Danny Phantom Nocturn Novels & Stories

Baron made a funny face and went to his room "Won't you come get a hug, sweetheart?" Dawn called "Leave me alone!!" Baron shouted from his room, feigning anger. Over dinner that night, Juana was moody. As much as she loved and enjoyed celebrating birthdays, she was afraid. It was a regular thing for her to see something mysterious on the right preceding her birthday.

Aurora: “What?” I heard Dante say, his voice raspy from sleep despite the sudden fear in it “he did what?” I opened my eyes to find him getting out of bed with his phone held in his hand, holding it to his ear. I frowned when I found that my phone was ringing as well. Checking the caller ID, and the time, it was a while past three in the morning, and the caller was Caspian. “Caspian…” “Aurora, we need Dante to come, and now” he said, my heart dropped to my stomach when I heard screaming around him. I got out of bed to find that Dante was already getting dressed.

“Yes, there is Mr. D. O., a subordinate servant.” "You mean the one with the eyes of the owl." Damontry said, laughingly dragging her eyes down. Mary chuckled, "Yeah." "Okay then I'll go now, see you later." Mary nodded before returning to work. Damontry went out to find the royal vestibule standing in which were some men dressed in black and gray, and she glimpsed someone she knew. "Danny!". Danny turned to her and she didn't think she would miss him so much. "Oh, Monterey, did you know about your assignments."

The air in the estate was thick with a protective tension; the pack knew their alphas beloved was fragile, and the Alpha’s fury was a hair-trigger away from erupting. Danny sat by the window of his new room, wrapped in a thick wool cardigan that smelled of Alex’s cedar and wood-smoke scent. He was staring at the distant treeline, trying to reconcile the wolves he had seen with the warmth he felt in the kitchen. He was lost in the rhythm of his own shallow breathing when the impossible happened. On the nightstand, his mobile phone with a violent, jarring buzz.

I NEED to know who he is, and something tells me I won’t discover much if I approach him as Phantom Reaper. I don’t really even know who I actually am, to be honest. I never indulged in friendships or relationships with others. It’s just always been survival. The only person I had any kind of positive relationship was my mother. I don’t know my father but because of my hair color, I’m fairly certain my father was Christian Bartoa. I know he frequented the slave cells whenever he was bored, and the urge arises so it doesn’t surprise me, but I don’t intend to ever claim him nor carry his surname. The thought of actually SPEAKING to Damien makes me feel a weird sense of anxiety. I’m unsure if i

He grabs a box of pizza and heads outside as the deliveryman reappears, carrying a plastic bag of sodas. “Follow me,” Phantom says to the deliveryman. Dumbfounded, I watch as they both bypass me and head for the room I share with Al. I take a moment to snap out of it and follow them when my brain functions again. Four slices of pizza and three root beers later, I'm still hungry. “Why aren't you eating?” I ask Phantom. “I've already had dinner. My mother makes an event out of it most nights, especially on Fridays.”

The heavy oak front door had clicked shut, and for the first time in nine years, Scarlett Voss was standing in a room where the key was on the inside of the lock. Danny had already claimed the smallest bedroom at the back of the apartment, his laughter echoing down the hallway as he threw his duffel bag onto a plain, unmade mattress. He was currently standing by his window, looking down at a group of local kids playing basketball in a concrete park three floors below—his brilliant, cipher-trained eyes finally learning to calculate the trajectory of an ordinary rubber ball instead of an encryption matrix.

Vanessa The soft glow of early morning filters into the room, revealing the silhouette of Danny perched in the corner, a faint sheen of dim light catching on the glass cradled in his hands. I'm pretty sure it's tequila. In this world, I guess mornings don't begin with the comforting aroma of coffee but with the biting edge of alcohol to numb all the violence and death going on.

I look at Daryl’s pale, sweat-slicked face on the sled, knowing we don't have the time to engage in a prolonged battle with this mountain guardian. The dark purple veins of the Phantom Rot have now reached his neck, pulsing with terrifying rapidity as the twenty-four-hour deadline draws dangerously close to its expiration, threatening to steal the last remnants of his human consciousness if we do not act immediately. I realize we cannot fight our way past this creature; brute force will only result in our destruction and seal Daryl's doom in this desolate wasteland.

Or that my initial suspicion about him as my phantom was indeed correct. “I’m going to meet Damon tonight,” I said, and if my phantom will not show up while I am with Damon, then it could lend credence to my theory. Nancy nodded and then stood up. “Alright. Good luck with that and please be safe. I just came here to check on you, and I’m glad I did.” “Thank you.” With that, she left my office, but not without blowing me a kiss and wink before she closes the door. ****