Mangle And Golden Freddy Novels & Stories

Sterling gives her only daughter a cheap, low-quality trinket—why would I even want it? With a sneer, she yanked the cord from her neck and hurled the pendant at me. A sharp crack echoed through the room. The pendant hit the floor and shattered into pieces. At that moment, I seemed to see my mother’s frail hand holding onto it, a gentle smile softening her pale, weary face.

Her creamy skin looks so soft that she wants to take a bite of it. “Enough! She’ll catch an evil eye” Freya pushed Darla aside and covered Goldie with a baby blanket. Everyone stifled their laugh at shocked Darla. Freya can be mean when it concerns the baby. She won’t let any harm near Goldie. “Oh my! You’re still here, grandma”

“Then we carve one.” Barbie hovered higher, a halo of blue fire sparking from her hands. “You two have no idea how much I’ve missed a good massacre.” “Remind me never to piss off a fae,” Marigold muttered. “You won’t have to. You’re practically one now.” Before I could respond, the first Fang charged — feral, shrieking, claws raking the stone. We moved together — instinct, rhythm, fury. Marigold shifted mid-leap, her wolf bursting free in a blaze of dark fire and silver eyes. Barbie’s light flared, a storm of blue lightning that cracked through the mist and scorched the Fang to ash.

“I choose to shut you down!” ​I slammed my palms together, and the silver Web surged forward like a tidal wave. It crashed into the jade siphons, frost forming instantly on the superheated stone. The sound was deafening, a high-pitched shriek of metal and magic that made my ears bleed. The golden nozzles flickered and died, the emerald light turning into a dull, muddy gray.

Killian’s voice cut through the ringing, a jagged command that snapped me back to reality. I scrambled across the floor, my fingers curling around the cold metal handle of the silver case. It was the only thing that mattered. The samples. The cure. The future of the life flickering inside me. "Julian!" I screamed, looking for the 'White Lily.' The older Moretti was already at the door, a suppressed submachine gun in his hand. He looked remarkably calm for a man whose hotel was being turned into a graveyard. "The service elevator is compromised. We go through the roof. My men are holding the stairwell, but the Blackwood Elders have sent their 'Reapers.'"

Dante growled. He stepped even closer, his large, gloved fingers gently but firmly brushing her hair aside, exposing the intricate, heavy platinum clasp at the base of her skull. He brought the RF sweeper closer. The audio feed from the device emitted a rhythmic, low-frequency hum that vibrated in sequence with her pulse.

My head snapped back, and I tasted blood. "Two." Another punch. My stomach. I doubled over, retching. "Three." She grabbed my hair and yanked my head up so I was looking at her face. Up close, her eyes weren't honey-colored. They were yellow. Like a wolf's. "Stay down," she whispered. "And maybe I'll stop." I should have stayed down. But something inside me—something small and stubborn and furious—refused. "No," I choked out. Freya's smile vanished.

"Get down!" Freya d'Or heard the warning almost a second too late. She hit the floor just as an enormous silver streak of metallic fur leapt at the equally enormous tentacled Anomaly that she had been grappling with a moment ago. The silver beast's claws and gleaming teeth ripped into the creature like a knife through butter, severed body parts flying through the air around them. Freya would have felt pity for the Anomaly, if the thing hadn't nearly torn her limb from limb just a moment ago.

his compulsion rings in my ears, and my breathing slows until I’m no longer sobbing as loudly. This time, I manage a real glare. “Do you always force people to do what you want?” Freddy freezes as if shocked by my words. Honestly, I’m shocked too. Men usually frighten me to the point I can’t talk, but I’m too hurt and angry to be stammering. I don’t care what happens to me and wait as Freddy steps out from the shadows with a smirk on his lips.

Before Gemma could even ask what it was, a fine, cold mist of body glitter rained down over her shoulders and hair. “Freddy!” Gemma sputtered, waving her hands through the sparkling cloud. “The belle of the ball has to sparkle, Em,” Freddy said matter-of-factly. She looked at the can, shrugged, and then aggressively sprayed herself in a thick cloud of shimmer. “Besides, a lot of glitter never hurt anybody.” Laughing, Freddy grabbed her phone, marched over to the door, and pulled it open, flashing a dangerous, glittering grin over her shoulder, come on, let’s go wreak some havoc.”