Books Paranormal Fiction Novels & Stories

She asked before Mr Martins audibly cleared his throat. "Uhm. The book" He turned to Zach. "The book you're holding unto from the library?" Then Zach pulled out a significant novel from his jacket trying his best to shield the title from Regina- -the title that was clearly shown on the other sides, the voices in your head. -a psychological true life thriller about a young boy with the gift of hearing dead people's voices. And Zach had wandered, if there was a chance--it was his gift, and if maybe his was paranormal.

***TRIGGER WARNING: Up until now, this story has been fairly tame. From this point forward, Wolfblood takes a dark turn. For those who read the first book of the series, Wolfbane, this book is much darker and deals with more serious, real-world issues. If you prefer light-hearted romances without violence, I advise you not to continue. If, however, you enjoy thrilling werewolf romance novels, please continue with Wolfblood! I promise it's worth the ride.***

I look around and then at Katie, “What? This has to be the oddest night of my life by far. What's next, talking animals and dancing fairies?” Katie cocks her head, “What are you talking about?” I decided not to elaborate, “Just nothing, I'm just getting ideas for my next article, is all.” Writing about the paranormal has made me hyperaware. I am convinced that humans aren't the superior species that they think they are. I think many myths and legends existed, and perhaps some still do. I might be sitting at the table with two such legends right now. Katie giggles, “What's it going to be this time? A serial killer slaughter ball, or a romantic vampire masquerade?”

I didn't want to have breakfast for fear of running into Darick. The door creaked as I turned the knob and entered the library. Dust particles still floated in the air, and I could barely see with the dimly lit chancellors. I walked down the aisles, holding my nose as the smell of musk filled my nostrils. I skimmed my fingers over the hardback books. Hmm, ‘Chronicles of the Blood Brothers.’ No, I don't want to read about the Blood Brothers' history. What's this? ‘Understanding your Supernatural Abilities.’

I was directed to the shelf that contained books on mystical beings. I picked the first book I could lay my hands on and opened it to the chapter where vampires were discussed. "I guess you love fairy tales," I turned to see a young man, dressed in a black suit. His hands were in his pocket as he was grinning widely at me. I cocked my eyebrow. "Vampires aren't necessarily classified as fairy tales" I corrected him. "You could say so. I mean they're different, strange, and strong. They ain't human"

But would they help me protect Orion and seek revenge? I roamed around the library, picking out books from several different sections. A hefty stack was piled in one arm by the time I’d finished—for now—and I narrowed my selection down to three. No pleasure reading this time, I was on a mission. One was a text on abnormal supernatural biology. Another covered the mythology of chimeras, strange creatures featuring numerous animal and human parts. The last was a history of dark witches. After stashing the remaining books on a side table, I climbed back up to the third floor and eased into the hall. The corridor was empty and quiet except for… Was that music?

It felt like my world was crumbling. I wandered through the tall bookshelves, pulling out random books. Nothing seemed to hold my attention. Finally, I found myself in the paranormal section. I picked out a thick book with a dark cover. It was about werewolves. I settled into a quiet corner, hoping to lose myself in the story.

It was shallower than she expected, but her small stature needed little room. By instinct, since she could not understand a single line in the grimoire, Martha chose a spell. It was the only spell in the center of the page. She ran her fingers over it the handwritten letters. The energy it gave off was not like the others. It was—darker. Apprehension formed in her mind. Just below the spell was a drawing of a hand, a rune dead center of the palm. She traced her fingers over the picture. A malevolence was radiating from the page. Everything about Sven was evil. Why would his book of written spells not reflect that?

“It’s not that I don’t believe. It’s just the last thing that I’ll go to after I’ve exhausted all other plausible explanations. Besides, paranormal encompasses a good deal. It’s not just about things that go bump in the night.” He smiled. “A woman with a sensible side. I like that.” I laughed as I tossed back the rest of my brandy. “You say that like it’s an anomaly.” He chuckled as he took my empty glass for me and made to refill it. When I lifted my hand in a gesture to let him know that I didn’t want any more, he said, “Let us just say that it is something that I have seen little of in my days.”

Theresa was old enough to have experience, but looked young enough to please Salem’s eyes—two key requirements for a housekeeper in his home. “Where is Salem now?” I asked. A good feeding would soothe my nerves. “He’s not at home, my lady. I couldn’t tell you.” Grumbling, I headed to Salem’s library. Perhaps he had a book I could entertain myself with. Once there, I found a book lying open on a desk. It was titled Mythic Bloodlines: Lost & Fabled Lilitu. Curious, I studied an illustration on the open page. It depicted a trio of strange-looking women, just like the ones Salem had been painting all this time. The accompanying text stated: