Arthur And The Invisibles Cast 2 Novels & Stories

“You can’t tell anyone else. I doubt that anyone would believe you anyway.” Arthur waved his hand dismissively. “I understand your reasoning completely. It doesn’t sound remotely true, yet I believe it. Is the otherworldly being here right now?” “No,” Clara said. “He’s been present for some of our conversations before though.” Arthur smiled. “That explains those strange things you do sometimes. You were communicating with an invisible person the whole time.” Clara pouted when she heard that. She thought her nods to Caiden were subtle enough to go unnoticed.

Cara’s hands covered her mouth as she stared at the lifeless body of Arthur. Adrian's eyes immediately became red when he saw Arthur’s body on the bed. He then walked over to it and tried to touch it but to his surprise, his hand went through the body. “Why can’t I touch him?” he growled as he slowly started shifting. “Because I’m not dead,” Arthur answered as he came out of the bathroom and he was holding an unconscious Amelia in his arms. Adrian immediately jumped back when Arthur, who was on the bed and Amelia , who was lying unconscious on the floor, disappeared.

He asked raising his eyebrows. Arnold halted for a second and said, “What if something goes wrong along the way?” “Hmm…..Okay…..” Mr. Roy said pursing his lips. Arnold looked at everyone once and drew in a deep breath. He glanced at his Digi-watch and said, “You guys should be leaving now. It’s getting late.” Then he started walking towards the transparent walls of the enclosure. Mr. Roy wondered how Arnold would get out as he couldn’t see any opening. “How will you go………” The rest of the words remained unspoken as he saw Arnold walk straight through the walls. Then he became invisible.

I reached the stairs leading to deck three, intending to free the captives below, when I felt someone's attention lock onto my position with unnatural accuracy. Evan, his obsession somehow allowing him to sense me even when invisible, moved to intercept. "I know where you are, Aria. I can always feel you." He lunged toward my position, his hands reaching for empty air. I sidestepped but his fingers brushed my arm, and the contact was enough to disrupt my concentration. My invisibility flickered, making me visible for a split second before I could reassert control. "There!" Evan shouted triumphantly. "She's right there, by the stairs!"

The heavy plates slid aside, revealing a chamber filled with a blinding, white-blue light. In the center of the room stood Arthur Vane. He was standing over a holographic terminal, his fingers dancing across a display of glowing biometric keys. Half of his face was a work of liquid-silver art, the metal shifting and pulsing as if it were alive. He didn't look like my father anymore. He looked like a masterpiece of the Council’s madness.

For a split second, I see it: a flash of raw, ugly entitlement in his eyes. A monster that looks exactly like Ethan, or even worse. He leans down, his teeth baring, his hand reaching for my throat to stop my protests… I let out a small, broken sob, turning my face away. The tension in the air snaps. The pressure on my wrists vanishes instantly. Arthur pulls back as if he’s been burned. In the blink of an eye, the mask is back. The darkness is sucked back into the shadows, replaced by the mask of the doting husband.

Arthur hinted, pasting his face right in front of Travis's face, urging him to look at him, straight in the eyes. "What…! No! Nothing happened!" Clearing his throat, Travis aired in a suddenly brittle voice that poorly broke with audible embarrassment. "Oh, really? You mean…nothing happened when you came back with eyes that were glowing and red?" Wearing a vibrant, suspicious smile, Arthur hissed, ensuring that every letter in his words sank deep into Travis's ears.

not anymore. There was a loud bang and it took Evan some time to realize that it wasn't the gun that went off; rather, it was the door being burst open, stealing the hunter's attention and pausing the execution. Evan opened his eyes and looked at the door with curious hope and not a lot of expectance, but he smiled when he saw the man who stood in the doorway straight and proper, impeccably dressed in a three piece suit with a velvet top hat and a gold chained watch. It was Arthur.

As I approached the end of the hall, I peeked around the corner. Nothing appeared out of order. The door was still locked and closed, the TV was off and stayed mounted on the wall, and all the furniture still stood in place. Even Arthur remained on the couch, fast asleep. I was about to search the kitchen when the screaming started again from the living room. “No! Please, no!” I turned around to see Arthur thrashing against some invisible foe. His arms flailed; his legs kicked. His face scrunched, tears staining his cheeks.

Arthur has been moved, arms and legs now tied to an old chair. “The audience has arrived,” he says, amused by his own demise. “And now for the show to begin.” “God, just shut the f*ck up,” Ariadne nearly growls. “The Final Act, the public executioner speaks,” Arthur hums. The room is shrouded with dark faces, long shadows, and lips that are almost too amused. Victor and Harry put on masks, more tradition that Ariadne doesn’t understand. Victor’s front has red-painted features, wearing a neutral expression.