Agatha Christie: Kindle Novels & Stories

He declined. “At least discuss your issue with her!! What’s wrong with getting a second opinion?” Riya insisted. “And what will I do with her opinion when I have no proofs?” He countered, and Riya sighed. “Fine, do whatever you want to do,” She spat as she was quite frustrated with the stubborn attitude of both Nikhil and Mishka. She picked up her sling bag and walked out of his apartment without waiting for Nikhil to say anything further. *** “Agatha Corel!” Christian looked at the tombstone. “How did she die?” He asked Danny, who was standing beside him with a complicated expression on his face.

TEMPEST “Thk, thk, darling, good little Agatha hasn’t been home for a long while.” Her eyes suddenly shifted to a reddish hue, pupils going vertical and black, chilling, strange. “What… are you?” I tried to roll back, but my legs wouldn’t respond. My whole body was about to fall apart. “You tricked me this whole time…” “We’re going to have a loooong time to get to know each other,” she answered, coming toward me step by step.

Agatha smiled gently, reaching up with a soft hand to tenderly wipe a stray tear from my bruised cheek. “Well…” she murmured, her eyes shining with a chilling, hidden victory. “There is one thing…” *************

At the center, a round table draped in deep purple cloth held a cluster of blood-red candles—and floating above them was a clear crystal sphere that seemed that reflected a pinch of purple light. It felt like we had crossed into another realm, one where unseen eyes watched from every corner. "Please, sit," Agatha said, gesturing to two low chairs in the corner. We obeyed, the chairs feeling lower than expected, forcing us to lean toward the table. Agatha’s lips began to move in an inaudible chant, the words strange and fast, as if they weren’t meant to be understood. When she opened her eyes, I felt goosebumps. They always scared me. Maybe it was the way they seemed to hold countless secrets

I replied. “Your food smells good,” Agatha said. “Obviously,” I replied. “Can I have it?” Agatha asked. “Are you a beggar or something?” I asked. Agatha looks surprised or embarrassed, perhaps. “No, I just want to taste it,” Agatha replied. “Then buy yours. That’s not my problem,” I said. She raised her brows in annoyance. “Kylo, my dear. You seem to be rebellious,” she said while playing with her long, wavy hair.

“I convict myself of the death of Christie Claricel. I should have listened to her. I have sinned and I am going to hell—if there is hell at all. Yet, I am living in my own personal hell on Earth. Retribution is a must. There needs to be payback.” Shaking in tears, Agatha took off her undershirt revealing her brown body and abnormally skinny frame. Her ribs jutted out of her skin like canyons on her torso. Her arms were frail and flesh seemed to protrude to the surface—like her skin was glued to her bone. Agatha pulled up a ray’s whip in front of her, barbed at the very end.

Agatha After our meeting, Matthias, Bartholomew and I went our separate ways. I felt better now having told them everything I was told to tell them, now I just needed to talk to Jurian and let him know that things were finally progressing. We were about to go to war, I would get my revenge, and Jurian would get his power. I walk back into my room and start to get ready to contact Jurian when there is a knock on my door. I push everything over a bit and head to the door only to see Onyx on the other side. This woman knows things; things I think will be bad for me if anyone else finds them out. “What do you want bitch?” I am not in the mood for her, “Just tell me and get the hell out, I have t

Anaya yelled, her eyes locked on the dark silhouette of Christ Church looming at the far end of the square. Vikram reached into his leather satchel, his fingers brushing past the cold glass of the vial before gripping the shattered silver pocket watch they had pulled from the underground vault. The metal casing was burning hot now, the internal friction of its forced counter-rotation melting the intricate brass gears within. He raised the watch toward the advancing line of shadow entities and slammed his thumb down on the master winding crown.

Agatha, a frail figure with weathered features, sat in a worn armchair by the fireplace, her piercing gaze fixed upon me. “You've come,” she say, her voice laced with a mixture of weariness and anticipation. “The chosen one walks among us once again.” I approach her cautiously, my eyes drawn to the ancient books surrounding her, their faded spines whispering secrets of forgotten ages. “Agatha,” I began, my voice betraying both determination and trepidation. “I seek your guidance. The Night Howlers have fallen under a curse that plagues our lineage.” Agatha nodded knowingly, her eyes glimmering with ancient wisdom. Yes, child,” she replied, her voice carrying the weight of centuries. “The cu

And just seeing him in the picture brings back flashbacks. The bald man. That creep. So I wasn’t drunk, and my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. So all those actually happened. The stalking, the chasing. Then the drink, the bullet in the Champagne. The note. Right! The note! I have it! Jumping to her feet, Agatha rushes to her hand bag that she took along with her and pulling out the tiny chit. “Wow. You really are real.” No shit Sherlock. Slowly she unrolls the note, rereading the words again.