Dire Crowley Novels & Stories

He wondered briefly if Doc Phillips had told the sheriff about the wolf. “Fitzgerald,” he answered his phone. “Hey there, Asher. If you’re missing your truck and credit card, have no fear. I caught the culprits red-handed. Them Crowley boys were stupid enough to use your card in town, buying clothes of all things!” “Sheriff Connely, I gave my card to the Crowley boys,” Asher said. “You did?” “Yes, Sir. Joel and Oscar Crowley are living with me for reasons I won’t discuss right now, but they have my permission to buy whatever they want with that card and to drive my truck.”

The men riding behind me know what we're heading into and, like me, they're ready to die. We're ex-cons and we've drawn our line between the wrong we're willing to live with and the wrong we can't abide by. Fox making plans to sell Kiley to a child molester was the line we drew in the hot desert sand. The Desert Crows MC is made up of ex-cons like us. I have no idea who will have my back and who won't. One thing I do know-I'm not going back to prison or standing by and allowing Fox to continue his shit. The Desert Crows' clubhouse is a mile off Highway 87 in Peach City, Arizona, an hour northeast of Phoenix. Around a thousand people call Peach City home, and the area is sparse with a tempera

he pointed then turned his back without saying anything about his reaction awhile ago. It was a warm, still night. As the sky darkened from violet to indigo. The stars multiplied. The Drollery didn't look terrific from the outside, just a big neon sign of it's name and it was situated near a cheap buy-1-take-1 burger joint. With a grey stucco interior, Cleo lose the idea that Alas Crowne was a shining-shimmering splendid god, she heaved a sigh, clearly, he's not. She step outside his car in front of the bar, she was expecting quite a tad more from him, setting aside the fact that he lived on a shoebox apartment with nothing fancy in and out of the building. She couldn't helped but to think a

I forced my eyes open, burning red with heat, and saw Zephyr and the other two walking in. It looked like they had just washed. None of them were wearing shirts. Water droplets slid down their chests and abs, tracing along the lines of muscle before disappearing beneath their waistlines. Looking at the devastatingly handsome faces, I bit down hard on my lip, cursing under my breath. These three had to be doing this on purpose. I was just about to tell them to get out when Cael, who had now advanced to Beta, stepped into the water first. With one long stride, he reached out and pulled my trembling body into his arms.

Crow is a highly trained scout that could fully hide his presence even with the enhanced senses of the werewolves. And his senses are also sharpened in finding out the distinct differences of any werewolves that he would come across which allows him to succeed in all of his past missions from the Royal Arc clan. Crow has been scouting around the outer territory of Rebelliad for the past month, but he did not manage to gleam any information about the treasures that exists in the city since it was built. After scouring the small forces of rogues in the outer territory, Crown entered the inner territory yesterday with the identity of a small travelling merchant from the Fressia Kingdom.

Cold, wet air slammed into us. The rain had returned, harder now, drumming on tar and metal. The city stretched out in all directions, a blur of lights and shadow and tribunal movement. From up here, I could see the flashing beacons on the vans, the choke points at intersections, the way wolves in black moved like ants along preplanned lines. “Welcome to Crowe’s board,” Kieran muttered. “We’re the wrong-colored piece tonight.” “Which direction?” I asked. “That way.” Daire pointed to the left, toward a line of lower rooftops that staggered away into the dark. “Stairwell two blocks over leads to an old service lane. Fewer apartments. More industrial. They’ll hit that later.”

Theria's tone seemed testy and annoyed. "Glad to see he found his feet," Max seemed unbothered by Theria's haughtiness. "Now, why would Cory send a couple of kids to do a man's job? I'll assume you are here on some police business or another." "We are members of the Scald Crow," Warren stood with his hands on his hips in the worst heroic pose of all time. "The Superman pose Warren? Really?" Theria put her face in her hands, "Put away the childish things, Warren. You're doing big boy stuff now."

“Or can it?” Claud and his family were living in Riverdale, Bronx, New York in the United States. Looking for a new beginning, they decided to leave England. Mrs. Tara Wolf, Claud’s mother tried to convince them to stay but as she couldn’t, she just assisted them in relocating and securing jobs so they could lead a normal life with their children. Damien and Clary were students of Riverdale country school. They were enrolled there so that they’ll not be too far away from home. Despite leaving all the supernatural things behind, there was still traces of paranoia left in the minds of Claud and Lupa.

No one seemed to notice that through the shattered door, a pile of snow had appeared at the doorstep. In all that noise, suddenly, the cage moved. A strong blow of wind made it through the door and blew off the tissue covering the cage. The crow, which was supposed to be dead, stood on its two legs. It spread its wings, trying to catch the wind. It seemed to be ignoring everybody else. What’s more, there was no trace of vomiting. Only one red stain, probably Bianca’s blood, was left on one of the golden bars. “HIP, HIP!”