Novel & Cerita Phantom Tales Of The Night

he whispered against my mouth. As the Phantoms began to move down the ridge, their red taillights forming a long, winding snake of fire through the mountain passes, I looked out at the Pacific. The water was black, cold, and silent, hiding the remains of the yacht and the secrets of the Board. The "New Blood Reign" wasn't a title we had stolen; it was a debt we were paying in advance to the dark.

“Feisty. No wonder he keeps you close. Out of all the girls he burned through, you’re the first who made him show weakness. Too bad it won’t save you.” He pulls into the driveway of a decaying blue house, cobwebbed and broken. The air smells of mildew and rust, shadows clinging to the walls. Unease floods me. “Phantom’s surprise is giving me the creeps.” “Oh, about that…” Edison’s grin sharpens. “I lied. Phantom never asked me to take you anywhere.” His voice hardens, cynical. “This isn’t a love story. You don’t get happily ever after with prince charming.”

I had unknowingly closed my eyes. But when I opened them, the two alphas were face to face. He was foaming at the mouth as he banged against the glass, ramming it with his whole body as it shook. Dr. Dawson smirked. He taped the glass with a mocking expression. As the specimen had nothing he could think of doing for more intimidation. He started to pace back and forth, staring Dr. Dawson down, growling at him and baring his teeth.

Once a phantom-beast had been defeated, the whites of their eyes darkened and became jet black while the irises remained a glowing luster of blood-red. Guilds also could use these same eyes to measure the strength of the defeated phantom-beast before recording it in the books—books which recorded the list of defeated phantom-beasts thus far. Such books one could not get at any typical book store as they were mostly given out to adventures, who were most of the time tasked with taking out phantom-beasts that appeared in rural areas.

Helen’s POV “Ahh… Tom, I have a lot of fantasies. I promise you, you won’t be able to do any of them,” I confessed, a playful smile tugging at my lips as we walked past the train tracks toward a nearby station. A slow breath escaped me as I lowered myself onto a wooden chair. The warm night breeze swept through my chestnut-brown hair, sending loose strands dancing across my face. I tucked them behind my ear and glanced at Tom.

"Did you know that dullahans have literal nightmares as steeds? As in the levitating spectral demon horses usually only commanded by the King of Dreams?" I stood up, making a shot for the garbage can with my cup. It bounced off the rim and scared a stray tabby cat. Well if that wasn't a metaphor for this conversation, I don't know what was. "Because I sure as hell didn't when I'd asked him to take me home!" Fun fact: Nightmares are actually very sweet once you get past the teeth. Not so fun fact: They like sudden drops when flying. "Promise. Details," Noelle threatened with a current of magenta magic sparking at her fingers. "Now!"

He looked again at the book I was carrying and let out a sigh, as if what he was about to say weighed more than he had expected. “What you saw last night…” he began, his eyes serious, “wasn’t a nightmare or a hallucination. Scarlett, the creature that almost drowned you is a gorgon. A princess of the lake, to be exact.” The words barely seemed real, and for a moment I thought it had to be some kind of joke. “A… gorgon?” I repeated, incredulous. “Like in the legends?” “Yes.” Alex nodded, his expression completely certain. “I don’t know why a lake princess attacked you, but I promise I’ll find out.”

She asked looking over the manicured lawn. "Let me finish the story, please.” He stood behind her laying his chin on her shoulder and a hand on her waist. “The Howling One has always been a legend among us. He is a story told around campfires to scare the young. No one has ever seen him and lived, until now. Almost a decade ago, the shadow realm crossed into our realm. During those heated hours, a vicious battle broke out across the lower end of the city. In the aftermath of this battle, it was said Night Terror's only child, a daughter, was taken that night."

After tucking Allistair in and ensuring he was comfortable, they left the room, each carrying their pain in silence. But Allistair's sleep was not peace. He found himself once more in that place-roses submerged in a sea of blood, their petals wilting black, their thorns tearing his skin. He lay naked upon a bed drowning in crimson, and over him loomed the faceless phantom, relentless, consuming. The phantom's voice was low, guttural, vibrating through his bones. "Amor meus... divine sapis." (My love, you taste divine) The phantom thrust into him with animalistic ferocity. Allistair clung desperately, body arching, surrendering to the raw pleasure that shattered his sanity. His lips bled unde

Then the thoughts began to unfold, but for one reason or the other, the ghostly call was left out. She remembered the last night her mom was around, before traveling. Baron was awake all night, writing farm records, jotting expenditures, sales and management records of his ranch. He was calling people and receiving calls, sending and receiving e-mails. The three of them were together in the living room for a long time before Juana and her mother left him there, and Juana had slept in her parents' room and in her mother's arms that night. It felt like she was a rainbow about to clear away from the dark sky. Or a thick drop of oil fast melting away with the merciless scorching heat of the morn