Novel & Cerita Mexican Gothic Characters

Just static. I pace across the motel floor, boots creaking on the faded linoleum. The map on the wall is covered in pins and red string, photos of Zenith and her family scattered across it like an investigation board. Her mother, oblivious. Genuinely human. Her coworkers? Not so much. One of them might have been a dhampir. Another, definitely fae-marked. Still, none of them were the source. The source was him. Alejandro. The boy who should have died. The aberration in Xavier Wolfgang’s bloodline.

Gone. I slipped into the veil again rather than run what looked like a half mile to the front door, stepping out into a large foyer of marble and dark stone, a thick, purple carpet soft under my feet, climbing the staircase. Charlotte's deep growling cut through the stillness, punctuated by the sound of crying. I almost tripped over a fallen woman, her angular face characteristic of her Dumont heritage, skin pale, eyes closed. Sassafras leaped from my arms as I looked around in horror. The foyer was filled with the fallen, Dumonts all, from the look of them, some staring empty-eyed at the ceiling, others groaning softly, weeping.

I glanced at the half-filled bottle of whiskey on the table, biting my bottom lip before taking it and gulping down what was left in it. My name is Charlotta Garcia Pérez, a 21-year-old, 5'6", Mexican-American brunette. I'm a hooker, but not your regular type of hooker. I'm a femme fatale, working for the infamous Black-Hearts syndicate here in LA. Judge me all you want; I was no saint. I left the honest me in the past after my parents died. I was abandoned by those who were closest to family. I hid within me the battle between the wild and the polite girl, until I met Don-Diego, the head of the Black Heart Syndicate. He helped me, and in return, I have to work for him. Don-Diego was the one

His appearance seemed gentle, but his small eyes made people extremely uncomfortable. Jacob frowned. "What's he doing here?" Diana asked, "Do you know him?" "He's called Amparo, a Mexican who has been involved in illegal activities on the Mexican side. He has earned a fortune through those shady deals and even has his own armed forces. The local authorities there fear him. Now, Amparo is the biggest underworld captain over there. He's extremely dangerous, but he rarely leaves Mexico, so it's surprising to see him here." John sat in his chair, his expression indifferent. "When you expand your operations, you naturally want to reach further." He paused briefly, his phoenix-like eyes glinting.

It rolled off its shoulders, landing at Martha’s feet in a puff of black mist. Marx turned his attention to the others wrapped in the melee’s epicenter. The possessed and the golems versus the humans, Natives, vampires, and werewolves. Marx felt the death of some from his pack and knew the toll was spreading through their ranks. In the heavens, Marx could see that they were losing ground. Unlike Kunz, who could replace the shadows he lost, Marx could not. “Go,” Martha said, “help the others. I’ll be fine.” She opened the Grimoire, falling to her knees.

Dante I stepped into the dim conference room in that dusty hotel in Mexico City. The air smelled like old cigars and stale coffee. My meeting was supposed to be with a low-level mafia boss named Ramirez. Just he and I with no guns and no men. Ramirez and I go a long way. We had business to settle about shipments and crossing the border without extra fees. I felt tired, but I was ready to wrap things up quickly.

*** Ambrosia who had taken up a new name Vencedor and his wife Mary who was now Margarita had to make sudden changes of plans. Mexico city hadn't been as friendly as they hoped for. There were so many vampires than they expected there. It was obvious to Vencedor as a former general of Lord Dracula's army that the vampire hierarchy knew he was somewhere in the city and were trying to smoke him out. He and his wife had only arrived a few days ago to the city but Vencedor knew to pull a fast and unexpected one on the vampire hierarchy as he did before, he must think and act 3 steps ahead. "My darling, we must leave the city at dawn", Vencedor said.

This creature from two ancestries that I hate so much, it is from the Mckylie and Rodriguez’s ancestry with no drop of my blood coursing through its vein. This unborn child, this monster growing in my womb is the offspring of Sheila Mckylie who is the great great granddaughter of the bully who ruined my life many years ago Gigi Mckylie and as if that is not enough she also happens to be the daughter of Alexandro Rodriguez, the man who had killed me a century ago, the man who continues to kill my kind with no ounce of remorse.

I translated, my hand now roving up and down her delectable thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She gave me another sweet, musical moan. I had never been more livid when Sergio, the head of the men I had ordered to keep an eye on her, called to inform me of where she was headed. I had never been more livid, but I had also been gripped with something else, a feeling I refuse to process or acknowledge. The Mexican cartel were infamous for their violence against women and her st u pid tutoring job had brought her dangerously close to the heart of their territory. To their den.

"Nice to meet you. I’m a friend of your sister's, just staying here for a while." I didn’t mention my purpose for being here. They’d figure it out soon enough. His friends, also teenagers, looked like they hadn’t eaten either. I politely declined Megan’s mother’s offer for more food, remembering my reason for coming here. I was determined to do whatever I could to help these kids have enough to eat. Marco’s POV "Are you really okay with leaving Mexico deal to Elena?" The man organizing my files on the plane asked me. I flipped through the folder. My father had shielded Elena from a lot, and I never imagined her background could be this complex. She was a mix of Russian and Mexican, though he