Blood On The Streets The Doors Novels & Stories

Just as I gripped the door handle to leave, Ethan's voice echoed behind me. "Lana, I'm sorry." Without turning around, I replied lazily, "Keep that to yourself. Don't waste my time." As the door closed, I caught a glimpse of Ethan through the dim light in the hallway. He crouched there. His tears dripped silently onto the crimson carpet, like a stray dog that had been abandoned. I thought that was the end of it. But I had bit expected Tara to go even crazier. She found a way to lure me out, and without overthinking it, I went to meet her. Ironically, the tables turned, and she ended up kidnapping me.

She literally scuttled away after relaying the message, making me realize that my face was twisted into a harsh grimace. Good. Buoyed by my newfound confidence and anger, I plunged the needle into a vein on my wrist, not even flinching as I drew blood. A moment later, I knocked on the door to his study, loosely holding the cup of my blood. “Come in.” His deeply husky voice murmured, and I bit back the tingle threatening to wash through me. I stomped into his office, slamming the door behind me and then carelessly, dropped the cup on his desk. The red liquid almost spilled over the edge and I watched his fangs flash before he sharply withdrew them.

A streak of blood covered the frosted glass doors on both the right and left, and down the hallway were various Guardians tossed about with blood splatters so high up the walls some even dripped off of the ceiling. The wall next to the office door was riddled with bullet holes and there were a few piles of black dust here as well. Ash. Vampire bodies. With a trembling hand, Cassidy reached out and opened the office door. There was no blood on the inside, though she did see some ash on the floor. The alarm sound seemed to be coming from back down the hall where she’d played with Bonnie, and she was just about to head that direction when she spied a hand on the keyboard and rushed over.

He paused, glancing down at his hands. “That summer, we went somewhere we weren’t supposed to. Some warehouse on the docks. Milo thought he heard something inside. A dog. A person. I don’t know. But he went in, and I followed.” Maya didn’t breathe. “There were needles on the floor. Glass. Broken furniture. We were just kids. We shouldn’t have been there.” He swallowed hard. “A guy came at us. Strung out. Screaming something about stealing from him. I don’t know what he thought we were doing, but—” Elias exhaled. “I pushed him. Hard. He hit his head on a pipe and went down.”

The thought of Callum being held in place is a powerful aphrodisiac. I lead him in through the key-card activated door, and down the hallway to my room. Thankfully, the Uber driver parked where I’d been picked up earlier, which is a short distance from my room. Something I’m grateful for more so now than earlier, because my mind is racing with what Callum’s reactions might be to my various tools. Particularly the ones made out of suede and outfitted with little “whips.” Oh, you’ll be tons of fun, Callum. I tug on his lapels, feeling him lag a little. Obediently, he picks up his pace. Once we reach my door, I swipe my keycard over the lock and we slip into room 273.

I pay for the cab and walk the distance to the door. I slam the door open and storm in. But i walks into something that makes me halt at the door. Instantly, my blood run cold. “Andre?!”

The door is wide open. If they see the door... I hear footsteps on the concrete. Heavy. Purposeful. Step. Step. Step. I have seconds. I grab the handle of the massive steel door. I pull. It is heavy. So heavy. I strain against the weight. My muscles burn. The footsteps are getting closer. Close it. Close it. The door swings shut. Clang. I spin the wheel. I am locked inside. I press my ear to the cold steel. The footsteps stop right outside.

Mila shouts from the cell across from where I'm standing. These doors are locked using keys instead of security bars. I walk back to Daniels, his blood making a beautiful van Gough piece of art on the gray cement. No, we do not play in blood, I make clear when our nose goes into the air and Ms. Beast licks her lips at the tang. Her sharp growl echoes off the walls. Keys, I remind her. The keys are in Daniels's dead fist. It takes some work to make my claws cooperate and remove the keys without ripping off the hand. With a last look at the blood pooled around him, I head back into the hall. Sorry, Ms. Beast, we don't eat humans.

' Apparently, the person was too busy to make a more explanatory warning and so just pasted a generic keep out sign on the door. The door sign said 'keep out!' but the soldier entered and left the door open for Wilson, who entered without much thought. The place seemed desolate and as they walked further inside, their footsteps echoed as they stepped on the concrete floor. Later, after making several turns and entering through a couple doors, they finally arrived before a door that looked very different from all the other wood colored doors. This door was painted blood red and looked like it was made of steel in some parts, and wood in others.

The water mixed with the sweat and the old dried blood on his skin. The mud at the bottom of the driveway was already up to his shins. It was thick. Pulling at his boots like heavy weights. The rear doors of the ambulance were jammed tight against a bank of earth. Dante slammed his hands against the glass windows of the doors. His palms left streaks against the rain. “Open the doors. Get the boy out.” Dante screamed, his voice cracking. Open the doors.