Dante Blood Angels Novels & Stories

"Pre-colonial, possibly pre-Mayan. The runes are Enochian—angel script used to bind or call supernatural entities." "Angels?" Hope feels a spark of hope. "So we're not dealing with demons?" "Enochian script can summon anything," Dante corrects grimly. "Angels, demons, elder things that predate both. The fact that they're using blood sacrifice narrows it down to entities that feed on death." "How comforting," Sera mutters. Dante's eyes flick to her, soften microscopically, then harden again. "I've seen blood magic once before. Fifty years ago, a cult tried to summon something they called the Devourer. It took five packs working together to stop them."

She stared at me, and even though she had glasses on, it felt as though she could see through me. With a huff and a “fine,” I walked towards the truck, and Dante opened the back seat for me. I settled in quickly. Dante got back in the truck and with a roar of the engine, it continued on its journey. There was a heavy silence in the truck with Dante’s and Angelica’s eyes darting up at the rearview mirror periodically to check up on me. “Well, as I’m sure you must have deduced, we’re from the Blood Fang pack, I’m Dante and she is Angelica. What do we call you?” He asked his attempt at small talk was obvious.

Dante was kind of busy elsewhere, so he was of little help at the moment. “There are many traits and powers associated with our kind. Angels are not the cute little cherubs of pop culture. They are fierce warriors. We are derived from their blood and the blood of Demi-Gods. It gives us powerful healing abilities as well as being able to cast protection cloaks over non-Celestials. We are faster and stronger than many species. Those of royal Celestial bloodlines inherit traits pertaining to that bloodline. The Devusia bloodline, which is mine, is known for our battle planning and strategies. It is the precise reason the Devusia bloodline has been eradicated save me and my daughter.”

They were still red with the Angel's blood. Dan, looking for an opportunity to bring Scott down quickly chipped in. "The blood required is the blood of the mixed and not an Angel. Angel's blood are not as rare now as they used to be back then. This is useless." Scott smiled. "Yes Dan, it is useless but at least it was my knife who did the stabbing, and not hers. I did not come in here covered head to toe in bruises and injuries caused by the sword of an Angel like you did."

The tension in Dirty Angels coiled tighter than a garrote wire as the night deepened. The bar wasn’t some dive with sticky floors and cheap beer; it was high-class sleaze, polished brass rails, leather booths that cost more than most people’s rent, crystal tumblers catching the amber glow of pendant lights. Velvet ropes at the VIP section. A dress code enforced with a single raised eyebrow from the doorman.

The door closed. The city lights beyond the glass suddenly looked intrusive, like witnesses to a private execution. Dante moved closer. “Look at me,” he said quietly. Aruna lifted her eyes. She expected pity. She found fury instead. “Blood does not make him untouchable,” Dante said. She let out a brittle laugh. “It makes him worse.” Dante did not argue. Because he understood. Adrian did not want her dead. He wanted ownership. And blood was the oldest claim of all.

Abu asked and all the angels stood quietly, still in surprise and desperately waiting for the Archangel’s answer. He let out a heavy breath, “There is an only way to kill the vampire, Abu. You knew that there’s a way, don’t ever forget that,’’ he frowned and Abu gulped in fear, clearing his throat and stood up, he knew that only way, and he was against it. As a vampire, angels were also immortal but of course, there’s also a way to put an immortal to the fire of death, there was always a way to kill them no matter how immortal you knew they were.

“You’re walking straight into a warzone.” Dante opened the car door. “Good. That’s where I belong.” Before climbing in, he looked once more at the bridge. The two bodies swayed gently in the wind, blood still dripping into the black water below. He whispered, almost to himself, “You wanted the Devil.” Then he got into the car. “Now you’ll have him.” The convoy roared back to life, speeding away from the bridge. Behind them, the note fluttered in the wind, the blood on it still fresh.

I asked. "Dhampire? Oh, it's not a word, it's a name, referring to the children who are born from a vampire and a human. It's retrieved from the Balkan language. If the child is a boy, they call it 'Dhmapire', if it's a girl, 'Dhampiresa'. Based on their folklore, a dhampire is said to be extremely filthy, he or she has either a snub nose, like a bat or worse, no nose at all," Cammie paused for a break and took a sip of her fruit drink then she continued. "And in the Bulgarian legends, folklore has it that a dhampire must also feed on human blood to sustain its existence. In Serbian tales, the dhampire has an oversized head and a small body with no shadow. Other myths say that those dhampire

I want him to taste my wrath, to let him feel my overflowing thirst for vengeance. I stood and uttered an oath of lividity. Glowing fire surrounded me. I closed my eyes and started to mutter the forbidden enchantment I’ve learned. I know that this power formation would consume a big amount of my energy and could kill me, but I don’t care anymore. I don’t care if this hall would be my graveyard as long as I drag Ren Lancaster in hell. “Mea vita pro morte sua… Mea vita pro morte sua…” I uttered again and again, my hand parallel to each other, and on its center is the formed symbol of death on fire.