Christian Mystery Books Novels & Stories

Countless shelves lined with weathered books and scrolls stretched into the distance, promising untold secrets and forgotten wisdom. They made their way through the labyrinthine aisles, their eyes scanning the titles and searching for any mention of Lycans or black magic. Dust danced in the rays of sunlight that filtered through stained glass windows, lending an ethereal quality to their journey. Finally, they discovered a section dedicated to ancient legends and forbidden knowledge. The books here were wrapped in worn leather, their pages delicate and yellowed with age. Rey's fingers traced the spines until they settled upon a tome titled "The Chronicles of Shadows: Unveiling the Secrets of

And of course, endless spell books. He's even included mysteries and psychological thrillers by my favorite authors, a kind afterthought. But there’s more: living grimoires, erotica by demons that may well be written by Cenobites, and people’s wickedest sins recorded like the Screwtape Letters littering the place galore. There are the life records and deeds of every Damned in Hell, recorded in lurid detail by Penemue, the fallen angel of writing. He notices me look longingly at the books. “Shall we read?” he asks. “We can devour books on a blanket, out under the stars.”

“I won’t leave it for anyone else to discover you trussed up like this. Shame was never my intention here. I’m sure you get enough of that at home.” I want to remind him, again, that he does not know shit about me, but he’s already out the door. My head drops back against the pillow, but the tension refuses to leave my straining limbs. I’m still sweating, still fucking hot… Christian returns at the pace of a regular human ducking over from next door. My brow instantly furrows – He has a vial of holy water in his hand. “Gonna prove that’s not a weapon that can kill you either, you ‘deified’ son of a bitch?” I mutter. “Then why the hell did you dodge the spray the last time I--?”

Before entering the school, I heard a few things about this mysterious place situated on the mountainous side of Mystic Heights, a city in the heart of London. Mystic Academy, as it was known, was a mixed school primarily for kids with some uniqueness from wealthy homes. The requirements to get in seemed unattainable for mere humans, as I learned. It had a reputation as a school for "freaks," and the general belief was that only freaks would gain admission. That label didn't bother me much, considering I'd been called a freak all my life by my stepmother and her children—even their friends. My stepmother often locked me up in the cellar, praying for God to unpossess me, as she believed I was

I said in a small voice. “What does she need a romance novel to do?” he asked aloud. “Probably to attract boys, eh?” Christian said touching the end of my braids but I swat his hand away. “Don’t touch me” I said and this time looking at him in the eyes. He had a surprised look on his face and his mouth was slightly opened to show his shock. Even Ibrahim was shocked too. He looked at me and I saw his gaze trail from my face down, then back to my face.

It all started in the summer of 2018, with the mysterious disappearance of the two wealthiest men in Seattle. As written by Seattle Daily, “An unidentified body was found in the apartment of the richest most eligible bachelors in Seattle, The Hudson brothers who at this point are presumed the main suspects in this investigation whose whereabouts are currently unknown..”