Blackwater Draw Brewing Novels & Stories

"How did you do this? What exactly is that reaction?" I simply smirked, tilting my head back to meet his intense, golden gaze. "It is a basic botanical reduction reaction, Alpha Blackwood. The sap of this specific leaf remains entirely neutral against cured, historic ink that has sat and dried for days. However, it violently reacts with active, unevaporated moisture. The fact that this text just turned a vivid purple proves a definitive, irrefutable chemical truth... this specific ink was brewed, handled, and written within the last twenty-four hours."

Jossie's POV: There is a beer produced by werewolves called, 'Wolfweiser.' It's brewed and spiked with wolfsbane. It's about the only beer wolves prefer. Because, its effects on us are stronger than the average beer. The cans are purple with the logo in bold gold. There is a wolf howling towards the moon on it. Wolfweiser is used at large backyard parties. There are a few knock-off brands but nothing beats drinking a Wolfweiser. Before I left Nathalie's apartment she gave me a can. "Don't come into work today. Just stay home and try to relax," she insisted. "Drink one of these if you feel like you're about to shift and give me a call."

"Drink. It contains the root of the black-briar. It will finish what the shadow started—purging the last of the silver from your marrow. It will hurt, but you should be used to pain by now." Lyra took the bowl, her hands trembling. As she brought it to her lips, the smell made her stomach churn, but she forced herself to swallow. It tasted like iron and scorched earth. Within seconds, a heat blossomed in her chest, spreading outward until it felt like her blood was boiling. She gasped, dropping the bowl as she curled into a ball, her teeth gritted against a scream. "Focus on the heat," Hokan commanded, his voice a low rumble. "Don't fight it. Let it burn away the girl Silas Blackwood rejecte

"But he prefers quieter pursuits. Moonlight herb tea over wine, contemplation over conversation." Alpha Blackwood's eyebrows rose with approval. "A tea connoisseur? Excellent taste! What varieties does he favor?" Lucas paused thoughtfully, as if accessing precious memories. "Recently he's been drinking Nine-Bend Red Moonflower and Silver Peak Nine-Herb Blend." "Herbal teas?" Alpha Blackwood's excitement was palpable. "Exceptional choices! Those are rare blends requiring considerable expertise to appreciate properly." "Yes," Lucas continued weaving his narrative. "Though he can be quite... particular. He samples all types of moonlight herbs but often drinks only one sip before discarding the

It's the first thing out her mouth, and on instinct, she's moving to peer over the tall male's shoulder. Even with the spirit-thing shifting to hide what's in the pot, Alina quickly sees the disaster with a startled noise in the back of her throat. Black Tar is a hazy reminiscent of what should be oatmeal (or so she thinks). The brew bubbling and no doubt toxic, when Claec and her both flinch at a disgustingly large bubble that forms—only to pop with a wretched burnt smell. How in the world--.

But all she could think about was the way DamianBlackwood’s gray eyes had lingered on her, unreadable, as though he’d seen more than she wanted anyone to. And for some unexplainable reason she felt as though this wasn’t the last time she’d see him.

By the time I carried the tray back into the office, I had almost convinced myself this wasn’t embarrassing anymore. Almost. Employees accepted their cups gratefully. A few looked far too entertained by this situation. Traitors. Finally, I approached Zion’s office with the last cup. He barely looked up from his laptop as I placed it in front of him. Then he took one sip. And paused. Uh oh. “I drink my coffee black,” he said calmly. Silence. I blinked once. “No sugar.” I looked down at the cup. Cream. Sugar. Disaster. My soul temporarily left my body.

The black type of witch is a race, while the change of blood color – purple to black – is a consequence and a curse that cannot be broken forever. I closed our main gate and went back to my bedroom to get my big black backpack. While Jennifer is not home, I decided to go for a hike on Mt. Labo to collect special ingredients or different kinds of herbs and flowers that can only be found in remote mountains. I’m going to use it for the products of my company. I opened our gate once again, headed straight to my McLaren F1 and drove it out of my garage. Then I got out of my car again and closed the gate again.

The Spirit Spring Wine was brewed using water from the Spirit Spring, a unique spring water containing a peculiar energy aura. There was only one such spring in all of Buck, located within the Black Tortoise Lake area. Five thousand years ago, it was handed over to the current tavern owner, Leonard, for exclusive use in brewing Spirit Spring Wine.

“You’ve grown broader since you survived the Whitmore slaughter, Chika.” “Thank you, Maestro,” I say, bowing my head in respect. Vance walks over to an iron workbench and pours three glasses of dark, distilled wolf-whiskey. He pushes two glasses toward us. “Drink. It cuts through the chill of the war-zone.” I take a glass and swallow the burning liquid in one gulp, the alcohol firing through my throat while Peyton sips his cautiously, sniffing the rim first. Vance chuckles at Peyton’s paranoia. “Jamaican Blue Mountain moonshine, aged in charred silver barrels. The water temperature during distillation was kept at absolute zero to extract the raw magic.”