Mckamey Manor Death Count Novels & Stories

Mark turns to Mckenny who furrows his brows. Thinking Ciranda would bring humans into the supernatural realm was not new. He was the master of an illegal ring selling off women and children. Nothing was surprising. “Did you get information about them leaving?” Mckenny and Mark just nodded. “I did get news 4 months later of their death and not of them leaving. From what I got from my spies which I had stationed around them, all 5 of them died mysteriously but each one had a significant bite to the neck” As terrifying as the words fell off Mark's lips so was the coldness that followed.

She soliloquised and walked out of her office, straight to her Detective squad, called *Team Alpha* "Gather round y'all" she commanded as they did. She brought out a map of Mystic Hollow and asked Kate to pass her a marker. "The first death in Mystic Hollow was on the 9th of July, 2023, at some teenagers' camp fire party" she said and circled the spot red. "The other was on the 11th of July, at the woods, in a treehouse. Another teenager, aged 17" Detective Kate said as Ruth circled that spot.

James reassures the nurse and hands me a bottle of water. “Let me check on everyone here first.” I turn to him. “I’ll be fine, James. Really.” “Alright, Luna.” He stands back and bows his head. After I make my rounds, checking on people who are being treated, I mindlink Ashley and Carly. “How are we with the headcount, ladies?” “A couple hundred pack members still to check off the list.” Carly replies. Her voice falters when she tries to continue. “So far, thirty-two confirmed dead.”

“I’m in Michigan right now. Tell me what’s the situation.” “So, there’s a murder case involving Amaryllis Tower. A small martial arts family in Missouri was cruelly killed last night. Children as young as three to as old as eight to thirteen years old were all tortured and killed. And crueler and strangely, all thirty-three of them had all their blood drained completely from their body.” “There are still such things happening?” Alex was shocked.

I don’t dare think about what would happen to the pack if he were gone… or how I would possibly carry all of this on my own. A hand pats my shoulder lightly. I open my eyes to see Alex standing beside me, a file in his hand. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. I don’t answer. I just pull him into a hug. The tight coil in my chest loosens, if only slightly. He’s alive. At least he’s here. When we separate, I glance at the report. “How many?” He hesitates for a second. “Thirty-three.” Thirty-three. Thirty-three pack members died at the hands of the rogues today. Thirty-three smiling faces who had come to celebrate Caitlyn’s birth.

Cole, who’d been supervising Hart’s training in wolf form, shifted back to human immediately and grabbed the phone Jethro offered. Hart shifted back too, the transformation getting slightly easier each time though it still hurt like hell, and moved to look over Cole’s shoulder at the incoming reports. River Basin Pack: twelve dead, Alpha Marcus Riverstone among them. Coastal Ridge Pack: eight dead, including the Alpha’s mate. Mountain View Pack: seven dead. Northern Lights Pack: six dead. Shadowfen Pack: four dead. All killed within a two-hour window, all from the same method, a single gunshot that caused complete system failure within minutes.

or "unsuitable for further study." Sixty-three names. Sixty-three people died in this facility alone. And this was just one location. Mike had mentioned other facilities. Other partners. How many more horror chambers existed throughout the territories? "Who else?" I demanded, slamming the ledger on a desk. "You said Kelly had partners. Who else funded this? Who else knew what was happening here?" Mike was silent, his face ashen. I could see him calculating. Weighing his fear of me against his fear of whoever else was involved.

ALEXANDER The handmaiden’s death had hit the McKenzie Manor like a shit tsunami on steroids. A spark of guilt ignited in my chest when I realized I hadn’t the slightest bit of recollection on what the woman looked like. “Eyewitnesses accounts say Mary Argretee had been murdered as she was fleeing from the Manor,” The young detective from the sheriff’s office boomed as the sharp blue crystals of his eyes fixed unnervingly on me. I shifted uneasily on the rich leather of the couch, feeling like I had just been soccer punched in the stomach.

He put it down. He stood up and went to the window and looked at the Los Angeles night — the city lights arranged below the hills, the perpetual amber of a city that never went entirely dark — and stood there for a long time with this knowledge settling into him the way cold settles into a room when the heating stops. He thought about Frederick. He thought about Daniel. He thought about the fact that two men had died of cardiac events eight weeks apart in this house, and that a woman had arrived in this house six weeks before the first death, via a route that had been purpose-built for her arrival.

Right outside the door, the entire packhouse was locked down tight with dozens of armed men guarding every single entrance. No one was allowed in or out of the packhouse without proper clearance. “The casualty reports from the Stillwater community are fully verified, King Raguel,” Maximus said, his voice dropping into a low rumble. He slammed a thick manila ledger onto the table, his knuckles pale. “Five hundred and thirty-two dead, three hundred and fifty-eight injured and seventy-three missing. The cause of the massacre is—” “I know what the killer is, Maximus,” I cut in roughly, my eyes narrowing at him. “We all know it is a hollowed spirit.”