Bullet Souls Novels & Stories

The blizzard outside the Frostfall Divide howled like a pack of starving ghosts, but the atmosphere inside the tribe’s main longhouse was even colder. Scarlett stood by the central hearth, her eyes glowing with a faint, amber radiance as she scanned the captured cultists. Beside her, Caleb was a pillar of brooding silence, his golden eyes tracking every shiver of his disgraced kinsmen. “They aren't just zealots, Caleb,” Scarlett whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire. “Look at the way the light reflects in their pupils. It’s not a human or a wolf’s reflection. It’s a void.”

She cut herself and held out her hand in the air, so the blood dropped into the sacred bowl. " Hold your hands together so the cuts meet," he said. I turned and faced her, her pretty face was a charm on its own and I found myself struggling to concentrate. I stretched out my hands to her, she did the same and placed her cut palm on mine. A spark was felt and I knew she felt it as well. The fire began to burn so well. Our wolves began to collide and I was struggling to breathe. It seemed the two wolves were trying to become one and we were the ones being affected by it.

Seven cultists encircled a levitating corpse—unborn, unaged, yet covered in scribes of living flesh. “The Shells,” Sokolov hissed. “This is where she was breeding more.” Petrov lifted a relic gun carved from angelbone and wood ash. “Then we make sure not one walks.” They opened fire with spells engraved into the bullets—banishing sigils, ancient banes. The Hollow cultists screamed, one erupting mid-incantation into a swarm of glass-eyed crows. The fetus-shell convulsed, mouth gaping wider than any child’s should.

I mumbled, not knowing whether to reassure Elias or to reassure myself. After a while of struggling, I finally got two bullets out. These bullets are specially designed; their tails are pretty small, but their heads are enormous. This is the first time I have seen such a cruel design. When I took the bullet out, it was like a hook, sticking firmly into Elias's flesh. I wanted to curse whoever created it. Would he want to experience his evil design? After taking out the bullet, I wiped the blood from the outside of the wound, sprinkled hemostatic powder on it, then carefully bandaged it. Next were a few shots under his thighs, and after I was done processing, the bandage on Elias's back was a

Agad niyang pinulot ang arnis at akmang ihahampas iyon sa ulo ko nang may sumalag. Gulat na tinignan ni Hellios si Bullet. Hindi rin ako makagalaw. I stared at his eyes. It was full of anger and sadness. He was confused. His eyes were bloodshot. “But I believed you... I trusted you... why?” He asked. His voice broke and he became weak. He held onto his knees for support and sobbed quietly. “Bullet, I--” Bago pa man makasagot ay itinapon niya ang arnis at tumakbo palayo.

That bullet was the only good thing that happened tonight. Through my closed eyes, the sound of Stella's sobs intensified, turning into ragged, desperate cries. It was music. My men immediately swarmed us, efficient and silent, and quickly got us into the car. The ride home felt strangely sweet, a perverse kind of paradise. Stella was pressed against me, her small hands frantic, pressing down on the bullet wound with a force that was probably useless but fiercely devoted.

-Hey, that little body has fire inside- Dylan laughed -I hope my partner is not like that, it's like having two Serguei under the same roof- Steicer leaned against the frame. Cristián grabbed the cloth Louva threw at him and wiped the blood from his neck. The wound was not deep, but it did hurt and was intimately hot. He remembered the moment they made contact. It was only a second but their bodies vibrated claiming each other. Fate had made them for each other. It was written in their DNA and no matter how much they refused they could not ignore it.

Victor wanted to reluctantly argue, blinded by what was really happening but the next second his breath hitched in utter disbelief at the sudden occurrence flashing before him. “No… No!... im... impossible! It must be the drug… you must have released the fumes in here… yes! That has to be it… this was all part of your plan… have the others distract me… while you were secretly waiting to take me out…” The agitated man reasoned; clearly in denial as he stumbled backwards pressing on the wall behind him for support, his eyes intently glued to the scene of the glitching figure several steps ahead. “I… can assure you… this is no drug… and I am… Mike Rayburn… a soul with a vengeance.”

I was feeling the pain of the sprinkles of holy water being thrown at me, it's like glass cutting through my flesh. I was wailing with pain as every words written in that stupid bible cuts my insides, I can feel my bile rising up my stomach as I vomit brownish green fluids out. I can feel myself weakening. It's as if my soul is being cast out of Cassidy's body.

But tonight, none of that mattered. As I went closer to the bar, my fears kept pulling me back, but no! I grabbed the bottle. "Johnny Walker," the label read. With a twisted grin, I uncapped it and placed it against my lips. I didn’t sip. I gulped. I kept drinking until a sharp pain tore through my chest. I gasped, pressing a hand against my ribs. But then, I laughed again—because Michael Finsch was a disgusting bastard, and I was an even bigger fool.