Cryptid Hunter Book Novels & Stories

Twice Cleopoda had wiped at the blood that dripped from her nose to the brown pages of the old book in front of her. She was grateful Garius wasn’t looking, sometimes the old man would be busy looking through the old books to care whether she read or not. But she read, she read because Garius asked her questions at the end of every session and he hit her cruelly and with frustration whenever she failed to answer correctly. It wasn’t easy to read the almost faded symbols and scripts from the old brown books, mouth the words which meaning she didn’t know and at the same time try to halt the voices in her head, they were so loud sometimes, they made her head ache and caused her nose to bleed bu

"Maybe it'll keep you awake. Or scare you more so that sleep eludes better." His hand hovered over the bronze clasp of the drawer as he pulled the book to him. He knew Nathaniel would be livid if he pried into his papers...but that was a small risk if these pages yielded nothing. Still. This time, new information danced before him. Rather like a good novel, he saw different things. The words were blurred as if water had made the ink run. A high possibility when all was considered. '...a mighty Great President of Hell, having thirty legions of demons under his command...he giveth true answers about hidden treasures; he reveals where serpents can be seen and delivers them harmless...'

he replied, taking in the sight of the mysterious collection around him. "Well Adam, I am Domino, and I am sorry for the way we first met," the old man said, gesturing for Adam to follow him. He led Adam to a shelf lined with books on wolves and vampires. Adam's heart raced as he scanned the titles, searching for a particular book. "I kept the real books down her because of the theifs. Hope you find what you need." The old man said before leaving. Adam searched the books and finally, he found the one he was looking for. He took a seat, opening the weathered volume. Flipping through the pages, he searched for the name of the creature Lyra had described, the one she had mistaken for him.

I said simply. The silence that followed stretched for a moment before I pushed the book aside and reached for another one, this one was older, the leather was worn and cracked while the edges were dark with age, I guess it was because this was where the real answers had been hiding, buried under stories no one wanted to remember. “He was hunted,” I said slowly, my voice thoughtful as I opened the book, “decades ago, maybe longer, they called him a hybrid but not in the way we understand it now, he was something forced, something created through blood rituals that should not have worked.”

There is also a lot of people wandering around. He walks towards the bookstall when a book catches his attention. Kasper frowned upon reading its title, The Devil Werewolf. "Oh, hello there! You must be interested in mythical creatures. Are you going to buy that book?" asked an old man, who seemed to be the seller. "Yes," he just said. The seller tells him the price and Kasper immediately pays for it. After Kasper bought the book, he find a place that can be a seat. He also uses his mind link to tell Flint his whereabouts, it wasn't far from the place where Flint buys food.

Dakari nodded and chimed in, “A few days ago, we discovered an ancient book. It has not even been taken from the ancient oilcloths that wrap it, but here you all are, already knowing. I, for one, am anxious to hear your explanations.” “I have been waiting to meet you for a very long time,” Zinnia began, performing an elaborate curtsy. “My family would speak of the prophecies and our need of them. It was said they would not be found until the black panther stood among us.” “There is a lore amongst the werewolves,” Beecher added, “that one day a great leader and a magician would show the way to uncover the knowledge we seek. My family, too, has been searching for the prophecies for centur

Gavin said, and I smiled at the guys. "No female hunter?" I asked. I knew the reason but wanted to hear from the horse's mouth. "Ruth won't like that, Karen," he answered with a knowing look on his face. After the introduction, the atmosphere was a lot pleasant. We were able to crack some jokes while we ate. No one asked me personal questions, and neither did I ask them. After breakfast, Gavin took me to the library to check out some hunter's books. There were books about vampires, witches, werewolves and other creatures that I did not dream of ever meeting. There were books on alchemy, mild magic, and creating and using charms.

It has an ornate metal clasp on the front which locks the pages giving the illusion of it being a box. I run my fingers over the clasp and it clicks open. I feel my wolf push to the front of my mind but I'm so engrossed in the book I hardly even notice. I open the cover carefully and look at it. On the inscription page is some writing and a hand drawn picture of a wolf in black ink. I read the inscription out loud. 'Journal of Lycius 1800AD' "Where does it say that?" Hunter says looking over my shoulder.

ISBN 978 0 14 044913 6 Page 114, Paragraph 3 My breath stopped. A book cipher. I remember this, I whispered. He used to hide messages in books. Adrian’s voice sharpened immediately. Find the book. I moved fast to the shelf, scanning titles with shaking hands. Then I saw it. The Count of Monte Cristo. My fingers trembled as I pulled it out. Pages flipped too quickly as I searched, panic building in my chest. Until I reached page 114. Paragraph three.

*** Abraham Van Helsing, the Dutch vampire hunter, had once had an apprentice whom he admired and held in high regard, long before he even considered the holy order as a potential calling. Helsing betrayed his apprentice and thought he had disposed of him. However, the tales surrounding this event were shrouded in insufficient recounting and relied solely on rumors. Higgins, renowned for his extraordinary ability to communicate with the dead, was known as the Necromancer Hunter. His expertise lay in influencing the living through the use of the deceased as conduits. His discarded body had washed up on the shores of a massive island housing several packs of werewolves, one of which belonged t