روايات وقصص ضمن Hatchet

Their chattering died down immidiately, biting the insides of their mouth. "This can't be opened without a key and we can't also use a bat, metal or any force to destroy this thick shit wall." Hatch said, combing his hair. His hand stayed din his head, gripping his hair with force. "Dad", Ace called from our back. I looked at my back as I checked his whole body, making sure he's still in one piece.

Metal whined and clanked as the Gearbanes were rive with activity. Swinging, firing and shattering any of the Fangsworn they encountered. Ragehog’s grappling hook was a devastating melee weapon up close, folded into a spike it served as a gigantic stake. While Thornrat carried a long pick axe, which by now was stained with blood and wood from the enemy dead. The Gearbanes were called such, due to the noise their gears would produce while in battle. As if their internal contraptions were close to giving way from the strain of their power.

“Well, I just forgot you are totally green. The bushes outside, those are not just bushes. They are any vampire’s weakness. The Roses, Vervain and the Hawthorn. We shall be using these as the major weapons and protection. “Now…inside this box, we have as you can tell, the machetes, for decapitation, the stake, pushing through the heart weakens them, flame throwers and of course this,” she picked an old wooden but well vanished shotgun. “This is not any other shotgun…no. This is a silver rounds shotgun. Silver is another vampires’ weakness. Silver buckshots are your best friends when hunting the undead, not the normal rounds you carry around in those things and definitely, not those small thi

“You must make this sacrifice for your family. Your children will want for nothing in this life.” “The dutiful wife?” Fallon questioned. “By allowing him to bed me and bear his idiot young?” Fallon suppressed a smile at her mother’s shocked expression. There would never be children, not with Warren. Four months ago,she had convinced Cook to show her how to prepare a pessary,made of honey and rosin.She had used it, to lose her maidenhead to one of the hands in her father’s stables. Cook had no choice but to help her. She had been stealing from their family for years and Fallon was the only one who knew. If she were to ever tell her parents, the old wretch would lose her tenure and at her age,

He just trudged toward his old backpack resting near a grassy mound. Something felt wrong. He knelt and dug through the bag. My stomach twisted as I saw his fingers close around the handle of something metal. It was a machete. He stood, holding it loosely at his side. His lips curled into a grotesque smile. It was too wide and forced—like his face was fighting against itself. But his eyes... His eyes were wild. And dark. “Hey, now,” he rasped, his voice trembling with something worse than grief. “Who’s next?”

I only continue my exploration when everything is in order with my bladder. I push the door ajar with the tip of my boot, cursing the aged wood for opening with a growing squeak. Hunter for what he is doing and raises the instrument in his hands, in a reflection of fright. It is a large and heavy sledgehammer, whose black handle is surrounded by the strong fingers of both his hands.

She grinned despite herself, that quick grin she had to hide at business tables. Marco opened the equipment closet and pulled out a hatchet. “We don’t keep axes in the sedan,” he said dryly, “but since you asked.” It fit his hand like a memory. “Grip at the end. Don’t muscle it. Let the weight do the work. Think of it as a heavy letter to an old friend.” He threw; the hatchet spun once and kissed the board, burying to the cheek. Some primitive part of the hindbrain purred. Sasha tried. The first throw sailed wide with theatrical insult. The second hit flat. The third stuck shallow. The fourth buried with a thunk that traveled up

The time is now. An array of tools hung from hooks on the wall to my right. I scanned the items slowly, a few rakes, a pickaxe, a couple of crowbars, and some axes. My eyes landed on a hatchet, the blade glinting from the dim light on the roof. It's no Sai blade, but it’ll still get the job done. I took the axe from the hook and tossed it up in front of me. The handle spun in a full three-sixty before landing in my hand again. I sucked my teeth and nodded my head with a newfound sense of determination. Clutching the bloodied pole in one hand and the hatchet in the other, I rolled my shoulders back and sauntered out of the shed.

Relief was short-lived, replaced by the ice-cold reality of what I’d have to do next. I bolted back to the car, paws digging into the snow as I shifted mid-stride. The icy air burned my lungs as I straightened, pulling my clothes on with shaking hands. My breaths formed clouds around me, but it wasn’t the cold making me tremble. It was adrenaline. I reached into the car and grabbed the bag—the one filled with everything I might need to kill someone like me. Blade soaked in wolfbane, silver-tipped bullets, enough to turn this place into a bloodbath if I had to. But that wasn’t the plan.

It was coming. As the wind howled through the clearing, a shadow moved at the edge of the forest. Not Ash. Not Kade. Something older. Something that carried the unmistakable mark of her uncle’s power. And for the first time, Raven understood that her awakening wasn’t the beginning of freedom—it was the beginning of war.