Lich Origin Novels & Stories

"Since we don't know each other I'd try not to see that as an insult. What I am is not important for now, but you can Google me, I'm a restaurateur." "My ass." Logan wasn't looking too pleased. I guess he didn't like anyone being more of a spook than him. Mancini just smiled and pulled up a seat like he owned the place. One thing was clear; this was no biker type. He's exactly what I would've been if Elena had got her hooks in me as a teen. He was well dressed, well groomed and I guess what the women would call fuck hot. There wasn't a hair out of place and butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. But it was in the eyes; they were the eyes of a killer.

I didn’t wait for her to answer me “Dan and I were two years older, but the three of us were inseparable, Eva. We were always together doing some mischief or just watching television, but always together. “So when I turned eighteen, my father and my brother took me with them because apparently that’s the age for the boys in our family to become real men, so they took me to a brothel.” “Louis...” “People think our family's money comes from banks around Europe, but it actually comes from brothels my ancestors built in the 18th century. And even today those brothels are still around in England, therefore, they took me to one.” “Baby, you don't have to...”

Cynthia saw Isabella walking right into her trap and asked, “Since you like red wine, you must know quite a bit about it. Can you tell us about the origin and characteristics of this particular wine?” Isabella hesitated. She could tell the wine had a lingering grape fragrance and a unique bitterness, but detailing its origin was a bit challenging. Facing Cynthia’s provocation, Lucius remained calm, took the wine from Isabella’s hand, and took a small sip. He lifted his eyes and disdainfully replied, “Lafite, 1988. It’s from Italy.” Samuel, who was accompanying Cynthia, was taken aback. Lucius had actually got it right. Could he really be an expert?

Alfredo Fabri POV You see in this business you're either in or you're out. But the “out” in this case implies that you're no longer alive and far from the earthly realm. Getting into the world of organized crime is no child's play, and by virtue of swearing an OMERTÀ, an oath on the Saints, you're in for life. You never get out, never. But there was only ever one exception our little world had witnessed and that's in the case of Lorenzo Rizzo also known as “The Whisper”.