Ghira Belladonna Novels & Stories

My jaw clenched and I exhaled nothing less than the sound of a growl. Looking in my rearview mirror before getting out, I noticed the color of my eyes had changed to black. They only turn black when I let my demon out, the demon that craves the sound of screams, the smell of blood, the sight of fear in someone’s eyes, the feeling of their bones crushing in my bare hands. It had been a while since I had done any good and decent torture - Bradley and his group of thugs seemed like a great place to cure that craving.

He would swear blind he doesn't, but I've seen his fear when he has been sent to me. "Can anyone tell me a name of a famous poison used in the past? One that is easily accessible." There's a few moments of silence, before Natalya Gurin thrusts her hand in the air. Drawing my attention back to that front row, where Natalya is sitting beside Azira. "Yes, Gurin." "Atropa belladonna." I nod. "Indeed, a classic that has been used for centuries. What makes it so effective?" "The berries can be added to a sweet drink, for example, and therefore it can be very difficult to detect the poison as they are sweet and pleasant to taste."

Just as Doctor Jane's voice broke in, "Alpha, your wound must be treated first. Or else it will become lethal, and the shift could become very dangerous for you." I shifted my attention to her, who seemed to have finished figuring out what kind of poison was on the knife. "Wolfsbane?" I inquired. Wolfsbane was my initial assumption that this substance could potentially incapacitate a werewolf's senses and abilities. "Close. Black Belladonna. It has only been cultivated by a very few families of witches for the past half-century. This plant can only grow in regions with frigid temperatures and minimal sunlight, much like the Frostfire Mountains. far more dangerous than Wolfsbane, and its prox

She kept her head down, and her aura pulled in tight. Nothing to see here. Just a girl and her plants. Professor Halloway, a kind old man who smelled of peat moss, walked in and clapped his hands. "Settle down, everyone. Settle down. Today we are discussing the Atropa Belladonna and its uses in modern pharmacology. But first..." He started saying then stopped talking, he looked nervous. He adjusted his glasses. "We have a ermmm... a guest auditor today." He continued to say.

Artemisia looked at the confused woman, that was clearly poison and, particularly, the young woman already had both feet in the grave to drink anything made with the devil's plant. “Don't look at me like that, you're more dead than alive, so there's no better medicine than one that becomes poison.” Leonore took a glass and left two fingers of the liquid as purple as wine, the smell of belladonna filled the room and the redhead held out the poisoned glass to the young woman. Artemisia could have sworn she saw purplish smoke from the outline of a tombstone. He must have been delirious. “Well, if I die it will be a favor I do a lot of people.” Artemisia said and took the goblet, enjoying the lo

Luca came forward in order to touch the shrinked leaves of the plant(since it was plucked previous day therefore it leaves were bit shrinked) but Stephano jerked his hands away and shouted, "Are you fool? This is a poisonous plant or else I wouldn't have used handkerchief to pick it. It can cause rashes on skin. Luca was flabbergasted with his reaction. The sudden jerk caused an immense pain in his shoulder. He groaned hard due to the pain. Balbina was not at all happy with Stephano's behaviour as her lover was hurt but she kept quiet. After the pain subsided a bit, Luca asked Stephano, "alright! I won't touch it but tell me what plant is it? " Before Stephano could explain him, Aelia replie

“I’m just...not good with knots.” “Everything likes you, Loralie,” I said. “Even things with a body count.” Professor Thorne moved between tables, pausing occasionally to scowl or sigh. She reached my station and stopped. The belladonna was thriving, its petals rich and purple, leaves relaxed and swaying. “You’ve handled this before,” she said. “My mother made me grow one before she let me have a cat.” Her lips twitched. Approval? Or indigestion? Without a word, she reached into her robes and pulled out a small obsidian pot. Inside was a rare variant of belladonna—violet-black petals, roots coiled protectively in the soil like a sleeping serpent.

“Poison. It was that vaginal spewage Brandt. Leda saw ‘CATOR’ but I bet it wasn’t the full word – precatorius.” “Precatorius? Are you feeling all right?” “Abrus Precatorius, Annalise. Remember your rebirth.” “Love pea?! Typhus! That could cause muscle – shit. Op Lado! Atropa Belladonna. What about the others?” “I don’t know. New plan. I’ll still call in the heads of state. Carlotta won’t let him get away with this.” “You’re going to turn to Carlotta? Now? After all this time? She’s been hiding in that hovel, destroying your father’s legacy and letting all this happen under her nose!”

She had one lead: the flower shop. It took two hours of cross-referencing property records from Sofia’s encrypted cloud drive accessed via a backdoor Chen finally provided with known Moretti shell corporations. She found it: Belladonna Blooms, a quaint boutique in the gentrifying North End. The name was a joke only a monster would make. Belladonna: deadly nightshade. Beautiful. Poisonous.

Again, Helena reported to Dominic that Belladonna had taken her pills and that she had witnessed it herself. Belladonna wrote down the evil deeds and cruel torture that Dominic had done to her, according to her memory. However, she scratched it out again so that what she had just written was unreadable. She did this because she didn't want to be reminded of the horrible memories she had just experienced.