Book Review Blood Meridian Novels & Stories

The entire horde followed right behind it, a twisting, writhing mountain of pale flesh and flashing fangs ascending toward the ridge. "Fire!" the mercenary commander screamed in absolute panic. The night exploded with muzzle flashes. High-caliber, silver-tipped ammunition tore into the ascending horde, but the blood-born didn't even slow down. The bullets sank into their pale, rubbery flesh with wet thuds, the wounds closing instantly as the black, ancient blood in their veins rejected the metal. A pale hand reached over the lip of the cliff. Before the commander could scream again, he was snatched by the throat, his heavy tactical armor snapping like plastic as he was dragged violently over

The storage room was dark. The hallway light poured in from behind Derrick, illuminating a large stain of dark red across the floor. It stretched from the doorway where he stood all the way to the corner of the room. I was slumped against the wall with my head tilted slightly to one side. A dried wound cut across my temple. The area around it had swollen into a massive purple bruise, so swollen that one of my eyes was nearly unrecognizable. Blood from my nose had run past my lips and chin, smearing across my cheeks and ears.

During my three-year-old son's preschool physical, his blood type didn't match mine or my wife's. I had just printed the divorce papers when I suddenly heard my son's voice. [This disgusting man is so stupid. He's raised me, his own little brother, as his son for years and still has no idea!] [Lol, hurry up and get divorced. Once they divorce, I can cling openly to my real mom!] [And divorced men are unwanted anyway. From now on, every dollar he earns will be mine!] My wife was still anxiously explaining, "Honey! I really never betrayed you! Do you really want a divorce?" I looked at my son's tightly closed lips and excited eyes, then tore up the divorce papers instead. "No divorce. S

Perhaps it's effect is only mild. She poured a little of the blood in an empty glass she found on the table, then she added just a little ash and stirred. She frowned when nothing happened. Was the book wrong? If the book was wrong, the book wouldn't be restricted. She then added a little more ash, and the the blood began to foam. Interesting. She watched it closely, taking note of every single change. By the time the blood stopped foaming, it had turned black. She smiled. Now she wondered if this would work on the royal vampires. If only she could get their blood.

Mommy and Daddy were dead. Cobra might be dead. Tyron might be dead. I was tired. So tired of running. Maybe if I died, I would see them again. That thought made me feel sad but happy. I opened my mouth and swallowed the liquid on purpose. It burned down my throat like hot pepper. My eyes watered. My chest felt tight. The world started moving strangely. The trees leaned sideways. The red glow stretched into a long line. The men’s voices sounded far away, like they were underwater.

Unfortunately for her, I wasn't the same naive Lydia Cohen anymore. If she wanted to play games, I'd play better. I had been slaughtered at my in-laws' house in my last life, and my father died without an intact body. I was going to make her pay, one thing at a time.

He never remembered when he had read like that but he was determined to finish reading the whole story that very day. Dawn came. Hunter had just finished reading. His eyes were even more darker than ever. He threw the manuscript on the floor disappointedly. Apparently, he didn't find what he was looking for. One thing peculiar about the manuscript was that it talked more about everyone except the only person hunter was after; Nalishuwa Hamuumbu. He got up and felt his legs, back and neck ache like he had just finished running a marathon. He felt dizzy and sat back in his chair. He looked at the manuscript again and nodded his head. He thought about the amount of time he had wasted reading it

I thought of the world that was currently waking up to a silence it didn’t understand. But as I felt that tiny, second heartbeat pulse against my palm, I didn’t feel like a fugitive. I didn’t feel like a victim of a global conspiracy. I felt like an Architect. The first book was about the blood. It was about the betrayal and the breaking of the old world. It was about the trauma of the glass and the roar of the mountain. But the second book? The one we were starting right now, in this quiet French valley? That book was going to be about the Home.

"Amethyst, these are books that I recommend you to read. That...that is simply a tale. It does not contain relevant and accurate facts and data like what you are looking for," I looked down at the book in my hand. With him here, I had to admit, scouring through this massive book depository seemed easier. I allowed myself to utter my gratitude as I accepted the books he had offered. After a few moments, I began reading all over again. This time he was right. Pages after pages, I learned most of the basics. Rather than a creative narrative, the text appeared to be written like a memoir, as if the person who wrote the passages witnessed the brutality firsthand. It was making me feel nauseous al

She had done all she could in Europe. Meredith arrived back to her room fully refreshed. Brayden was still gone. He had told her he was going to go to the men's hammam. Meredith wandered around the room and looked out one balcony then the other. She grabbed a fur blanket that was resting on the end of the bed and wrapped it around herself. She picked up her phone and turned it on as she walked out to sit on the balcony looking up at the Dents du Midi. She opened a web novel app and began to read a fantasy series she had set down when she got married.