Scythe Audio Book Novels & Stories

How can he be compared to you? Tristan tapped his fingers on the table and made up his mind. "Alright, Matthew, you're coming with me." … "Esther!" I didn't expect to run into Tristan here in Straburgh. As I walked down the hallway after coming out of the restroom, I heard him call my name. After eight years, I recognized his voice instantly. Looking toward the voice, I saw him leaning against the wall with a glass of wine in hand while squinting at me. It seemed like he had been waiting for me on purpose.

The cold metal sung as it sliced through the air, a heartbeat from my flesh- “There,” he said softly. I felt the blade kiss my skin, light as a feather, and then its touch disappeared. Reeling, I opened my eyes and gazed up at him in terror. The scythe was gone. His chthonic laughter shook the ground like disembodied thunder. I collapsed to my hands and knees. “This isn't funny at all,” I sobbed. Tears burned my eyes. I wiped snot from my nose. “You're heartless and sadistic.”

Dark vapor seethed around it, swallowing its glow. Jacob held up his fist and uncoiled it. The bronze-green patina links of the chain that draped across the back of his hand spilled out of his palm to reveal a bone-white scry swaying at the end. “Do you see how the holy scry is vibrating and chiming? It detects evil interference of the temple.” “And instead of alerting security, you charged off and came here by yourself?” Theo asked, his eyes angered slits. “We had to at least see what was going on first,” Sybil defended, just as Elder George limped to one of the trees to lean his back against the trunk.

I stared at her for a long moment, speechless. Slowly, my thoughts cleared. The suffocating weight in my chest lifted bit by bit. My gaze steadied, and in my peripheral vision, I caught sight of the brilliant sunset burning across the sky. I wasn't going to die. Even if I disappeared, they wouldn't grieve. The only ones who would truly be hurt were the few who actually cared about me.

At all. Tall. A chiseled jaw. Dark hair that falls just enough over his brow to look effortless. And those eyes; deep, cool and unreadable. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t smirk. Just watches me like I’m some kind of puzzle he didn’t expect to find in this house. I force myself to move again, my hands tightening across the railing as I reach the last step. Lucia’s voice echoes. “There you are, meet Renald and his nephew, Rafael.”

Subtle, but I notice everything. Klaus de Luca. He didn’t see me as he entered a room alone. I didn’t hesitate. Silently, smoothly, I followed. The door was just starting to close when— CRASH! A vase flew at my head. I ducked instinctively, the ceramic shattering against the wall behind me. I straightened slowly, blade already drawn. Then I heard his voice. Low. Calculated. “So... you’re the Ghost Knife. The woman with no past. No future. Who sent you ? .”

Its hunger throbbed - dark, pulsing, wanting out. No. The Duskbane Grimoires were clear: the Scythe was a weapon of eclipse. Summon it under night, invite the darkness to consume the wielder's soul. A sun-weapon. Tonight, I was on my own. A metallic clink erupted from behind the practice dummies. I didn't turn. Didn't break stride. I sent a Threadbare filament behind me like a spider's web. It brushed something cold, hard, moving fast. "Ten of you," I murmured, voice low, aristocratic silk. "And here I thought the Shadow Syndicate had some pride left."

Mommy and Daddy were dead. Cobra might be dead. Tyron might be dead. I was tired. So tired of running. Maybe if I died, I would see them again. That thought made me feel sad but happy. I opened my mouth and swallowed the liquid on purpose. It burned down my throat like hot pepper. My eyes watered. My chest felt tight. The world started moving strangely. The trees leaned sideways. The red glow stretched into a long line. The men’s voices sounded far away, like they were underwater.

Her men swarmed my elderly father and hanged him alive—right there, in front of my grave. Despair and regret swallowed me whole. I screamed, I sobbed, I begged her to let him go. But as my father's body swung lifelessly, Adeline's smile only grew colder. "Now it's his sister's turn." At that moment, her face was twisted and grotesque, like a demon that had crawled straight out of hell.

She argued that with vampirism, witchcraft, and senses of werewolves combined, we will be indestructible. “Niklaus was made with witch powers! Powerful with powers at that! And you think a bite from him would produce the same results?” Lucianna screamed once again, seeking for the attention to be diverted to her. I hid my claws when I saw my aunt averted her gaze to my cousin, Lucianna. I immediately sat beside Natyaramona and assisted her into standing up. Her breaths were heavy and sharp, panting and almost begging for the last of it.