Profane Soul Blood Hunter Novels & Stories

I snapped, and hung the phone up. I took a second to calm my mind before I realized that I was calm, and I didn’t feel like I was thrown into an abyss and drowning. It must have been my ability to keep him out of my mind. It felt good that I had some sort of power against him now. It would make it easier when I ended up killing him. I may be a Vampire, but I will always be a Hunter. It runs in my blood. I felt a pang of sadness when I realized that I couldn’t have any kids now. Not that I wanted any, per say, but the bloodline of Hunters would end with me…

So I'm not the only one? “So Elvira, be careful. I don't want to say this but there's a possibility that you will experience again that nightmare.” She said and held my hand tightly. But how will I stopped that nightmare? “You probably wondering how will you solve that but I don't know how. There are many new things happening in this world and reported countless of deaths. They say, vampire is the reason behind of those murdering because of the bites found on the corpses. But I hope that is not true. Because the thing that created by god and the thing that created by evil can never coexist in the same world.” She added.

TW-RAPE (not a scene just a mention) “The Black Hunter strikes us once yet again leaving a gruesome mess in the house of the murdered. Despite being a messy murderer, not a trace of DNA can be found. Careful. Whoever he is, what does he want and why has he targeted these specific targets?”

“Hope that stupid piece of metal is worth selling your soul for. Because trust me, my dad will not stop with basic favors. He will—” Hunter’s one hand dropped to my shoulder, his fingers digging through the thin fabric into my skin—painfully. He leaned in close. So dangerously close that I could feel the fury radiating off of him. “Don’t make assumptions of why I’m doing this. You know nothing about me.” I swallowed, refusing to flinch and show that I was uncomfortable. Or that his nails in my skin was hurting like a bitch. The bastard was playing a game. I knew what he was—a rogue, and what he’d done. Rogues would do anything for so much as as little as a plastic fork—or merely for the shee

But isn’t it unfair—that someone this heartless gets to live their own life; how they’re not stricken down immediately and sent to rot in the gloomiest depths? “Why?” I whisper. My voice is shaky. I haven’t managed to keep it smooth for some time now, not while there’s this fright swirling about me as I watch Hunter walk past me; his shoes creating a soft, sickening splatter in the pool of blood. Moments later, the music stops, and I press my palms against the sides of my throbbing head, whispering again, “Gods above.” I turn to Hunter, hoping for an explanation, some sign of remorse. But the man is rather preoccupied with nudging the corpses with his foot as if checking for any signs of lif

Sorry but I need to live. ...... Blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood So much blood. ......

His shield failed him and he was the mercy of Hunter, who he saw Hunter as a specter within shadow standing atop a pile of blasted stone, arms akimbo and a writing sheath of darkness surrounding him with a thin filament of light at the outer edges of the darkness and a slim band of light surrounding him within the darkness. His voice was s menacing and mocking. “I will let you live this day Master Poe, but do not follow or try to stop me ever again or not only your life, but your soul will feed my need.” The blade that Poe had used drifted over to Hunter who reached out a hand to accept it. “I’ll be needing this.” And though he could not see it he sensed the smile sinister in Hunter’s voice

Only he — the last Blood King — stood in chaos, no god, no ally, only an unfinished promise to the girl who disappeared. A blast. From afar, a squad of Hunter remnants appeared, armed with forbidden blood-spears. Lucien turned, eyes ablaze — crimson pupils reflecting hell’s mirror. “We meet again, sinners.” The commander roared, “Your blood ends the demon king’s age!” They charged. Lucien said nothing. His shadow blurred in mist, then shattered like a blade-streak. Movement became blood bursting, bones cracking, souls screaming. Ten seconds. Silence returned — only blood dripping, endlessly into void.

Silver wire coiled tight around his forearm, glowing with small runes that pulsed like living eyes. “Don’t—” he gasped when he saw her. “They said not to—” Kaelira dropped beside him, already reaching. “Who did this?” “Hunters,” he stammered. “S-said it would stop the— stop the turning—” His words broke into a strangled cry. The wire’s symbols flared white-hot, racing up his arm. Smoke rose where metal met skin. The smell was unbearable—burning flesh mixed with something older, darker, like scorched magic.

Then, abruptly, the gurgling sound of a gripped throat lifted into the cool, damp air. “You’ve had quite enough,” snarled the silky voice. And I recognised it: Hunter was going for the kill. My hand shot out before I thought to. “Hunter, no!” The asphyxiation continued for a while more. Then, the angelic beast slammed the monster to the ground like trash. Rushed footsteps entered, and the sleazeball was carried away screaming threats of death of my father, Hunter, me and the entire Blood Moon Pack. I’m thoroughly, absolutely screwed.