Novel & Cerita Black Cat In The Rue Morgue

The lady was surprised and confused when he suddenly cut her off. "Y-Yes? I think she placed it on her vanity area." He felt like he was being poured with a glass of cold water when his speculation was confirmed. Hyde remembered it when he went to the victim's vanity table. He remembered what it looked like. A bird darker than a crow, and usually eats flesh from dead animals. A bird that means DEATH... A CARRION CROW.

The minutes stretched into hours, and just when I was beginning to think we’d made a mistake, I saw a figure at the end of the room The person was dressed in black, and their mask was a ghostly silhouette of a wolf's face. They moved with a deliberate, almost predatory grace, their eyes searching the room with keen intelligence. My heart pounded in my chest when I realized I was watching The Raven. I beckoned Nathan, who casually approached me. “Those are them,” I nodded to the person. “That’s the Dog.” Nathan's eyes narrowed, and he nodded slyly. “We just have to have them. follow my direction.”

The only time the villa was ever this quiet and empty was after my mother’s death. A deep sense of dread and urgency quickens my steps and as I twist the doorknob, the first that hits me is the horrifying stench of death. My fingers fly to my lips to stifle a cry. Hugo sits in his chair, his neck bent at an unnatural angle with two, battered holes in them. Fangs. “Sainte Mere de Dieu (Holy Mother of God),” I breathe in disbelief, noting three more bodies on the floor, all sickly white, their faces contorted with pain and decay, their eyes, unseeing.

‎Lucien's POV ‎ ‎I skidded to a halt, barely keeping my claws from ripping through whoever or whatever had dared to block my path to her. ‎ ‎"MOVE!" I instructed but then I froze. ‎ ‎My eyes were wide in shock. No it couldn't be. Was I seeing a ghost? ‎ ‎The rogue stood tall, broader than any of the others, his fur a matte charcoal black with silver streaks like scars torn across his body by the moon itself. His eyes... They were yellow and burned into my memory like fire that never cooled.

Streets are empty at this time of the morning, coppers all sound asleep or else busy at the station, dealing with the Bertinelli booking. No lights are on in these windows… But what the fuck is with all the overturned trash cans? I change directions for a closer look at the creature sprawled out behind that mess of trash – raccoon. It ain’t rummaging, ain’t even frozen playing possum. Thing’s already dead, neck hanging at an unnatural angle with deep claw marks on its chest. Though there’s surprisingly little blood coming out of the wounds…

Her office smelled faintly of ozone and burnt herbs, like the air had been flavored with warnings, the room was all black wood and sharp angles, a tapestry hung that looked like a map of broken promises, and Morgana herself sat behind a desk that could have doubled as a throne for a queen who specialized in cruelty, she didn't rise when I entered, she just looked up like she’d been waiting with a bookmark in my life, cold eyes, slow hands, and when she spoke her voice was smooth and dry, “Violet Black,” she said, the name rolling out like a verdict, “close the door.” I closed it. Of course I closed it. What else was I supposed to do, march in and offer her the dragon like an apology cake? I

Romeo stepped back, heart slamming against his ribs. Daisy's knees buckled, Enzo staggered and Lorenzo cursed under his breath. And then—A hand burst from the water. Not Lucas,Not Alessia's. Its skin was black,its fingers too long, its nails like blade. It clawed onto the riverbank and pulled something enormous behind it. Romeo whispered, "No… no… no…" But it was too late. The creature rose, towering, dripping black water. Eyes glowing the color of death.

"Show yourself!" A cackling laugh echoed from the rotting rafters above, sounding like dry leaves scraping across a fresh grave. From the deep shadows of the corner, Morana shrouded in greasy, tattered black robes materialized. Her face remained completely hidden beneath a heavy cowl, but her hands extended into the faint moonlight—long, skeletal fingers tipped with sharp, yellowed nails.

A wet, tearing sound echoed through the archives, followed by a heavy thud as something hit the floor. Cattleya crept forward, her lantern light cutting through the gloom. There, lying on the floor, was the creature, its spine snapped like a dry twig. Standing over it was a figure in a high-collared coat, their silhouette impossibly tall, their features obscured by the shifting shadows of the archives. It wasn't Rusty.