Cryptid Hunter Book Novels & Stories

It made sense to him that Adrian had lost his mind and had murdered these innocent families, those children. “Okay look at these. I found them in my father’s house after his funeral,” Adrian said and handed Robert three old books, bound in leather. Robert opened the first book and began to read. It held accounts of wolf sightings, transformation ceremonies, councils, people with powers, how to kill a wolf and much more. There were detailed drawings and Robert could tell by the faded ink that the books were old indeed. Adrian knew the truth.

The book's weight was almost a tangible representation of the vast knowledge it held, massive and weighty, and her hands throbs with discomfort as she accepted it. "If you wish to embark on a deep dive into our history and uncover the mysteries of Werewolves, Vampires, Dragons, Werecats, and myriad other Supernaturals, this tome shall be your guide. If you have questions, don't hesitate to ask me. I'll be here to answer them." To Leo's immense surprise and delight, Astrid places a tender peck on his cheek and hushes a heartfelt, "Thank you, dad," before bounding up to her room.

Seeing titles like 'Minerals and Gemstones' and 'Animals of the Sahara', I knew I was in the science section. I had to search three more sections: languages, music, and mathematics, before I finally found the section that housed the books on the supernatural. At first, all the books I see are about werewolves. Walking further down the row, the topics change from werewolves to vampires to witches. At the very end of the row, in a small section, nearly invisible unless you are looking for it, stand the books about lycans. I decide to start with trying to find what ingredients may have been used in the sedative Clay gave me.

He bowed and was gone as quickly as he arrived, leaving the heavy satchel behind. I lunged for the bag the moment the tent flap sealed. I untied the cord with shaking fingers and pulled out the book. It wasn't ancient and brittle. It was a modern reprint, but the cover read: Healers' Lore: The Legacy of the Wounded Crown. It was a medical text, disguised as a historical relic.

her eyes beamed, looking at him. “So be it. I will only come back here if I can already wield magic on my own.” “Definitely, because Ahldrin will train your hand-to-hand combat skills.” He nodded. And in just a blink, Aserah disappeared. Eleand gently shook his head while staring blankly at the book in his hand. What could be its content? He was curious. Eleand did not hesitate to open the book. The line in his forehead deepened when the pages of the book became visible. There was an illustration on the first page, a silhouette of a wolf in a clear black ink. There were inscriptions he could not understand, and they looked ancient.

Their explanation of tantra was truthful, if a little oversimplified. I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my temples. I need coffee, and by now the kids might have something for me, so I head back down to Chinatown, taking a detour into The Magickal Childe bookshop on West 33rd on the way. Of the stack of books I’ve spent my morning with at the library, the one title I’m fascinated by is the infamous Tibetan Book of the Dead, and now I wanta copy I can mark up. The shop is a cramped little hole in the wall that reeks of voodoo oils and herbs. Ceremonial swords and shelves of dusty glass jars cover the walls. A leather-bound copy of the Necronomicon takes pride of place in the display window and a

The custom piece was named “Starless Night.” The receipt listed rare materials, months of handcrafted labor, and a price that could buy silence—or loyalty—in the underworld. At the bottom, the recipient’s name was handwritten. Not mine. Not Daniel’s fiancée. I stared at that thin slip of paper for a long time, then dialed my brother’s number. Ethan. My older brother wasn’t just family— he was one of the most discreet private investigators in Europe.

She scrolls through while reading their names. “Bitan… Furuōgi… Rokurokubi… no wait maybe it’s in the other folder.” She says and switches to the other folder to search for it. “Here it is!” she says while comparing the photo of a Tako nyūdō to the tentacle monster that they had encountered. [Author’s Note: Tako nyūdō is an octopus like yokai which is quite similar to the one they encountered… The octopus is a direct translation for Tako. I don’t know what the other thing means to be honest.]

INTRODUCTION My name is Kacela. I am twenty-one years old, and I am a werewolf hunter. And I have a secret. I am a werewolf. I was raised in a family of werewolf hunters. My father, mother and older brother are all werewolf hunters, and I made my first kill when I was twelve years old. I am trained in weaponry and hand to hand combat as well as other skills that I use in the field, like tracking. I’m also exceptionally good at finding werewolves who don’t want to be found using a variety of techniques, but mostly common sense and computer skills. It’s a family business and it keeps us well employed and financially stable. We move around a lot because of it.

Ronan asked. The man flinched, just slightly, but it was enough. I saw it in his eyes—the moment he knew we’d caught on. I bent down, grabbing his hand and turning it to the side, exposing the faint mark etched into his skin. My growl rumbled in my throat. "He's a hunter." "Fuck," he hissed, the rope snapping as his claws swiped through the air where I’d just been. He bolted, but he wasn’t fast enough.