might be able to con a rich woman out of 50 million dollars before her vacation to Hawaii, but she's going to need some help to do it. She has to call in people she terms her "cousins," and she has to deal with the fact that she is still an alcoholic and heroin addict. With the help of Benton, can Avia actually pull off this heist and get out of town before it is too late?

Audio Retail Sample

Before I owned a microphone and could do the voiceover. The text with exciting music. If you want silence, mute it.

Chapter 1 – The Pick-Up

It was after midnight when Avia and Victor reached the side of the road about a half mile from the Grand Rapids airport and 500 feet from their Dodge Stratus. Rain pounded the pavement, leaving the visibility of the roads almost nonexistent. The howling wind overpowered the sounds of the creaking signs as they shifted and rattled under the pressure of the fierce storm.

“If this was the east coast, I’d swear we were having a hurricane,” Avia said just as a large boom of thunder drowned out the sounds of the rain and wind. She glanced down at her watch. Her black duster was no longer collecting beads of water. It felt more like a steady stream flowing down her back, starting at her black Fedora. Sighing, she removed her hat for the tenth time, draining the water from the brim before placing it back on her dampening head.

"Are you ready?” Victor asked as he cast a sideways glance at his wet cat of a partner. It wasn’t his idea to do this tonight, but Avia had left him little choice. Ten phone calls and a 13 hour Seneca ride later, he found himself standing on the side of the road in a torrential downpour in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

"Yeah,” Avia said, shaking more water from her head as her heels both crunched and sloshed in the black gravel. She was standing in the middle of a growing mud puddle that hadn’t been there when they had arrived. “Whose idea was this again?” She asked, glancing over at Victor. He had always had good taste in clothing, and tonight was no exception. He would have been better placed at the grand opening of an art gallery than standing on the side of the road.

“This was all you,” he said as he cast a sideways glance at her. At least she had dressed appropriately. Victor had been half-worried that she’d be sporting her usual attire of jeans, tunic, and boots. Instead, his red-headed partner had actually chosen well; black slacks, a white blouse, black stiletto shoes, and a matching overcoat. "Okay, let’s get this show on the road." He checked his watch before sticking his black gloved thumb out to the passing cars. “They should be here in two minutes, if Brian did his damned job.”

“If he didn’t, I am kicking his ass,” she said as she rubbed her aching wrists. This cold weather was not conducive to good circulation, and her ankles were quickly becoming as painful as her wrists.

“You are ninety-five pounds. You’re not kicking anyone’s ass,” Victor said. “What’d you weigh when you got out of rehab?”

“Hundred and five,” Avia said.

“And I saw you right after you got out. You’ve lost weight over the last six months,” he said as a white Camero slowed beside them.

“I have not. I eat,” Avia said as she turned to watch the white car. “What is she driving?”

“Not a Stealth,” Victor said. “I think it’s a white Camero.”

Avia shifted her stance. “They need to hurry. My toes are going numb.” She turned her gaze when a red Jeep started to slow down. “Any chance it’s a red Jeep?”

“No. That wasn’t a car that was listed when Brian sent the report,” Victor said.

Avia cursed.

“Hang tight. I think I see it,” Victor said.

“If I have to walk to that damned hotel…” Avia said.

“You won’t have to shoot anyone. I see it,” Victor said.

Avia watched as a white Camero slowed down and then pulled over about 20 feet ahead of them. “Finally,” Avia said as she turned to face the rapidly reversing car. She could see the water and gravel spraying up behind the tires. When the car came to a stop, Avia saw the man’s window slide down and his arm beckoning them over.

“Need a ride?" the man asked from the passenger’s side after they had walked within shouting distance.

"Yeah,” Victor said. “We would appreciate it.”

"Get in." The man opened the door and moved his seat forward, allowing Avia and Victor into the tiny back seat.

"Thanks a lot,” Victor said, closing the door.

"Where are you headed?" the woman driving asked as she pulled off the curb and sped down the waterlogged highway.

"The nearest hotel,” Avia said. She gripped the arm rest as the car hydroplaned into the lane. "We came here for a business trip, but it was canceled due to bad weather, and of course, they didn’t send a car.”

“I’ve had that happen more times than I can count,” the woman said.

“Who were you meeting?" the man asked.

"Some investors,” Avia said. “We’re trying to break into the biofuel market.” She paused as if in thought. “We found a few restaurants willing to pay us to take their used cooking oil, but we need some venture capitalists in order to buy the 500 acre farm that we’ll need for storage and processing.”

"Brilliant idea," the man said. “With the fuel prices getting to be the way they are, we certainly need an alternative fuel.”

"You’re telling me," Victor said. “Who would have thought that a barrel of oil would reach past sixty dollars?”

"Sure as hell, not me,” the man said. “And the name’s Brian." He extended his hand backwards and shook Victor’s briefly.

"Tell you what; we’re staying at a hotel, so I guess I could get you a room for a couple of nights,” the woman said. “At least that would give you time to organize another flight.”

"We would be grateful,” Victor said. “But you certainly don’t have to do that. Just getting us to the hotel is enough.” He paused. “And the name’s Victor.”

“Nice to meet you, Victor,” Brian said. “This is Stephanie.”

"Oh, don’t worry about it,” Stephanie said. “It’s the least I could do. You’re both soaked as it is.”

"We really appreciate it," Avia said. "When we get back home, I’d certainly be willing to reimburse you for the room."

"That won’t be necessary," Stephanie said.

“I can’t thank you enough," Victor said as he glanced out the window. With all the rain, he barely recognized the area, but it looked like they were headed downtown.

!- Continue all chapter content here, properly wrapped in

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The Tiny Vampire From Outer Space That’s Bitey VI: Clan Carboni

 

The homeless shelter is renovated and ready to open just in time. They have less than a month of bloodbags left, but circumstances on Earth have proven more challenging than they expected. Marcus hopes that moving them deep into the woods outside Beach City will provide them the shelter and safety they need to create their food and start Clan Carboni.

 

 

Chapter 1

Homeless Kitchen Opening Night

 

Marcus walked up to the front door of their homeless kitchen. There were a few homeless loitering at the entrance. Marcus watched them for a moment. They were unwashed, but Marcus couldn’t help them with that tonight. He didn’t have anyone to monitor the upstairs, so he asked. “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet,” the man said.

“The food is this way. I believe I smell lamb chops and mashed potatoes.” Marcus opened the door and motioned toward the dining room.

“Lamb chops.” The man looked astonished. “You’re not serious.”

“I am serious. Follow me.” Marcus led Shadow and the two homeless men into the dining room. He spotted Oliver dishing mashed potatoes near the middle of the buffet they had set up in the dining room. “I found two more.”

“The front of the line is down there.” Oliver pointed. “Sylvia was managing the front but we ran out of lamb chops. She’s cooking some more.”

“Looks like a good turnout,” Marcus said. He counted twenty-five eating in the dining room.

“It just picked up. I think word is spreading as they leave,” Oliver said. “This may have been a great idea to open at night. A lot of these guys said the last kitchen in the area closes at five, and if you aren’t there by three, you’re not eating.”

“Is that early?” Marcus asked.

“Yes,” Charles said. “Most people eat dinner at six. It’s almost eleven now. These guys are starving.”

“Let them eat as much as they want,” Marcus said. “We’ll keep this schedule. “We’ll open from nine to midnight.”

“That’s fine. That’ll give us time to clean up and still be in bed by two or three in the morning,” Charles said.

Sylvia walked out of the kitchen with a large pan of lamb chops. “These are finished. Did I just hear we’ll be opening from nine to midnight?”

“You did,” Marcus said. “Is that okay?”

“It’s fine with me, but when would I clean your house?” Sylvia asked.

“Hopefully, we’ll have a few volunteers,” Marcus said. “And you won’t be forced to serve food every night.”

“A group just walked in,” Shadow said. “Do we need to help?”

Marcus looked toward the front of the building. “Where can we help?”

“If you could serve the lamb chops, Marcus. Shadow, the rolls,” Sylvia said.

Shadow stepped behind the table and put two rolls on every plate that passed her.

Marcus placed a lamb chop on every plate with a pair of tongs. It took them about ten minutes to serve the fifteen people that walked through the door. “How many do you think we’ve served?”

“At least forty so far tonight,” Charles said.

“We could set up movies they could watch while they eat,” Shadow said.

“That’s a good idea,” Charles said.

Marcus chuckled. “She’s not being entirely unselfish in her suggestion. She wants to watch a movie while she passes out rolls.”

“It’s still a good idea, especially once we open the second floor,” Charles said.

“It’s fine. How much does it usually cost?” Marcus asked.

“For a TV and movie service? Not much,” Charles said. “I still have some money leftover from the door. I can do it with that.”

“We need to open bank accounts for them,” Oliver said. “We need a way to pay them.”

“I can do it when we get home,” Alera said.

Marcus looked at the clock on the wall. “Oliver and I need to go. Can you guys handle this?”

“We can,” Alera said. “I’ll walk Shadow home if you’re not back.”

“Thank you.” Marcus walked outside with Oliver. “We need to go behind the building.”

***

Oliver walked behind the building with Marcus then stepped through the portal. When he stepped out, they were in front of the cabin. “Where are the supplies?”

“Inside,” Marcus said. He stepped onto the porch and opened the door. Most everything he’d taken last night was in the living room. The rest of it was in the barn.

“I’m surprised these floors are holding,” Oliver said.

“This cabin is built remarkably well. I’d say it’s at least 1,500 years old,” Marcus said. “But no one has touched in at least 500.”

“Judging by the fixtures, that seems about right,” Oliver said.

“My plan is to use the Romodelator first. Whatever it doesn’t restore, we’ll replace,” Marcus said. “Materials we don’t use will go in the barn.”

“Where’s the Remodelator?” Oliver asked.

Marcus pulled it out of his back pocket. “Right here. It’s about half a million Empyrean dollars, so I didn’t want to leave it here.”

“Unholy Hades,” Oliver said.

“We couldn’t have bought this even if we wanted to.” Marcus looked at the settings. “Let’s see what this looked like originally. We can make changes later.”

“That’s fine with me,” Oliver said.

Marcus set it to the standard setting. “Stand back. Let’s see what it does.” He aimed at the living room wall and squeezed the trigger.

A beam of light shot from the end of the gun. Marcus winced.

Oliver shielded his eyes. “Not what I expected.”

“Nor I.” Marcus squinted as he aimed the gun, fanning it across the wall. “I should have gotten us some sunglasses.”

The rotten wood slowly unaged. The black mold disappeared. The discoloring stains faded. The rot healed and the woodgrain reformed.

Marcus released the trigger. “Impressive. That looks new.”

“That would have taken at least a night to replace,” Oliver said.

“It took this thing less than five minutes,” Marcus said.

“Do the rest of the room,” Oliver said.

“You better stay behind me.” Marcus aimed the gun and slowly moved it across all the walls in the living room.

It took him an hour to do the bottom floor and two hours to do the top floor. Marcus found out the hard way that the worse the damage, the longer the Remodelator had to be left on the area.

“How’s your foot?” Oliver asked.

“Healed,” Marcus said. “But I’m starving. We have to stop for the night, or I won’t be able to get us home.”

“That’s fine. I’m sure the girls are at home either playing cards or watching a movie,” Oliver said.

Marcus listened to the Bond. “Cards, I think.” He opened a portal and waited for Oliver to step though.

Marcus landed in the living room. As predicted, Shadow and Alera were playing cards in the kitchen.

“Already have the bags in the microwave,” Oliver said.

Marcus sat down on the couch and removed his shoes. He looked at the bottom of the right shoe. It was destroyed. “Damnit.”

“What?” Shadow asked.

“Destroyed a shoe tonight,” Marcus said.

“Hit it with the Remodelator,” Oliver said.

Marcus pulled the Remodelator out of his back pocket. He aimed it at his shoe, depressed the trigger and waited three seconds. Then, he released it. He set the device on the end table then examined his shoe. “That worked.”

“I made you a double-glass.” Oliver walked into the living room and handed it to Marcus.

“Thank you.” Marcus drained the glass in three swallows.

“Do you need more?” Oliver asked.

“I think I’m all right,” Marcus said.

Shadow walked into the living room. “What happened? You never drink that much.”

“Put my foot through the second floor,” Marcus said. “I’m fine, and I just fixed the shoe, but I was starving.”

“The cabin is looking good. I think we’ll have it mostly done by the end of tomorrow night,” Oliver said.

“I think we ended up with about sixty homeless for the night,” Alera said. “If you two just want to go to the cabin tomorrow night, Shadow and I can handle the homeless shelter.”

“That's fine with me,” Oliver said.

“We can do that,” Marcus said. “What do you think, Shadow?”

“They wouldn’t let me lick the lamb chops,” Shadow said.

Marcus grinned. It wasn’t funny that she wanted to lick the lamb chops, but the image of her doing it was hilarious. Vampires hated cooked food. The smell. The texture. It was all terrible, and they certainly couldn’t eat it. But Shadow’s love of those lamb chops in any form meant they were on the right track for a good food supply. “If you lick them, no one will want to eat them.” He looked at Alera. “Did she get some marrow mix?”

“I made her some fresh marrow mix once we were done,” Alera said.

“You can have more marrow mix once you’re done tomorrow night,” Marcus said.

“I plan on making a lot more. It seems to work really well,” Alera said.

“I’d like to eventually start working on bloodchocolates and bloodwine as well,” Marcus said.

“I’m sure we could figure that out,” Alera said.

“Let’s all reconvene late tomorrow night once we all finish our projects,” Marcus said.

“We’ll be done about one, maybe sooner,” Shadow said.

“Let’s say one in the morning then,” Marcus said.

“We can do that,” Alera said. “Let’s go home so I can work on some more bone broth.”

Marcus opened a portal. He closed it once Oliver and Alera were through then looked at Shadow. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Shadow said then grinned. “It’s pulsing.”

Marcus laid a land on her abdomen. “It’s going to be a strong vampire. Are you sure you feel okay?”

“I’m just chronically hungry with this one,” Shadow said.

Marcus offered his wrist. “Have a bite. Let’s see if it helps.”

“You were just injured,” Shadow said.

“I’m healed and I just fed,” Marcus said. “Have a bite.”

Shadow sank her fangs into Marcus’ wrist and drank deeply.

Marcus let her drink for three minutes. “How do you feel now?”

Shadow pulled off his wrist. She inhaled and licked her fangs. “That’s better.”

Marcus kissed her. “That is definitely my son in there.”

“He needed your blood,” Shadow said.

Marcus resumed kissing her. “Let me eat and shower. Why don’t you put on that little outfit you got with Alera?”

Shadow grinned. “In a mood?”

Marcus drug her hand down to his loins. “I just might be.”

Shadow felt along his cloth covered erection. “Where do you plan to stick this?”

“Anywhere you want,” Marcus said.

“I’ll find that outfit.” Shadow walked into the bedroom. She found her red lace nighty in the closet and laid it on the bed. Then, she undressed. She found her stockings in her dresser and the heels in the bottom of the closet.

By the time she had everything collected, Marcus was walking into the master bathroom.

Shadow put on the nighty. She was surprised it fit. She had to be distended at least four inches. Then, Shadow put on the stockings and heels. She wished she could see herself in the mirror, but she was certain Marcus would like it.

Now, she just needed to decide where she wanted to display herself. Shadow decided the padded lounge chair would be best. He’d see it just as he walked out of the bathroom.

Marcus finished his shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He hoped Shadow was ready for him, because his mutto was ready for her.

He stepped out of the bathroom to see Shadow sprawled in the chair. If he’d been alive, he would have lost his breath. She was stunning. He slid his eyes over her. Her little nighty stopped high on her thigh. The bodice was low and sheer enough that he could almost see her nipples but not quite, and that simply made his mutto harder.

Shadow grinned. Marcus was emitting a low growl. It was a primal sound, and she could tell he was extremely aroused.

Marcus removed his towel and tossed it on the floor. He was barely dry, but it didn’t matter. “You are stunning.”

“Even with a distension,” Shadow said.

“More-so with it.” Marcus stood in front of her. He’d never pegged himself as having a distension fetish, but he loved watching her little bulge. He slid his hands up her thighs to her hips then leaned forward and kissed her passionately.

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The Tiny Vampire From Outer Space That’s Bitey V: Blooddoll Factory on Earth (Shadow Conn Tiny Vampire Book 5)

 

In order to ensure he can feed his growing family and the family of his friends, Oliver and Alera, Marcus must build the first blooddoll factory on Earth. Unfortunately, the living planet poses challenges. He's certain Earthlings would vehemently object to his plan to create humans for food, so he plans to hide his true intentions by opening a homeless shelter.

 

Chapter 1

Renovating the Homeless Shelter

 

Marcus was perfectly content to lay in bed and listen to Shadow’s thoughts as she slept on him, but they had to shower and dress. They had an entire building to renovate, and Marcus didn’t want to waste any time. Even after they opened the homeless shelter, it would still take time to prepare the humans and get the blood they needed.

Though, he did let her sleep for another fifteen minutes before he nudged her.

Shadow huffed.

“We have a lot to do tonight,” Marcus said.

“Are we going to the building?” Shadow asked.

“We are,” Marcus said.

Shadow stretched and rolled off Marcus.

Marcus slid out of the bed then helped Shadow out of it and into the bathroom so he could wash her and himself.

Once they were clean and dry, Shadow grabbed a pair of stretchy jeans from the dresser and slid them on.

“How do those feel?” Marcus asked as he put on a pair of black jeans.

“They’re okay. Not too tight,” Shadow said.

“There should be a bigger t-shirt in your closet,” Marcus said as he walked into his closet to find a shirt for himself.

“I feel like I get bigger every time we do this.” Shadow found one of the larger t-shirts Marcus bought for her and slid it over her head.

“You wouldn’t wear clothes last time,” Marcus said as he pulled a black t-shirt off a hanger. “You didn’t want anything touching your stomach.” He slid it on then entered the bedroom to put on his shoes and socks.

“I’m more comfortable this time.” Shadow walked out of her closet.

Marcus looked at her and chuckled. “You are so full of sacs.” He stood from the chair and picked her up before carrying her into the kitchen.

“Are you making fun of me?”

Marcus set her on her feet. “Not at all. I think it’s adorable.” He tossed two bloodbags into the microwave just as the doorbell rang. “That’s probably Oliver and Alera. I don’t know if they called.”

Shadow hopped into the living room and opened the door. She stepped back to allow Oliver and Alera into the house.

“I forgot to call,” Oliver said.

“It’s all right. I haven’t looked at my phone yet,” Marcus said from the kitchen.

“The architect and general contractor should be there. It took some convincing, but they agreed to start tonight then work out a schedule,” Oliver said as he walked into the kitchen.

“How are your sacs?” Alera asked Shadow.

“Good. They’re not doing much now, but I haven’t had anything to eat yet,” Shadow said.

“They look like they’re progressing nicely,” Alera said as they walked into the kitchen.

“Marcus massaged them all night,” Shadow said.

Marcus took the bloodbags out of the microwave and poured them into glasses. “Are you two hungry?”

“We just ate,” Oliver said.

Marcus handed a glass to Shadow before draining his own.

“How are you massaging her sacs?” Alera asked.

Marcus contemplated. “It’s a massage so that her muscles release and give the sacs more room.”

When Alera looked confused, Shadow spoke. “You’ll have to show her. It’s impossible to describe. It’s not a normal massage.”

“It’s targeted,” Marcus said. [I don’t want to do that. She’s already fascinated with me.]

[I know, but we’re all standing right here. Maybe it’ll motivate Oliver if he sees another male touching her,] Shadow said.

[Maybe. I have my doubts,] Marcus said. He didn’t want to do it, but he could see Shadow’s point. If Oliver started taking care of her needs, maybe she’d leave him alone. “Lay on the table, Alera.”

“Uh… Okay.” Alera laid on the kitchen table.

“Pull up your shirt.” Marcus walked over to the table. “I’m not going to touch any intimate areas, but she’s going to feel like I did. This is why you need to do this, Oliver.” He laid his hand on her abdomen then moved it slightly. “Her sac is here.” He started massaging her abdomen. “Found a muscle knot.” Marcus lightly kneaded the area.

Alera inhaled. “Oh...”

Marcus moved to the other side of the sac. “Found another one.” He wasn’t surprised when he heard Alera moan just as the muscle released. Marcus brushed his hand over her abdomen. “There’s your half-inch distension.” He helped Alera off the table.

Alera looked down at her abdomen. “There he is.”

Oliver could feel Alera’s relief through their Bond. “I can do that.”

“It would be nice if you would,” Alera said. She leaned toward Marcus and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

Marcus had to work to keep the scowl off his face. “One or two times a night should be enough.” He wondered what the expellaries did on Umbra and Chivitas. Alera didn’t seem to know much about the process. Oliver knew even less. Marcus only knew by reading the book and testing various techniques on Shadow, but he had to keep the process pleasurable for her if he wanted more mated childer. If Oliver was smart, he’d do the same.

“Are we ready to go, Marcus?” Oliver asked.

“We are,” Marcus said. He led everyone out of the kitchen.

Marcus closed and locked the door on their way out of the house.

The walk was fifteen minutes and thankfully, uneventful. They didn’t run into any hooligans or homeless. However, Marcus still scanned the lot across the street for the undesirables. He didn’t see any. What he did see was a plethora of work trucks parked around his building.

“They’re already here and working,” Oliver said.

“What did you tell them to start on?’ Marcus asked as they walked toward the front door.

“I told them we wanted to do a homeless shelter, and I emailed the architect our drawings,” Oliver said. He opened the door to allow everyone inside.

“Is one of you Marcus or Oliver?” a man asked as he walked out of the kitchen.

“I’m Marcus. That’s Oliver.” He motioned.

“Great. I’m the architect. The crew is getting the demolition underway. We saw your cleaning crew. They finished the basement about an hour ago,” he said. “Name’s Joe.”

“Nice to meet you, Joe,” Marcus said. “We haven’t seen the basement yet.”

“I guessed correctly then. Oliver’s diagrams only covered the main and second floors,” Joe said.

“We wanted to see the basement before we made any decisions,” Marcus said.

“I have the blueprints for this floor and the second if you’d like to see them,” Joe said.

“I would,” Marcus said.

“This way. I set up a table,” he said.

Marcus followed Joe into what he anticipated would be the dining room.

Shadow hopped beside Marcus.

“Please, don’t hop. You’re making me nervous,” Marcus said.

Shadow huffed and walked. [The sacs are fine.]

Marcus picked her up and held her. [You’re distended almost five inches. Humor me.]

“Afraid she’s trying to shake them out, Marcus?” Alera asked.

“It crossed my mind.” Though, Marcus laughed at the absurdity of his thought as they walked over to a plastic table. [I’m glad you feel good enough to hop.] He sat down in one of the chairs, keeping Shadow in his lap.

[This feels much better than the last four,] Shadow said.

[I’m glad,] Marcus said.

“Here’s the diagrams I did earlier today.” Joe passed the blueprints to Marcus. “They are based off of what Oliver sent me.”

Marcus looked them over. “This looks fine, except we want half the second floor to be temporary offices, and I expect we’ll put a third floor in for permanent offices at some point.”

“We can install supports for a third floor, but we have to do that before we do anything else,” Joe said.

“How long will that take?” Marcus asked.

“It takes three days,” Joe said. “It’s the slowest part of the process because we still use concrete, iron and steel. The rest of this won’t take but about a week.”

“Why are you still using the old materials?” Oliver asked after skimming the man’s surface thoughts. The company had just purchased an automatic foundation repair machine.

“The men like the old ways. Says it feels nostalgic,” Joe said.

“Well, our goal here is to help this neighborhood,” Oliver said. “The sooner we get up and running, the sooner we can help them. We know you have a homeless and derelict problem.”

“That we do,” Joe said. “It’s getting out of control.”

“Are you trained to use the new equipment?” Marcus asked.

“They just finished training last month,” Joe said.

“And if you use that, it’s done by tomorrow evening,” Oliver said.

“It’s some quick-drying shit,” Joe said. “Almost no way to make a mistake too. It’s all computer-controlled. Once you set the parameters, it’s all automatic.”

“I think we’d prefer that,” Marcus said. “Is there any additional cost?”

“I’d be willing to give a little bit of a discount, considering you’d be the first project where we used it. Just let us use you for advertising,” Joe said.

“I’m fine with that. Oliver?” Marcus asked.

“That’s fine,” Oliver said. “So, once you use that, and we get out equipment in, how long do you think it’d take us to get up and running?”

“One day for your foundation. We already use the advanced Remodelators,” Joe said. “Four days. If that, to complete the project.”

“So, we’d be able to open in less than a week,” Oliver said.

“You should be able to,” Joe said. “You may want to order your equipment and furniture now. Delivery is actually slower than the remodeling process these days.”

“And when we’re ready for the third floor?” Marcus asked.

“Just give us a call,” Joe said. “All the supports will be in place. We’ll just have to build it.”

“What does that involve?” Marcus asked.

“We have to take the roof off, put in a floor, build new walls and put a new roof on,” Joe said. “That would probably take two or three weeks.”

“What do you think, Oliver?” Marcus asked.

“I think that’s fine. We can certainly go ahead with the first and second-floor renovations,” Oliver said. “But who does the furniture and decorating?”

“Shadow and I can do that,” Alera said.

“You can do it yourself, or we can hire an interior decorator,” Joe said. “It’s an extra cost. We don’t factor that in because it’s hard to tell who wants to do it themselves, and who wants it professionally done.”

“If you two want to tackle it, I don’t have a problem with that,” Marcus said.

“We’ll do it,” Shadow said.

“Would you like us to do anything with the basement?” Joe asked.

“Clean it up and finish it,” Marcus said. “We’re not sure what we want to do down there yet.”

“Can do,” Joe said.

“Do we owe anything upfront?” Oliver asked.

“We prefer 30 percent upfront. Let me get the contracts,” Joe said. He pulled his briefcase out from under the table and opened it. “Estimated costs are in there. To do two floors, it’s $150,000. That includes all your kitchen appliances, but let me adjust this. $20,000 for the basement and a twenty percent discount.” He added the numbers handed the pages to Marcus.

“So that means you need forty-eight-hundred,” Marcus said as Shadow climbed out of his lap.

“I’ll do twenty, four. You do twenty, four,” Oliver said.

“That’s fine.” He read, initialed and signed the pages then passed them to Oliver.

Oliver signed and initialed. Then, he pulled out his bank card.

“I can scan those,” Joe said. He pulled a device from his briefcase and took Oliver’s card. He scanned it, then typed in $20,400. He did the same with Marcus’ card. Then, handed the men their receipts.

“You said you wanted different working hours,” Oliver said.

“We’d prefer to work during the day,” Joe said.

“We have jobs during the day. We’d only be able to come here at night,” Oliver said.

“If we need to talk, I can stay late,” Joe said.

“That’ll work,” Oliver said.

“Thank you. We’ll let you get to it,” Marcus said as he stood.

“I’ll mail copies of the contract,” Joe said. “And I will call you with daily progress and any questions.” He paused. “Oh, almost forgot. What do you want done with the outside of the building?”

“Just make it look new,” Marcus said. “We like the style.”

“We can do that.” Joe made some notes on a digital tablet.

“Did you want to see your office again, Shadow?” Marcus asked.

“Yes,” Shadow said.

“Let’s take a look at the offices,” Marcus said.

Shadow hopped up the stairs ahead of everyone.

Marcus inwardly cringed as he climbed the stairs.

“She feels good, Marcus,” Alera said.

“She’s making me nervous,” Marcus said. He stepped onto the landing and looked down the hall. Shadow was already walking into her office.

“She’s not going to shake them out or damaged them,” Alera said.

“She likes feeling them move,” Marcus said. He walked down the hall with Oliver and Alera. “These four rooms I thought would make good temporary offices.”

“These are nice and at the end of the hall,” Oliver said.

“It forces us to walk past the ‘guest’ rooms, but we may want to keep an eye on them,” Marcus said. “All the rooms have large windows, but we can get some blackout curtains.”

“How many beds do you want to put in each room?” Alera asked.

Marcus counted the rooms. “We have ten for guests and four for us. At least two per room.”

“I think we should start with one per room,” Oliver said. “You ever see the homeless on Chivitas?”

“No, but I saw them on Umbra,” Marcus said.

“They can be unsavory at first. They forget how to live inside,” Oliver said.

“I hadn’t thought of that. One per room then until we get used to them, and they learn how to live inside,” Marcus said.

“Once we get them on a schedule, we can add more,” Alera said. “Oliver and I can help with some subtle ‘suggestions’.”

“Handy skill,” Marcus said.

“Handier here than it was on Chivitas,” Oliver said. “He wasn’t going to tell us about the foundation injection system.”

“I got that feeling,” Marcus said. “And we need to get this place open. We need to eat good food. Those bags will only hold us for so long.”

“We want to serve lots of lamb and pork here. If we can get them to taste good straight out of the vein, we’ll all do a lot better,” Alera said.

“We’ll be a lot happier and satisfied,” Marcus said.

“What happens if they don’t eat pork?” Shadow asked.

“They can eat it or leave,” Marcus said. “It’s free food.”

“How are we making money with this?” Shadow asked. “This remodel is almost a hundred and fifty thousand. You just took out a loan for that much too, and we have no income other than your pensions.”

“She has a point,” Oliver said. “We haven’t thought about how we’re going to make money on this.”

“Have we determined that we are the only ones of our kind on this planet?” Marcus asked.

“I doubt they’re advertising, Marcus,” Oliver said. “I think we need to assume that we are until we hear or discover otherwise.”

“I don’t want to draw attention to ourselves,” Alera said. “We’re getting quite a large family.”

“We can charge for the rooms,” Marcus said. “Couple dollars a night.”

“That’s a start,” Oliver said.

“I guess we could charge for extra meals. If they want to leave and take a meal with them, they have to pay for it,” Marcus said.

“We could do a clothing store. Ask for donations, then charge a dollar for each piece of clothing,” Shadow said.

“We can ask for food donations too,” Oliver said. “Cut down on our food bills.”

“We need to get food and clothing donation containers in front of the building so people can just drop it off,” Marcus said.

“And another box for money,” Shadow said. “Maybe they’ll drop coins in.”

“Good idea,” Marcus said. “I have some building materials at my house. We can get them done by morning.” He scooped Shadow into his arms and waited for her to wrap around him. “You’re about a hundred pounds tonight.”

Shadow laughed. “Who’s fault is that?”

Marcus grinned and kissed the side of her face. “Mine. Entirely.” He carried her down the hall to the staircase.

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