Novel & Cerita Black Butler Lines

"Don't you dare cross the line between war and peace. Don't you dare reject my name. You are still my servant and my son and the gods know that even if I have so much hate for you, I still care about you." Efulefu entered the hut and the ground shook with each step he took. THUMP! THUMP THUMP! He narrowed his eyes as he looked through the window to see how far Osisiakalaka was from the hut. 40 feet, 35 feet, 20...10, 5, He couldn't get the exact figure and out of desperation, he hit the big wooden doors that led to the backyard at full force.

I looked. Lucian’s fingernails were not flat. They were slightly curved, thick and dark at the base, their tips sharp enough to leave deep gouges in the hard flat pebble he was holding. He had not shifted, but the physical markers of the ancient Blackwood line were rising in his human skin.

The guards still didn’t move, not out of fear but awe. Ethan stepped toward her. “Mom...” She didn’t even look at him. “You don’t get to stop me.” Another beat passed, she turned to the nearest commander. “Mobilize the scorch unit. Activate the Black Line. Get me our generals and summon the intelligence seers. I want every eye opened, every ear sharpened, every sleeper agent shaken awake.” “My Luna,” the commander said cautiously. “That would mean invoking the Night protocol.” Luna turned to the group behind her, her children, Lydia, Elvis and Rebecca.

I cut him off impatiently as we geared towards the front door. It abruptly opened and in front of us was an old butler. My eyes narrowed, he looked human. To make more caution, I threw a dose of wolfsbane powder at him. It had no effect, only making him cough instead with a frown on his face. “Can I help you gentlemen?” “He seems human.” Sebastian whispered from behind me. I scowled deeply, “We’re looking for someone. Asher Blackwood and Aurora Thompson to be precise.” I studied his face greatly for any sign of a facade, he remained stoic, eyes expressionless, “I don’t think I know who that is.”

It was impossible but he couldn't stop the tremor of hope that ran through him. "Gimme." He tried not to make the excitement he felt overtake him. He had an image to keep after all. The butler was a tall slim blonde, clean shaven but the greys in his hair showed he was older than he looked. He was groomed neatly too, the well cut black suit he wore hugging his figure nicely. His pristine black shoes seemed to glow in the dark, and his facial expression gave away nothing. He walked gracefully towards Chelsea, a sense of elegance around him. Chelsea wanted to punch his face. He's never punched anybody in his entire life but he was willing to try.

"This is the truth Project Thorne was built to find. They aren't just greedy; they’re building a world where they control every human life through their secrets." She turned to the very last page. The handwriting here was different. It was frantic and shaky, the ink smeared as if it had been written in a hurry. It was a list of names under the heading: THE BLACK LINE COMMAND. Iris felt her heart stop. At the top of the list was Marcus Sterling. But at the very bottom of the page, a name had been written in dark, heavy ink. It was Silas Vane. Iris felt a wave of nausea hit her. But then she realized something. Silas’s name hadn't just been written there. A thick, dark line of blood had been d

I could hardly believe my eyes because our magic normally dwindles when we shift, but mine was still present. Onyx didn’t waste any time. He and Hati were the same size, but Hati was a muddy brown and just ugly. He smelled like decay and death and his eyes were a glowing red of pure evil. He snapped at Onyx’s tail and he turned his body towards Hati’s flank and bit down hard. Onyx didn’t let go and he shook his body and Onyx loosened his jaws. First blood had been drawn.

So it must be them. Danice raised her brow. “Did you see it with their own eyes that the butler is with them?” “…That…I don’t think so.” “Can you describe what the butler looked like?” “We only met twice. All I remember is that he was tall and had black hair.” Danice frowned. Most butlers were tall with black hair. That description was useless. She pressed him with more questions, but nothing valuable came out. Finally, she dismissed them. “Bring the phone next time,” Danice ordered.

Sharp jawline, green eyes that seemed to see too much, and an air of confidence that should have been annoying but somehow wasn't. "Actually, I was just leaving." Emma started gathering her things, but her laptop bag chose that moment to rebel. The zipper stuck, her notebook tumbled to the floor, and her pen rolled under the stranger's feet. He crouched down to retrieve her pen, and Emma caught sight of the title on her fallen notebook's cover: "Heat Between the Lines - Draft 3." Her heart stopped. That was her working title—the one she'd scribbled on the cover without thinking, the one that revealed exactly what kind of book she was struggling to write.

“Brooks Designs is no stranger to underpaid labor. This is a capitalist society, after all. We have to do whatever we can to get ahead.” Black’s smile widened as he nodded to someone behind us, and the sound of footsteps filled the room. I turned, my stomach tightening. Six guards, all of them armed with those batons. Batons which were now crackling with electricity. Cattle prods. “Take them,” Black ordered calmly, stepping back from his desk. His attention turned to Betty, his eyes gleaming. “This one, though… I think I’ll keep her. A little insurance policy.” The guard holding Betty’s throat pressed the knife just a little closer, and I could see the faintest trickle of blood begin to bead