Bloodstream Book Novels & Stories

Chapter 11: A Debt in Blood Pain pulsed through my skull, dragging me slowly back to consciousness. My head felt like it was wrapped in fog, each thought sluggish and disjointed. My body—limp and heavy, like something had drained all life from it—lay uncomfortably on cold, unforgiving stone. A damp, stagnant air filled the room, the pungent scent of mildew mixing with something metallic, like blood, so thick I could almost taste it.

… On the other hand, James had moved into a new room on another spiritual mountain. He took out a book with a clean and dark red cover. It was the Blood Mantra that Thea had given him. As he carefully flipped to the first page of the book, James could see lines of strange and mysterious inscriptions on that page. Just then, those inscriptions appeared to move and float in the air. Soon enough, words in a foreign script began to form before James’ eyes. James was the only person who could see those words since he was holding the book. If someone were to walk in on James now, they would only see that James’ eyes were glowing with an eerie, blood-red light at that moment.

Too dark. Blood. It streams down her pale cheeks, bright red against the whiteness of her skin. Broken capillaries. A physical manifestation of a psychic break. But it’s more than that. The blood isn’t just dripping. For a second, it seems to… shimmer. A faint, impossible light glints within it before it drips onto her bare chest. I stare, frozen in shock. My medical mind races—cerebral hemorrhage? seizure? But my gut, my wolf, knows. This isn’t a human illness. This is power. Dormant, trapped, tearing its way out of her.

The wind howled violently, scratching at my throat until I felt an itch that seemed to make me want to cough. "Enough talking. Choose, or I'll let them both go." At Amber's signal, the men next to us hoisted both me and Tara up. The salty sea breeze hit me in the face, and the sharp smell of ocean water churned my stomach. However, nothing compared to the screaming in my ears. Before I could even draw a breath, Ethan had already made his choice. At that moment, everything went silent. Amber instinctively turned to look at me. My vision flickered and spots of black clouded my sight, but I did not know why.

My father thinks I spend my nights reading. That’s not entirely a lie. Just not books. This room is mine in a way no other room in this house is mine. The rest of the townhouse is my mother's taste — warm and beautiful and expensive, every surface chosen to project exactly the image the Conti family wants projected. My room looks like the inside of my head. Whiteboards on two walls, half of them network maps, the other half cipher keys I've already cracked. A punching bag in the corner worn to gray leather at center mass. Gun cabinet beside the closet — three weapons, combination lock. My father knows about two of them. I find the thread at 3:12 a.m. A routing number. Buried six layers deep,

“Yes, mater. I will serve ye until my last breath.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I pulled my thoughts away from Jones’ past. I only knew this because I’d gone through the history books kept in the cellar, stumbling upon a journal from the time of Grace Bloodsworth. Her tone had sounded regretful as I brushed my hand over the dark red-ink, my eyes eating up the sorrowful words. I knew without a doubt that she had use her own blood to write it.

Stone laughed. “How are you liking it here?” “Perfect man, so perfect,” Stone inhaled the fresh air. ***** Hearing indistinct voices of people, Hunter opened his eyes and met up with the naked sun. He gradually rose and saw some women and children watching him all scared to get close to him. When the car hit him, he rolled to the river and had been out since then. He felt his body sore and his clothes were covered in blood. He got up and slowly walked to the river side. He knelt and washed his face. The blisters of wounds from the fire had bursted and were messy. He washed himself and got a coat from his small bag in his waist and put it on.

The blood knives splattered against the barrier, sizzling like acid as they melted away, but the relentless assault began to wear it down. The protective barrier shattered with a deafening crack, and the blood knives slammed into Nina’s arm. She gasped as the acidic blood splattered, searing her skin with a sizzle. Her clothes disintegrated in patches where the blood touched, revealing raw, bubbling flesh beneath. Nina clutched her arm, her teeth gritted against a scream. But the pain was excruciating, like fire and acid tearing through her veins. Her breathing grew labored, her vision swimming as the greenish rot began to spread.

Damn. “Yes. I see that. Drink.” She commanded. Her words were so close. I could feel her breath fan my face and soon after her cool skin against my lips followed by a warm liquid. She pressed harder when my lips did not move. “Drink,” she repeated. This time I parted my lips slightly, just enough to allow the smallest amount of the liquid in. Blood. Her sweet, intoxicating blood that quenched my thirst like nothing else before, replenishing some of my energy almost instantly like the drug it was. My eyes shot open and I grabbed the arm that pressed against me pulling her into my lap at the same time taking more of her blood as if I was dehydrated. I needed it and she didn’t fight me.