Hounds Backrooms Novels & Stories

He went back to his car. From the time he had been back in the country, he had never gone to his house. He spent the few days in a lodge but his money was running out, he had no option but to go back to his place. The only worry he had was that his house was being watched especially after that time he talked to the strange voice on the phone. He decided to drive back to the house. He had exchanged his Chevrolet for a Volkswagen for fear of being found. He reached the area and surveyed it from a distance. It was as quiet as he had left it. There was total darkness. He could only see the light coming from the backyard where his carnage was. He got out of the car and ran to the fence. He climbe

Jax was there a second later, his hand clamping onto my shoulder to anchor us. We rolled onto the bank, gasping, coughing up the silt of the Black River. But the peace didn’t last three seconds. A howl ripped through the tree- line metallic, high pitched, and wrong. “Silver Hounds,” Jax spat, rising to his feet even as water cascaded off his rough chest. “Thorne’s bastards are persistent.” A few of them burst from the underbrush. They weren’t natural wolves; their fur was matted with metal silver, and their eyes glowed with a sick, neon yellow. They moved with a jerky, unnatural speed.

I wrenched the massive corpse sideways just as the second hound lunged for my chest. CRASH! The second hound slammed headfirst into the dead body of its pack-mate, its jaws snapping empty air. I drove my right foot into the dead hound’s ribcage, shoving the massive weight off me, and stepped forward into the narrow trench. The second hound scrambled backward through the dark blood pooling on the flagstones, shaking its massive head, its crimson eyes locking onto the dark corpse of its companion. I stood in the center of the narrow corridor.

Or rather, looking for someone. As Mira walked further, she spotted several corpses of hellhounds that Cohen shouted in the mind link earlier. Then, she was greeted by ferocious growls. A pack of ten hellhounds came out from one of the rooms, turning their head in her direction. It was the zombie version of a black wolf. Mira could see the skull and the rotting flesh coated its sharp teeth, and its ribs were exposed just like half of its head. Blood was dripping from its body, staining the white floor of the hospital. "A demon wolf against a pack of hellhounds," Mira smirked, cracking her fingers. "What could have gone wrong?"

He could smell that scent of death just as much as the wolfsbane. He walked slowly across the backyard to avoid the obvious traps until he came to the back door. Silver door handle. There were probably millions of traps aimed at the door, too. He shoved the bolted door in and stood aside. As expected, an arrow whizzed past him and then another. Silver-tipped with a hint of wolfsbane. Something else, too, by the smell of it. His senses locked on the Hunter, who was now awake somewhere in the back. He heard the shuffling of feet, the cocking of a gun. And he smelt the fear. The terror.

Annie watched without compassion, his blood running down her face as he fell to his knees before falling sideways, the spurts of blood now smaller as his life force drained away, a red lake expanding round him as he lay twitching on the concrete. Hugh and Lennox had reached Edinburgh and Hugh had gone through the list eliminating properties on the list that were residential, he ended up with a short list of four. He pulled up G****e maps on his phone and went onto street view for each one, he was looking for frosted windows with bars on the outside. The first two were not the right buildings, they were too modern and there was no ramp going into them. The third one he looked at jumped out at

"Tristan!" Nothing. Fine. Be a dick. I follow him across the compound into the back lot where he keeps his hounds. The kennel building is more of a dungeon than a dog house; Concrete walls cracked and water-stained. Small barred windows caked with grime. The smell hits me before I'm even inside: wet fur, piss, raw meat, and something darker. Something that reeks of violence and teeth. The door groans when Tristan yanks it open. I slip in behind him before it can swing shut.

Burned meat and blood are so old that they don’t belong to anything natural. There is only one thing it can be. A name whispered in the Pit’s dark corners when the guards thought we were too broken to listen. Bloodborne Hounds. Bred in the dark and stitched together from dead wolves and dead men. Made for one purpose: to tear the right out of anything too stupid to run.

But he had speed, and he had three minutes of godhood burning in his veins. He turned north, launching himself toward the city of Arusha, leaving a trail of scorched asphalt and sonic booms in his wake. Inside the Deep Warren, the fragile peace was shattering. The massive, cavernous reservoir echoed with the terrifying sound of rending steel. The three Hounds had bypassed the heavy iron floodgates entirely, using their hyper-dense claws to literally tear through the basalt walls of the drainage vents. They dropped into the civilian tiers like demons falling into hell.

I feel the panic start to rise up in my chest and between running for my life and trying to keep calm well it's becoming difficult, no Calm down Bree this is just a dream I tell myself. A dream I’m dreaming and any minute I’m going to wake up, that seems to be short-lived when I feel something hot blast right past my face, holy shit that felt very fucking real, what the fuck was that? I reluctantly peer over my shoulder and instantly regret it, there are at least 8 people screaming and chasing after me. Where the fuck am I? And what do these people want? As I’m running I pass a sign that says Welcome to the city of Houndgrave known as the home of hell hounds. WHAT THE FUCK i scream out loud,