Hawthorne Novels & Stories

Brandon set his camcorder on a tripod at the other side of the table, almost against the back wall, to keep in frame not only us, but also the loads of documents before us. We’d spent about thirty minutes going through records when one of the old maps caught my attention. “Look,” I said, showing it to Brandon. “See this town, Greenwich? It was flooded when they built the Quabbin.” He leaned in, studying the area I was pointing at with a curious frown. “So? What’s so special about it? Flooded graveyard or something like that?” I rolled my eyes. Of course the West Coast alien didn’t know. “Lovecraft’s The Dunwich Horror was sort of based in this town. And The Color Out of Space was set in this

“…Hawthorne’s people are already moving. Damien is not going to sit still once the announcement hits.” I turned my head before I could stop myself. He ended the call and met my eyes. No surprise. No apology. “Do you know Damien?” I asked. My voice came out quieter than I wanted. He studied me for a moment. “Everyone in our world knows Damien Hawthorne.” That was all he said. Then he looked away again, as if the conversation had used up its allotted seconds. I sat very still for the rest of the landing. The name sat between us like a third passenger. Damien. Always Damien. Even here, thirty thousand feet above the ground and thre

Security burst in seconds later, flashlights slicing across the walls, the table, the ceiling. "Clear." "No one here, sir." "That's not possible, we had the hallway covered." Damien wasn't listening anymore. He was already moving toward the center of the room, toward the exact spot where the voice had felt closest. He crouched down. Something small caught the red light and glinted against the carpet. A brass key, tarnished dark with age. One word had been etched into the bow, the letters worn but legible. *HAWTHORNE.*

Hawthorne. Her heart skipped a beat. Why was her office so close to his office? She entered her office and sat. The system login accepted her immediately. She got to work immediately. By mid-morning, Susan had forgotten where she was. She worked the way she always did, quietly, obsessively, following threads other people dismissed because they didn’t scream danger. Hawthorne’s systems were impressive, layered and expensive. It was designed by people who assumed intelligence alone was enough but it never was.

Opening the book on Lycanthropy, I tried to read it but I couldn't concentrate. I was starving. It had been almost twenty four hours since I had last eaten. I had been running on fumes and adrenaline since then. Suddenly, A knock sounded at the door. I closed the book and placed it on the couch as I stood up to go see who it was. I was surprised to see Cain standing outside my door holding a large plate of steaming food, a fork and a bottle of water tucked under his arm. "I figured you hadn't eaten," he said. "Mind if I come in?"

The Walther stared right at her forehead. Her eyes followed his thumb as it pulled the safety pin. A cold sweat dripped down her neck. Her left hand was a few inches away from the pocket knife in her jacket and all she had to do was reach for it without raising any suspicion. Easy, right? The only problem was she realized this guy was not just any crazed Tom, Dick, or Harry that needed some quick cash or anything else to that.

And he had to be confident in order to be so casual while naked before a strange woman. "Sorry to startle you. My name is Cruz Cain. It's a pleasure to meet you." I had forgotten that I was holding the butcher knife until he nodded toward it and smiled. "You won't need that." "I'll be the judge of that." I looked down and realized how ridiculous I looked, but until I knew who he was, I wasn't taking any chances. "Where's the wolf?" He shrugged as his lips curled into a mischievous grin. "Wolf?"

I asked her. “There is a karaoke bar in town, figured we could go for a drink now that the target has been captured.” "You should’ve run it by me first, our mission may be completed but we can’t have you drawing attention to us, especially with so many humans around." “But we blend in. Not all of us have unearthly gold eyes.” I glared at her, “And what if you get drunk and show your wings or ears, we could cause a lot of trouble.” Hetha looked the most human out of all of our squad, with her curly red hair and freckles, her ears were easy to hide, and the hourglass frame and green eyes could be traits of any mortal around.

Sign up Log in BackInfoAdd to libraryInfo Navigated to -Chapter 20- | The White Wolf | Quotev Something was wrong. My bed seemed different. Warmth encircled me and the welcoming scent of the ocean woke me from my slumber. I was in Justin's room. I looked over realizing we had both moved to the middle of the bed causing me to be a few inches away from him. Justin's hair was a mess sticking up every which way, though mine was probably worse.

Its red eye catches me off guard; I step away from the counter, holding my breath. The rabbit continues on until it's out of sight. There are back doors in the hall that lead outside. It has large windows and dark handles, and I unlock them to venture into the night. There's a small porch with a bench and empty flower pot. The porch steps lead straight into a sparse patch of grass like stone steps that descend directly into the ocean. My eyes bounce around for the rabbit even though I know I am out here for other reasons.