Deadman Deadman Come Alive Novels & Stories

"You can go ahead and try setting that fire if you dare, you wretched woman!" Draco, who had been lying inside the coffin, suddenly shot up and yelled at me with a savage expression. He had a face that resembled something out of a horror story, so much so that it was enough to make anyone's legs give out. Those present froze instantly, staring at him in absolute horror. It was then that someone finally broke down and yelled, "Draco has come back to life! He has risen from the dead!"

It laughed so hard that even some of the crying stopped — people freezing mid-sob, stunned by the sheer insanity of the sound. I could feel it vibrating through my chest, every note cutting through my ribs. When it finally stopped, it wiped an invisible tear from the corner of its eye and said, still chuckling, “Have you forgotten?” Its grin twisted. “You’re also dead.” The man’s mouth fell open. “W-what?” he whispered, barely audible. The Game Master leaned down until their foreheads almost touched. “Dead,” it repeated, dragging the word out like a lover’s whisper. “Every single one of you. Including you. You died. You’re not alive.”

I floated, a ghost in the air, and watched my own rotting body get wheeled into the pack hospital morgue. Three years buried in a marsh. I could barely recognize myself. The corpse stank of decay. Claw marks from the fatal attack were still visible on the wounds. My ghost, three years wandering, wanted to flee this broken shell. The door opened. Killian Reynolds walked in. The Alpha of the strongest pack in North America. My mate. The one who swore to protect me with his life. He stood over my corpse, his face a cold, blank mask.

They were full of confessions and longing. He even lingered outside my office and apartment like a ghost. "Luna, I know you're in there!" he yelled from below. "Come out and see me! Just once!" Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, I looked down at the exhausted, crazy man and felt nothing. He thought killing everyone who hurt me would erase his sins. He thought dredging up the past would make me return. It was all too late.

When he called time, I dropped to the mat. I lay on my back with my arms spread out and my chest heaving and the ceiling spinning above me. The mats smelled like sweat and rubber and something else. Him. He always left a trace of himself in whatever room he had been in. He dropped down next to me. Not close enough to touch. Just close enough to be there. We lay there for a minute. Both breathing. Both alive in that particular way that only came after a hard session. The kind of aliveness that made everything feel sharper. Colors. Sounds. The way the air moved across my skin.

Guevarra’s liposuction. “Welcome back, Ginger,” Dr. Guevarra said with a smile on her face. “Are you ready to remove your bandage and see the result of your new appearance?” “Finally! I get to see the new me literally,” Ginger said. “And Ginger had already died three months ago. It’s Lucy Solace now.” “Well, that’s a nice name, Lucy,” Dr Guevarra said while gently removing Ginger’s bandage, and once removed, she handed over a mirror to Ginger.

"DO IT NOW! I want every minute accounted for!" Three hours later, the Beta returned with a stack of files. "Alpha, we found something… strange," he said, setting the files down, his expression grim. "The night before she died, the Luna went to the family's secret altar." My head snapped up. "The altar? What was she doing there?" "The security footage shows—" the Beta paused. "She performed a forbidden Life Weaver ritual." My blood ran cold. "What ritual?" "She used her own power," the Beta said softly, "to place the pup's life force into a magical stasis."

What was happening? Before we could even process the change, the dead began to rise. Not as themselves, but as puppets, their movements jerky and unnatural, their eyes dead and unblinking. The woman I had just killed, her body still warm, rose to her feet, her face a blank slate, the hateful look gone, replaced by a soulless emptiness. With a wave of Kasamaan’s hand, this army of the undead sprang to life, a force of pure magic and rage.

She then looked at at him as she exclaimed, "How dare you!" "It's your surname though!" She slapped his arm and for a moment he lost control of the car but quickly recovered. "Shit..." Ashleigh breathed out as Damien chuckled nervously. "Sorry." "I swear if I died I would've killed you!" "How would you do that when you're dead?" "I'll possess you and make you commit suicide." Damien gave her a look. "Thats dark woman." "I love you too."

Brynn rubs the back of her neck. I offer her an encouraging smile. “I’m sure my room isn’t far from yours.” To answer, Madame Aldine begins walking again. “This way.” After shooting Brynn one more encouraging look, I follow Madame Aldine down the hallway across the landing. A tapestry stretches across a good half of the wall, its vibrant colors telling a story about a battle involving dragons, werewolves, and… I get closer. A man holds a woman in a gown in one arm, her eyes closed and her hand pressed to her forehead in distress. He leans in close, his teeth razor sharp.