Hitler's Bloodline Novels & Stories

I showed him the displays of the Greek ships as they sailed on Troy, Alexander the Great in the battle of Persia, Mussolini minutes before he was executed. He stopped and stared at those for a long time, taking in the artwork with a curious eye. His arms crossed over his chest, and he stared at the image of Mussolini with the most interest. “He was my great-grandfather.” “Mussolini?” I asked in surprise. He nodded without taking his eyes off the painting. “His daughter Edda was my grandmother, although I don’t remember her. My family has a bloody history, and it only got worse as the line went on.”

“I know it sounds crazy… but believe me, it’s true.” I’m watching her carefully now. Reading the tension in her shoulders, the stillness in her stance. She’s not spitballing. She’s not guessing. She’s thought about this—probably over and over again, turning it around in her head until it made enough sense to say out loud. “We’ve been researching,” she continues. “Trying to figure out which of the bloodlines I came from. We came from.” That part catches in my chest. We. “We dug through what we could find—old records, pack stories, bloodline traits. Physical markers. Based on our features, and a few... other things, we had speculations that it might be the Darvosi family.”

"It's a bit of a story — why we're mated." "It is? There's a reason?" "My dad told me our Alpha Bloodline began with Dr. Norwood's wife. She was the daughter of an Alpha — whose pack is now extinct — but she fell in love with a human, Dr. Norwood, before he came to Black Lake and worked in the lab here. She rejected her Goddess-given mate for a human, and so the bloodline she created with Dr. Norwood was supposedly cursed. Her sons and the sons of her sons were fated to humans." Harvey clears his throat. "Whether or not there is a curse hasn't changed the fact that every man in our bloodline has been mated to a human."

Something inside my chest settled into place. Korgan lifted his head. I told you. The investigation continued. Mom divided the files we had found at the station. The documents showed twelve human bloodlines, all historically connected to hunters, governments, or institutions that had rejected supernatural contact for generations. “Heirs of Purity,” Harper said. “The name does not refer to themselves.” “What does it refer to then?” Dad asked. “To inheriting lines without magic. What they call purity is programmed absence,” Harper said. Amelie examined the records.

Harold would then easily be able to destroy the family after that! It was obvious which choice was the smarter one! "Brother, you can't accept it!" Some of the elders and followers started to get anxious when they saw that Melvin was being tempted. Elder Young and Gilbert were the first lines of direct descendants. They were the true line of Youngs. They would always support the Young bloodline! Even if Harold's conditions were very tempting, they would not give in!

Then a grin, revealing those horrid teeth. And Johann Lewis Marenbach—alchemist, sorcerer, astute occultist and mage—shudders in revulsion. He has heard much about the Fuhrer, the knotted rumors: of him being the second Christ, a lover of animals and children; homosexual mass murderer, one quarter Jewish himself; an inbred sadist, a masochist, a black-hearted abomination. They, but a few.

Professor Olivia turns towards the digital screen and starts drawing something with a digital pen. "The first witch who turned into a shape shifter needed to ensure that progeny of werewolves continued through each generation. As a result she gave birth to five children who carried the werewolf gene. Now known as the five royal werewolf bloodlines. The start of the werewolves." The entire classroom turns at Tessa and me. Great! I wish being a Bloodline legacy felt so good just like it sounded. "You both should know the achievements of your ancestors. The huge battles they won and the way they inspired humans to develop." Professor says in a dreamy tone. Did she date one? Eww.

Not guilt about anything he had done personally, but the particular guilt of someone who has uncovered a crime committed by their bloodline and has been carrying the knowledge of it alone, trying to find a way to say it that doesn't destroy something important. I looked at him for a long moment and didn't say anything, because I didn't have anything to say yet that I was confident was fair. Hector, beside me, had gone very still in a different way... it was the stillness of someone working through a problem. "If Archibald is your grandfather," he said to me slowly, "then what does that make your connection to Lincoln?" "Lincoln is Archibald's direct blood descendant," I said, following the l

“You weren’t just reacting—you commanded.” Evelyn exhaled slowly, though her chest still felt tight. “I… I didn’t know I could,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. The power was intoxicating, yes, but terrifying. Every shadow she had directed toward the hunters had been guided by instinct, by survival—and by something more she couldn’t name. “Instinct,” Lucien said, tilting his head. “Yes… but also bloodline. That mark isn’t just a symbol. It’s alive. And it reacts to your will, but it also tests your limits.”

And somewhere in the territory, in the roots of the land that was already mine, that had always been mine, something old and convinced and waiting for a very long time settled into itself at last. It was not over. Olivia's tribunal was coming. The restructuring would be long and complicated. Aden had his own reckoning still ahead. The child was a secret that could not be kept forever. "The bloodline," my father said. Not a question, a recognition. He was placing what I had just told him against everything he carried from Isara's record and everything he had been writing and everything he understood about what the Founding Line was designed to produce. "Two," he said. "In the same generation,