Hounds From Hell Novels & Stories

And a mad one at that. The Hellhound, they called him. Even though he was important, he was known to go on certain missions with his underlings though those particular ones were usually very specific. Anyone who ever got a visit by the New York Mafia with him being there meant they had done something terrible and could not live to the next day.

Howls of wolves were echoing. The sound of claws slashing intermingling. Making the pack lands of the Capital. Resemble hell. The ground covered in red, from the blood of the pack wolves, hunters and the bloodhounds. With the bloodhounds over powering owing to the advantage of extra ordinary strength and number. Volkan was bleeding from his arms and thighs. Yet his indomitable will , made him retort back more fiercely. His wolf growling and tearing apart the bloodhounds while Daniel was no less.

I blurted. “Get them out or you're dead,” he threatened. “Careful,” I said softly. “Don’t try it.” My men stepped off their bikes, cracking their knuckles, their eyes changing colors. “We are not easily cowed, Xavier!” Henrique shouted, unzipping his jacket. His chest puffed out under the grey shirt. “We are wolves too, in case you've forgotten. I am an Alpha too of this pack, just like you.” “I know that,” I said. I could feel my nails growing longer and sharper, becoming thick daggers. “But there are levels to this game, Henrique.”

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.

She followed it without hurry, her shadow stretching long and narrow before her. The closer she came, the more the air changed. It thinned as if the space around her had been stretched slightly too far, leaving everything just a fraction displaced. Sound reached her late. Smells flattened. The village bells rang once for morning prayers, and the note seemed to slide off her rather than settle. A dog saw her first. It stood at the corner of a yard, tail mid-wag, then froze. Its ears flattened. A low whine slipped from its throat before it bolted, crashing through a hedge with panicked urgency.

Tonight, would not be one of those times. The hound between them rolled to his belly and laid his head between his paws, closing his eyes. He looked as if he were drifting off to sleep, but the two friends knew that the hound’s senses would remain on high alert allowing the two friends to relax and enjoy the night air. There was nothing out there that was stronger or scarier than a hellhound. He was what the things that went bump in the night feared. “I’m just deciding what the next ones that we should get together should be.” Celeste motioned to the empty space on her arm between the other tattoos.

"The Star-Gate is at 90%." Suddenly, the tunnel ahead exploded. From the dust, four massive Hounds emerged. They were ten feet tall, their bodies a horrific fusion of wolf-flesh and chrome plating. Their eyes were solid red sensors, and their jaws were lined with laser-cut teeth. "Terminals detected," one of the Hounds said, its voice a synthesized howl. "Commencing deletion." "Marcus, take the others around!" Silas yelled, his shadow-spear igniting in his hand. "Elara and I will handle these!"

This was their territory. A sudden click from the door, and then the heavy thud of footsteps. My breath hitched. The door creaked open, revealing two massive figures. Hellhounds. Both of them wore leather vests, their faces hard and unsmiling. They were truly enormous, towering over me. One of them held a large, gleaming assault rifle, pointing it not quite at me, but certainly in my direction. The other one carried a tray. “Well, well,” the one with the tray grunted, his voice like gravel. “Look who’s awake.”

He didn't appear to be upset to be joining his mate at all. Of the more than 3,000 omegas that had started The Hunt, only 243 were still unclaimed. That night, 243 Hunters returned to the castle and planned the next phase of their attack. Because, at this point in the game, their animalistic nature could do nothing less than attack.

Dominic had asked and looked at me. "Hellhounds are black demon dogs cloaked in black smokey gas that takes the shape of a dog and has red eyes. They gather the souls for me when it's time to take them to the afterlife," Jippies explained. "They are perfectly harmless unless a malicious soul doesn't follow the rules; Hellhound will chase them down until they surrender." "Then do you mean a hellhound was going against you and chased this woman?" Jippies nods his head at my question. "I raised those Hellhounds since they were pups. To think a wild Hellhound left the Demon Realm to chase a human when her time isn't up yet. It's strange indeed."