Love by Night

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

Against all odds, Adirah Messa has been accepted to Billet University, a prestigious institution founded in the 1800s for people of color. Determined to excel, she arrives at the university intent on minimizing distraction and focusing on her studies. That goal is soon interrupted when she is noticed by members of the “in” crowd, who invite her to the most popular frat party on campus.

Adirah finds herself smitten with someone of another race and is taken on a ride she can never return from. Unbeknownst to her, Adirah’s newfound love is not only a master seducer; he is also one of the most powerful figures in the underworld of Vampirism. Tangled up in a web of love, Adirah becomes involved in her lover’s lifestyle in more ways than one.

Before she knows it, Adirah becomes Queen to his tribe. Is she prepared to accept all the responsibility that entails? When a rival clan targets Adirah and her identity is exposed, she must make some quick and serious decisions. Will she react in time, or is it already too late?

Release date: August 29, 2017

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

Adirah sang along to Whitney Houston’s “Greatest Love of All” as the engine in her beat-up 1999 Honda Accord sputtered and hissed across the North Carolina state line.

“Finally,” Adirah yelled over the music. “I made it.”

She had been driving for fifteen hours from New York City and had stopped only once to use the bathroom. Even that was a chance she’d taken, since she had had to run inside and leave the car running for fear that it wouldn’t start up again. Adirah had pumped her fist when she returned to find her car still there.

“Beast mode,” Adirah cheered, slapping the steering wheel to let the car know how much she appreciated her. “Lucinda, we made it. We made it. Two girls from the hood made it all the way down here to chase our dreams.” Adirah laughed.

Nothing was going to stop Adirah from going to the college of her dreams. She was determined to make a difference in the lives of women who’d grown up under the same circumstances she had endured as a child.

“I can’t wait to tell Mommy that I made it. And, Adol, I’m going to make you proud . . . ,” Adirah said, her voice trailing off. She thought back to . . .

Brooklyn, New York

August 2007

“Shh.” Adirah placed a shaky hand over her little brother, Addis’s mouth. He continued to moan, despite her squeezing. She could feel his entire body trembling just like hers.

“Addis, be quiet, or he will hear you,” Adirah whispered harshly in his little ear. It was all she could do to protect him from the danger lurking outside of their bedroom door.

Adolphis, her older brother by two years, sat across from them, his head down, his knees to his chest, and his fists curled at his sides. He rocked back and forth. Something Adirah had seen before—a sign that he was in distress.

“Please! No! No!”

Adirah jumped at the sound of her mother’s pleading screams. She stared across the room at the door, silently praying it didn’t burst open at any minute. Adirah’s heart sank, and the gnawing disappointment of powerlessness settled inside of her. She couldn’t do anything to save her mother.

“No! No!” her mother screamed some more.

Addis whimpered and curled his body closer to Adirah’s. She tried to comfort him, but she could barely control her own shaking hands and pounding heart. Sweat beads ran a race down her back, and her throat was desert dry.

“It . . . it’s o-okay,” Adirah whispered, burying Addis’s face in her stomach. “I’m going to protect you.” But who was going to protect her? At ten years old, Adirah felt like she’d been left in the middle of barren lands with no food or water. She felt like a leaf left out in the sun.

Loud thumps and crashing glass resounded through their bedroom door. More screams from their mother cut through the silence of their room. Adirah’s chest trembled as tears streaked her dark skin, leaving salty white lines down her cheeks. She listened as her father’s booming voice got closer. He cursed her mother in Ibo—his native Nigerian language. Adirah was able to make out some of the words—whore, liar, slut. She couldn’t understand what evil thing had possessed her father, but it seemed to be coming more often. Almost every day.

“Agh!” Her mother let out another ear-shattering scream.

This time, Adolphis got to his feet, his chest heaving. He stared at the door, ready to charge like a bull at the sight of a matador’s red cape.

“No, Adol. You can’t go. Stay here,” Adirah pleaded, her shaky voice coming out in raggedy, jagged breaths.

“He is going to kill her this time. I have to help her,” Adolphis said, starting for the door.

Adirah unhooked herself from Addis and scrambled to her feet. “No, Adol. Please. Let’s just wait.” She had seen what her father was capable of in his fits of fury. Their mother had already suffered a broken nose, a broken eye socket, knocked-out teeth, broken ribs, and too many bruises to name. Adirah had been the one to care for her mother each time her father left her battered until she could barely move.

“You’re not big enough yet, Adol,” Adirah pleaded, blocking his path with her body. Adolphis pushed back. They struggled against each other. Adirah was desperate to keep her brother in the room. “He will hurt you bad. You have to stay here, with us.”

Just then, more screams cut through the door. Adirah startled, instinctively whipped her head around. The distraction lasted long enough for her brother Adolphis to push her aside and yank the door open.

“No! God, no!” her mother hollered, the sound amplified.

Adirah watched as Adolphis barreled forward with the force of a wrecking ball.

“Leave her alone!” Adolphis barked. Adirah cringed when Adolphis slammed into her father. “Leave her alone, I said! Let her go!”

Adirah watched in horror as her father released his grip on her mother’s hair and, with a powerful shove, sent her mother’s head slamming to the floor.

“You think you’re a man now?” her father barked in Ibo. “You think you can stand up to me in my own house?” he said, turning his attention to Adolphis.

Adolphis did not back down. His feet were firmly planted on the floor, his chest was puffed out, and his shoulders were squared. He pointed at his father and said, “Don’t touch her again. I will protect her from you. I won’t let you hurt her again.”

Adirah swallowed hard. Her father’s laugh made her shiver like someone had pumped ice water into her veins. It was the same malevolent cackle he’d made right before he knocked her mother unconscious in their kitchen one time.

“You don’t want me to touch my own whore of a wife?” her father snarled. He walked over to her mother, lifted his boot, and kicked her in the stomach.

Adirah winced and clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle the scream that bubbled up in her throat.

“What will you do about it?” Her father towered over both Adolphis and his wife; his eyes were flashing like a flame of malice.

“Argh!” Adolphis charged forward, his fists out in front of him.

Her father caught Adolphis by the throat with one hand. “You wanted this?” her father yelled, spit spewing from his lips. “You wanted to be treated like a man?” He clamped down on Adolphis’s neck and lifted him off his feet. At twelve years old, Adolphis was no match for her father’s six-foot-three-inch, 250-pound frame.

In Adirah’s eyes, her father was a monster with seemingly superhuman strength. She had seen him in action before, but this time, his eyes seemed to glow orange and red, and his face scrunched into the shape of a beast’s . . . a werewolf on attack, baring sharp teeth, drooling from the sides of his mouth. Adirah squeezed her eyes shut. She was experiencing a nightmare. She prayed that when she opened her eyes, everything would be normal and she would be in her bed. Her prayers weren’t answered: the evil image of her father’s face turned back into its human form, but the scene was just as violent.

As her father squeezed Adolphis’s neck, Adirah heard something crack and crunch. Things had already gone too far, and there was no going back. Her mother screeched from the floor; blood leaked from her head. Addis screamed at Adirah’s side. They all watched, horrified and terrified.

Adolphis’s legs dangled as if he were hanging from a noose. His body bucked, and he clawed at his father’s fingers. He let out a sickening gurgle, which made Adirah feel as if a thousand spiders were crawling over her skin.

“Please!” Adirah cried out, finally finding her voice. She watched her brother’s face turn a shocking shade of burgundy, while his lips turned pale gray. White foam oozed from the left side of his mouth. “Daddy! Please!” Adirah begged. “He didn’t mean it! Please, let him go!” She fell to her knees. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Adolphis’s eyes rolled so far into the back of his head, all Adirah could see was white.

Her father cackled again. The sound rang in Adirah’s ears over and over as she stood rooted to the floor, unable to take her eyes off Adolphis until he went limp.

Adirah watched the life leave his body. His legs stopped moving. His arms dangled at his sides, and urine dripped down his pant leg.

“Adol!” Adirah screamed so loud, the back of her throat itched. “No! Adol!”

Her father finally released his grip. Adolphis’s body fell lifeless at Adirah’s feet just before she passed out.

“I’m going to do it all for you, Adol,” Adirah murmured, touching the sterling silver locket with her brother’s picture inside that she wore around her neck. “You tried to save us once, but now it is my turn.”

As Adirah drove her car onto the campus of historic Billet University, she inhaled and exhaled. This was the start of a new beginning. Her past was behind her; she was looking forward only from here on out.

“I’m going to make our entire family proud,” she murmured. “And this is the place that is going to make it happen.”

Adirah had done tons of research on the university and its rich legacy for people of color. Billet was one of the only schools founded by African Americans back in the 1800s. But the school’s existence hadn’t come without a struggle and, ultimately, some bloodshed. Adirah had read about the race war between blacks and whites that had happened right on the campus grounds. She’d been proud to learn that her people had prevailed, although hundreds had died. The school had since become one of the premier colleges for African-American students, although it boasted a legacy of complete diversity. Adirah had literally jumped for joy when she’d gotten her acceptance letter.

She parked her car in the visitors’ building parking lot and got out. She stretched her body and took in her surroundings. The campus was more beautiful than she had imagined. Majestic trees, green grass, students milling about, smiling. A far cry from New York City. Her legs literally shook with anticipation and excitement. There would be no stopping Adirah—the daughter of Nigerian immigrants, whose father had committed suicide and whose mother had gone insane. She would not accept her fate as a forgotten orphan in the world. Adirah didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for her. She never had. She wanted to make her own way. She’d already proven how resilient she was to everyone else; now she wanted to show herself.

She inhaled and smiled. The scent of old earth and red clay settled in the back of her throat until she could taste it. Even the air on the campus felt different . . . in some ways almost magical. The campus was more majestic than it was in the pictures she’d looked at over and over again in the brochure. The old Gothic-style buildings ringed by gargoyle protectors—perfectly lined up and perched along the roofs, with their mouths open in a battle cry—spoke of the school’s old-world history. The one-hundred-year-old weeping willow trees that formed an archway down the center of the campus invited everyone in. And the faded gray statues of the school’s brave founders sent a chill down Adirah’s spine. She couldn’t help but feel she had stepped back in time.

She’d read that the school had worked tirelessly to preserve all its old structures and spaces—even the sacred grounds where many had died during the race war. There were spirits on the campus, and Adirah could feel and hear them. For years Adirah had been connected to spirits. They had been reaching out to her and making contact since she was a little girl. Not wanting to believe that it was happening, Adirah would ignore the signs. It was her secret. Something about the aura of these spirits made Adirah uncomfortable. It sent a shiver down her spine. “Ignore them, Adirah,” she whispered to herself.

Adirah went inside the building, got her dorm assignment, and drove around to Rothschild, the building she would be living in. She looked out of her windshield at the building’s facade. The gargoyles seemed to be staring at Adirah, daring her to enter. It made her uneasy. Adirah ignored the lifelike gargoyles and focused on the building’s history. Rothschild was one of the oldest dorms on campus and had housed only black women in the 1800s. This fact made Adirah more determined to live up to the history created by her ancestors, who’d fought so hard for equality.

“Well, baby girl, we made it all the way here.” Adirah rubbed the surface of her car’s cracked dashboard as she spoke. “Now we just have to stay focused and win at this. I promise you I will walk out of here a new person—a better, wiser person.” She smiled and exited the car.

There was so much going on around her. Music played in the distance. It wasn’t coming from a radio; it sounded more like an impromptu gathering of musicians on campus somewhere. Adirah pictured students gathered in a circle, each with their respective instrument, singing along to the chosen song. Sororities and fraternities had tables set out in different spots, with members standing and passing out fliers advertising their parties. Even from where she stood, Adirah noticed one particular fraternity’s table. It had the biggest crowd, and all its members seemed to be gorgeous . . . almost perfect. She’d heard about sororities and fraternities choosing people based on certain beauty standards. She’d already decided she wasn’t going to fall into that. There would be no time for frivolous activities. Schoolwork was all Adirah would be focused on.

The members of that popular fraternity were mesmerizing. Even though Adirah wasn’t planning on joining a sorority, she still felt an urge to stare at all the tables. Adirah blinked a few times. “You can’t be staring at people,” she said under her breath. She turned her attention back to her surroundings. The Billet campus seemed to have a pulse of its own. People hustled up and down the green grounds around the Rothschild building, some alone, some in groups. Even the birds—tiny gray ones, whistling blue jays, and a murder of circling black crows—seemed to be buzzing around with move-in-day excitement.

Adirah went over to her trunk, opened it, and looked down into the stuffed crater. Bags of clothes, boxes of her most cherished belongings, and numerous trinkets filled the trunk, as well as the backseat of her car. It was a wonder that her car had been able to drive on all four wheels with all the extra weight crammed into the back of it. She put her hands on her hips and sighed. She had her work cut out for her. Reluctantly, she reached into the trunk and hefted the first of many boxes she’d have to unload. As she leaned up from digging in her trunk, she let out a long exasperated breath. It wasn’t lost on her that she was alone. Her stomach clenched as she watched all the gushing parents proudly helping their college freshmen move into their new homes, lifting boxes of brand-new matching houseware items with smiles on their faces. She listened to parents and students share joyous laughter and watched each long embrace when it was time to part ways.

Adirah sat one of her bags down for a moment and placed her hand over her aching heart. She thought about her mother, something that always brought tears to her eyes. Her mother had once been so vibrant and happy. She’d sing Adirah and her brothers songs that she’d learned as a child in Nigeria. She’d dance and grab their hands to make them dance too. Her mother would cook meals, and they’d all sit around the pot and share from it—another tradition. Adirah missed that. She missed the sparkle that had faded from her mother’s eyes over the years.

All her life, Adirah could see the yellow glow around her mother. As a child, Adirah hadn’t understood why her father had a dark, almost black, shadow around him. As she got older, Adirah realized the glow she saw around people was the reading of their spirit. She couldn’t always see a glow around everyone she met, but when she did, Adirah paid attention.

“Not now, Adirah,” she whispered to herself, swiping roughly at the tears rimming her eyes. She wasn’t going to allow herself to wallow in the suffering of her past. She’d promised her mother she would study hard and become the best psychotherapist alive so she could save families like her own. She had vowed not to dwell in the past but to learn from it.

After Adolphis’s death, her mother had never recovered. “Mommy, do you like these flowers?” Adirah would say, holding up a bunch of yellow weeds she’d picked from the lot outside of their building. Her mother would just stare, her mouth slack. “Smell them, Mommy. That will help,” Adirah would urge, her voice cracking with emotion. “Please.” When Adirah didn’t get any reaction from her mother, she would throw the flowers to the floor and crush them under her feet.

Weeks would pass, and her mother wouldn’t speak or eat or bathe. Instead, she would stare ahead at nothing, barely blinking. Addis would cry and tug on his mother’s arms, but all to no avail. Over the course of months, Adirah had fought to take care of her mother, herself, and her little brother. She’d forced soft food between her mother’s lips, unsure if any was making it down to her stomach. Adirah had watched her mother begin to shrink, both physically and mentally. Some days Adirah couldn’t stand to look at the bones jutting out of her mother’s face, as if sharp objects had been inserted under her skin. Her mother’s dark, sunken eyes made Adirah depressed.

Eventually, on the urging of Adirah’s school, the city’s child protective services showed up. Adirah tried desperately to pretend things were fine, but her efforts were of no use. Addis wouldn’t stop screaming, and her mother was a complete zombie the entire time the caseworker was there. It wasn’t a difficult decision for the caseworker: she had her mother committed to a mental institution, and Adirah and Addis were sent to foster care.

The foster-care experience proved devastating for her younger brother. He didn’t have the mental strength that Adirah had. She did everything she could to comfort Addis and protect him, but he couldn’t handle the upheaval in his life. He began fighting, stealing, and acting violently. Over time, Addis became a miniature version of their father.

Adirah shivered and shook her head. . .