Blood Harvest 1986 Novels & Stories

I yanked the bag downward with all my strength, then drove my knee up, slamming it straight into his stomach. A dull grunt escaped him as his body staggered backward. He collapsed against the stair railing, his face turning pale in an instant. Brian recovered and rushed at me again. I did not give him the chance. I bent down fast and grabbed the metal cash box my dad had thrown aside earlier. Bang! The edge of the box smashed down onto Brian's foot. "Argh! My foot!" He clutched it, rolling on the ground in pain. I did not stop. I grabbed my backpack and sprinted down the stairs.

he uttered in disgust. While he held me in place, I looked on worriedly as Tyrell was battling with three hunters at the same time. As they fell, more kept coming at him. He was now coated in both his blood—from contact with silver—and the blood of his fallen foes. The same goes for Cleo as well. It was all happening in slow motion when one of the hunters further away trained a gun directly at Tyrell’s back. I couldn’t take it anymore. He can’t die. He just can’t.

Prince Evan butt in. "The mountain spirit said there's a bordello in the small community beyond this forest. There, we will find a man named Orion. We can ask him about a wine called Blood of the Wise. That is what we need to please the magical healer." "But wait. Bordello?" My brows furrowed when I realized what word was used. "Oh. Sounds like a good place." Prince Evan smirked. He exactly knows what to expect in that kind of place. Probably because he's a regular or what.

Kieran asked, looking like he’s about to explode from second hand embarrassment and impatience. Noir took a deep then twriled the glass filled with human blood that was sitting beautifully on his ring and middle finger. The blood felt warm on the palm of his hands. He took a sip, then smiled. The blood tasted delicious. The human must’ve died a painless death for the blood to taste this delicious. “It is harvested from the maiden whom the servants passed by when they traveled to the east.” Mephisto replied, reading Noir’s mind. Noir smiled and said, “No wonder it’s delicious. Brother.”

He puts lids on them and straws and then holds the cup out to me and says, “You’re welcome to it, if you want it.” I’m hesitant, but my grumbling tummy doesn’t give me much of an option. As I take the cup from his hands, my fingers brush against his and I’m alarmed by how cold they are. It felt colder than ice and I wish I could hold his hands and warm them up in mine. He tells me, “We get the blood from blood drives or animals we’ve caught in the forest. We try hard not to have to drink from tap. Especially with humans, although, some of us has more restraint than others.” He rolls his eyes with that last sentence and I can’t help but wonder what he means by that. Who has less restraint? I

Blood. Dread settled over me like a heavy shroud. The once serene garden now bore the threatening mark of violence. I knelt down, scrutinizing the crimson stain on the ground. Fear coiled in my stomach, and the silence of the garden seemed to echo with the ominous weight of the unknown. Zoey's disappearance had already been a challenging situation, but the presence of blood escalated the situation to a new level of urgency. Every worst-case scenario raced through my mind. I couldn't lose her. Not after all she had been through.

His voice, thin, from somewhere near the back of the warehouse, past a row of stacked crates that threw long shadows under the one working overhead light. She was moving before she'd fully located him, Nico close behind her, and found her brother kneeling on the concrete with both hands pressed to a wound in a stranger's abdomen, his face gray, his shirt soaked through at the knees where he'd been kneeling in someone else's blood for however many minutes it had taken her to get here. "Move," she said, already dropping beside him, and he moved, scrambling back on his heels like the word had physically pushed him, relief and terror crossing his face in the same instant.

As I watched the car tear down the road, my heartbeat matched the speed on the screen. Then there was a loud bang. The driver jumped out to look. The footage shows two adults lying on the ground, and the victim's baby had been tossed a distant away. There was blood everywhere. It was so terrible that I almost couldn't watch. Charles and Freddie wiped at their eyes beside me. Then, unbelievably, Maeve said they weren't dead and backed the car up to run over them again. When the relatives saw that, they went completely berserk. "Charles! Freddie! I don't care who was driving. Kill them both!!

The one I'd been carrying in my jacket pocket since the day we left Iron Valley. The last sample of my blood that existed outside a laboratory. I held it up. Let him see it. "This is what your bosses want. Raw. Unprocessed. The real thing. You want leverage? I'll show you leverage." I threw the vial against the wall. It shattered. Glass exploding. Dark liquid spraying across concrete. My blood. The thing Marcus came for. The thing the Bloodline Project had been chasing for three years. Running down the wall and pooling on the floor like spilled wine.

Blood from my nose had run past my lips and chin, smearing across my cheeks and ears. The front of my shirt had long since lost its original color. It was soaked through with blood. The pool beneath me had spread to Derrick’s shoes, sticky and dark. “Harriet?” Derrick’s voice trembled. He called my name again. “Harriet?” Mom had been celebrating Sheila’s safe return. When she saw Derrick storm toward the storage room, she followed him. The sight before her made her scream. She covered her mouth and staggered back a step. Dad had been comforting the frightened Sheila. After hearing the commotion, he rushed over as well.