Old Vampire Books Novels & Stories

While still talking to Alex, Damian continued to search for other books that might contain records of events similar to the current incident. "If I'm not mistaken, everything that happened in the past is written in the book in front of you, Alex. I can't say if what you're looking for is in that book or not, but as far as I can remember all the cases of vampire murders are in that book." Damian said as he continued to look through the other books. "Is that the only book? My memory is getting harder and harder to work with! Maybe it's time for an old vampire like me to lock myself away in a remote castle on top of a mountain." He exclaimed then sat down next to Alex.

The books here were faintly covered in dust. As he reached out to the top shelf, his eyes fell on a familiar thick black book lying on the floor. The Art Of The Body. Before he could stop himself, his eyes flicked up and locked with Scarlett. She didn't look away, but a deep blush gradually spread across her cheeks. That book brought back memories, and for a moment, he forgot the unspoken tension between them. He looked away finally and pulled out several dusty books from the shelf. Two were about old werewolves, one about vampires, and the last one was about witches.

the professor said. Leesa handed him the old book. “What is it?” Professor Clerval rested the book on his lap. “It's an original manuscript from the early nineteenth century, said to be the memoirs of a female vampire.” He put his pipe into a brass ashtray atop the desk and carefully opened the book. Leesa could hear the leather binding crinkle. She scraped her chair closer.

Cullen had called Colin Andrews, the ancient vampire who lived just east of the pack's border. Colin had been semi-friendly to Cullen for the last two hundred years and had played a part in keeping the peace in the region. Colin was the oldest vampire in the United States, and nearly all others feared or respected him. Cullen had explained about scenting a youngling at the hotel. And that there was a rogue wolf pack prowling their lands.

I got up from the bed and walked around the room, still no pain, how weird. I noticed the bookshelf and decided to take a look. There were so many books, some with older worn covers and others a bit more newer looking. I picked up a small red book and read the cover ‘A Lycanthropy Reader; WEREWOLVES IN WESTERN CULTURE’. I flicked through the pages and put it back on the shelf, a little too intense for some early morning reading. I picked up another one and read the cover, ‘The Garden of Eden’ by Ernest Hemingway. Not what I expected from a teenage werewolf soon-to-be-Alpha. I put it back and my eyes fell on a really older looking book. I pulled it out and it was big and very heavy. It looked

I admired some of the old classics and new books as my eyes wandered over every title. I had gathered a stack of books in my hand, picking ones I wanted to read and taking them out. So far, I had five books that I found would pique my interest such as Alice in Wonderland, Pride and Prejudice and the Maze Runner. All of these books were human and I admired the wide selection of books that this room had. I tried to find one that was all about werewolves like the library back at my pack had and only seemed to find one that was labelled 'As Old As Time Will Tell' written by none other than one of the eldest werewolf alive which was 'Herbert Vanderlin'. In the blurb, it states his life as an old

Lisa sighed and uttered a short prayer for the soul of the old man. Lisa’s thoughts wandered to Toto’s notebook as she recalled the old man’s wrinkled hands grasping the object affectionately. The old man talked about his own experiences at the Devil’s Sea and said that he was going to write about Orsica. The island in the middle of the Devil’s Sea where Jon was at the moment.

I knew his words were true. The Old World Neratomay didn't trust American vampires. Yep, even in the vampire world America didn't always get respect. They thought we were young and troublesome with our high profile vampire wars and continuing battles. Wars like those between the Bloods and the Crips were actually two rival vampire factions. And of course there were those hits on notorious and high profile human blood donors who didn't die from their impossible wounds. One such case was where a famous rapper had been shot several times and still lived. That incident was heard by an Elder level tribunal, and the rapper was forced to give up his fame and live in the underground where he still t

The most toxic of all metals for vampires. He looked past them, and saw additional layers of bars behind them. He had no doubt now that the savage seven were being kept here. Kyle heard a faint rumbling noise. As he leaned in, suddenly a long, yellow claw reached out of the blackness, towards the bars. This was followed by a hideous face, with long, orange fangs, drooling. He could smell its rotten breath, even from here. Ancient, primordial creatures, the savage seven were too hideous too look at, even for Kyle, and he had to turn away. For a moment, he felt relieved that they were locked up, and he second-guessed releasing them.

My head was on the verge of crashing with all those mysteries that my Dad has left. I, Debra Hemlock, the daughter of the Drake Hemlock(Alpha) and Druisilla Hemlock(Luna) detest the entire rules and order of my father’s Pack. I know I m one of their kind. Ya their kind which they proudly represent as werewolves whereas I m ashamed by my own kind and somehow they are ashamed by me. My grandma was a kind-hearted woman, and she would be with me if only my father hadn’t declared war against the vampires from Goldenwood.