Blackness Marine Novels & Stories

We lose them, we lose everything. The courtyard is rubble. Tanks rusted to skeletons. Blood drying. We train in the grave we made. “Form up!” Rowan shouts. Duskbane wolves take the left. Three hundred. Thorns center. Twenty. Redfang right. Fifty. And between them: me. “Blackmire’s vessel is eight,” I say. Loud. No mic. Just lung. “He eats hearts. He doesn’t do portals. He hunts. That means ground war. That means he’s bringing packs with him.”

I stand on the high cliffside, my heart sinking as I count dozens of black-sailed war-ships closing in on our coastline. The vast expanse of the dark ocean below is choked with iron-clad vessels bearing the serpent insignia of Dawn Mercer's western syndicates, their towering masts slicing through the gray, turbulent sky like a forest of wicked blades.

After a struggle the wreck was hooked up, and the city tow driver fought his way out of the muck and mire to begin winching it up from the marshy, water-filled ditch. It was huge, as long as a boat—a sage, 19-and-81 four door Pontiac sedan, it turned out; license plates gone, vehicle stickers all scraped off—and it took a hell of a long time to haul it up to the road. The GOD BLESS AMERICA sign was knocked askew during this, one of the display flags ending up on the ground. A young uniformed officer righted it again, carefully brushing Old Glory clean; he looked ready to salute.

The echoes lowered their blades. The scarred woman looked toward me. “Fate has already started moving.” The b lood moon pulsed. A black line crossed its surface like a crack. Cassian stopped fighting. His expression turned hard. “That is not a warning.” Raiken came to my side. “What is it?” Cassian looked toward the eastern horizon. Ships appeared beneath the red light. Black sails. Silver wolf emblems. Thousands of them. At the centre sailed a vessel built from white bone.

The blond enforcer stood there, naked and lethal, his gold eyes still rimmed with the black ink of the beast. "Release him, Kan," Gideon rumbled. His voice was a physical weight in the room. Timothy’s eyes darted between them. "Gideon Blackwell. And the 'MadMax' of the Nelblack syndicate. I’m in a room with two walking corpses." "I haven't used that name in years," Kan said, his thumb brushing over the pulse point in Timothy's neck. He leaned in, his breath hot against Timothy's ear. "But for you, I might bring him back."

The scent of pine and mountain frost vanished, replaced by the heavy, cloying stench of brine and decaying kelp. ​The Royal Fleet moved across the Grey Sea like a line of ghost ships. Kaelen’s flagship, The Winter’s Breath, led the formation. Its hull was reinforced with the same white-quartz timber that had grown from the ruins of the Earth-Shaker. Every wave that crashed against the bow sent a spray of glowing, bioluminescent foam into the air. The Southern Alphas stood along the railings. Their fur looked matted and damp in the thick sea mist. They were wolves of the plains and the forests. The open ocean felt like a predator they could not bite, a vastness that mocked their strength.

A place that matters. “You’re testing me,” I say. “Yeah,” Marrow says, and he sounded serious now. “Because if I’m wrong about you, if you’ve gone soft… then I’m a dead man. I need to know you can still see the truth even when you’re distracted.” “And if I’m wrong about you,” I tell him, “you’ll be dead long before Silas finds you.” Another pause. “One of these spots feeds a secret Black Tide group,” Marrow adds. “It’s not Silas’s main team. It’s smaller. It’s his backup plan for when things go wrong.”

Xareth’s voice cracked through the room like lightning splitting a tree. In one swift motion, he seized her by the throat and lifted her clean off the ground. Her legs flailed mid-air, her fingers clawing desperately at his hand. “I warned you,” he growled, low and lethal. “If you dare meddle in my affairs again, or defy my rule, I’ll send you back to the Black Abyss.” The Black Abyss? Even through the pain clouding my thoughts, that phrase echoed in my mind. People say cruel things when they're angry, but that didn’t sound like a metaphor. That sounded like a place.

Vincent and his mate Daisy have stood by me through thick and thin over the past five years, and I consider them family. I'm feeling extra nervous today because CEO Xavier and CEO Kai are coming to the office. Vincent explained that they are the alphas of the Blackmoon Pack, the most powerful Pack among wolves, and no one dares to mess with them. These alphas don't often enter the human world, but they had to come this time because our company plans to buy a large cooperative firm dealing with food. I checked all the files and documents to ensure I had everything I needed for the meeting. When I got to the car, Daisy was waiting for me with a coffee.

He walked back to the Don's building and met the Don having fun with his call bitch in the clan, Kristen. Kristen was the bitch whom the Don calls when he's frustrated or angry or just needs to get a load off. She was a mobster in the clan and was quite skilled. Being the Don's call bitch, she carried herself with an air and would always bully the weaker mobsters or the maids. As soon as Daniel walked in, the boss ordered Kristen out. She grumbled in displeasure, but a look from the Don had her comported. She glared hatefully at Daniel before storming off with her dress in hand.