Mysterious Writing Blackwater Novels & Stories

“The spindle. It’s already in the wetland. I can feel it.” Carolina’s first instinct was to scoff, but then she saw what the twin saw. The black water beyond the luminescent garden was not quite black—it pulsed in the dark, thin white lines threading the current. Not quite a glow, more a subtraction of all else, as if the night itself was fraying, the river’s coherence eaten away thread by thread. “Is it... burning?” Mira murmured. Her face was not afraid, just rapt. “No,” Carolina said, staring. “It’s hungry, but it’s not fire. It’s like—” She stopped, unable to explain. Like everything she’d spent her life running from—oblivion. Or a hunger that remembered being alive.

And I was going back. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hands and forced myself up off the counter. I had to be strong. Papa wouldn’t want this. I packed enough for a couple days and before I knew it, I was getting off a plane and walking down the runway in a trance. It all went by in a hazy blur. I didn’t remember leaving my apartment, let alone getting on a plane, but here I was, just outside the airport. I hailed a cab and told the driver where I was going. He chuckled and raised a bushy black eyebrow. “Blackwater, eh? I don’t think I’ve ever been,” he leaned closer to the rear view mirror and lowered his voice. “I’ve heard rumors about the people there.” I perked up. “Really?” I was cu

I had to get away. I could hear the thundering of paws behind me pushing through the soil, gaining. I turned to see a pitch black wolf with deep crimson eyes looking at me. He had stopped when I did, watching. Waiting. I could feel something bubbling inside. Power of some sort. I just wanted to get away. I looked down and saw my paws starting to turn to what looked like white mist. What was happening? The other wolf looked at me, transforming back into a man. A beautiful man. Dark hair, dark eyes, a long scar on his face. Looking at me as though he was trying to beckon me to him.

I decided to close up the last file in my hands and let it drop onto the wood finished table. As I looked at my bathroom mirror puffy red eyes looked back at me, I splashed cold water onto my face to help with the puffiness then let my robe drop to the floor as I stepped into the warm abyss of water, I couldn’t help as the dreadful question resurfaced, “What if one or both of the men had been badly injured or worse?” a vision of the suite had flashed before my eyes, I wouldn’t call myself a pessimist but even without the lab reports there were no doubts in my mind that the blood in the suite belonged to the Hudson men.

TALIA “No!” I cried. “We have to find your fingers! She spit them out!” “The water is freezing, and they’ve probably been taken downstream by now. Sara’s the only werewolf I know who can swim long distances in freezing water—long enough to find fingers in a huge river. And the water will have carried away the scent anyway.” He looked defeated, tears brimming his eyes. “I will find them,” I said resolutely.

I was in the middle of nowhere. I quickly noted the obvious that this was a castle. A damned castle made out of obsidian blocks! From the stonework on the outer wall and the winding black pillars this thing was massive. If I peered down closely a ravine appeared which led to nothing but darkness. It looked as though the ravine surrounded the entire building meaning the castle was standing on a slab of earth. Giving the whole shadow vibe a whole new level of scariness.My fingers sizzled with ice on the windowsill as I drummed them in thought. Where was Vivian?

I ran my fingertips across the raised gold lettering and brown leather of the ancient book. At that moment, I realized this was my only connection to my people, the Arctic wolves. Looking at the Grimoire, I wondered if any other Arctic wolves from my pack had survived. After we stopped Nightshade, I intended to find out. But that was for a later time. If anyone did survive, then he or she could find me. But right now, we had to stop Nightshade. "Thanks, Bailey," I said, sighing in relief. "If you don't mind me asking, where did you get it?" she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

"Oh. Well, you're hurt badly. So, don't move around." "How did we get here?" "Well, the eagle dropped us, and lucky enough for us, we fell into this deep and dark abyss waterfall.” “You mean the Black Water?” “I don’t know, but it’s very very deep. I think we probably fallen twenty stories down. For I can barely see any light.” “What do you mean?” Agatha pointed her hand to the little specks of light above her. “See, it looks like a star from down here.” Austin chuckled with almost madness. He shook his head and said, “No. More like a thousand stories deep.”

“It was part of my research on shifter myths and legends. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but...” Her voice trailed off as she opened a specific book, her fingers skimming over the pages. “Here,” she said, pointing to an entry halfway through. Ren leaned over her shoulder, his warmth grounding her. The passage was short but chilling: “The Black Fog, born of forbidden rituals, consumes all life it touches. It lingers where the veil between realms is thin, feeding on death and despair to grow stronger. Only the blood of the awakened can dispel its hold.” “The blood of the awakened?” Ren murmured, his jaw tightening.

I was ready to head on home and then the thought of the note crossed my mind again. I paused, taking the note out of my dress pocket and read it again, ‘MONSOON CREEK’ For all I knew he might kill me. After all he was a creep who watched me bathe last night, tracked me down in some way just to return a brush. There was no guarantee I wasn’t stepping into the lion’s den, and yet…I still found myself drawn to go over. Asher Blackwood was a strange man, a newly enticing figure in this ole boring town. I loved Midnight bay more than anything, but I also loved the mystery attached to the man with the golden eyes.