Blood Samurai Novels & Stories

Gibson said as he stole a look at the man before pulling his gaze back to the paper. “Yes. She shares the same blood group as Kimberly,” The other man said, “Previous studies confirmed that CLL patients’ most common blood group is the A group. However, after several years of research, it was proven that blood group O is predominant. Regarding CML cases, it was said that the most predominant blood group in CML patients is the O and B blood groups. The B blood group which both Rose and late Kim fall under.” There was not a single word from Gibson as he read the paper, his lips formed a thin line.

A wince from the little girl’s mouth let her know that she might have cut too deep but there was no longer time to dwell on that. She clasped her bleeding palm against her child’s own the blood mixing like a light coat of honey but rather a crimson color. “Of my desire I give you my soul. Of my will I give you my blood. Of my choice I give you my life, take this part of me and be whole. May the gods approve of this trade” She held it there for a few minutes, having what might be the last feel of her daughter and then she went towards the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the room. She was washing down her hands and the sharp tool that had just seared layers of her skin.

There's no way this is true. Absolutely no way. Samien was mine. Mine alone.

he said as he dropped the bleeding boy on the deck and gestured for his men to leave. All five of the acquaintances of the buff man started to go to the boat that they used to escape. The buff man held a lighter and they it at the corpse of Gabriel Mezzaluna, and his hand was pierced with his own knife as he screamed and dropped to one knee. He looked up and saw that the little boy was now looking at him face to face with a determined look on his eyes. The boy’s hand was bleeding, but it was tied using a piece of cloth that looked like it was torn from the little boy’s shirt. The kid’s eyes glowed as the fire grew and ate Gabriel Mezzaluna’s clothes along with his dismembered body.

Tommy walked over to Iris and pulled her hand slowly toward the table. He then took out a knife and suddenly slashed her index finger. The movement was so fast that Iris herself didn't have time to wince in pain. "Only the blood of Hunters can kill demons. And you are a Hunter, Iris. You are destined to possess that blood to exterminate demons." Eva said while collecting Iris's blood drop into a stainless steel container. Iris winced in pain as Tommy deliberately pressed hard against the incision on her index finger to force the blood to stop flowing out. Then he wrapped the incision with a cloth and gave her a lemon.

“The amber sample Lisa retrieved… it’s a match, but it’s not enough to bridge the gap. It’s like trying to jump-start a skyscraper with a AA battery. We need a massive power source to force the integration.” I sat on the floor of the van, my ribs taped tight, every breath a jagged reminder of Silas’s power. I looked at Lisa. She was staring at the Cradle, the black glass of the building reflecting the orange glow of the Johannesburg sunset. She wasn’t looking at the architecture anymore. She was looking at the intent.

You have been abiding too long with ghosts. "Humour me," I said calmly. "Before my patience runs out." He examined me at the edge of his glass. "You're asking about old money. Blood money. Before you were ready to rule." "And yet it still moves," I said. "Quietly." Vittorio leaned back. Dino, everything old is still breathing. You are the one who should know that, of all people. I leaned forward slightly. "Was it yours?" His smile was broad and very gradual. "Why ask me?"

Evelyn stepped in, and the familiar scent made her pause — the stench of burning blood and metal. Suspended tubes hung from the ceiling, containing half-human, half-vampire bodies. On a table, reports with her name etched onto them. "Sample 01 – E. Cross. The primal blood reacts strongly to Seraphim blood. Compatibility 98.7%." Evelyn clenched her fist, the paper tearing under the pressure. "What have you done...?" A voice echoed from the overhead speakers, calm and holy, like a twisted prayer: "It’s not me, Evelyn. It’s you."