Not For The Faint Of Heart
L.L. Craft Books © 2016
Abigail Lefay, owner of the infamous fetish club, The Black Flame, is much more than just an eccentric occultist. She’s a powerful witch with a violent past.
When the Chicago Mafia violates a truce with her coven, Abigail must leave her self-imposed sanctuary to teach them they’re not the only family who should be feared. To save four innocent girls from violent rape and a life of slavery, she must incite…a Blood War!
Jimmy’s mouth and jaw were bruised and badly swollen, and his left eye was swollen shut. But the adrenaline rush of revenge and his love of fire had him feeling just fine. He was going to roast those bastards alive and make those little bitches watch, then take his excitement out on them.
Further down the hallway, two of the overhead lights suddenly exploded. Sparks showered down to the floor, and that part of the corridor plunged into darkness.
“They’re shooting out the lights,” one man whispered.
“I didn’t hear any…” Marco trailed off when two more bulbs blew out. Instantly they all edged closer to the walls and crouched, aiming their pistols at the encroaching darkness.
More sparks flew, and this time Bellino glimpsed movement just beyond the shadows.
“Now!” Marco barked, and each man squeezed off several shots.
Wood splintered…but Bellino frowned when three bullets burst into flame with a popping sound, as if they’d exploded without hitting anything.
A shape suddenly emerged from the shadows. Marco aimed his gun, then stared in surprise.
“What the hell?” Jake demanded as the crow hopped into the light. It screeched at them, and spread its wings as if challenging them.
“Bye bye, birdie!” Marco laughed, and squeezed the trigger.
The bird squawked again, and excitedly flapped its wings. Each round exploded before reaching it. Bellino narrowed his good eye, refusing to believe what he’d just seen, and realized the air in front of them was shimmering. The crow made a noise he swore sounded like a mocking laugh.
“Wanna play with fire?” he snarled, and aimed his gun, preparing to hose it down with flame.
He stopped when a tall, black-cloaked figure emerged from the shadows behind it. The cloak’s hood was pulled low, hiding the face behind it. The person’s arms were folded, and both hands were tucked into the cloak’s wide sleeves.
Willie and Jake didn’t wait for orders; they quickly fired several more rounds. The figure raised both arms, and spread hands that were long-fingered and white as chalk. Every round exploded harmlessly without connecting, as if they’d struck an invisible wall.
“Fire with fire, bitch!” Bellino yelled. A thin stream of flame shot out from his modified pistol, and enveloped the woman. “Yes!” he bellowed triumphantly. “Burn, you fucking whore! Burn, you…”
Sudden chills rippled down his spine. The woman was completely engulfed in flames, but she wasn’t screaming…she wasn’t even moving! Quickly he sprayed more fire, and the flames burned brighter. Then they vanished as if a switch had been thrown.
“Mother of God,” Marco whispered.
The robe had burned away. The woman underneath was wearing a long black skirt that covered her ankles, but when she stepped forward, Bellino saw it was slit up to the hip on both sides, exposing high boots and thighs as white as her hands. Her top was a black and blue corset laced tightly to showcase large milk-white breasts. Her bare arms were covered from shoulders to elbows with demonic tattoos. A wild mass of blue-streaked black hair covered her downturned face.
She advanced toward them, and Marco and Bellino cautiously retreated. At his side, Marco ejected his spent clip, and slammed another one home. “Defective rounds,” he whispered, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself.
“Who the fuck are you?” Bellino demanded. “I want your name, bitch! I…”
“I am the daughter of the devil.” Her raspy voice echoed from beneath her thick mass of hair. “And I’m here to collect my father’s due.”
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It’s October, and a serial killer is stalking the unfaithful. Dubbed ‘Bad Kitty’ by the press, she seduces married men at Halloween parties and, using their lust, lures them to their deaths.
Detective Josh Wilson is not only the lead detective on the case, but because of his adulterous nature, is also her chosen prey. Along with his partner Matt Dennings, Josh discovers that Bad Kitty is a schizophrenic with two distinct personalities.
One is a childlike girl named Kitty who is harmless, but the other, Sophia, is a stone-cold killer hell-bent on protecting her Kitty and the woman whose body they share. While also contending with his wife Sheri and their failing marriage, Josh closes in on Bad Kitty and, after a near miss that almost costs him his life, they discover where she will strike next.
It’s Halloween, and Josh and Matt are at one of the biggest parties of the year. They’re convinced they will catch their cat, but Sophia and Kitty have other plans, and that's to show Josh that sooner or later Every Dog Has Its Day! (erotic horror, horror, interracial sex, serial killer, Halloween, murder mystery, erotica)
“Hmm, now that I got you where I want you, whatever will I do?”
“Maybe take off that dress and fuck me?” Tim suggested to the tall masked woman looking down at him as he lay naked on the bed.
“Men.” She sighed, giving her long blonde hair a dramatic toss. “No imagination at all. You can do better than that.”
“I can’t do much of anything like this.” Tim tugged hard on his wrists, managing to lift them a couple of inches before the soft purple ropes stopped his progress.
His ankles were also bound, and his leg jerked against them when she tickled the sole of his foot with her gloved fingers.
“No excuse,” she chided.
“Okay, how about we start with that mask, and let me see the rest of that gorgeous face of yours?”
“Better,” she giggled while touching the black cat mask that covered her face from the mouth up. “At least that’s nicer than ‘let’s do it.’”
“Do it?” Tim laughed. “I said fuck.”
“But that’s a bad word.” She giggled again and he smiled at her.
“I’m a bad man.” He winked. “Now, how about you tell me your name?”
“I told you, Kitty. Miss Kitty.”
“A very pretty kitty.”
“Aww, aren’t you sweet?”
Sweet was not what Tim was feeling as his eyes worked their way up and down her body; to call the dress a mini would be giving it credit. Below the black tail sticking out of the back, the cheeks of her ass were visible anytime she moved, and the top was transparent except for two strategically placed silver paw prints over her nipples. She was wearing a pair of soft furry black gloves, black knee high boots with fur trim, and heels so high he was amazed she was able to walk; the hottest fuck-me boots he’d ever seen.
Because of the mask, only her eyes and the lower part of her face was visible, but her deep red lips were full and inviting. Blowjob lips if he’d ever seen them, and her eyes were a dazzling emerald green—so bright he assumed they were contacts, but damn sexy, nonetheless.
“Come taste me and find out,” he offered.
She shook her head, her blonde hair flying around the black mask.
“Oh, come on.” He was getting a little frustrated now; he hadn’t come here to talk. “You’re not playing fair.”
“That’s the point, Timmy.” She smiled, her teeth white and even, as perfect as the rest of her. “All you like to do is use your dick, but tonight is your lucky night.”
“Why’s that?” He looked down at his cock, which at the moment was starting to lose interest while she stood there in no hurry to do anything but tease.
“Because tonight I’m going to teach you some new tricks.” This was spoken in a seductive purr, and Tim wondered what her game was.
From the time she’d approached him at the party at the Omni, Kitty—the only name she would give—had alternated between coming onto him like a slut in heat to acting like a giddy teenage girl. Not that there was anything wrong with a schoolgirl fantasy; hell, he’d paid for it several times. But the back and forth was getting weird...
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For J.D. Walker, owner of the infamous fetish club, The Devil’s Playground, life is good. His club is successful, he has plenty of money, and he spends his time indulging in his lifelong addiction: sex. But despite his current success, he is still haunted by a dark and violent past marred by the death of his mother, a death he blames himself for.
Two years ago, reporter Molly Malone was part of a news team sure they could prove the Playground was more than a strip club, and was, in fact, a high-end brothel where people paid to have their sickest fantasies fulfilled. But Malone and her partners underestimated J.D. Walker’s powerful connections, and the expose blew up in their faces, ending in a libel suit that cost all but their jobs.
Now J.D. faces a far more serious threat in the form of Reverend Zachary Knox, a fire and brimstone preacher who has sworn to close dens of iniquity like the Playground. Knox’s protestors are scaring always Walker’s clients and employees, and to J.D.’s dismay, it seems the Reverend has just as many connections as he does.
Molly wouldn’t mind seeing J.D. go down, but not in this case, as she has a personal vendetta against Knox. Back in Alabama where Molly grew up, Knox and his corrupt ministry were responsible for the darkest event in her life, one that has left her scarred emotionally and craving dark perversions…the kind J.D. has made his living on.
Up until now, J.D. and Molly had nothing in common but a mutual loathing for each other. But both have reasons to bring down Knox, and are willing to dance with any devil that gives them a chance, including each other. Using Molly’s firsthand knowledge of Knox’s crimes and Walker’s connections, the two unite to destroy their common foe, and learn they have more in common than they knew: they are both driven by the demons of their pasts.
Molly sat down on the coffee table waiting for him to answer her. Deciding to let her stew for a minute; J.D. thought on the issue at hand, finding the Hellfire Club, then getting an in at the next meeting. Even once they were in, who was to say they could get near Knox? If he were raping girls it would have to be done somewhere private, not in front of a crowd.
“I’ll talk to Miranda later tonight and have her start fishing around; she has a lot of contacts.” He rolled his eyes, “Not that she is going to want you to come along anymore than I would, especially the way you two hit it off last night.”
J.D. rose and seeing she was confronted with his crotch, Molly quickly stood as well.
“The detective who was involved with the fight in the parking lot, Higgins works in vice, I’ll call him and give him the tip there’s some funky shit going on in the fetish scene in Connecticut, see if he gets any bites.”
“Good.” She nodded.
“But I still have doubts you could pull off going in there with us.”
“I am tougher than I look,” she stared up into his eyes belligerently and realized she was losing the battle with slut Molly as she goaded him. “I’d offer you a demonstration, but I doubt your girlfriend lets you off the leach for long. Isn’t it about time you ran home and reported everything to Mommy like a good little boy?”
“A demonstration?” He loomed over her and she took a nervous step backwards. “What, you think I’m one of those creeps from Chelsea? You think I’d jump at your little free lunch sign?”
“Please.” She met his gaze. “You’re an easy target, I’ve hit close to home with you every time and you know it,” she said with an edge to her voice. “I know your kind, Walker and I know how to handle you.”
“Do you?” The smirk appeared and he stepped towards her.
Molly backed up, and he continued to approach her, the rational part of her mind screamed at her to tell him they were done and to leave, but her sluttish persona was eager to play her game. J.D. Walker had haunted her dreams for two years now.
In a way he had become the personification of everything she craved, but shouldn’t. The ultimate bad boy; an arrogant asshole who she longed to have treat her like a pig the way he did his clients.
The wall rose up to meet her back and he towered above her.
“You want to play tough girl with me, Molly?” he asked, taking her chin in his hand.
“Fuck you, Walker.” She made to push past him, but putting his other hand between her breasts, he pushed her back against the wall.
Tilting her head up to him, he smiled, “You want to fuck me, Molly. You’ve wanted to fuck me since I bitch slapped your station and put you in your place.”
She felt the strength in his fingers and the feeling of his hand on her chest caused a surge of moisture between her legs.
“You…need to leave.” She whispered.
“No.” he replied squeezing her chin, “That’s not what you want,” His lips curled into a sneer, “Is it, whore?”
“What’s the matter? Don’t know how to play a game because you’re in your place and not on your knees in some back alley?”
“You….arrogant son of a bitch.” She hissed at him, even as she struggled to keep from grabbing his hand and pressing it to her breast.
“Tell you what.” He whispered, “You want a demonstration? I’ll give you one.” He released her chin and removed his hand from between her tits.
His fingers found the top button of her blouse and undid it as he continued. “I told you there is one rule; consent.” He popped another button and she parted her lips to allow her now heavy breathing to flow properly.
“But that doesn’t mean you have to say yes. It just means you didn’t say no.” His fingers lingered on the third button. “Tell me to leave and I will. If you don’t.” he shrugged. “Then we both know what will happen.”
Molly stared into his eyes and silently screamed for him to get out, but slut Molly was laughing at her efforts. Walker took her wrist and pressed her hand to his crotch. Molly’s eyes widened at not just the size of him, but how hard he was.
“Three…” He smirked, “Two…”
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“Things are moving…forces are gathering, and they gather against you!”
Old Pearl’s ancient spirit guide predicts an impending war like even the bloody city of Chicago has never seen. But Abigail Lefay, mistress of a deadly coven, is no stranger to conflict. Most would fear danger. Abigail openly invites it.
She shows no fear of Mafia lieutenant Donnie Bellino, whose violent brother she killed, or his mysterious hired assassin. Nor will she back down from the cruel Ruine family she framed for Jimmy Bellino’s murder.
After all, Abigail Lefay is far from helpless. Her occult powers are formidable. Seth and his loyal mercenaries will fight at her side—and so will Pearl’s niece, Jasmine, a powerful psychic.
Most importantly, Abigail’s coven will come to her aid…or will they?
When she breaks a longtime tradition and risks war with another occult family, she faces the one threat she may not be able to survive:
Her own family!
They reached the car, and Frank was about to open his door when Rocco exclaimed, “Are you kidding me?”
Frank followed his gaze. Abigail Lefay was coming toward them from the other end of the alley. She’d changed, and was now wearing a long black skirt slit up to the hips on both sides, exposing thigh-high boots. Protruding from each boot was the hilt of a knife.
Her top had been replaced by a leather vest with silver skulls as buttons. It wasn’t her outfit or even the knives that caused his hair to stand on end; it was her face. The big fake was smile gone; her black-painted lips were set in a feral snarl.
She walked toward them, and her boots clicked on the concrete floor of the alley. A shadow passed over them, and with a loud caw, the crow dropped from the sky and perched on her shoulder. Its claws bit into the leather of the vest.
“Well, well! Check it out, boys!” Rocco laughed. “Lily Munster is back, and she looks pissed.”
Rocco walked past the car, and the other men followed. Frank forced himself to move through the feeling of dread that had returned full-force, and caught up to them.
Abigail stopped about twenty feet away, and the guys spread out in front of her.
Frank sidled up next to Jake. “Hang back. Let them handle this.”
“Is she nuts?” Jake asked him quietly.
“Yeah, looks that way.”
“A little girl all alone in an alley better watch out!” Willie called to her. “No one’s going to hear you scream when we fuck your snotty pink ass.”
“It’s not my screams that will fill this alley.” She pointed at them. “You dogs come into my club and seek to scare me? You threaten me?”
“What you going to do about it, bitch?” Bobby pushed his jacket sleeve up to expose the black sheath around his forearm…the one she had somehow known he was wearing. “Think I’ll start with your bird.”
With a flick of his wrist, he threw one of the small knives. It sailed end-over-end, heading straight for the bird. Abigail flicked her wrist to the side. The knife veered to the right, and struck the wall. A shower of sparks exploded.
“Huh?” Bobby threw another, this time harder, and she flicked her other hand. The blade sailed up over her head, and they heard it land on the ground somewhere behind her.
“My turn.” She held her hand out.
The knife in her left boot flew into her palm, and Rocco gasped, “You… You see that?”
She bent her arm so the blade touched her shoulder, then threw it in a backhand motion. The knife sailed through the air, spinning sideways, and both Willie and Rocco jumped away when it struck Bobby in the throat.
He released a choking gurgle, and blood spurted around the knife protruding from his neck. He sank to his knees, clutching his neck and gagging, spraying blood several feet in front of him.
“Finish him.” Abigail snapped her fingers, and the crow exploded off her shoulder, streaking across the short distance between them.