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  © 2018 Sa’id Salaam The Dark Prince 2: Microphone Fiend

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote a brief passage in reviews. First edition, November 15, 2018. Printed in the United States of America

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover: Dynasty Cover

  Email: [email protected]

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  Editor: LDS Literary Services

  Dedication

  All praise is for Allah, alone. Dedicated to the love of my life and best friend, to my mother Deidra, my grandmother Rainey, and my children, Jessica, Ervin and Ramel.

  The Dark Prince 2:

  Microphone Fiend

  A Novel By

  Sa’id Salaam

  "Kristine Musa, Interpol forensic special operations," a lovely lady said when she entered the Fulton County coroners office. She held up her credentials but no one was looking. Instead, the male doctors looked at her pretty, light brown face, her plump breast under the white blouse straining to be free. The curve of her hips in the pants suit begged for attention, as well. Her thick, naturally curly hair was courtesy of her mixed East Indian and African heritage.

  "You're the vampire lady!" a young tech gushed when he came in and recognized the woman.

  "I've never been called that before," Kristine chuckled lightly. She understood the power her beauty had on men. She even seduced a vampire once. She gained his trust and shared his bed until she was able to drive a wooden stake through his heart. She was as dangerous as she was gorgeous. She had to be since she hunted monsters for a living.

  "Yes, you have. Interpol said they were sending the vampire lady," the medical examiner said when he shook off the initial shock of her beauty. The type of beauty that pressed the pause button when she walked into a room.

  "Well, can I see the victim?" she insisted since that's why she was here. She'd flown nonstop from Egypt when she heard of another bloodless body.

  "Sure, but I have to warn you, it's gruesome," the doctor warned. The sight of Shay even threw him for a loop. That's saying a lot in a violent city like Atlanta where the AK 47 was the weapon of choice.

  The lady doctor tilted her head and smirked at his remark. It was a tacit way of saying, “Mister, you have no idea what gruesome really is”. She may have looked like she was in her early twenties but was in her mid thirties and had been doing this for over a decade. A decade of travelling the world and investigating the gruesome remains left behind by vampires.

  Gruesome is what she did to vampires when she caught them. The brilliant woman was working on a cure for the virus of vampires but it had a ways to go. Until then, she cut off heads, burned alive, shot with silver bullets, drove wooden stakes through hearts or trapped outside in the deadly sun.

  "Alrighty then," he said and pulled the sheet away from Shay's empty shell. The tech rushed away to upchuck it into a trashcan when he saw the angle of her twisted legs that had been forced out of their sockets.

  "Ah..." Kristine said and zeroed in on the two distinct holes in her inner thigh. It lined up perfectly with her femoral artery. She nodded her curly head at the telltale sign of a vampire. "Was there any blood left in her?"

  "Not a drop. Her organs had even collapsed, but..." he said because he didn't believe in vampires. He didn't have an answer to this strange finding but whatever it was, wasn't a vampire.

  "Hmph?" she asked herself although she was convinced. There was a vampire in Atlanta. She wasn't sure if it lived here or was just passing through. She recalled reading reports about a trucker/vampire who spread his carnage across the country and back. He was found headless in a Charlotte truck stop thirty or forty years ago.

  Whoever he or she was, Kristine Musa was on his or her ass now.

  CHAPTER 1

  Angela opened one eye to peek at the clock when her man came in. She never checked him about the time but did keep track. She didn't think he would cheat but still sniffed for sex when he got in bed. He didn't get right in bed though.

  "Uh uhh!" Meech grunted as he made it rain hundreds on Angela in the bed.

  "Meechie! What did you do?" she whined and looked towards the door, assuming the police would be barging in behind him. She couldn't remember the last time he had two hundred dollars bills at the same time, let alone a whole heap of them.

  "I did what I said I would do! I got me an artist! He dope, too! Rap, sing, pretty boy, the whole package! Baby we finna be rich!" he declared.

  "Good, cuz I'm tired of slinging chicken," she sighed. She had heard this before but it never came with cash. "So, how you get paid already?"

  "Dirt. He tried to chump me off and give me ten grand for my artist! I told him hell naw! Then Matt was like you need to give him to us, but Prince was, like “Nah, I'm rolling with Meech, and..."

  Angela tuned most of it out since it didn't matter. She smiled softly and imagined a better life for her family. She could finally quit her job and get away from her nasty boss. The man forced her to give him a hand job for some overtime. She got some extra hours but felt like a cheater.

  "That's wonderful, baby," she interrupted and placed his hand between her thick legs.

  "And then I..." he was saying, but abandoned it at the prospect of some pussy. Meech wasn't very creative in the sack but sometimes that's okay. He and Angela always made love face to face. No fancy positions, flips or tricks, but it got the job done. The couple copulated copiously and concluded with a combined climax. They cuddled up and drifted off to sleep until morning or their daughter woke up. Whichever came first.

  *****

  Meanwhile, Prince was on the prowl for something to eat. He bypassed a late night taco joint and several waffle spots. A round ass switching through a 24-hour gas station caught his eye, so he pulled in for a closer look.

  The woman heard a car pulling in and put a little extra on her walk. A little goes a long way with a fat ass and Prince pulled up. He needed gas, so he would kill three birds with one stone. Fill his tank, get his rocks off and feed.

  "Need some company?" the young chick playing woman of the night asked with a hand on her hip. Prince loved young victims since they were tender like veal, or spring lambs.

  "I sure—" Prince was saying as two goons popped out of their ambush spot. They were waiting until he inserted the nozzle in his tank and rushed him.

  "You know what it is, nigga!" one shouted, while pointing his gun at Prince's face.

  "Come off that money, watch, and I want yo’ car!" the other teen shouted while pointing his gun at his head.

  The girl raised her hands but Prince still checked what was on her mind to see if she was down with the lick. Bait for the trap, since the goons were around her age. She wasn't, but he still frowned by what he saw. They could talk about that later since these boys wanted his attention.

  "As I was saying," Prince said and turned back to the wannabe prostitute. A lot of young urban girls slung a little pussy on the side for a variety of reasons. Some were just too lazy to work but wanted bundles and clothes. Others were running from abuse in the home. "I would love some company. Hop in."

  "Nigga, you think this a game?" the first kid shouted at being ignored, and caused Prince to
laugh in his face.

  "Yes, and a very dangerous one at that. Now go on home and get some sleep," Prince advised. He didn't have to read their minds since the malice was written all over their faces. They made their choice to shoot, so Prince shrugged and made a slight mental adjustment.

  The teens turned their weapons towards each other’s faces just before they fired. Their heads snapped back from the impact of the slugs and dropped dead on the spot. The young woman shouted at the carnage but Prince just filled his tank.

  "Get in," he said and topped his tank off and went inside the station.

  "What the fuck!" the clerk said from behind the bulletproof partition.

  "I know, right?" Prince laughed then peered into his irises until he reached his soul. "Give me the video."

  The man turned and quickly complied to the order as Prince watched on. He retrieved the disk from the computer and handed it over. Prince gave a nod and walked out and got behind the wheel.

  "Did they really shoot each other?" the girl asked as he pulled away from the scene.

  "Yeah," Prince giggled. He took the tape mainly to keep police from seeing it. It would clear him of any wrongdoing but would bring unwanted attention. Besides that, he wanted to keep it for his own amusement.

  "Wow!" she said and rode in silence all the way over to Prince's Westside home. She 'wowed' again when she entered his well appointed house. Then again when they reached his room and he pulled out his dick.

  "Um?" he said and wagged his wood at her.

  "Oh yeah!" she laughed when she remembered what she was here for. She had a shock for him as well when she stepped out of her clothing.

  "Whoa!" he said when she revealed her picture perfect body. Her big firm breast stood up proudly when she removed her bra. A thick tuft of curly pubic hair covered a plump mound of good young pussy. She giggled at his reaction then reached for the dick dangling in front of her.

  "Whoa!" Prince repeated when he watched his dick disappear down her throat. A third “whoa” was drowned out by her gags. He wondered if she wasn't trying to commit suicide by choking herself to death on his dick. She worked her head, lips, tongue, and hand in perfect harmony. It got better when she spit his dick out and worked his balls while stroking the shaft. She pulled every dick trick out of her sleeves until he skeeted down her throat.

  "Yay!" she cheered at her own handiwork. Prince pushed her back on the bed to see what was under that afro between her legs.

  "Whoa!" he said once more as he inched his inches inside of her. She gripped the sheets and grimaced, and took the dick. He gave her all he had and she took it like a champ.

  "Shit!" the girl shouted as the first orgasm of her life wracked her body and rocked her world. Prince felt her contractions and bust inside of her. He never worried about birth control since he always drank his bedmates.

  "What is your name and why are you on the streets?" he asked since she didn't fit the bill of the average street walker.

  "Roshawn and I need the money," she said out loud but he went into her head and got the rest. A slight snarl twisted the corner of his mouth as he watched her memory of her stepbrother and stepfather sneaking into her room at night and having their way with her. He planned to pay them both a visit and soon.

  "I'm not even hungry anymore," Prince laughed to himself. Little did she know that good pussy just saved her life.

  "I am," she pouted. She just ate plenty of dick but that can't fill a belly.

  "Get dressed," he ordered and stepped into his bathroom to rinse the sex away. They stepped outside and looked towards the sky. Dawn was close so he only took her as far as the Marta station. He handed her her pay when he pulled to a stop.

  "All this!" she shrieked at the stack of cash he gave her. It was more than she had ever held in her life.

  "All that, and my number. Call me when you need more. Stay off the streets," he warned.

  "Yes sir," she complied without the hypnosis. She leaned over and kissed his cheek before running off to catch the approaching train.

  Prince turned to go home and feed off a packet of plasma from his fridge but a skinny junkie ran up and knocked on the window. He wasn't too fond of junkies since he could taste the impurities and diseases in their blood. He was immune but wasn't fond of the taste. They were the late night version of crystals and worked in the clutch.

  "Hop in," he said and popped the lock so she could. He pulled around the corner while she bantered.

  "I got the best head on the block. I..." she was saying until the vampire attacked. His fangs cut through the chatter and into her jugular veins. The plasma would wait for another day as he drank his fill.

  Prince almost pushed the empty body out the door like an empty soda cup. He caught himself and took her home to dispose of her properly. Good thing, too, because a vampire hunter was in town looking for empty bodies.

  CHAPTER 2

  "What you doing?" Meech asked when he saw Angela putting her uniforms in the garbage.

  "Putting my uniforms in the garbage," she said. Sometimes a woman has to fall back and let a man be a man and that time had come. Angela took him at his word and quit his job. She held the family down long enough and now it was on him.

  "Good!" he nodded. He was able to get his car fixed with his sudden windfall. Half went to her since she paid the bills. The woman wasn't a fan of fancy stuff and showing off, so she would make it last.

  "So, what now?" Angela asked since this was as far as Meech had ever gotten in the music world.

  "Now we gotta work out a deal with Dirt. Then get into the studio and make some hits," he said since he knew that much. This would be his first deal, so he mulled over what to ask for and what to give up.

  "Hmph!" she huffed at the mention of his cousin's name. She hated the way he looked down on her man whenever they were together. Even when he threw Meech a few bucks it was like he was a beggar.

  "I know," he said since he knew how she felt about him. He also knew the hits were the easy part. It was dealing with his cousin that would be the problem.

  "Well, handle that, daddy," she giggled and went to tend to their child. Once night fell, Meech set out to meet his client so they could strike a deal.

  "Finna get me a Bentley, too!" he vowed to himself since his cousin had one. He shook his head and decided to one up him and get a Rolls Royce. Why not since Prince was ten times the artist that Dirt was? Dirt Jones was a gimmick and gimmicks don't last.

  The Dark Prince was the real deal. He had the look, the sound, and the songs. Meech was still singing his praises when he arrived at the restaurant they were supposed to meet up at. He parked a block away since his old car didn't quite fit in with the fancy ones outside the eatery. He spotted Prince sitting alone on the outside patio as he approached.

  "Hey, Prince!" he cheered and waved as he crossed the street. Meech was smiling so hard, his chubby cheeks closed his eyes, so he didn't see the SUV speeding towards him.

  Prince did and saw it actually sped up as it neared. It would have been a fatal hit and run had the driver not made the fatal mistake of glancing over at Prince. He suddenly snatched the wheel and slammed into a light pole. The driver wasn't wearing a seatbelt since he was only here to run a pedestrian down. He slammed into the dash and windshield causing some fatal wounds of his own.

  "Oh shit! Oh shit!" Meech repeated at the near death experience and got his ass out the street. It came so close that he felt himself up to make sure he was still intact.

  "Oh shit!" Dirt cussed as he watched from his Bentley parked up the block. He let out a sigh and pulled up for their meeting.

  "This dude had one job," Matt moaned from the passenger seat.

  "They don't teach to look left, right and left again anymore?" Prince asked when Meech joined him on the patio. Technically, he was supposed to go through the restaurant but the accident took enough attention for him to hop the partition.

  "Nah, that's like the old days. That was close! I almost died!" he said. Pr
ince peeked inside his head and realized he didn't put that two together with the two walking up to them now. In fact, all he had was positive thoughts floating around. Prince almost smiled at Meech's thoughts of buying his daughter some toys. Almost that is because Dirt and Matt just arrived.

  "Sup, Prince, Meech," Dirt said stoically. He wasn't even a good enough actor to hide his disappointment at not killing his cousin.

  "Dirt," Prince greeted, took his hand and took a sneak peek inside his mind. All he saw was malice and misery bouncing around in his cranium. He practically snarled at his cousin, seeing he was still breathing.

  "Yo, that was crazy!" Matt said to break up the awkward silence. He raised his hand to summon a waitress and they all sat. The awkward silence threatened to start again since Dirt's whole spiel revolved around Meech being splattered in the street.

  "Ready to talk some business?" Prince asked as he pulled out the paperwork. He took the liberty of drawing up contracts between himself and his manager as well as the joint label deal with Dirt.

  "Yeah, I was gonna do… un huh, yeah," Meech said as they all reviewed the iron clad management contract.

  "Transferable to his girl? Ten million dollar buy out! Twenty year deal?" Dirt moaned as he read the contract that protected Meech, dead or alive. If Meech died, he still wouldn't get his piece of the Prince pie. Actually, it was about to be a whole cake. Lots and lots of cake.

  "Yeah," Prince smiled and attracted several women and a couple of men around the patio. He had the attention of many but only one had his.

  A woman sitting with her husband a few tables away flirted so hard, the man turned to see what she was smiling at. He let out an exasperated sigh like, Here we go, again. Prince tuned out whatever Dirt was saying since it didn't matter. Meech signed his copy of the signed copy and it was written in stone. He instead tuned into the thoughts coming from the couple a couple tables away.

  Hey, handsome. I wish my boring husband would just drop dead right here on the spot. We can use his body as a mattress and fuck right on top of him, she thought and smiled softly at the morbid thought.