Lockdown Paranormal Novels & Stories

I protested as I quickly looked to see how many evil stares I was getting as a result of his attention. To my surprise and relief, they were all too preoccupied with conversation that sounded high pitched and argumentative to pay any attention to me. “Paranormal does not mean ghost hunter. It denotes events or phenomena that are beyond the scope of normal scientific understanding,” he offered. “I would say that getting impressions from places or things falls in that category. Wouldn’t you?” I thought for a moment and then nodded. “What have you gotten from this place?” he asked.

Lucian thunders at him and turns to Hunter to personally escort David out of the office. My legs start to give away after the sudden turn of incidents. Lucian catches my fatigue and makes me sit on a chair. He inspects my neck. I hiss on the stinging sensation when he touches my neck. His eyes turn almost black on this. I am sure that I have heavy imprints on my neck. *****

A faint voice filtered through the mirror: “I said I’m trying. She suspects something. No, not yet. I can’t risk exposing too soon. The bindings haven’t cracked. Stop pushing me—” “The queen is watching. She always watches.” That last part wasn’t Lana’s voice. It was something else. “Okay, I hate that,” Broccolini said with a shudder. “Did anyone else hear that second voice? That didn’t sound like sass. That sounded like… teeth.” Mr. Yellow grunted. “We’ve got a definite parasite situation.” “And potentially a split-psyche magical possession with delayed detonation effects,” added Anton, flipping a miniature scroll. “We should recommend quarantine and magical exorcism, possibly involving sac

“What aren’t you telling me?” “What you’re feeling is the effects of something called a morphling. It’s a type of paranormal parasite that attaches itself to a living being and feeds off their essence. It feeds off them till there is nothing left. The morphling is an automatic death sentence. There is no way to save the host because the moment it latches, the person's essence is corrupted, evil, there’s nothing salvageable of the host.” Ezra explained with a shrug and a deep sigh as he ran his hand over his face and through his hair. I blinked in surprise and looked at him like he was certifiably crazy.

I squinted into the darkness, expecting someone to be there but found no one. I frowned, "Why are you so frightened?" In the moonlight, I could see the beads of sweat on his forehead. Wiping it away with his arm, he whispered weakly, "It is the dungeon of Supernatural Council; the place where the most deadly and ruthless lycan or werewolf criminals reside. The most cunning and the wicked ones who tend to linger in the darkness and attack when you least expect it.

Thousands of four-winged beings flying in the sky, swirling around as if they were waiting for their prey to come out. "What the hell?" Cohen said as he joined Mira on the patio. A few minutes later, someone opened a portal in the backyard, and the daemons' army walked out of it, led by Jay Bernard. Cohen re-entered the room and pressed the emergency button. An alarm rang throughout the territory, alerting everyone about the imminent danger. Cohen spotted Brandon commanding some Enforcers to begin evacuation. Cohen and Mira quickly left the pack mansion as the pack mansion had entered a lockdown procedure. The whole place would shut itself in fifteen minutes. That was enough time to evacuate

However, she couldn’t be sure just yet. The events of that evening, despite Beta Henry imposing a strict lockdown, rumors began circulating among the staff. Luna Sandra was rumored to be seriously ill, and her illness was said to be caused by demonic possession. Initially, stories involving the supernatural were enough to trouble people, but they were also easy to spread. Moreover, with so many nannies in the mansion, those who knew the truth dared not speak, while those who were ignorant made speculations. With so many people discussing it, the rumors intensified and spread even further.

But the unease stayed, quiet but constant, like the buzz under a faulty light. Paolo, my right-hand man, sat to my left, pretending to read a report. He caught my glance, lowered his eyes. He could feel it too, the weight in the room that didn’t belong to business. The clock hit noon. I opened my mouth to dismiss the meeting when the door burst open. One of my men stood there, chest heaving. “Sir,” he said, voice tight. “Lockdown. The house just sealed itself.” For a second, the words didn’t register. Then the sound around me faded, the chatter, the shuffle of papers, the hum of the air conditioning until all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears.

“That glow in your hands? That’s one of your gifts. The Paranormal Sense. It warns you—lets you feel when something evil is near.” My breath caught. “What do you mean by evil?” “We won’t know,” Nathan said quietly, “until you see it.” But then—a screech tore through the silence. Not human. Not natural. All heads turned. We raced out of the room. And froze. Down the corridor—chaos. Blood smeared across the walls. Two guards were pinned to the ground, screaming as shadowy figures fed on them, tearing at flesh with movements too fast to track. Gunshots rang out—pop-pop-pop!

Find the people who did this and offer them to rebuild the houses,” he said to me as I shook my head. “Then why the fuck is the alpha getting surprised that rogues attacked his pack?” I asked him and he swallowed hard, looking at his bitch. “I don’t know” he shrugged his shoulders, acting arrogant again as I scoffed softly. “It wasn’t rogues. Look at the bucking place. No sign of burned down buildings,” ‘If it wasn’t rogues, then could it be—“He paused before he could finish his sentence. “Sirens.” I added as he gasped.