Adrian's Undead Diary Book Order Novels & Stories

One immediately caught his attention. A leather-bound volume with worn pages. The title had faded with age. "What's this?" Cassian glanced over. His expression changed. "I haven't seen that in years." Adrian sat beside him. The book opened carefully between them. Inside were sketches. Letters. Pressed flowers. Old photographs enchanted to preserve memories. Adrian blinked. "What is this?" Cassian stared at the pages quietly. Then smiled. "My life." The words surprised Adrian. "You kept all this?" "A few things."

The underground archives smelled of old parchment, dust, and faint ozone from Serena’s protective wards. Dim emergency bulbs cast a sickly yellow glow over rows of forbidden tomes, ancient relics, and sealed vaults that no regular student had ever seen. They had barely sealed the heavy iron door behind them when the pounding from above intensified. The infected quarterback and his horde were tearing the library apart floor by floor. Kael paced like a caged animal, still naked, his body a map of rapidly healing wounds. “I can hear them,” he muttered. “My pack. Or what’s left. They’re calling for me through the broken bond.”

She continued to look down at the book, refusing to make eye contact. “How do you suppose your journal got there?” he asked. She looked him in the eye, doing her best to keep a straight face. “I was walking home last night, and I lost it somewhere. Maybe they found it.” He studied her. Finally, he said, “Maybe.” They stood there, in silence. “The weirdest thing of all,” he continued, “is that, before I went completely unconscious, I could have sworn I saw you there, standing over me, yelling at those guys to leave me alone….Isn’t that crazy?”

“I didn’t think you liked silence.” “I don’t,” he said, eyes lingering on her. “Not unless someone else fills it.” Her breath caught again. There was something dangerous in the gentleness of his gaze. Before the moment could grow too heavy, Adrian cleared his throat and reached for a thin, leather-bound journal. “Here. This is one of my favorites.” She accepted it carefully, opening to the first page. The handwriting was elegant, old, yet readable. “It’s a collection of old pack stories,” he explained. “Legends. Myths. Things we tell children… and some truths we hide in metaphors.”

“It was us. Our kind. That is what the textbooks won’t tell you. The founding of America is the founding of our nation. “But the darker vampire races, like the Blacktide Coven, have tried to hijack our work ever since. That’s why there have always been two warring factions. Good and evil. Liberty and persecution. Wherever there is one, there is the other. “Your father, whoever he was, I’m convinced was one of our founders. The most powerful vampires were. And it is they who held the most powerful weapons, and stored them for future generations.” “Stored them?” Caitlin asked, trying to process it all. “The sword we’re searching for—the Turkish sword—is designed to protect, not attack. In the

Kyle opened it quickly and swirled inside. Aidan was sat at his desk. He swiveled in his chair and gasped when he saw Kyle standing there. “Can I help you?” he said, adjusting his glasses. Kyle pulled up a spare chair and sat himself down, his face uncomfortably close to Aidan’s. “As a matter of fact, you can,” he said. He smirked as Aidan leaned back, trying to get some space between them. It was then that Kyle noticed the book that lay open on Aidan’s desk. He hadn’t been able to read all that well in his human days, but he could still recognize the word vampire.

Someone had been here before. But my fingers caught something cold. A small, black USB drive and a tattered leather journal were tucked into the duct. I pulled them out. Just as I stepped down from the chair, the heavy oak door of the study creaked open. I froze. “Still awake, Lana?” Adrian’s voice drifted through the darkness, smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. “I thought I told you to rest. We have a long day of lying ahead of us.” I quickly tucked the journal behind my back, my pulse jumping in my neck.

Adrian had said. "It belongs on the shelf now," Daniel had said. "Among the living things." Adrian had looked at the notebook on the table. He had looked at the shelf. He had gone to the table and picked up the notebook — the slight swell of the pages, the warmth of the dark blue cover, the weight of nineteen years — and had carried it to the shelf. He had placed it among the living things. Not prominently — beside the Morrow Street box, the two records of the carried things, the things held until they were ready for the shelf.

Elise began as she started resealing the pack, “Get it, stash it, and wait for further orders. If something happened to you, how do you expect me to explain it?” Adrian gave a wry smile and nodded. He was about to wrap the base again when he paused, his brow furrowing slightly. In his earlier haste, he hadn’t noticed—but now, as he lowered the base back into the pack, something beneath it caught his eye. A layer of paper—thin, aged—shouldn’t have been there. He looked down and saw a faded, yellowing booklet tucked under the base. Its edges had been gnawed by time. The cover was smooth, worn… and completely unmarked.

Church bells tolled in the background, and wails of grief rose up. Aiden presided over the ritualistic vampire burial, as Caleb personally shoveled the dirt. “…to resurrect another day,” Aiden finished chanting, “in God’s ultimate grace.” Caleb stood there, tears in his eyes, feeling surreal, out of touch with his body. Person after person walked up to him, to try to offer condolences. But there were none to be had.