Damien Bloodmarch Novels & Stories

“You’re dumber than I thought.” Rico opened his mouth to retort, but before he could speak, a voice cut through the night air like a blade. “Let her go.” Damien’s voice was cold, emotionless, as he stepped into the alley. His presence was like a storm brewing on the horizon, and for the first time, Vivian saw him in a way she had never seen before. His shirt was soaked with blood—whether it was his own or someone else’s, she couldn’t tell—and his usually striking blue eyes were filled with an icy, unrelenting fury. He looked like he had just crawled through hell.

The years of friendship, experience and Worthing together had sharpened our skills and allowed us to work as efficiently as we possibly could . Damien is actually the fastest out of all of us. He is a pure blooded vampire and thrives on hunting down his prey. The whole hunting thing sounds more like a wolf thing but he seems to enjoy it more than I do . Since he is faster and can cover more ground on his own , he suggested that he does all of the searching…yes he did.

Perfect for the job Damien couldn't do. So when she pulled the trigger that rainy night, he let her. Stood back and watched. Watched Lorenzo drop. Rain mixed with his blood. Their empire crack. He thought it was done. But now... the devil himself is back again. Damien's jaw went tight. He crashed the cigarette out, killing the last smoke. His voice came low, dark. "If he's back, the world's going to bleed." He stood. His face caught in the window glass. Maford's neon lights flashed across it. Half dark and half broken.

His voice broke — I could feel his fear even through the haze. That single second of distraction was enough. Damien twisted free, kicking Dad backward. He stumbled, the gun slipping from his hand. Damien looked at me, smiling with cruel satisfaction. “From the looks of it,” he said, brushing blood from his lip, “you have three days. Take her to the witch clan… or her body will explode. Her bloodlines are eating each other alive.” Then he was gone — slipping through the smoke before Dad could reach him.

He spread his arms, his voice deep: “From blood and darkness, I create a new order. The Crimson Pact is no longer just the Blood Emperor and the legacy of the one who sacrificed for this world!” At his feet, hundreds of half-blood beings, once human, now infected with blood, knelt. The chants rose in unison: “For blood! For Evelyn Cross!” Meanwhile, in the wasteland outside Valenfort, Callen Graves, the former Bishop of the Order, who was thought to be dead, was still alive. Half of his body was burned, he held a scorched bible and a test tube containing a drop of pale red blood. He looked towards the red light in the center of the city, laughing hoarsely:

Smoke crawled across the sand in ugly, gray sheets, smelling like salt, burnt powder, and something metallic that I tried my best to ignore. Damien was moving on pure instinct. He didn't ask if I was okay. He didn't look back to see if I was crying. He just grabbed my wrist hard and unyielding, and pulled me with him. His grip was the only thing keeping me on this planet. His other hand never left his gun, his finger steady on the trigger even as blood began to turn his shirt black at the shoulder.

"Food will be here any time now" "They will starve us until we swore allegiance to them" Daren said. He is a unique Badblood; he will become what he touched. If he touched a rock, his body will turn to rock. Though Mira didn't saw him transform into one, just thinking of it gave her chills. Daren on the other hand has very manly features: hard muscles, a clean cut hair, a beard, and a strong black eyes. His lips is tiny and his nose is extremely long but in a handsome way.

“-like yourself. You're young, harmless, and easily taken advantage of. You stink of mortality. Underworlders won't be able to resist. I, however, exude power-” “-ful odors.” Damien burst out laughing at my interjection. “I exude power, you wretch.” “The stench of death? Is that why you have no friends? Because you smell like roadkill?” “You're insufferable,” he said. “At least I'm not the root of all suffering.” “I think you two might need counselin',” Damien observed.

“Don’t worry, pay it in. I’m raising a daughter you know.” Damien said. “Okay, and before I forget, I need you to look for someone for me. She goes by the name Jenna Marbles. She is involved in this case.” He dropped a picture of Jenna. Diablo wrote down the name then stared at it for a while. Jenna Marbles sounded familiar to him in some way. He didn’t know if it was the Marbles or the Jenna. He raised a brow. “I feel like I already know this person. Any other information you can leave?”

"So you made an entire long term plan just to achieve something you can achieve just by putting a bullet through the boy's head? Is that how stupid you've become Damien? Are you still my brother? Are you still a Dashkov? Or have you falling under like the rest of the world?" Damien's hand squeezed tight the sheets of his bed. Viktor bent and towered over him, his breath warm over Damien's face, "Are you weak Damien?" "I am not!" Damien growled, "I am not weak. I will kill them all." His memories flashed to the past, during the times when their father was training them to join the mafia. Him and his three brothers went through hell itself: he remembered how their youngest brother had died of