Black House Novels & Stories

"Of course not, it would never be your fault they took your sister, but... do you remember anything beyond what they told you?" She looked confused, then looked down. "I remember a mark... a... black mark on the fist of one of them." I looked at Asmodeus. That wasn’t information that was in the novel, it was something new. Something from that place - something that Elaine didn’t know. "What brand? What was it like? Can you draw?" It was too many questions, but I couldn’t help it. They were necessary if we really wanted to catch those bastards. 'They were tall, black hair, red eyes and crimson robes,' reminded me clearly of the description given by the victim when Elaine helped her.

I stared at Adrian, still trying to figure him out. My brain refused to process anything. My room… but not my house. My bed… but not my street. My posters… but definitely not my peeling ceiling. It felt like stepping into a parallel universe sponsored by a billionaire with too much money and absolutely zero boundaries. I slowly turned back to Adrian. He looked annoyingly calm, like people reconstructed entire bedrooms from memory every day. “Mr Blackwell, we are not close enough for me to invite you into my room, right? So how do you know what my room looks like?”

I could feel the power crawling inside me. It crept beneath my skin like small worms creeping and searching for an escape. I pictured my skin like an iron shell of armor keeping them in. It calmed the movement, but increased my squeamishness. I burst open through front door of our house. It was a small two bedroom rental that backed up to a large forest, a forest that just happened to include the biggest nexus point on land in the United States. That was not actually a coincidence as I was instantly reminded when my knees banged into the couch.

The old Blackwood Manor, its gothic spires piercing the night sky. Twenty-five-year-old Riley Harper had joined the investigation as a favor to her friend’s production company, documenting the notorious haunted estate for a new paranormal series. She was a skeptic at heart, but the paycheck was too good to pass up.

Blackwood. TBC!!

Daniel’s offer felt like a miracle falling straight from heaven. Two days later, Johnson was discharged from the hospital. He looked much better, though still weak. Daniel’s driver, a kind older man named Marcus picked us up in a sleek black car. As we drove through the city, the houses grew bigger and more beautiful until we reached a neighborhood I’d only seen in magazines. “Is this where we’re going?” Johnson whispered, eyes wide as he stared out the window at the massive mansions. When Marcus turned through iron gates and drove up a long, winding driveway, my jaw dropped. The Blackwood mansion looked like something out of a fairytale, three stories tall, surrounded by lush gardens and el

As if saying it aloud would make it real, make this arrangement into something more than a business transaction. James cleared his throat. "Mr. Black is in his private office, ma'am. But he asked not to be disturb." I was already moving. "Thank you, James." My heels clicked faster as I navigated the maze of hallways. The Black estate was obscenely large, all dark wood and crystal chandeliers, the kind of wealth that whispered instead of shouted. I'd been here for a few months and still got lost. Caleb had given me a wing of my own—as far from his bedroom as architecturally possible.

I can almost read it in his voice. A strange laugh escapes me, it's soft and almost disbelieving. The demand is so him; arrogant and commanding, yet tinged with a sense of familiarity that makes my heart twist. The Black House. The memory of that place sends a shiver down my spine. Dark and unyielding, it’s a fortress of weapons and secrets, a place where power and death collide. The last time I was there, I felt like an intruder in a space that belonged to someone else.

They’re big and glossy and look like speed on four legs. The rest of the drive must be a good three or four hundred yards long and aims directly for the house. I’d pictured some sort of Queen Anne style place, with sharply pitched roofs and gingerbread cut-outs. Blackmarsh House is nothing like that. It’s older, for a start, a sprawling Tudor manor with a long black-and-white front between brick wings. There’s stone steps leading up to an oversized front door, dark wood with black iron hinges and studs. Rows of windows stare down at us. Their small leaded panes look like hundreds of watchful eyes.

He certainly knew how much she disliked Dana on their first meet. Eira groaned in frustration. “Do I look like a tutor to him? I’d rather be left alone.” ____________ The Black Hall was a dodgy place fit for creatures of the night. It had been more than just a hall once, Nate could tell from the ruins at the front that greeted anyone who visited it. A castle, perhaps, that once belonged to a high lord. Alex claimed it to have belonged to him, but Nate didn’t believe that man. All that remained of it was a hall now with black walls and cracked marble floor beneath a dome-shaped ceiling made of painted glass that let water droplets in every time the clouds wept.