Anthony Horowitz Horror Books Novels & Stories

It was an image of Scarlet’s face. Caitlin felt her stomach roll with anguish. How had her daughter’s face come to be on this ancient text in a lost vampire library? Once again, she thought of destiny. It was as though everything had already been decided. No, it was more than that. If felt as though everything that was happening now had already happened before, as if they were living in a constant loop with history swirling round and round, repeating ad infinitum. The life she was living was just one cycle, one in which the outcome had been predicted before, but was not set in stone. She could change the premonitions and prophecies. Whatever was supposed to happen, she still had control over

🌹 A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR 🌹 This is Book Two in the ‘Entangled’ series, and it continues the story after the events of Book One titled—Bound to the Mafia Lord. While you can read this book on its own, I strongly recommend reading Book One first for a clearer understanding of the characters, relationships, history, and events that have already taken place. There are several names and references throughout this book that were introduced in the previous story. But if you’ve decided to start here… welcome anyway. 🤭❤️

“Why don’t we give them a look? Just to see. No one has to know.” “Oh, I don’t think he’d like that. But . . . come to think of it . . . ” Her eyes suddenly lit up. “That’s actually a good reason to, isn’t it? Especially now, while he’s busy. Oh, maybe just a peek.” Mr. Pervis’s library was just down the hall. It was considerably smaller than Salem’s, so it didn’t take us long to find the ritual books. “There’s so many,” Loretta said, pulling a few off the shelf and flipping through them. “But they’re all so bloody confusing. Doesn’t he have any for apprentices?” She climbed a ladder to rummage through the higher shelves.

"This is a bit about how it all started. I try skimming down the page, trying to decipher Mark's crows feet writing, making a face. "Or I can save your eyes from bleeding and just tell you". He says grinning, taking the book back. "You can say it started with a woman named Margaret Murray. She was a British anthropologue and egyptologue who studied some court documents from the inquisition". Mark sits up more straight, looking in his book. "Oh here it is. In 1921 she published a book called 'The witch cult in western Europe', were she claimed to have found a fertility God from before christianity hidden behind the accused witches confessions of devil worshipping. She called him 'The horned o

Rotimi offered me the chair at the front of the desk, and I sat on it. "Thank you." My eyes wandered to the books on the desk, which belonged to the same author, Gerald Olsen. He was a popular author known for writing horror stories, which means my client was a horror lover. I hate anything related to horror. They make my skin crawl and I could have a heart attack if I watched anything related to horror. "Do what you need to do, Rotimi." The voice behind the desk sounded harsh and stern. It sounds like he was someone with a big problem.

He was currently sitting in a corner of the library where people can read their chosen books comfortably. He turned around and replied, “Hey Anthony, your back.” Anthony smiled and walked to the opposite chair facing Hans. He noticed that there are already a lot of piles of books on the table. He couldn’t help but be shocked at the number of books he found in just 3 hours. “Don’t tell me you are already done with these books?” On the left side of Hans, there’s a total number of 8 books that were placed. While on his right side there are only 2 books left. He would be totally shocked if Hans finished reading those 8 books in just a short amount of time.

Toying with someone's mind and keeping them in my palm was what hooked me. When I was in school, I chose to live in the dorms whenever possible, just to shape the people around me. The dorm I lived in during middle school was never at peace. Sudden injuries and even deaths kept happening. I drifted among them, watching their families weighed down by pain, guilt, and grief, and I felt a rush like nothing I had felt before. When we were assigned dorm rooms in college, the moment I first saw Jacob, I knew that he was just like me, a natural-born sociopath. But he was my prey.

The horizon was a jagged smear of charcoal gray and bruised violet. For three years, I had walked toward it, guided by nothing but the rumors whispered in the hushed, terrified voices of dying scavengers. They spoke of a place that held the line, a fortress of humanity amidst the rotting sprawl of the walking dead. They called it "Haven."

, he tells pointing towards one clay tablet which has letters written in old Latin language which is different than the evolved Latin which humans know, being a witch I clearly understand and can read it since my childhood. “usus vulpis rubri mortui sanguinis ad tollendum venenum e lamia efficax est cum sol corpus ferit”, I read it out loud unconsciously deep in the thoughts. I remember seeing few vampires coming and leaving my parents work place when I was young, but I didn’t knew that witches and wizards used to note down these things when they have photogenic memory and they teach others practically making medicines than giving notes. “What was that?”, Dr Wilson asks curiously to which I

He pushed the meat fork with the worms through the grate. Immediately, Mr. Who shot forward and ate the first worm straight off the fork. His claws scratched the sheet metal floor. Nick's next words were just a whisper. "And you don't like Mr. Who." Something determined came into his face and just as Mr. Who turned to the second worm, Nick jerked the long meat fork forward and pinned it against the little wooden house. The little Proles gave an inhuman scream as the prongs penetrated his body. One straight in the muzzle, one in the throat. It was only a brief noise, then the body twitched a few more times and then hung lifelessly on the fork.