Elizabeth Bathory Book Novels & Stories

Johana laughed suddenly at Elsa, who didn't understand what was funny about this book, so she curiously asked, “Are you hiding something?” “Lady Elsa, this book has history indeed, but it also has some overly pornographic narratives and depictions of vampires. I mean... you might be ashamed," Johana finished with a smile. “Ow... Well. I will skip them," Elsa muttered in diffidence and looked at the book.

Caitlin dove into the book, scanning through, turning the pages as fast as she could, looking for any mention of vampires, of how to heal or cure one, how to bring one back to normal life. As she began to read, she suddenly slowed down. She went back and read it again. Then again. Her heart started beating with hope. She could tell right away that this book was very different than the others. This, of all the books, felt the most real to her, the most scholarly, the most impartial. It wasn’t filled with hyperbole and myth and wild stories told by grandmothers. This one was written, paradoxically, by a bishop, in the 16th century. Also a doctor, he had seen dozens of inexplicable cases of cor

It has to be here… maybe it fell, maybe the book is waiting for me. Her fingers dug into the torn strap of her bag, but deep inside she knew the truth, if the black book had left her hands once, it had done so by its own will. The great black book was not a trinket to be misplaced. It chose, it abandoned, it devoured. But Still, denial was a sweeter poison than admitting defeat. The more she walked, the heavier her thoughts grew. Princess Elowen's voice echoed in her memory, soft yet edged with forewarning.. Làpatasodará Valkà… the witch who walks between the living and the forgotten.

**Elizabeth's POV** * I was sleeping when I suddenly felt an itch on my arm. It was like someone's breath was spraying onto my elbow. I was very sleepy. I don't want to open my eyes. Because of the words of the blood slave girl, I couldn't sleep while lying in the coffin. I did not know how long it took. Maybe it was dark before I felt tired. In my half-asleep state, I felt as if I heard someone pushing open the door of my room and standing next to the coffin staring at me.

Chapter 8: The Nectar Of The Gods? Aurora Beauchamp Aurora is freaking livid, after her swim in the lake last night and her encounter with Darius the man she met at the brothel. He's the Prince of Nevera, as much as she would hate to admit it, it came out as a shocking reveal and suddenly everything made sense.

The end Thanks for reading The Hidden She-Wolf. Please leave a review to give this story a rating so other readers can enjoy it as well, Thanks again. Also, try out my new werewolf romance, His Forbidden Soulmate. It's a must-read!

Mike swore to himself, getting out of the water. "If I find out Tink ordered pizza again..." He stopped himself, a thin smile on his lips. "Well. If she did, I hope she picked something better than pineapple this time." - Elizabeth sat in the old, wooden chair in the library. It was uncomfortable, and creaked every time she shifted, but wood was required. The tome she perused was old, likely to fall apart at the slightest provocation. She turned its pages slowly, copying the letters within. Simply snapping pictures of this magical tome would never work, the resulting image always blank. Every time she finished copying a page by hand, the ink on the old page would disappear, its magic release

I was mildly defensive over Nandru’s remark about my education, but I quickly forgot it as he continued. “The Countess Elizabeth Bathory was terrified of growing old. The wicked woman thought that drinking and bathing in the blood of young virgin girls would help her retain eternal youth,” he said with sadness. “She slaughtered many a farm maiden over the years. When her supply of poor defenseless common girls dwindled, she turned to ladies of her court and daughters from neighboring noble families. It was this action that brought her to her demise, but not in time to save my poor Sorina.” “That’s awful!” I gasped.

“She’ll want these in the morning.” Brett grunted as his thick, clumsy, wolf-like hands pulled the clothes from the old man. Hugging them to his chest, he caught up with his pack. Arthur watched the pack disappear into the night as he slowly made his way back to the house. Viviane met him on the porch. “Was that what I think it was?” she asked. “They took Eliza,” he said. Then, with a concerned voice, he added, “I’ve been bitten.”

She examines the old, leather-bound spines with wide eyes. "This must have been a mistake," she murmurs, running her fingers over the covers. "Wow… these are… incredible." I step closer. "What is it?" Elizabeth slides out a thick, dusty book from one of the upper shelves. "I’ve heard of this one—it’s a book of legends."