American Horror Story: Murder House Characters Novels & Stories

The smell was thick enough to sting my nose and throat. I quickly covered my mouth and nose, forcing myself to breathe as quietly as possible. The killer seemed completely unaffected. He gripped the bloodstained hammer and went into a frenzy, smashing everything in sight. The wardrobe, table, chairs, and shelving. One by one, every piece of furniture in the room was reduced to splinters. By the time he finished, the room was nothing but wreckage. But he still hadn't found me. A twisted grin spread across his face. The ugly scar stretching across his cheek twisted with it, making him look even more terrifying.

Harrison started. Robert Thornton killed Daniel Kesser. He framed my husband. He has been erasing people who know too much. Marcus Chen is dead. Harrison's office was broken into last night. And somebody sent a picture of my car to my phone at midnight. So I am not going to talk carefully around this. Not today." Pierce looked at her and said “Do you know your husband office was broken into this morning”. Maria felt the blood leave her face. "What office?" "His main corporate office. Blackwood Towers. A small team. They went through his personal records."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and unlocked the front door, my heels clicking softly against the marble as I stepped inside. The silence was too heavy. The air, too still. My heels echoed like accusations against the marble floor as I stepped into the foyer. The lights were dimmed—odd, considering Nathaniel usually left them all blazing, claiming it made the house feel alive. But the house wasn’t alive. It was a mausoleum. The housekeeper, Rosa, appeared from the hallway, her eyes widening in what could only be described as shock. Her hands trembled slightly, the towel she held clutched tight in her wrinkled fists.

In one swift motion, she drew it across her stomach, stabbing herself in the most less vulnerable spot that'd only cost bleeding and few damage to her, as she let out a scream that pierced the silence. Jared burst into the room, his sword drawn and eyes blazing. The scene before him — Jeremy towering over Ava, her bleeding stomach, his sharped wolf claws inside Ava's skin, and the House Ashtower sigil on the bloody knife on the ground, And Ava's terrified expression — painted only one picture: an attempted murder. Jeremy was shocked to the bone as few more guards rushed into the room, their blade pointing directly at Jeremy Ashtower, Jeremy was rooted in place, every muscle locked in terror

Angela said, placing the back of her hand on her forehead and spinning around the room in ran directions. “This is no time for jokes. I can't help but feel like the destruction of the Mortimer mansion, Gregory’s death, and Steven’s absence are all connected somehow. I also can't help but feel like Christine’s sister, Evelyn, has something to do with all of them,” Marie said. “But it wasn't Evelyn that destroyed the mansion; it was a cloaked person wearing a flaming mask. It might have been female, but from what I remember, Evelyn is a werewolf, not a fire-controlling witch capable of blowing things up,” Valerie said.

They entered the haunted house and Richard spoke to Eric again. “Where are you?” He asked. Eric however replied by opening a door behind them. They all glanced back as every single one of the wolves just sat there in the room they'd dimly lit. In their midst was a girl that Melissa knew was the witch, Clarissa. She held a dashing resemblance to her mother. She exhaled and then walked forward with the others to meet them.

We quickly thank him, and luckily, he leaves without another word. The house lacks any decorations or curtains. The haphazardly arranged furniture looks barely standing. Our bags land on the couch in the living room that has grown old and dusty over the years. Jason stares at me for a moment before pulling me to him, burying his face in the crook of my neck, and starts talking in a hushed voice. “I’m 100 percent sure these were homes of werewolves. And Brock…” he takes a deep breath before keeping an even lower voice. “I think Brock is a hunter,” he finishes, and my body goes rigid with a breath struck in my lungs.

She smirked before they vanished into thin air. The house was dark. The curtains were closed. Doors and windows were shut. The aura was silent. His lips parted and the candles in the living room lit up in yellow flames revealing him and Iago DeAndre. The warlock and the vampire pay their last tribute to Lorene Havel. Edmond was holding a candle so was Iago. They were standing opposite each other. Tears were streaming down Edmond's eyes. He couldn't take in the pain. It was the exact pain he felt when he lost his wife and his daughters. Regret and agony.

It's just that with time I had learned to show a blank face even if there is a storm of emotions hailing inside my heart. Reaching a 2 storyed Building with a rusted iron gate, Jaxon opened the gates. If I was a director, I would have chosen this location for my next horror movie. But right now I am the victim of that horror movies. Entering a barren yard, we reach the wooden doors of the house. Jaxon knocked twice, and after seconds, it was opened by a tipsy woman wearing nothing but black lingerie, eyeing my brother as if he is some sort of meat, which she is ready to eat. I scrunched my nose in disgust. Her breasts are almost falling out, you can get a glimpse of her nipples as well, and

He leaned on a wooden cane with a silver wolf's head. Henry Black. The man who murdered two women. The father who destroyed his own son. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked at each of us in turn. "Martha." He nodded. "Still breathing, I see." "Unlike your conscience," Martha spat. "Conscience is for people who plan to live forever." Henry turned to Marcus. "Vance. Still playing the hero? Still pretending you didn't abandon your own daughter?" Marcus didn't flinch. "I did what I had to do to keep her alive. You wouldn't understand. You've never loved anyone but yourself."