Ichor: Book Novels & Stories

Eyes may change shape, hands will change, and hair and eyebrows will gradually thicken and change color. She snapped the book shut and opened the next one. ...The belief in vampires and bloodsucking demons is as old as man himself and may go back to prehistoric times... Grabbing the last of the books she’d taken down from the shelf, she flipped the pages until she found what she was looking for. A smile of satisfaction covered her face as she skimmed that page

“They were out too far…for a reason. “Rodin says. Slowly, Rodin lifts his fingertips from the puddle. The blood drips back into the pool. The blood is thick almost like sludge and smells like rotten meat when it's cooked. Rodin flings the blood on the teal grass which cleans the shine on his armor. Rodin stands and he starts to walk to the tent with the flag. Varick looks over the pile. On his side is a satchel, he reaches in this compartment to pull out a book. The book’s title: “Book of The Blight.” Carefully, he sets his wolf helm down on a clean spot among the forest. The plate head sparks with pink electricity, causing the headpiece to slightly hover along with the grassy blade tips. Va

Alex opened the book Damian had given him in his library. It looked very old and dusty. Alex felt something strange about the book, as if it was calling him to read it. On the first page of the book was written in big letters: "Traces of what once was... Clan Echelon: Past, Duty and Destruction".

Sometimes, I wonder if she’s the one I am feeling in this room. I don’t believe in ghosts or that shit. I grab a blue hardcover, with the name, ‘Herbs for healing sleeping sickness’. I flip the pages, leaning on the bookshelves, as the pages flip, a paper falls out. I grip it, the paper is nearly old, the edges almost torn off. The writing is legible.

I had my finals beginning in two days, and I'd see my classmates for the first time after Sister Ophelia put me in quarantine, as if I had a deadly virus no one could ever get in touch with, only Theo and her. I spent the last two days of lockdown studying. By the next day, the cut in my finger was done, just the scar was left behind, as all other cuts I suffered throughout my life. I couldn’t pay enough attention to the goddamn books, because the pain I felt was unusual. Have I been misdiagnosed? Was CIP curable? Did that mean that I was going to actually suffer when Clarissa beat me up?

Their explanation of tantra was truthful, if a little oversimplified. I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my temples. I need coffee, and by now the kids might have something for me, so I head back down to Chinatown, taking a detour into The Magickal Childe bookshop on West 33rd on the way. Of the stack of books I’ve spent my morning with at the library, the one title I’m fascinated by is the infamous Tibetan Book of the Dead, and now I wanta copy I can mark up. The shop is a cramped little hole in the wall that reeks of voodoo oils and herbs. Ceremonial swords and shelves of dusty glass jars cover the walls. A leather-bound copy of the Necronomicon takes pride of place in the display window and a

~ VITTORIA ~ *Two days ago* One, ruining my pretty expensive Yara or Vos Nadia's shoes. Two, when a crook failed to keep a deal. These were the two things that always built up my irritation rapidly. It also didn't fail to make my mood go from zero to hundred in a split second. None between the two was a lesser irritation than the other so fortunately or unfortunately, the second was the problem at the moment. "Start the car right now and don't waste my fucking time, god dammit!" I hissed, doubling my steps as I left the casino.

With lack of better things to do, I carefully climbed down the ladder and went to the kitchen to get a bowl of water and a handful of towels. There were some books with leather covers that would need a damp towel and others were paperbacks that'd just require dusting. I got to work quickly, cleaning and dusting my way through until I came across a book titled, "The Curse of Vlod." The cover was leather and the sides were embedded with intricate silver swirling, making it look like something out of a fairy tale. I immediately opened it and was so relieved it was written in English. I quickly stepped down from the ladder and sat against the wall, going through the pages.

Slowly, deliberately, I opened the cover. The air shifted instantly. A gust of cold wind swept through the vault, extinguishing my light orb. The book's pages fluttered as if eager, whispering in voices too faint to understand. A sting shot through my gums, sharp and sudden, making me wince. At first I thought it was nothing-just nerves, exhaustion. But then the itching spread, burrowing deep into the roots of my teeth, crawling like fire ants beneath my flesh. I gritted my teeth, clutching the book tighter even as pain surged. I felt something shifting within him, a current moving where no current should. Still, I did not close the book.

Theresa was old enough to have experience, but looked young enough to please Salem’s eyes—two key requirements for a housekeeper in his home. “Where is Salem now?” I asked. A good feeding would soothe my nerves. “He’s not at home, my lady. I couldn’t tell you.” Grumbling, I headed to Salem’s library. Perhaps he had a book I could entertain myself with. Once there, I found a book lying open on a desk. It was titled Mythic Bloodlines: Lost & Fabled Lilitu. Curious, I studied an illustration on the open page. It depicted a trio of strange-looking women, just like the ones Salem had been painting all this time. The accompanying text stated: