Blood Music Novel Novels & Stories

My best friend was unconscious and completely drained out of energy. For the first time in my life, I got to see a psychic vampire, a freaking succubus. Fear was replaced by a rash of anger in my pulse. After recovering from my panic attack, I got to my feet again and sprinted toward Jacque, charging out to smash her invisible shield.

This time, it had me sucking in a sharp breath when I opened it and my eyes widening at the diagrams that I saw. Inside that book was various ways to kill a vampire.

Eyes… deep crimson, the color of wine freshly spilled across marble. I didn’t just wake up in a different body. I woke up in a different world. And not just any world. One I knew far too well. I had read about this place before—in a book called Blood and Moonlight. A gothic fantasy where ancient vampire courts ruled the night from silvered palaces, where ruthless werewolf packs prowled the wild forests, and where an uneasy truce held between fangs and claws… until it inevitably shattered. It was a story of war. A story of betrayal. A story where love was as fatal as any blade.

Still no voice. Murderer. He glanced at the sky. No clouds. Blood ran down his arms. A single black fly buzzed around him. The Beast tried to swoop into his head. Michael squeezed his eyes shut, pressed his hands against his ears. Ground his teeth together. Murderer, it said. “No.” And then he heard it—soft at first but gaining power. The ocean. His head thumped in harmony with his heartbeat, bursting explosions of rhythmic pain.

Her father. Cameron Allistar White had been a soldier in the American Civil War when he was mortally wounded and left for dead. A nomadic vampire, searching for an easy meal, had begun to drain him—only to be interrupted by a clean-up crew retrieving fallen soldiers. The vampire fled before he could finish, leaving behind a man who was neither dead nor fully human. His heart still beating when the venom flooded his veins.

Dad grabbed the nurse, throwing her out of the room alongside himself. "Well-done, Emily, you have accomplished your mission." A sinister scent emerged, a wicked laugh echoing across the room. The once blue sky was now a mixture of black and white with the moon reflecting its radiant image. Wails filled the air as a ray of light fell from the sky, hitting a mountain on the other side of town. I groaned, wincing as my hand was scorched by the flaming book. The pages settled, words in red appearing on the pages. "Strigoi, Nosferatu, Jiangshi…"

Is it a dream or I have gone crazy trapped in the four walls. I watched helplessly as the baby fully sneaked out through my bump, masked in blood and eyes blazing crimson red. A loud startled yell of Nikona from the distance rings through the hall before I succumbed to darkness.

I sat with my hands covering my ears, eyes closed, shaking my head, what I would give to see her bright blue eyes and curly blonde mop right now, I thought. I stood and tried to figure out where the music was coming from again but didn’t see anything outright. I narrowed my eyes as I looked at the bookshelf. I removed the books and began to tear apart the bookshelf, until it was in pieces and finally off the wall. Glaring at the grate, I gritted my teeth as my claws elongated thinking, I need to stop this music before it drives me insane. I glanced at the wall clock; it’s blaring red numbers 57:50 staring back at me. I clawed around the grate feverously, until I could push it in, but th

I say as I tried to lift myself up, remembering these boots were new and I was now pissed. I look down at what I had tripped on, narrowing my eyes allowing them to adjust to the dark and dim lighting provided by the moon only to reveal a man covered in blood. I scream hurdling myself off him, my head kissing the floor. I hiss at my now migraine and wonder if I had again come too late for the call. Some tears run down my face just as the sound came. After many years of being subjected to them I had begun to understand that some sounds meant a beckoning, another sadness, the faster one desperation or worry and this one being that of sympathy, only for the calling of beckoning to come again.

I could see it all through that silver edge, even without shifting: the roots, the trunks, the towering pillars of this place that felt older than the word “cathedral.” I moved mostly by reflex. Step. Step. Step. The wound kept grinding away and the fever was still there, but my mind started to run. Muttered sounds under my breath, didn’t matter the words. I just needed the noise to fill up the silence, which was starting to feel like something alive. Eventually my legs gave out. Not a stumble. Not a choice. Just a blank, final end to their long work. I had a split second to realize it before I went down, hitting the ground face-first.