Samhain Book Novels & Stories

The spines were all faded to one degree or another, and most of them looked antique. “Sure as hell not her porn stash, but that would be far less incriminating,” he remarked, taking out a black-bound book with gold lettering. The title read, “SAMPA VARGR” in huge letters that resembled runes. She recognized vargr from one of Darian's titles. It meant “wolf.” Hunter offered her the book, and she flipped through its pages, her heart pounding as the meaning of sampa became clearer with each successive illustration. Huge bipedal wolves were being slaughtered in every way possible, each grotesque method culminating in a silver dagger through the heart. “Why does Sandra have a book on how to hunt

Aiden says. “It’s not like that, Aiden. Not completely,” I soothe. “Aiden, she just gained the ability to feel the pull to us six hours ago, we haven’t had time to work it all out,” Raff says. “Aiden, you feel the pull to me and I got this strange message that with my visions, makes more sense now…” I start but stop when I see the old woman in Aiden’s office chair. “Tween times, the sun will rise soon, even if we weren’t approaching Samhain she could cross easily,” Raff says.

"It's pretty cool, actually. I just ask for what I need and the cavern kind of takes me where I have to go to find it." More Sidhe magic. But useful at least. Still, I hoped Liam wasn't trusting it entirely. Even the Seelie court, what most people thought of as the good side, were known to be tricksy. For all I knew, the books would swallow him up someday. Nice thought. Sass slid his hands over the cover of the book. "Well, this particular tome won't help," he said. "It's about sacrificing demons." I frowned. "What?"

There was a table. Books stacked on it. Not like the ones I used to see at home. These looked older. Some of them had markings on the covers I didn’t understand. I walked closer. My fingers hovered over one of them before I touched it. The cover felt rough. Worn. I opened it slowly. The pages were filled with symbols. Not letters. Not words I knew. Shapes. Lines. Things that looked like drawings but weren’t. I frowned. “What is this…?” I flipped a page.

The healer’s wing was quieter than usual. Morning light pressed softly through the windows, warming the sheets around her. Samantha sat with the leather-bound journal Adrian gave her the day before, its weight steady in her hands. She opened to the first full story she hadn’t yet read. The ink was old but clear, tales of wolves who crossed borders, defeated ancient threats, forged unlikely alliances. Yet every so often, a phrase tugged at her, familiar in a way she couldn’t explain.

I choose a Stephen King paperback – Salem’s Lot - from the lower shelves and struggle to decipher the pages, my curvy body sinking into the cushy couch. I’ve always been more size 12 than two, and look like those dumb pictures of Eve – soft sloping stomach like van Eyck’s Ghent altarpiece, pert breasts, and curving hips for days. The words of my chosen book all turn up like mush. The leather smells like the cigars Samael smokes, the spice of his orange and musk cologne, and rain. It smells like him. I close my eyes, inhaling the scent. Memories of him from my childhood haunt me, the man cloaked in shadow, the owner of my soul.

He was looking at Samantha. Samantha didn’t say anything. She couldn’t believe that they had found her. She’s been caught. She must continue to lie or else they would all know this is all her doing. The assassination and the attempt to poison Ruby. “You stole our secret book for this evil purposes? Humph! Karma have its way with those who are wicked!” exclaimed the tribe leader. “Lies! All lies!” shouted Samantha. “How could it be a lie?” asked Ruby, she was smiling at Samantha.

Samantha asked. Helen slowly turned an old leather-bound book toward herself. “I think I found something.” Every chair scraped across the floor as we leaned closer. “What is it?” I asked. “The title.” Her finger traced faded lettering near the top of the page. “Inherited Blood Curses.’” Every ounce of humor vanished from the room. Sarah carefully pulled the book closer. The pages were worn thin, several corners missing altogether. “This one’s even older than the journal,” she whispered.

These are the questions a bookstore owner face when a mysterious book shows up. Samurai and Other Stories by William Meikle—No one can handle Scottish folklore with elements of the darkest horror, science fiction and fantasy, suspense and adventure like William Meikle. The Dark at the End of the Tunnel by Taylor Grant—Offered for the first time in a collected format, this selection features ten gripping and darkly imaginative stories by Taylor Grant, a Bram Stoker Award® nominated author and rising star in the suspense and horror genres. Grant exposes the terrors that hide beneath the surface of our ordinary world, behind people’s masks of normalcy, and lurking in the shadows at the farthest

- Samael thought as he prepared himself for a meeting with Nadir. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ At the same time, Maria found the book she was looking for from the owner of an antiques shop, but it was her property and it was impossible to buy or borrow the book, so Maria sat down at a table in the back of the shop, took out her notebook and copied the ritual she was interested in with all the drawings, which needed to be outlined. The owner of the book additionally instructed them on how to prepare for such a serious ritual, how to cleanse the room after it has been performed, so that nothing uninvited would remain in it. The woman also warned them to be careful, because by wanting to contact a particu