Novel & Cerita Book Hounds

I pressed my back against the wall, on the side of the doorknob, took the safety off the gun, and gently pushed on the door. I let it swing halfway open and listened. The lock was unsalvageable, I wasn’t sure the doorknob could be saved either. There was no sound coming from inside. There was a whiff of wolves though. No human did this. That pissed me off. A stupid human, not knowing who they’re robbing breaking into my home sucks, but a wolf… They know it belongs to a wolf. They could smell it. But they did it anyways. Fucking city wolves.

Chapter 13 — The Weight of Being Seen I learned something important that morning. Silence inside a wolf den isn’t peaceful. It’s watching. The Blackthorn Pack compound was awake long before the sun climbed fully into the sky. I could feel it even with my eyes closed—the shift of bodies, the low murmur of voices beyond stone walls, the scrape of boots against the courtyard floor. The pack breathed together like one massive creature, and I was trapped inside its ribcage.

“Is there a reason you’re trying to make me feel small? I don’t back down that easily.” “Hm… wasn’t thinking of it.” “Really? Then what were you thinking about?” “Maybe later. Now isn’t the time to talk about it. How long will it take for you people to get here?” “Oh, the Hounds will be here in the next two or three hours, and they come bearing food, gents. Hilda’s cooked and packed some spare things from our Christmas Fare. So, eating will be good.” “The Hounds?” Hal looked up from his computer for possibly the first time since she entered the room and dropped the information on them. None really had looked surprised, which was odd with nothing else considered.

More free for her movement. Not knowing how powerful these beasts were, she needed to be ready for a fight. She jumped, landing softly on the ground. A shallow puddle creaked beneath her feet. Flame still danced in her palm. It wasn’t just a sensation anymore. It was his scent—calling her. Faint. He was here. Then, Pairs of yellow eyes flickered in the darkness like lanterns. One pair. Two. Then three. Three hounds. Large and terrifying. They approached, growling like the hideous beasts decribed in the books she had read. More devious even...

They were turning the pages as quickly as possible to find any reference to this creature until they found a page titled ‘Black Dogs’ It had drawings to the creatures in it and when shown to Rory he would yelp in disbelief, the look on the page was so detailed. The book read: Black Dogs are a sign of great problems to come, they only act at the behest of hell and the one that summoned them. Black Dogs are giant hounds bred on the lower levels of Hades, they reach 46” in height, and with big and athletic builds, their teeth are large and sharp and always in display, and their tails are long and thick as workers' rope. Their eyes are red and orange like a flame as if their spirits were flamed

"Wow, luckily I didn't tell them anything. I acted like I didn't know who you were." "Thank you." Henry leans back on the couch, getting comfortable as I sit down beside him. "The book is on the second bookshelf, two shelves down from the top and has a green cover. I think it's called Lycanthrope Mythology if you ever want to look at it." Bruiser comes moseying into the room before he jumps up on one of the seats across from us, laying down. I have begun to love the dog, enjoying what it is like to have a pet. "He is always with you," I glance at Henry.

Just a crescent white moon etched in the center of the cover. My fingers close around it. It’s cold. I glance back at Alex and Ava. They’re speaking in low voices, Alex watching her like a hawk. Good. I open the book, flipping through pages quickly. Hand written text in cursive with black and white pictures of symbols, and unknown diagrams fills the worn page. I squint my eyes and look through the small text until I find what I'm looking for. Mana Wolves. The words almost glow on the page. My heart skips a beat. This is it.

The Red Hoods emblem, a hood encircled by a bow and arrow, was embossed on the front in faded gold filigree. With a hesitant finger, he pushed back the cover page. "The History of the Red Hoods-Abridged" Est. 1752 He scanned the table of contents. This book was over 3,000 pages long. He flicked through the pages, most of which were full of dense text, some depicting horrible images. He stopped on a particularly gruesome one of a snarling wolf standing above a pile of dismembered bodies. "The Massacre on the Moors" was printed beneath it. He shuddered and went back to the front of the book, his finger running down the page until he found what he was looking for.

The book I was reading wasn't in sight, so I went exploring the shelves until I found it at the top. I opened it and began searching for information about my strange kidnapper and my nephew's father. It was then that I came across a title that caught my attention: “The Rise of Harvey Bloodclaw.”

It seemed desolate, as if Jeniece had never come back since that day. A rusted rack caught his attention, and upon it lay a pile of books, their covers worn and edges worn. He reached for one, its brittle pages crumbling in his hands, each page stained with the yellow hue of age. These books, ancient and forgotten, held secrets that had been hidden in plain sight, truths we had been blind to. Just as Hunter began to delve into the faded words, a shiver ran down his spine. He wasn't alone. Instinctively, he spun around, his whip slicing through the air with deadly speed. But before the whip could find its mark, it was caught mid-strike.