Patron Saint Book Novels & Stories

I said wondering where this whole conversation was heading, "I want you to protect her," he said turning his phone screen to me, 'her'? my eyes slowly fell on the screen, a girl with her blonde hair packed in a ponytail sat with a pile of books by her side, she is obviously a nerd even her big round glasses say a lot, she looked fixated on whatever information she was getting from the book that even if an attack was to happen in the room right beside her she may not even know, but something about her made me feel there was more than what meets the eyes, "A girl really?" I asked in a bored tone,

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"It's like I've had a life here before, according to the words here it says that the Forbidden Forest is home to the many planes, realms and worlds all intertwined. It home to demons, monsters, spirits and many supernatural beings not seem anywhere in this world. This book is far more accurate than anything in our royal library, where'd you get it?" "From some shelve in my family's secret library." Charles replies. "By the way when do you think you'll be done? I need to return that." Sebastian ignores him and carries on. "I don't understand how I can read this book yet, the words keep changing." Suddenly the book's pages start to flip itself endlessly. "Did you do something bud?" Charles ask

I stood at the corner and watched him sit there while waited for the priest to come so that he would confess, yet all in vain. His jet black hair combed nicely on his head, with a few strands falling off to his stout face, his facial features sharp as though he’d been just scalped by the best, his tattoo peeked through his expensive clothes, his pale skin and dark circles made one wonder what horrors he’d watched that made him horrific. He was handsome, dangerously eye catching, he was the type that would give you wet dreams for awhile, dangerously striking, his bad boy facade made me wonder what the priests couldn’t take, he looked like the saint and dare devil in one with invisible horns.

Saint scolds. "Because out there? It isn't a keyboard and a screen. It’s lead and blood." Studying him, the relaxed posture and the quiet confidence, a different question forms. "Why Saint? Because you have the patience of one?" He chuckles, a low, rich sound. "Because I deliver miracles on the asphalt. When an op goes to hell and the bullets are flying, I’m the patron saint of getting the team out alive." "Modest." "No need for bullshit modesty when you know you’re the best. Besides, Butcher took a scary name, and Kirill doesn't need one. He just walks into a room and people start praying."

I squeezed his hand. “I can’t wait.” Smiling back at him. He stopped studying my face and I think he knew there was something different about it but he wasn’t quite sure. He still went back to the book. “So he brought this because it has the name of your grandmother and father in the book.” “What? It does? Where?” I started scanning immediately and Rogan so kindly pointed to where I now read.

May the Goddesses by with you through your life Blessed Be My blessed children Blessed Be. Ravenclaw Coven 0001 A.D.

Claude took a book from the shelf and showed its content to Carl: “Satan declared war against the Holy God. He took a step into hell and brought a bunch of devils to earth. Lucifer can never oppress nor oblige. But it is the desire that took Man from heaven to hell. As Lucifer has devils, the all-mighty God has his righteous men. Those who fight in His name are called Knights. Those who carry his knowledge are called Guardians. Those carrying his spirit are the Favorites. And a man carrying His will is to be Saint.” “Father told me that I am a Knight and that Charlotte is a Favorite. She has some exceptional abilities, she saw revelations and saw people’s auras. And she deserves to be a Favo

Seraphine slipped into her place, knees against the cushion, beads sliding between her fingers. "Deus, miserére mei," she prayed softly, the words dissolving into the hollow of her chest. For a moment, she almost believed her own devotion. Then— The heavy groan of the chapel doors split the silence. Every sister stilled. Heads bowed lower. Footsteps entered, slow and assured, echoing against marble. They weren't the footsteps of a pilgrim seeking confession. No—they carried weight. Authority. And something darker that pressed against the air itself.