Blackstone House Of Horror Novels & Stories

Putting out the fire, they easily invaded the territory of the werewolves. “Stay alert!” Deyanira warned. A howl from afar caught her attention. The House was easily seen from where they stood, as it was erected into a small hill. And what she saw on top of it sent shivers down her spine. The large silhouette of a werewolf standing in its two feet, his physique shrouded by darkness with the moonlight perfectly shining down on him. He was hunched back, but it only accentuated his fearsome silhouette. He howled to the moon, and that was when she realized he was the owner of the spine-chilling howl. They had been expecting them.

Her hand flops up as if to give me a wave but quickly plops down. Brittany?" A loud cackling fills the room, a demonic face appears behind Brittany with a grin from ear to ear. It had no eyes or nose. The skin looked as if it was left in an oven for too long. Suddenly, the light that was illuminating the room flickered out and the room became pitch black.

Every creak in the house sounded like a warning. She would do anything to protect him. Even if that meant destroying what was left of her own peace. Chapter Fourteen: The Quiet After the Cake The house was still. Balloons sagged slightly in the corners, wrapping paper littered the couch and Lucas had finally fallen asleep while clutching the truck he’d named “Monster Max.” Lissa sat on the porch steps with a blanket around her shoulders, the cool night air brushing against her skin. She heard the screen door open behind her. Footsteps. Then Colt sat down beside her, a careful space between them.

He saw Julian and was on his feet in a second, his body positioned between the door and my bed. “Julian,” Toby said, his voice a low warning. “You’re back.” “I’m back,” Julian said, with a raspy voice. He looked at me, ignoring Toby’s defensive posture. “Lisa. We need to talk. All of us.” Julian didn’t sit. He stood by the window, the grey Seattle light catching the bruises on his neck. He told us about the House of Bone. He told us about the vault, the concrete stairs, and the smell of twenty-year-old rot.

The air in the apartment did not vibrate with the city’s hum anymore; it rattled with the rhythmic, mechanical clicking of a high-speed projector. Every shadow cast against the peeling wallpaper was sharp, edged with the artificial contrast of a high-budget horror film. Silas Blackwood stood in the center of the living room, his hands trembling with a human frailty he had never known in the North. He looked at Kaelen, his son, whose eyes were no longer the stormy sea-grey of a Thorne-Blackwood heir, but two hollow, light-drinking pits of liquid black ink.

The Nightfang estate was a mausoleum of old money and older cruelty. It wasn't a home; it was a statement, a sprawling gothic monstrosity of black stone and sharp angles that clawed at the moonless sky. As our car crunched up the gravel drive, a deep, instinctual fear settled in my bones. This was a place where light went to die.

Under the blazing sun, the party walked for an entire half hour before arriving at the village square. "Is this a stone altar?" "Aren't altars par for the course when it comes to myths about the sea? What's there to be surprised about?" The party discussed amongst themselves carefully, before Afro exclaimed, "Wait, that altar isn't made of stones, it's made of human skulls! Wasn't this supposed to just be an A-ranked dungeon? How did so many people die here?" At the center of the square stood a massive watchtower built entirely from human bones.

The space feels alive—exposed stone walls etched with faint storm runes that glow softly when the wind picks up outside, mismatched couches dragged into a loose circle, a low table scattered with half-empty mugs of tea, spell textbooks, and a deck of tarot cards someone left mid-reading. A record player in the corner spins something low and moody—old blues filtered through a modern vinyl crackle. Thorne Alexander Blackwood lounges on the arm of one couch, long legs stretched out, black leather jacket slung over the back. His dark hair falls into storm-gray eyes that still carry the faint red rim of vampire lineage, even in daylight. He’s sipping black coffee—straight, no sugar—watching the r

I've honoured that vow even more than I've honoured my own life for the past nineteen years, making sure she is kept far away, pure and untouched by the evil that burns within her own Father. But it's finally feeling like all my hard work and protection are going down the damned drain. She's turning twenty in a few weeks and only her personal maid and I are aware of her existence. As days pass, the Familia is closing in on me. Just recently, I heard from my sources that Blackstone has placed a five million dollar bounty on my fucking head and the heads of my family members. The Russian Pakhan has denounced their protection after suffering unimaginable losses because of Blackstone's obsession

Theo quipped with a sly grin, adjusting his rearview mirror. Nicola groaned, leaning her forehead against the window. She didn’t belong at a party like this. The Blackstone house wasn’t just any house; it was a symbol of power and wealth, the seat of the Crescent Moon Pack’s Alpha family. Everyone who mattered in the pack would be there. Everyone except her.