Malty Melromarc Death Novels & Stories

“Dre?” “We just got word. Romano’s been killed.” He tells me. “Marcelo?” I ask. Alex’s eyes find mine and I know he just got word as well. Funny how he wants to talk to Marcelo only for him to die before he could even speak to him. “Yes. His car was loaded with explosives.” Andre says. “Jesus.” I whistle. “We’re doing a sweep making sure it’s not coming our way.” Andre tells me. “I’m on my way.” I say getting up. I hang up.

A picture he stared at now, as his host descended the stares with a lit lantern in hand, casting light across a once black room and giving it a warm glow. There was a shocked gasp, then a silence as she saw his face unveiled from the hood when he sat down. "Father Sethlzaar." He ignored the woman's motherly voice and continued to study the poster on the wall while keeping her within his peripheral view. It was an obituary poster. One inviting the entire realm to the casting of the body of a noble named Lord Emelloi Varnagris the third to the flame. The man had died over two months ago. The death on the poster put the man's death at around the time he was in the Arlyn forest.

I stare at the lovely city of Manchester as I weigh my options. It’s either bankruptcy and death or marriage and coronation. I guess the latter isn’t much of a bad idea, only it is. Whatever the case, my father’s murders must pay. I have a secret after all, I can hardly die.

Each to his own. Down in the basement, the interrogation room was a bleak and clinical space. Cold metal surfaces reflected the harsh overhead lights, and the air was heavy with the sterile scent of disinfectant. But tonight, it held something far grimmer. Malric’s body lay draped across the cold steel table, his face and body marked and discolored in patches. A result of the poison that was the cause of his death. His eyes were closed, but the peace they showed was only the absence of life. The once loyal guardian had been taken from them—murdered inside their stronghold.

I don’t know why, but something is rotten in my gut and it’s never wrong. We storm through the building, Roddy’s being the last room at the end of the long ass hallway. The door is locked and Grouch sticks his ear to it, then backs up and kicks it open. The immediate stench of death I know all too well hits my nose and I can’t believe nobody has noticed it. It’s at least fifteen doors from mine. Missile and Grouch storm in, but I can already see the lifeless body of Ryan “Roddy” Grimes on the bed. I step in the room and see a needle sticking right out of his fucking arm. His skin is already discolored, he’s been dead a couple days. And nobody even realized it. Some brotherhood we are.

"Don't look for the dead! The dead can't come back to life so don't ask me any more questions about him!" As Dymon said, I was the one who stood up. And the shoulder shaking made me cry. That's how true my dream is. Don Jose was gone so he said goodbye and asked for my forgiveness in the dream. Dymon laughed loudly and punched the glass. He was trying to break it so he could reach me. He screamed while his hand was bleeding from the punch. The police immediately entered Dymon's room and electrocuted him. He quickly lost consciousness and fell to the floor.

Eagle’s complexion became better and his breath was even out. “Are you that happy?” Malikul asked him, his hand rubbing Eagle’s head as if he was talking to a small kid. “Yeah.” Eagle was too happy to be mad about it. “At last… her nemesis is dead. Amino, Ryuzaki, Caramel, Latte, Macchiato. Ah!” He remembered something. “I killed those three,” Malikul said with a shit-eating grin. Eagle thought he was joking but his expression fell. “What do you mean?” He asked sharply.

After a thorough investigation by the production team, the details of my past were quickly uncovered. They also confirmed with the relevant authorities that I had, in fact, already passed away. "Three years ago, Nicolas Soros died on a snowy night—frozen to death because he couldn't afford hospitalization. "It wasn't until the autopsy that the coroner discovered that what looked like a thick down jacket… didn't even contain real padding. And that was already the most expensive piece of clothing his mother had ever bought for him. With discounts, it cost less than five dollars.

Marco asked as Elena tried to see in the police cars to see if they finally nabbed Marco. “About that,” the detective cleared his throat. “The bomb timer seemed to have some sort of fault and exploded before time,” Elena could barely breathe. “Does that mean–” “Yes,” The detective gave a nod. “Marcel is dead,”

Callen said Cormac was so red in the face but not because he was mad but because he was trying not to laugh while he punished Ailee. Ailee told me how great mother Mara had been. Callen was able to show me some pictures on his phone of Mara and Ailee when Ailee was in her teens. They said Cormac had the ones from when Ailee was younger. But would ask him to show me some. The sad part of the day is when Ailee told me how Mara had died. Something as simple as a blown tire on a wet road. Mara had lost control, rolled the car twice, crashed and died instantly. Mara didn’t like being driven around and would often drive herself. From what little I knew personally and the stories they told they ha