The Pantheon Saga Books 1-3: A Superhero Boxset

by C. C. Ekeke

  “Hugo isn’t a supervillain, you half-wit!” Spencer snapped.

  Rowan recoiled and shut up. Good.

  Again, her father’s demeanor was an implacable wall of ice. “Keep Hugo close,” he instructed. “Get him to confide in you. Once he confesses his true nature, bring him to me.”

  Spencer deflated. So much for her big plan. “Why?”

  Dr. Michelman’s expression darkened. “Don’t think. Just do as I say.” His tone left no room for debate.

  Spencer folded her arms, seething. “Fine.”

  Daddy watched her subservience with a faint smile. “Now let’s visit Briseis.”

  Spencer looked away from his stupid face and said nothing. She’d play the dutiful daughter for now. But once Hugo confessed his secret, she would handle things her way.

  Now I had to figure out her “Brie” problem.

  An idea came to mind, making Spencer smile. She considered it more in silence for the rest of the car ride.

  The End

  By

  C.C. Ekeke

  Big Trouble in the Big Easy © 2021 by C.C. Ekeke

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

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or otherwise, without prior permission in writing of C.C. Ekeke, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles.

  C.C. Ekeke

  www.ccekeke.com

  1st Edition

  ShatterHouse Press

  Prologue

  “Owwww.” That word summed up how crappy Quinn Bauer felt.

  Her muscles were sluggish, combined with whatever had just used her skull for a drum set.

  “Okay…” Her throat felt raw and parched when she spoke. “Who dropped a building on me?”

  Her world was aching darkness. Cold, hard metal pressed against her spine.

  The last thing Quinn recalled was the NOLA jazz club with her friends, meeting those hot guys, a strange house…then nothing…

  Did I drink too much? Wouldn’t have been the first time she’d gotten sloshed with Annie Machado as a drinking buddy.

  Quinn’s eyes fluttered open, and she found herself staring at a partially lit ceiling slashed in rust and cracked red paint. Stuffy air tickled her nose, perfumed with oxidized metal. This was not the townhouse she, Annie, and their friends had just been in. Her headache and fatigue grew momentarily muted as Quinn sat up with vigilant swiftness. “Better yet…where the hell am I…?” She gave herself a quick inspection. Frigid air seeped through her glittery silver strappy top and tight black jeans, goosebumps prickling up and down her dark brown skin. No sign of her purse, which had her wallet and cellphone. A pang of fear spasmed in her chest. But she clamped down hard. Falling apart wouldn’t help her out of this.

  She swiveled her head around to take in these unfamiliar surroundings. Her fear deepened.

  This looked like some shipping container. A single light flickered overhead, spilling a pale radiance throughout the crate. Quinn rubbed at her bare shoulders, not just from the chilly air.

  The rusted walls around her, wobbly and claustrophobic, were growing closer than they objectively were.

  Had she been snatched away from her friends, or had they been abducted as well? The thought left Quinn nauseous as her last memories grew crystal clear. Someone had kidnapped her. Why?

  Cold air filled her lungs in panicky breaths. Quinn turned around to take in her full surroundings.

  One look, and something inside her clenched up.

  Another prisoner lay in fetal position, dolled up, curvy and unconscious. Glossy dark hair pooled around the head of this woman, whom Quinn recognized instantly.

  “Oh my Lord!” She scrambled to Annie Machado’s side on instinct. “Annie?” Quinn shook her best friend, getting no response. “Annie!”

  The second shout echoed off the rusted metal walls, startling Annie awake.

  “Mmmm?” Annie turned her head, staring up through heavy-lidded eyes. Deep-red lipstick, once pristinely placed, was smeared across her cheek.

  Quinn sighed in relief. “Wake up, sweetie.” She guided Annie into a seated position. “C’mon, I need you alert.”

  Annie blinked away the drowsiness on her pretty yet befuddled features. “Quinnie?” she mumbled while glancing around the room. “What’s going on?”

  Quinn sat on her haunches, grappling with her own burgeoning freak-out. “I was gonna ask you.”

  Annie brushed back her disheveled hair and frowned. “How’d we get to this shithole?” Her olive complexion drained of color. “…the girls….”

  Quinn shuddered. Between the fear, the pounding headache, the dizzying fatigue, and Annie’s well-being, she hadn’t given immediate thought to the rest of their crew.

  Devon Strauss, Krista Smalls, Monica Chu, Katy Horn. Each name was a wrecking ball to the chest.

  Quinn had been friends with Annie and these other lovely ladies since attending college together seven years ago. Were they in crate prisons too?

  Are they alive? The thought came unbidden. Quinn shivered.

  Fragmented memories of this ill-fated night seeped through her thudding skull. Leaving the jazz club…the house she and her friends went to with the handsome strangers.

  Nausea churned in the bottom of Quinn's stomach. A dry sob escaped her mouth. She wanted…needed a moment to freak out, just to get that overwhelming panic out of her system and focus on an exit plan.

  But Annie trembling beside her, hand over mouth as she began hyperventilating, erased that selfish need. Quinn knew how skilled her best friend was at fixing her publicity clients’ parade of disasters and self-inflicted wounds. But when disaster struck close to home, not so much. But getting abducted was an extreme edge case for both women.

  “It’s okay,” Quinn stated, going into den mother mode. She grasped Annie by the shoulders. “Take your breaths, then walk me through the last thing you remember.”

  Once Annie was breathing deep and relaxed, she focused on recapping. “We were at that jazz club…Blue Nile!” The name brought a faint smile to her lips that didn’t reach her eyes, gone as quickly as it appeared. “Then we left with those guys. Everyone got kinda drunk. Then I…I…” Annie paled again, whatever she had recalled provoking unmistakable horror. “Oh my God. Me and that Vishal guy…”

  “Annie, I know,” Quinn interrupted. Having seen what now triggered her best friend’s dismay, she saw no need to voice it. Quinn really needed to speak with Annie about her drinking, but now was far from ideal. “The same thing happened to me with that Dan skeezeball. It felt…gross…like I had no control over myself.” Quinn shuddered again at the last blot of memories before waking up here. Without a doubt they had not been kidnapped by normal means. That element scared her even more. Quinn held her friend closer until she finally settled down.

  Annie took in their surroundings with a repulsed expression and patted down her pockets. “My phones,” she protested. Her dismay broke through the fear. “Fuck…those had all my business contacts.”

  Quinn nodded like a bobble head that had lost momentum. “Mine’s gone too,” she admitted. Yet some part of her doubted that they would get proper reception wherever they were. “Whoever took us must’ve destroyed them.” She trained her gaze on Annie again to keep her talking. “What do you remember after Dan?”

  Annie’s eyes went glassy for a moment. “I blacked out.” She nodded with confidence. “The next thing I remember is you waking me up.” Her eyes were watery, but she seemed to have calmed. “Where are we? And where are the girls?” Quinn’s fear sharpened. “I don’t know. I think we’re inside a shipping crate. We might be near a port.”

  “Or on a
ship.”

  A metallic jangle stood Quinn straight up. Annie yelped and scrambled back on all fours. The sound came from outside their container prison.

  “What was that?” Annie whispered.

  The jangle continued, akin to keys opening a door. The heavy clunk of a lock opening confirmed Quinn’s suspicions. “Someone’s coming.” She reached for her friend. “Can you stand?”

  Annie gave a quick, childlike nod. “I think so.” She grimaced as Quinn pulled her upright.

  A door slowly opened, which Quinn hadn’t noticed before now. Her heart leaped while Annie drew her farther away by the hem of her shirt from whoever was about to enter.

  A single figure walked in; tall and wiry, achingly handsome with combed back dirty-blond hair and a rakish smirk.

  Annie’s eyes bulged. A cold wave of terror washed over Quinn. They both recognized Dan from Blue Nile. He and his pack of douchebags had invited Quinn, Annie, and the girls back to their place. And like idiots, the invitation had been accepted. She wanted to smack herself for being so dumb.

  Quinn’s last memory of Dan before she’d blacked out was burned into memory, something so horrifying, she barely believed it had happened.

  Out of context, Dan’s GQ good looks and suaveness had made her melt. But back at the townhouse, Quinn had seen the evil behind that sexiness.

  “Good evening, ladies,” Dan greeted after closing the door behind him. He studied his prisoners with beady, predatory green eyes. “Glad to see you awake.”

  Annie bristled. “You motherfucker!” She made furious moves toward him.

  Quinn frantically dragged her friend backward, placing her smaller self between the two. Annie clearly had no memory of what Dan had done to them or what he was.

  “Where are our friends?” Quinn demanded.

  Dan’s smirk grew more sickening. “Alive,” he teased. “For now.”

  That stopped Annie cold.

  Quinn gulped hard. In one vein, their friends weren’t dead. On the other hand, Quinn had no clue where Dan and his crew had imprisoned the others. And with no cellphones or idea where they were, any hope of escape was nonexistent.

  Annie spoke before Quinn could continue her interrogation. “What do you want with us?” The full-figured girl couldn’t keep the tremor out of her voice.

  Dan cocked his head sideways in a patronizing fashion. “Food,” he remarked, as if the answer was obvious.

  Quinn exchanged a baffled glance with Annie. “What?”

  Dan lunged across the room in one bound. With a lazy sweep of his hand, he slapped Quinn aside. The ground rushed up and drove the breath from her lungs. At the same time, Annie’s shriek bounced off the crate walls.

  The world swam and wobbled again as Quinn struggled to all fours. What greeted her while turning was a cold knife thrust to the heart.

  Dan had Annie’s face clasped in his hands like he was about to kiss her. Yet, his open mouth remained inches away. A thick stream of brilliant energy was streaming out of Annie’s mouth and into his own. And Annie’s expression went from shocked to drowsy. Both arms dropped to her sides like dead things.

  Quinn popped to her feet. “Annie! No!” She remembered Dan doing this to Annie earlier tonight and having it done to her by one of his friends, feeling the very life getting sucked out of her. In a heartbeat, Quinn ran and threw her full body weight into Dan. “Get off of her.”

  Dan released Annie with a grunt, and everyone fell over in a heap. Quinn might not have been the biggest person, but she would never let any predator touch her best friend.

  But Dan was surprisingly quick…and strong. Before Quinn knew it, Dan was on top of her, hand around her throat, a sneer pulling at his lips. “Don’t wanna wait your turn, sweet thing?” he taunted. His eyes glittered. “Fine. I’ll have you instead.” He opened his mouth wide.

  Quinn tried squirming away, but the next thing she knew, her strength was getting vacuumed out of her …just like earlier. Quinn kicked and thrashed, but her struggles grew weaker the harder she fought.

  Meanwhile, Dan maintained an iron grip, his eyes glowing like malevolent twin stars.

  The crate prison around them darkened, Annie lying motionless nearby.

  Quinn attempted to shout her friend’s name.

  A faint squeak escaped her lips before the world went away again.

  Chapter 1

  “So,” Quinn announced, heaving her luggage off the baggage claim belt. “I’ve narrowed the list down to three.” She’d been working on a list of article subjects during the San Miguel to New Orleans flight.

  Annie Machado stood nearby holding her luggage. She brushed back longish bangs, watching Quinn thoughtfully.

  “Quinnie, that's great!” Annie was a big girl, leggy and full-figured, working those enviable curves with every step. One could tell she was in publicity or some media job from the stylish cardigan, high-end distressed jeans, and designer heels. Annie’s warm caramel complexion and megawatt smile also didn’t hurt. Even how her dark hair was piled atop her head seemed fancy. “Whatcha got?” she asked.

  “Profiling a new Paso Robles winery,” Quinn answered, already rolling her eyes. Not the most original subject in a wine hub like San Miguel, but it was safe. She did quick adjustments of her grey hoodie sweats and voluminous curls held up by a comb clip, messed up during the flight. Once ready, she grasped her luggage handles. “How the new vineyards are standing out in San Miguel’s crowded industry would grab eyeballs.”

  “Okay,” Annie said, falling in beside her as they headed for Louis Armstrong Airport’s rental car section. “A bit overdone, though.”

  They passed a wall ad featuring New Orleans’s flashy superhero team DCC aka Defenders of Crescent City, placed beside the customary “Welcome to New Orleans” billboard. The five-member team was all smiles and action poses, each of them representing a different NOLA ward from what Quinn had heard.

  “Or I can do a travel piece about New Orleans beyond the cliched Bourbon Street stuff,” she continued. “Like the jazz and blues clubs.”

  Annie gave an approving nod. “I like that. Nice.”

  “Or…” Quinn raised a finger before concluding. Part of her was unsure about this subject, but living in San Miguel, one couldn’t go a block without tripping over a superhero. “I cover that vigilante in Nipomo who throws exploding marbles?” She giggled after uttering that. New heroes had such corny gimmicks nowadays.

  Annie raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Ballistic?”

  Quinn nodded. “That’s him.” They soon found the Hertz Rental booth, which luckily had a short line. “I could use Ballistic as an example to debate vigilantes versus sanctioned superheroes.” Heroes came and went in the City of Wonder unless they were Titan, Lady Liberty, or the Vanguard. The Extreme Teens were a national 9-to-5er corporate team, so they didn’t count. But Ballistic’s year-long crusade to clean up one of San Miguel’s easternmost suburbs had caught many citizens’ attention.

  Annie chewed on her lower lip while pondering this. “Sounds interesting,” she admitted after a few seconds. “You can’t go wrong with superhero think pieces.”

  Quinn nodded in agreement. Annie’s encouragement reinforced hope that she was on the right career path. For months, Quinn had been working as a Social Media Specialist on the SLOCO Daily website and social media accounts. During that time, Helena Madden, SLOCO Daily’s editor-in-chief, had been mentoring her toward a spot on the news site’s writing staff. Getting her dream job would allow Quinn to finally afford her own apartment.

  Quinn finally publishing an article on SLOCO Daily was the first step. A cocktail of excitement and terror churned in her belly.

  “Which article do you think will impress Helena?” she inquired once they’d acquired their rental car keys and left the terminal.

  Annie shrugged. “I’m not privy to Queen Helena’s thoughts,” she answered with a smirk.

  Quinn glared back. “Stop it.” Annie had never veiled her dislike for H
elena and her alleged mood swings.

  Slight mugginess hung in the air, a taste of New Orleans’ late summer humidity. Quinn wasn’t bothered, having survived many New England summers. She’d been looking forward to this reunion for months, scheduled on a rare weekend when New Orleans hosted no major conferences or festivals.

  After perusing through the Hertz Rentals section of the parking lot, the pair found their car, a dark-blue Toyota Camry Sedan. Annie had of course wanted something more glamourous, but Quinn vetoed that nonsense. All they needed was an affordable vehicle that drove properly.

  “Just write the topic you’re passionate about,” Annie advised as they packed their luggage inside the car. “Your best work will pop off the pages.”

  Quinn grimaced at the generic advice, hefting her luggage into the trunk. “But I’m passionate about all three,” she complained, well aware that this was a good problem to have. “Helena’s giving me a chance to write a real article, which means I can finally join SLOCO Daily’s Newsroom. And the reporters there are so bomb, Annie. And so smart!” Quinn sighed. After meeting many of SLOCO Daily’s reporters and shadowing a few, she knew this was where she was meant to be. “I don’t wanna blow it.” Those words came out in a pained rush. The fear of losing this opportunity was never far from her mind. The last major opportunity to write had slipped through her fingers a few years back, thanks to drama beyond her control. Quinn didn’t think she could deal with another body blow like that.

  Annie’s eyes twinkled. “You won’t, Quinnie.” She closed the rear car door and walked over, grasping Quinn’s shoulders.

  “I know how hard you’ve worked with Helena as her…” Annie cleared her throat. “…protégé. And I know you won’t rest until you snag that dream job.” She pecked Quinn on the forehead. “Let’s table the article for a few days while we eat good food, drink our faces off, and have fun!” Annie beamed and headed to the driver’s-side door.

  “Indeed.” Quinn pointed while parking herself in the front passenger seat. “We are on vacation.” Already she felt more encouraged. Besides, Helena had given her a full week for this article. Why not enjoy these couple of days with old college friends? On the drive out of airport parking and headed for the I-10, Quinn’s enthusiasm took a slight dip. Even this reunion wasn’t without its own drama before it had begun.