Romans & histoires Blood Ink

"Relax, Sai, it's only three days. You will be discharged by next tomorrow. You will take your last dosage at home." She sat up. "Really?" Hither nodded. "I have kept you here some more days so we could ensure there is nothing else wrong in your system. You are doing well. With that being said, you will need to be making pints of donation for storage." "Storage?" He nodded. "Yes. Your blood test results shows that you have Rh-null blood type, also known as golden blood. And you know that such blood type is rare to find. If you don't make storage for yourself, the day you may need it, you may regret it. Better to plan ahead of such scenarios."

I blinked at him. "What do you mean?" "The blood," he said as he pulled out a vial of AB. The black ink on the vial read Rh-negative, and I felt myself salivate at the look of it. "This blood type is very rare in human society. It's also delicious for us, well, not as tasty as yours. More importantly, it's from a healthy and energetic human donor. You would love it once you tried."

My hands trembled slightly as I prepared the needle. “Just a little, Liam,” I murmured softly, steadying my voice though tears pricked my eyes. “Mama’s here. Just a little.” I pricked his skin carefully, drawing the blood into the thin glass vial. My movements were quick, practiced. But the moment I tilted the vial to the light, my entire body froze. The blood… it wasn’t the right color. It wasn’t bright red. It was darker. Almost black at the edges.

Even Madeline, Bailey, and the others watched silently as Sebastian continued to administer treatment to Rex. After three whole minutes, Sebastian finally managed to squeeze out a drop of stagnant blood from Rex's left hand. "Look, it's bleeding! It's finally bleeding!" a student exclaimed. "Why is the blood black?" his person asked. "Yes, why would there be black blood?" another questioned. The students around them all stared nervously at Rex's finger. They couldn't help speculating when they saw the black blood being squeezed out.

Red. But something looked strange. Not like blood. Zane's brows pulled together. “That’s not blood.” I blinked. “What?” “That’s ink.” I stared at him. “Ink?” He nodded seriously. “Grandma told me something like that before.” My mother walked in carrying a plate of fruit. “What are you two staring at?” Zane pointed at the screen. “That red mark. It’s ink.” My mother froze. “What did you say?” “Ink.” He looked proud of himself.

​The smell of the new batch was rancid and heavy, filling the locomotive shed with the sharp, toxic tang of industrial petroleum and old friction. Yusuf hoisted the tin bucket onto the workbench, splashing a thick, viscous dollop of the black sump-sludge onto our mixing slate. It didn't look like ink; it looked like the blood of a dead machine—viscous, iridescent under the cracked skylight, and clinging to the wooden spatula with stubborn weight.

Dark veins showed through his pale skin like black ink spreading under glass. Multiple IV lines ran into his arms, feeding something directly into his bloodstream. The liquid in the bags wasn't clear - it was deep red, almost black in the harsh lighting. Vampire blood! I realized. They were pumping vampire blood into him. But for what? "How much longer?" Blake gasped between ragged breaths. His voice was hoarse, probably from screaming. Standing beside the table, Dante looked every bit the predator he was. His pale skin seemed to glow under the medical lights, and those red eyes held the detached interest of someone watching a particularly fascinating experiment.

Maybe he could ask Rhylent to slap him a second time. "Explain ink." "Ink?" Murry's brow furrowed. How did someone explain that? "Ink is a liquid we put in pens. In this case, the liquid that came out of the rocks was black and thick and..." "Like black human blood?" Rhylent asked. "The rocks were bleeding?" "Yes." Murry chuckled. Of course. The alien who wanted to kill him all the time knew about human blood. He should have started with that. "What came out of the rock was like thick black blood. Gross."

Sharper this time. I swallowed. My hands were shaking. I hugged my sketchbook tighter. He exhaled through his nose. Looked at the blood on his knuckles like it had personally offended him. Then he reached into his jacket, pulled out a black bandana, and started wrapping his hand. I watched, stupidly mesmerized. “Why were you there?” I asked quietly. His eyes flicked to mine. “I was passing through.” “Twice in two days you’ve ‘passed through’ exactly where I am.”

Melinda ran a finger along the line and named them, steady, like an incantation at the edge of noise: “Dragon blood, the raw power, to bind the brute energy the tear bleeds. Phoenix blood, the rebirth so the seal can mend if it frays. Unicorn blood, its purity to cleanse the corruption. Basilisk blood, A poison to turn anything escaping into ash. Kraken blood, an abyssal strength to anchor us to the depths. Griffin blood, vigilance, watchfulness for the long centuries. Chimera blood, the hybrid coin that traps chaos by uniting it. Werewolf blood, it cycles and changes, to tether time to the seal. Vampire blood, an immortal blood, for endurance.” A deep, ancient red, almost black, that swallo