Dead Dr Strange Novels & Stories

Slightly hunched shoulder, shoulder length dark hair and he wore a black overall coat. He held on to the neck of a particular man that was dying. The man's face were rotten and maggots emanated from his badly beaten body. His legs hung in the air and her father's look alike was laughing sinisterly with his back turned to her. "Dad?" She called and the laughter stopped, the roaring fire blazing from the distance. He turned and his profile was the most horrific thing she had ever seen. Part of his face looked like they have been cut off and unidentified but his other half had Drake's face and as their eyes met, he dropped his victim and smiled, exposing his teeth.

A chill raced down his spine. The soft sunlight slipped through a half-closed window, catching the cold gleam of the man they called Italy’s nightmare—Alastor Merikh Drystan. The Sovereign. The number one killer. Only thirty, yet feared like a god. At twelve, he was already drawn to business—and blood. Passion lived in both. Drenched in shadows, Drystan reclined on a chair, legs crossed, a cigarette between his fingers. Smoke curled upward, but his eyes stayed fixed elsewhere—burning with calm, deadly intent.

"Any longer and that vile woman is going to get my son killed!" I did not reveal myself right away. I stood in the shadows beneath the corridor eaves and watched the whole farce play out. The moment the coffin lid came loose, a thick medicinal smell filled the air. Stellan lay inside, his face white as paper, his chest perfectly still, but his skin had not yet stiffened. The potion had not worn off. He was simply locked in a state of deep, false death. "Doctor, please! Check on my son!" Dr. Pemberton stepped forward, pressed two fingers to Stellan's wrist, lifted one eyelid, then spoke in a low voice. "No need to panic, my lady. The potion is still in effect. He'll wake on his own within sev

“But rest assured… I will make the rest of your life a living hell.” Drazhan smiled weak, bloody, insane. “Very well…” Suddenly, black veins spread across his skin, crawling up his arms, across his face, down his neck. His body trembled violently. “What’s happening to you?” I demanded. He looked at me with pitch-black eyes. “See you in hell… Scott Thane.” His entire body went still. His eyes rolled back. And the darkness swallowed him whole.

Taking a deep breath, he reached for it and saw it was his men from the hospital calling. He picked up and sighed. “Why the hell are you calling in the middle of the night? How is my son?” “DEAD.” Moore froze completely at the deep, guttural voice—thick and filled with menace. It was none other than Ste-phen Draven. “What?” Moore’s eyes widened. “Oh, you didn’t hear it clearly?” A mocking chuckle sounded from the other end—taunting. “Your son is dead, as promised, Mr. Moore. Alongside his friends and his men.”

The Doc yelled at his men. “What the hell is the Black Death?” Dradon asked with a frown on his face. “I believe he is referring to me.” Someone said from behind them. Trixie and Dradon turned around prepared to fight but saw nothing. “Uh, Dradon am I going crazy or Did you hear something just now too?” Trixie asked frowning when she saw nothing but complete darkness. “Yea, to both those questions.” Dradon said looking around the forest, even without Drax, his eyes were far more advance then the human eyesight.

He begged as I turned and faced him again. "I don't give second chances." His cries were muffled by the blade entering his throat. Blood poured from his mouth as he choked on it, the life fading from his eyes as he slowly drowned in his own blood. I wiped the blade clean, placing it back on the table. I cleaned off my hands and fixed my sleeves. "Clean up this mess and make sure to send Ted's head to his wife. Remind her that just because he is dead, his debt doesn't just disappear."

Words scraped out of my throat. Controlling my shaking hands, I shut Asher’s eyelids. Swallowing down the quiver, I forced myself to speak loud and clear. “Deathless Death… worked.” Draknor stared at Asher’s paralyzed face, his jaw tightening. His breaths turned uneven, dissolving into hollow, shallow pants. “What’s with that somber tone, Alpha?” His words dripped with venom. “He’s gone.” He let out a hollow, bitter laugh. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

She frowned instantly, wondering where she was and why it was so white. Then it all came together and the memories of the last event that happened came back to her in floods. She blacked out after meeting that mysterious man, that was all she knew and now, she was in a very strange room. With panic, she jerked up from the bed, resisting the cold that was trying to hold her back. Her eyes roamed the room frantically as her heart began to race inside her chest when her gaze fell on him. Standing at the far corner of the room, with his eyes intently on her, and his back against the wall, he looked like a mysterious assassin ready to take her life at a first glance.