Instruments Of Cyanide Novels & Stories

She pulled it out into the dim light. Nok's eyes widened in immediate, instinctual terror. The fierce, volatile defiance in her posture instantly shattered, replaced by a sudden, desperate surge of panic. "No," Nok gasped out, taking a fast step backward, her knees trembling. "No, Cassandra, don't! Put that away! Don't you dare—" Cassandra raised the silver instrument directly to her lips. She blew into it. No loud, piercing sound echoed through the room. It was an ultra-high frequency pitch—a silent, sharp acoustic trigger engineered specifically to fracture the complex neural pathways of a mind broken by severe trauma years ago.

Once I was done, Ace placed the glass on the table. "That's not true you know," I finally whispered, my voice held less of a rasp than before, "you could have used cyanide. It doesn't give off an odor and when it does it generally smells like almonds, and it rarely shows up on a toxicology report unless you're testing for it. Plus, it leaves the body quickly so you probably wouldn't even get caught. It would be passed as a heart attack." He blinked, his hazel orbs shining with amusement while the corner of his lips subtly twitched, "Should I be scared that you know that?"

"Slit his throat before he wakes up." "It would be better if it looked like an accident. You already have a murder associated with you." Trish Rait’s memory would haunt her forever. She rested her chin on the palm of her hand and offered, "How about some cyanide cookies?" "It would be quick." Finnegan nodded. "Almonds can hide the taste of cyanide." She looked over at her familiar who was looking too innocently at her. His golden eyes held that telltale mischief that reminded her that there was a reason he was there and not in the afterlife.

She was in a warm embrace. The familiar fragrance and breath made her feel relieved. The pains seemed to be under her skin and deep in her soul. “It hurt…” She groaned. Frederick held her in his arms and gave a cold gaze at Doctor Hods. “It hurt. Didn’t you get it?” Doctor Hods said helplessly, “Sir, I can’t give her painkillers. She was injected with some cyanide. If she had painkillers, they would produce some unnecessary side effects in her. But if you don’t mind, I can use them.”

He then took two small glass bottles out of his pocket and put them in front of her. "Choose one." Grace looked at the two bottles vigilantly. They looked like medicine bottles, but she did not know what was in them. "Mr. Godfrey, what are you trying to do?" "The bottle on the left is mifepristone, and the bottle on the right is potassium cyanide. Choose one." Those were abortion drugs and poison. Grace's expression changed instantly when she heard the names of those drugs.

Everybody in the room looked at him. Bert raised his eyebrows. “Who are you?” “My bodyguard, Johnny Inaba,” I said. “So what’s the problem?” Bert asked. “They’re claiming he was poisoned by cyanide, right? I was Special Forces for five years. I did plenty of black ops with guys who may or may not have been CIA agents, who may or may not have been carrying cyanide pills on them. A fatal dose of cyanide gas is almost instantaneous. A big enough dose by ingestion can kill you within five to ten minutes. But you guys had dinner for how long?”

They arrived at the palaces halls with soldiers and guards around them. “I am sorry to announce but the king and queen died of poison,” the pathologist said “How did they got poisoned?” Mirana ask “I have seen their last food, the dessert they eat contained hydrofluoric acid to be exact. They consumed it and the effects didn’t show immediately because another chemical is present. Cyla chemical is a type of chemical that slows down the effects of another chemical. Cyla chemical is only available in our planet and no other planet have this. Their deaths must be slow but excruciating and painful especially that this things main purpose it to slow down the effect,” the pathologist explained.

I snuck down the hallway, looking for the weapons room that Robin had shown me earlier. I found it at the end of the hallway and quietly creeped in after making sure that was no soul in sight. I browsed the shelves, looking for something in particular. I found it sitting pretty in the midst of some pretty daggers. A bottle of cyanide. I smiled gleefully as I grabbed the small bottle, taking with it a small dagger with intricate design and a pretty emerald gem on the handle. I pocketed the dagger.

“Thank you.” “Well, stay out of the way,” Amy said curtly, turning her attention to three boxes on the table. “Leila, here’s the three things you asked for: Potassium Iodide, Prussian Blue, and Diethylenetriamine Pentaacetic Acid (DTPA). How would you like to proceed?” “Well, I thought that we could start with equal parts of each and then adjust the formula one item at a time, as needed. If it works, we should have a cure soon,” I said, opening the boxes.

I continued, my voice a calm contrast to his ragged breathing, "she thought she was curing me by giving me a target. But all she did was refine my palate." I walked over to a small wooden table covered in a velvet cloth. I pulled the cloth away to reveal a set of silver instruments, tiny, serrated saws, hooked needles, and heavy, blunt hammers. Each one had been polished until it gleamed like a mirror. "See this?" I held up a thin, silver wire. "Wolfsbane-infused. It doesn't just cut, it burns. It prevents the wound from closing, so you feel every single nerve ending screaming for a mercy that will never come."