Novel & Cerita Carrie Blood Prom

She drew a silver dagger from her belt, its blade engraved with the Hunters’ insignia: a cross entwined with a drop of blood. A body slumped against the wall, pale skin, two puncture marks on the neck. No signs of struggle. No footprints. Only a single black rose was pinned to the victim’s chest. Evelyn frowned. “The mark of... the Blood Cult.” The Hunters had eradicated that cult years ago, a fanatic vampire sect that worshipped the so-called “King of Blood,” believed to be nothing more than legend. But a black rose couldn’t be a coincidence. She lifted her sensor watch and crimson energy traces spiraled across the screen like smoke.

"Just get her." Then they advanced toward me, but Cammie blocked their path. "No one can touch my friend," she said. I know Cammie was a Karate champion, but she was no match with these undead guys. "Cammie!" I hissed at her. "What are you doing? Get out of here!"

Darren did not wish to waste another second with the witch, though he found it a pity that he was not able to see her grovel on her knees, there was nothing that he could do about it, he raised his gun and then notched it right at the centre of Carla’s head who closed her eyes prepared to leave the world but just as she was readying herself for the bullet to embed in her head, she heard a loud bang and then turned to look at the man whose head was now bleeding as he looked at her with wide eyes.

The next day, my body felt weightless. The stomach pain that had been driving me insane was gone. I looked down and saw a body lying on the floor with a purple and blue face, as well as white foam and dark red blood crusted at the corners of the mouth. That was me. That was Layla Lloyd, as dead as a doornail. I floated in midair, staring at my own stiff corpse. It looked almost like a stranger. Now, the girl who had always kept her head down would never have to bow to anybody again.

“See you on campus, boys.” “Asshole!” They hurried down the steps and Wilder cackled as they half ran down the street to a waiting car. “Now that’s what I call a surprise party,” he said and adjusted himself in his pajama pants. I chuckled and locked the front door again. “Let’s go clean up downstairs. Sooner or later we’re going to have the cops here.” An hour later, the basement was clean, the chairs removed and the cleaning materials we’d used didn’t have an odor. It was a special blend my mother made with natural products. It was so effective that we used nothing else to clean up blood.

"Close your eyes Mia. Trust me. I'm going to save the both of us. I know your phobia for blood so you just have to close your eyes till I come for you" I had to trust him and closed my eyes. After all, he's really their kind and could make things fall back to place. I heard the screams and cries coupled with the swift movements that showed they were fighting. Carly seemed to yelp in pain and I was forced then to open my eyes. She was stabbed in the arm by her brother. "I never knew we would ever be rivals but now I don't mind clearing you off the face of the earth" Luca growled. Carly got angry and transformed into her wolf self.

Then, after a nice evening walk and dinner by the beach, we’d return home, sleeping next to each other. Yes, things were normal. Until a certain night when Carrie woke up in a bolt. Within tears, she frantically scratched her skin, her voice heavy with claims that she could feel blood all over her. The first time it happened, my embrace was slightly sufficient to tame that fright. We went to the doctor, and the response he gave was disturbing. But it was not as disturbing as the second time Carrie got lost in her pain. That evening, she was bringing plates to the kitchen when she froze in a spot and fell to her knees. My efforts to get her away from the shattered pieces of the plate failed t

Jax Shit. I'm late. If I miss class again there's no way to save my car from being taken away. Again. I was going to be on time but I saw her in the hallway. Sitting cross legged handing a paper to a freshman. Her long dark hair falling around her face and tiny frame. Her hand catches the corner of her folder and pulls down her sleeve revealing a very dark and unflattering mark on her creamy skin.

Jimmy stood in the doorway, and the coroner, Dr Wyatt Bloom, stood near the windows. Conrad’s eyes were still open, and he lay spread eagle on the bed. On the nightstand was his watch, his famiglia ring, and his money clip. Dominic gritted his teeth as his eyes trailed over Conrad’s corpse. His penis and testicles had been severed cleanly, and they were nailed to the wall above his head. His stomach had been slit open, the wound gaping at him. His intestines had been taken out and wrapped around his neck. There were blood spatters everywhere, and a bloody cross had been made on Conrad’s forehead. He’d been cut open from side to side, a kill wound and Dominic knew the intestines around his ne

“How could Romaine do this?” Sadness turned to anger. Her fists turned to fire. Tears turned to the thunderstorm that is now echoing in the dark night skies. “I will kill you, Mary Bathory.” It was a promise, to the night. To the winds. To herself. “I WILL KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE!” Romaine is not Romaine Eastwood. The real Romaine has been below the ground for ages. Isla Ivane was right. The Blood Mistress is the one whose hair is the color of autumn and she sees the world through color brown—through russet eyes.