Herschel Novel Duffle Novels & Stories

Why had they stopped? A figure walked from the center of the hunters, a red cloak blowing behind it. Something glinted in the moonlight as it approached. Whoever it was, was small and petite. A gust of wind ripped the hood from its head and pale hair spilled out. "The Huntress," Rashida hissed, the venom in her voice causing the pack to wince. "No mercy, whatever it takes. We will wipe them from this place. Now!" She howled a blood-curdling shriek. The pack joined, their voices intertwining to create one eerie low that echoed through the night.

Pale as a ghost. "My suitcase!" she shrieked, whipping her head up so fast her blinged-out nails nearly stabbed me. "Are you blind?! Watch it! This is Hermès—fifty grand! Limited edition! Discontinued! You wrecked it, moron!" Her voice echoed down the dorm hall. Doors cracked open. Freshmen peeked out, whispering like it was drama o'clock. I glanced at the suitcase—silver shell, custom everything. Then I saw it. Tiny metal tag on the side, frosted finish. Two fancy letters: VV.

You're better at that tech shit than the rest of us. "I can try," I said. "What details do you have?" "Dark auburn hair, green eyes, short, curvy, expensive taste in bags but dresses like she's hiding. Probably a freshman based on how scared she looked." Dreyven headed toward his room. "Oh, and she likes Stephen King apparently. Had a copy of some horror book in her bag when it spilled." "That's not a lot to go on," I said. "It's enough. This university isn't that big." He paused at his door. "Thanks for having my back, brothers. Means everything."