Hoodrat Sh!t: Vol. 1

Hoodrat Sh!t | Book #1

SYNOPSIS

Sem Van Dijk is a not-so-hardworking Momma’s Boy who enjoys light snacks and Kanye West songs. When he becomes kidnapped by a gang of Vampires, Sem’s life turns upside down in a matter of minutes. Cyr, the Grand Vampire of the Illusionists, quickly enlists Sem to join the questing business for him in order to find the roots and herbs necessary to make a special medicine, and Sem has no choice but to play along.

He quickly discovers that life with the Vampires isn’t as deadly as it’s cracked up to be…but it’s not entirely safe either. As Sem and his fanged companions, Anya and Lily-Rose, investigate a crooked anime convention scheme during their hunt for the Fliondeso Root, Sem realizes that danger is all around him. Can Sem learn to integrate within the Vampires and survive the quest, or will his broken body be returned to Cyr’s doorstep with a Worker’s Comp slip?

EXCERPT

No one expects to be carjacked. I certainly didn’t. Which is why I was slouched down in my seat, left hand deep in a box of Cheez-Its, while I waited for the light to turn green. Fresh Kanye boomed out of my speakers, causing me to trip off the power in real-life form. My work day was over, and it was time for some good old rest and relaxation.

When thinking of a carjacker, I typically visualized a rather buff male or female with a face full of scars and a stern demeanour.

Instead, a tall, slim woman shot up from behind my car and pulled confidently on my door handle, whipping it open.

My mother had always warned me to lock my car door.

“This is mine now!” the woman announced in what reminded me of a Russian accent.

“Aaah!” I screamed, shrinking into myself in fear. My box of Cheez-Its tumbled outside of the car and to the concrete below.

“Jesus Christ,” another voice came from behind me. The right backside door opened, and a different woman appeared. This one was accentless, and also not what I would expect from a carjacker. She slid into my backseat and quickly shut the door. “Hurry up and get out of here!”

Before I could object, the Russian woman shoved me to the side, causing me to pitch headfirst into the passenger-side floorboard. My body tangled in my seatbelt, and I did a macabre rendition of an aerial arts performance as the woman struggled to release me from the seatbelt’s unforgiving latch.

“Just leave him like that!” yelled the woman in the backseat.

“No, I’ve almost got it,” assured the Russian.

My head smacked into the floorboard as the seatbelt finally released. My body crumbled atop itself as the Russian slid into the driver’s seat and quickly sped away in my car.

“Are we sure he’s one of us?” the Russian asked.

“Who cares?” her companion said from the backseat. “I’m sure that he can come in handy somehow.”

“Hey!” I exclaimed as I suddenly felt the Russian shake my leg violently as I struggled to right myself. Her hands wrapped around my ankle and my calf, and I kicked in the other direction to get her off of me.

“Are you armed?” the Russian asked.

“Armed?” I repeated with a squeak.

“Guns, you idiot!” she snapped. “Do you have them?!”

“N-no!”

The car veered to the left as she made a turn, taking me further and further away from the direction of my apartment. “Lily-Rose. Check him.”

I heard movement in the backseat, and Lily-Rose’s torso draped itself over my seat just as I managed to sit upright. “Hold still!” she ordered. Her hands danced around my abdomen and waist as she checked for weapons in places where she clearly would not find weapons. I stayed still—my body nearly paralyzed in fear—as I felt her cold breath against my neck.

Cold?

“Wh-where are you taking me?” I asked. I did my best to make my voice sound cool and collected.

I failed miserably.

The Russian glanced over at me as she purposely drove down an alleyway, avoiding the stoplight that loomed ahead. “We’re taking you to work,” she said simply, a sly smile stretched across her lips. “What’s your name?”

I gulped. “My real name, or am I supposed to make up a street name? Like, I don’t have guns or weapons, but since you guys…ladies seem—”

“Your legal first and last name.” The Russian sounded just as annoyed as she looked.

“Okay,” I told her. “I’m Sem. Sem Van Dijk.”

“Ahhh, a Dutch boy!” Lily-Rose enthused. She continued to float around the back of my seat, alternating between grabbing my headrest to brushing against my hair with her arms to ducking down and disappearing from the view of the rearview mirror for a moment.

“Yep.” I glanced at the mirror as Lily-Rose reappeared like the ethereal mist she was. Who were these people? If they got to know my full name, then I felt entitled to at least know how to address them as well. The Russian had called her friend “Lily-Rose”. Such a pretty name for such a psychotic mess.

I darted my gaze to my left to focus on the Russian behind the wheel. “Uhm…may I have your names?” I asked meekly. “Please? Cheers to friendship?”

“The name’s Anya,” said the Russian, never taking her eyes off the road, “and that’s Lily-Rose in the back.”

“What happened to the rest of your accent?” Lily-Rose asked, wrapping her fingers around my neck and choking me slightly. Her hands were so cold, especially for such a warm, Spring day. She giggled as I choked. “I can hear traces of it, but it’s mostly gone.”

“Naturalization?” I stammered, watching as the Russian took yet another sharp turn from behind the wheel of my beloved vehicle. My body moved to the right and smacked against the side of the car. I scrambled to locate my seat belt. “Please be careful.”

The Russian gave me another side-eye as she drove. “I’m always careful,” she told him dryly. “The question is…will you be careful, too?”