Book Hounds Novels & Stories

He informed me as he held it out for me to take. I delicately took it from him when I saw how old and fragile it looked, with the binding of it covered in dust. I stared at the cover which was a dark blue, and an engraved Golding band around the edge with a sketch of a black wolf in the middle. Just above the wolf it said, ‘The sacred wolves of the night’. “Are there any books on the other breeds of wolves?”. I asked him curiously. “No, just that one, and if you give it a read, you’ll soon find out why”.

Yet, we were still no closer to getting rid of Derrick and the rest of his band of sadistic followers. Percy held out a hand, pointing to Noah. “Trent tells me they were a lot of strange creatures at your pack.” Noah nodded, not before Amber’s hand slipped into his as if she was trying to give him strength. I ground my teeth, my wolf stirring up inside me with jealousy and anger. “Yes,” Noah replied. “I don’t know what they are or where they come from but they call them hounds. From everything I have read, hounds don’t look anything close to what these things look like.”

I went to the inner room to check for a book that could be of help at all. In the dim light of the library hall, I wandered through the aisles, my fingers trailing along different volumes of books. The air was thick with the scent of dusty and old paper. As I turned a corner, an old, leather-bound book caught my eye. Its name cover was wrapped with strange design that seemed to shimmer faintly from the rest. It was the eyes of the rarest species of werewolves...... The white wolves. Curiosity got the better of me, I pulled the book from the shelf and opened it.

It’s pitch black. The place reeks—piss, mildew, mold, and that damn incense the Riding Hoods always use. But underneath all that, another scent catches my nose—orange and honeysuckle. A she-wolf. I can tell by the scent signature. I strain my eyes through the gloom, but the silver dampens my senses enough that I can’t make out where she is. “Is someone there?” I ask, keeping my voice low so the guards don’t hear.

he said flipping the top of the box off completely. Three balls of fur jumped out and rushed to us. Kaden squealed instinctively and backed off, dragging me behind him. “Stop,” he ordered instinctively. The hounds stopped and sat at his feet, tails wagging and their red glowing eyes on him expectantly. “I know of this underworld god who has a three headed dog as a guardian, but those are pretty hard to come by, so I summoned you three hellhounds. You will find them incredibly loyal and protective.”

Another watched me, head tilted, before fluttering to the handlebars of the bike. The numbers on my arm dimmed, their light leaching into the swamp mud. Only the crow saw—its red eye reflecting the fading glow like a dying star. The swamp belched up a guttural yipping. Three coyotes slunk from the kudzu, ribs pressing against mange-peeled hides. Their eyes burned amber, too human in the half-light. The leader limped, its left foreleg bent like a question mark etched in bone—a broken compass needle pointing nowhere good. Mamá had warned me about these: the kind Mamá called ‘crossroads hounds’, shaped by the land’s hunger.

I rounded a corner, turned left down a tighter row, and— Stopped. There, nestled between two massive grimoires, was a book that didn’t belong. It was smaller, wrapped in black hide, no title. A circular crest gleamed faintly on the cover, a silver wolf’s head bisected by a black sword, the same we saw in the tunnel the other day. I knew that crest, its Blackwood sigil. My lungs tightened. My hand moved before my brain could catch up. I pulled the book free. Dust billowed, I coughed hard.. My heart beat faster.

Brooke. “Here,” Alexander sidles next to me on the table I am sitting at, with a book open in front of me. He shows me the book he’d found just now. It’s a book with a dark, leather cover with the title ‘Creatures of the Lunar woods’ on it, “I read the synopsis, and it’s got a section dedicated to all the packs in the Lunar woods. Granted the book was written decades ago, but most of the packs in the woods are ancient, so almost all of them are still here.”

Let her understand that every word she had sworn beneath the Moon had led to that moment. Then I would tell her the truth. The Hunt had never belonged to her. Her freedom had ended the instant she wrote her name in the book. My wolf pushed harder. Go. My claws broke through. Aldric had begun the count. “One minute remaining.” Only one minute had passed. My body disagreed. Maeve’s scent was already fading beneath pine sap, damp earth, and the trails left by the other women. Not enough to lose her. Never enough. But enough to infuriate the animal inside me.

“These symbols... they’re from the Old Tongue. They speak of something sealed—something powerful.” “The Crown?” I asked, stepping closer. “Maybe,” she said, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “But this inscription mentions a key. Whatever’s hidden here, we won’t find it without that.” Before I could respond, a faint growl echoed from the shadows. We both froze. The sound grew louder, followed by the scrape of claws against stone. My grip on my blade tightened as two pairs of glowing eyes emerged from the darkness. Rogues. Their mangy fur and emaciated frames marked them as exiles—wolves with nothing to lose.