Daphne Du Maurier Novels & Stories

Chapter eleven Serena's POV I was setting a table for a circus family, and honestly, I deserved a medal for it. There was a pig, a junior pig, an upcoming stripper, a drug addict pretending to be a nun, an anti-prodigal son with anger issues the size of a continent, and then there was the mysterious queen mother herself; Octavia Draven. If patience was truly a virtue, then by now I should have qualified for sainthood. Unfortunately, I preferred champagne to halos, and revenge to forgiveness.

I arrived at Daphne's door and pulled the door open— she'd probably be asleep now but still the need to see her clawed at my skin. I pulled the door open and my gaze settled on a scene so dangerous, so deadly. “ Dusha Moy.” She called, her voice low, smooth and sensual as she slowly loosened the towel— the only thing that kept me from going feral. The towel slid downwards, pooling around her legs. “ Come to me, Dusha Moy.” She beckoned, as she walked to the bed.

Daphne I don’t know what I expected to happen but it definitely wasn’t Chris thrusting deeper inside me while his wife stood just a few meters away from us, staring in horror. “Uhhhh, Chris,” I couldn’t help but release a moan when he hit the best spot. I watched Claire’s shock turn into anger or was it jealousy. I wasn’t sure She marched towards us her heels clicking against the floor tiles, while the man she came with stood still at the door way probably wondering what the fuck was going on

But I dreamt of that place exactly on my every birthday. I realised everyone was looking at me expectantly. "Actually, I do have one strange dream! On my every birthday, I would dream of a completely dark place with eighteen stairs..." "How do you know it was exactly eighteen stairs when it was dark?" Rio questioned me doubtfully. Yamuna (a vampire) scolded him to let me complete.

Lady Vivanna Pursioe Rorei, Duchess of Portburgh. -OH MY GOD! I AM THE VILLAIN OF THE STORY!!-

The maid ate the black apple, which turned red again as soon as the water of the lake dried on its skin. David saw everything happening in the mansion through the maid's eyes. He too did not seem to notice anything different with Thea. As maids are not allowed into the study, he did not know what happened inside. As he is too concerned about stalking Thea, he did not notice Melanie's absence either. Everyone was alert and looking for anyone who is acting weirdly. One by one, they noticed the maid, who is just standing there and looking at Thea. They looked at each other and nodded their heads in understanding.

When she arrived home, silence greeted her. There was nobody in the living room. “Sara, I’m home, darling.” She called out softly, but no one answered. Neither her mother nor Vahe and Sona were anywhere nearby. Something about it felt strange. Once she was sure there was no one in the house, Magdalena went to Aunt Tamia’s hut. Tamia was there, but she was crying, and her face was scratched. “Magdalena, you’re back, darling... Thank God you came back. Maybe you can still find...”

She said. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of you now. What’s your name?” I asked. “Amora.” She said. “Well, Amora. Do you know where your house is?” I asked. “It’s that way.” She said, pointing towards a residential area. So I stood up and I took her hand in mine and we started walking towards the houses. She stopped when we got in front of one of the houses and started shaking. I got her to wait outside while I cautiously walked inside the house and the first thing I saw was blood spatter all over the walls.

“This isn’t a ritual book…this is a record book.” “Record?” Emma frowned. “Like financial records? Daphne, if this is a spending book for the Shrine, we really shouldn’t be snooping around! Those are private!” All Daphne did in return, was place the book on the floor, right in the centre so all of us could read it…and the first paper had my heart literally leaping out of my chest. Flora Argentine. It was written in bold letters. “It’s a record…of the Shrine Maidens.”

CHAPTER ONE !! Beware this is a Lesbian love!! Elise Moreau had tutored dozens of college-bound students over the years, yet none lingered in her thoughts the way Daphne Harlow did. The girl possessed a sharp mind that sparkled whenever she focused, but focus came rarely. More often, Daphne sat with her pen idle, her lower lip caught between her teeth, her gaze drifting in ways that made Elise’s skin prickle with awareness she refused to name.