Arthur Conan Doyle The Hound Of The Baskervilles Novels & Stories

Arthur assured my Aunt, “No, Aunty Daisy. We will try our best to protect the Lycan house. We are much stronger than them. The rogues will be killed.” Little Bambi jumped out of my arms, wagging his tail, he hurried when he found the chance. I had to rush after him, calling out to Arthur to come with me. “Arthur! Catch him!” I had this feeling that the wolf pup might run away because he is unaware of everything and when he reached downstairs, he went directly for a ball that was left on the bench by one of the maids. He grabbed the ball with his mouth, his tail still waggled in the air. He tried to bark and I chuckled looking at Arthur who tucked his hand inside his pocket.

he inquired angrily, his dark brown eyes shifting to a vibrant ice blue. “Price of the job.” I shrugged as he towered over me his broad muscled frame reminded me of a bear, he intimidated me, but I refused to show it, he was bald with raven tattoos covered his neck and head, and small fangs which lengthened when he was in a Berserker rage poked out of his mouth slightly. He wore his usual attire black leather pants, and a bear fur was draped over his shoulders its head rested on top of his bad one, he had a tattoo of a bear had that covered this one of his pecks and a series of lines and symbols travelled from the bears head to his shoulder and down his arm. “I told you to be careful.” He wh

“You help me, I keep you out of prison. You’re not here to ask questions.” Emily stood her ground, crossing her arms. “I know you, Hound. I will not serve as an accessory to your murders or whatever you have planned.” Hound sighed, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. Slowly, he began to strip off his shirt, revealing the intricate runes etched across his body in deep blue ink. The sight was both mesmerizing and harrowing. “I watched my mother die, overworked as a slave,” he began, his voice trembling. “I should have pushed her off the building… It would’ve been the greatest mercy I could’ve offered her.”

she told me. I nodded. It’s one of the worst things in the book for a bodyguard to separate from the target. But I also learned to trust that woman. If she says what we’re doing, then that’s what we’re doing. I track the first blood trail quickly. I stayed focused, my weapon ready, it led me to a corpse. Dodson’s. His throat had been slashed deep enough for the wound to expose the bones. He never had the time to scream. I looked at him for no more than three seconds then I was gone on the next trail.

She dropped the shovel as the pain made her cry out. The Hellhound was forced to let go of her as it was shoved on its back by a grey human-like creature. With big green eyes and leathery grey skin, it was a familiar’s true form, a goblin. She watched as the goblin wrapped it spidery long fingers around the Hellhound’s neck before ripping its head off. The goblin dropped the Hound’s head and looked at her with its big bald head quirking to the side and its long tale almost wagging. It morphed quickly to its other form, an Australian Shepherd dog. Arthur Chestnut’s pale blue eyes looked at her in concern as he padded over her. She let out a sigh of relief. She bent down and patted his furry f

I had no choice, so I dug through every gift Zoe had ever given me, but I found nothing. Just when I was about to give up, I shook a pillow, and a tiny paper figure floated out. Its face was drawn to resemble Lucas, and his birth details were written on the back! The fortune teller exclaimed, “That’s it! The lock and the paper figure work together, and since you've touched the lock, the effect on you is stronger. Luckily, you found it early.” I broke out in a cold sweat. That same day, I slipped the paper figure under Miles’ pillow and instructed my parents to watch him while he slept.

“Then all of a sudden these weird howls woke me up. Some part of me knew it wasn’t a normal animal, so I made Tres and his family get into the truck while I fought the Hellhounds.” Blakeney had his fingers pressed together in a steeple and Arthur was tapping a finger to his beak-like nose. “And you killed them how?” the Archivist sought out. “One of them I stabbed in the heart. The second, I split its underside open and the last one—the alpha and largest—I ended up severing the head. None of the other wounds seemed to bother them much. In fact, they kinda healed up pretty fast.” The men nodded thoughtfully in unison.

the Black Hound finished. The bald man brought out his pistol and pointed it at Black Hound. He pushed the button to the ground floor. Black Hound neither spoke nor reacted. He just merely looked at the armed man. His eyes were cold, and his expression was blank. The armed man trembled, unsure of what to do next. "You and I will walk to my car," The bald man said as he moved closer to the Black Hound. Black Hound hesitated for a moment but eventually did as he was told, he was curious to see where this was going end. He felt the man jam the gun weakly into his back.

Making it impossible to discern his blood from the blood of the bloodhounds. Blood seeping from the cut on his forehead. To fall in his eyes. Not healing. Showing his strength was curtailing. His vision was going hazy, limbs trembling. His mind felt numb. He knew he could stop them for just few minutes more. He doesn't know what will happen next. But he wanted to try till his end. He can't let his little Dove down. No! He has to do it. Distracted he doesn't realise when a bloodhound jumps on his back. Ripping his skin. And he rumbles. Shaking it off.

Arthur’s body hit the ground with a heavy thud. His head spun, his body weak and bleeding. He tried to move, but darkness clouded his vision. Within seconds, he lost consciousness. Derrick stood over him, shaking the blood off his claws. "Pathetic," he muttered. Derrick was about to rip Arthur to pieces, but then a deep, animalistic growl made him turn. Raven, in his wolf form, was not far away, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. At his feet lay Marion’s lifeless body. Blood dripped from Raven’s jaws, and in his mouth, he held Marion’s severed head.