Bloodbath Diablos Novels & Stories

Those memories became my anchor, my reason to fight. I poured every ounce of strength I had into the final incantation, my voice breaking as I screamed the last words. The bowl shattered, sending shards flying through the air. The mingled blood burst into flame, casting a searing light that blinded me. Pain unlike anything I had ever known ripped through me, a white-hot agony that felt like my very soul was being torn apart. I screamed, the sound raw and primal, as the energy consumed me. The ground split open beneath the altar, a gaping maw of darkness threatening to swallow me whole. My body convulsed, my vision blurring, but I refused to let go.

BLOOD AND VOWS --- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO HIS FIRST KILL “A man doesn’t become a monster. He just finds out what was already in him.” He was thirteen the first time someone handed him a gun. It was a summer night in Palermo. The kind of heat that clings to the bones. Alessio Moretti stood in the back of a butcher shop that doubled as a safehouse, blood on the floors, sweat on his neck, the sound of meat hooks swinging faint in the dark. Don Salvatore was there. So was his father. And in the middle of the room, tied to a chair, was a man with a bag over his head and a bruise blooming around his eye.

I sank onto the edge of the daybed, my hand hovering over her bandaged head. I could feel the poison twisting inside her, mocking me. My demon blood surged, restless, hungry for violence. Whoever had dared do this — I would find them. And when I did, their suffering would echo through eternity.

" She waited, feeling Elena's magic shift, wrapping around her family in a protective cocoon. Then there was an explosion. A wave of heat and energy blasted forward through the door. Sera was sent backwards by the collision, even though the majority of it was caught by her shield. Her ears rang, and her vision blurred as her head struck the wall. Figures emerged through the smoke. Sera's legs refused to comply as she attempted to stand. Concussion, probably. The chains on her wrists seemed suddenly much heavier as her magic reacted slowly. One of the assailants removed his mask and muttered, "Sera Thorne." He was a young vampire, perhaps fifty years old, but she didn't recognize him. "Excell

"You think a heartfelt apology and a shared hug erase the ancient magic binding your soul? The blood-pact is an absolute decree, Laura. Even if you love him now, the runes are tied to the dark archives. If I whisper the true command word to Cassian's blood-mages, that pact will turn inward and tear your heart to pieces." ​Before Vlad could finish his sentence, Dave didn't even draw his sword. ​With blinding, terrifying speed, Dave moved across the stone floor like a dark specter.

I really can´t tell. But at the time for the ritual draws near, Seven approaches me. “Always bear in mind what I told you. You play an important role in all this.” Suddenly she pulls out a dagger from her belt. I take a step back. “We need your blood for the ritual, remember?” She grabs my hand and I wince in pain as she cuts my palm with her dagger. Blood starts to flow out of the wound and Seven lets it drip into a silver chalice. “We need to gather around the circle.”

“Don’t bother me; pay attention to yourself first, because if the carnage were a race, I’m sure you’d be upfront at the finish line then I’ll be at the back.” “Stupid, if the carnage is a race car, then they already have died before they even reach the dead end? What a moron!”‘ Diabolos declared. “And I’m going to collide with them in car racing? Perhaps they don’t know who I am,” he continued. “Haha! I’m just kidding. By the way, have you fixed the letters about Live Suicide?” Adrastos asked him before he leaves. He grins like a Cheshire cat. “Don’t worry, I’ve disseminated information about live suicide to various geographical areas using different methods.”

I asked. "Dhampire? Oh, it's not a word, it's a name, referring to the children who are born from a vampire and a human. It's retrieved from the Balkan language. If the child is a boy, they call it 'Dhmapire', if it's a girl, 'Dhampiresa'. Based on their folklore, a dhampire is said to be extremely filthy, he or she has either a snub nose, like a bat or worse, no nose at all," Cammie paused for a break and took a sip of her fruit drink then she continued. "And in the Bulgarian legends, folklore has it that a dhampire must also feed on human blood to sustain its existence. In Serbian tales, the dhampire has an oversized head and a small body with no shadow. Other myths say that those dhampire

The platoon was like berserk beasts let loose on a Black Sheep farm. Mages were dying and being gravely injured every few seconds. This was an absolute massacre, but no one came forward could stop it. Elder Bloodthirst's heart pained seeing his home and clansmen being decimated. Try as he might, he couldn't shake off this blue dragon as its defenses were impenetrable. He used his full power to hit him repeatedly, but he kept coming back.

In the air, I push closer and closer. My eyes glow white and my veins line with similar glow, my entire being engulfed by the power inside me. Allowing it all to build inside me, I finally unleash all my rage, all their rage, into the light. Doomsblood growls as his shadow gets cut and my light burns him, crushing him into the ground. "Noooo!" He screams. Louder. Agonisingly. On the ground, the face of defeat hits him hard that his body began to evaporate. And the moment his body evaporates, I quickly cast.