Mystery Burns Novels & Stories

Another showed a forensic scan of the spray-painted message at the back: FUCK YOU, CASTLE. “Arson confirmed,” Beck said without looking up. “There were accelerants in multiple locations. Whoever did this wanted to make sure the place burned down to the bones.” Cyrus gave me a look and said, “Sit down.” I did as he said and I waited for more agents to come in. Since Beck was the leader of the task force assigned to digging into the New York Mafia, then this should be a meeting on it, right? But no one else came in. Beck turned to the board and tapped a key and that's when another image flashed up: a scorched metal safe, found in the underground office below the club.

He turns his back at it; he is walking to the gate; I stood there perplexed; unable to move a muscle; Drake saw that my pale face, and he came back, he held my hand, and dragged me out of the burning house; as I walk ahead with Drake; I saw the house getting burnt down to the ground. Dad's files; and photos he had with Drake's dad; gone; everything is burnt inside the fire, Including the letter as well; I really hope, whatever dad told me at his letter, no one else, finds his research; if not, it can cause Drake and his clan to be in danger; and as soon as I get home, I will have to burn dad's research; I can’t take any more chances.. Who knew; Muna was right after all as she did saw a Werew

Now they were outside, the night was still tenebrific and cries could still be heard from the wounded. Mystique breathed searing and enormously, her chest elevating along with her shoulders, her clothes were flamed and blackened, her face was sweltering and her skin was bruised from the torrid fire but she was immune to the pain, she couldn't feel it but how could she when she just witnessed something she had never calculated.

Despite this, half of his body still suffered third-degree burns. He crawled back up to his feet, clearly in pain; his eyes filled with resentment. Alex exhaled a ball of thick smog and exclaimed, “You guys control this stupid tower, yet you’re scared of fire?” Just a while ago, he really did intend on taking this Fire Tower of God using the Chaos Tree. However, it wasn’t interested in the tower at all, refusing to absorb it. So Alex just assumed that the tree was naturally afraid of fires. Instead, the Mystic Maiden informed him about something. The flames in the tower were of good quality, so they could be used to burn one’s organs.

I mumble. “I know you do honey. I want them both to wake up as well. It is just going to take time for their bodies to heal. Their wolves are helping up the damage is extensive. Those aren’t regular burns on their bodies.” Mom replies. “What do you mean?” I ask. “Those burns on their bodies didn’t come from fire. They are electical burns.” Nalmyra states.

"H-how? I remember perfectly well when you were swimming in the burning flames of the poisonous fire." Amethyst muttered under her breath, still analysing the black covers of the big, bold book that she knew she burnt a few months ago. Her hands trembled at its heaviness — at how fresh and old it smelled. Old tales and unknown prophecies were still lingering on every page she turned over.

" I grabbed a handful of the flowers, shoving them into an evidence bag. I grabbed the logbook. "We burn the rest," I said. Damian nodded. He grabbed the jerry cans of gasoline Elias had been too cowardly to use. He splashed the fuel over the beds, his face a mask of grim determination. The smell of gas mixed with the sweet scent of the flowers, creating a nauseating cocktail. "Light it," Damian ordered. I pulled a lighter from my pocket. I flicked it. The flame danced, small and yellow against the purple gloom. I tossed it. WHOOSH. The fire caught instantly, roaring up the stalks of the monkshood. The purple flowers withered and blackened, their deadly beauty consumed by cleansing heat. "Le

“There’s a guy out there. Tall. Dark. Drenched. Looks like he owns Wall Street or maybe just casually dismantled it before breakfast. Friend of yours?” Not anymore. “I got it,” I say, already untying my apron. My fingers tremble as I dust flour from my sleeves. I don’t got this. I push through the swinging door. Damien turns at the sound, his eyes locking onto me like a match catching flame. He takes in the whole picture-my hair tied up, sleeves rolled, and probably a smear of chocolate across my wrist. His gaze lingers. Something flickers in his expression. Something old. Familiar. Dangerous.

“I have some questions for you, Ms. Montana.” “Call me Wren,” I mumbled. “Do you think someone set that fire on purpose?” I’m sure of it,” she replied, holding out her phone to me. She scrolled through about half a dozen pictures of the burnt remains of my place. “See how there are scorch marks here and here?” She pointed at something in the photograph, but I couldn’t see it. “This indicates an accelerant was used… most likely gasoline. That’s why it burned as fiercely as it did. That, plus that building wasn’t to code, so it had no fire protection or prevention methods in place.” She switched off her phone and placed it back on her lap, looking at me like I was a naughty child who had to co

“Besides, I don’t think this is a normal burn.” He glanced up at me with a quirked eyebrow. “What do you mean?” “The mug didn’t just break because it was too hot,” I explained, trying to make sense of what had happened. “I felt this... surge inside of me. Like a rush of heat that started in my core and spread outward, all the way to my fingertips. The mug shattered when that heat reached my hands.” Elijah’s brow furrowed as he carefully examined my burned palms. I knew the realization had dawned on him already. On both of us. “This happened before, didn’t it?” he murmured. “On our honeymoon, under the dock.”