Sinister Names Novels & Stories

I giggle, “I don’t mind it. I’m not big on silence, to be honest.” “That’s good, because in like two months, it’s going to be hella loud in your life,” Sin grins, his eyes dipping to my stomach. “Name?” “Not yet. We haven’t had a chance to discuss it.” “He’ll be the next Alpha, so you have to make it something cool. Hmmm,” he purses his lips, darting out the tip of his blue tongue at the corner. “Ivan… No. Lucien is kind of badass. Vincent or Viktor give off Russian mob vibes. You should totally go with a mafia name,” he shakes his head. “Run it by me when you come up with something. I’ll tell you if it sounds lame.”

The bar was called Black Velvet & Lace. Nothing about it was soft, nor elegant. It was dark, loud in the quietest way, and unapologetically indecent. The kind of place your husband would condemn in a sermon—then visit on a business trip with someone who wasn’t his wife. The walls were black brick. The mirrors were stained with fingerprints. The booths looked like confessionals for sins you didn’t want forgiven. Eden had passed it a hundred times before. Always in passing. Always in judgment.

It simply disintegrated, then reappeared back in the car. “Sick bastard,” I spat. He'd been stalking me. I tore a slim black book from the rat pile. Book of Psychopomps was etched on it in gold ink. Numbers, emails, and old-fashioned addresses accompanied names, written in no apparent order. I rifled through the pages: “Old farts: ODIN, MORRIGAN, YAMA, HERMES....” and “New pests: ANAESTHESIA, AIDS, SANTA MUERTE...” A red ribbon marked a page at the back. “Accessories: SHANNON PARKER.”

"The devil is here! He is mocking us! Satan has cursed my soul, and he’s doing it through her... because my daughter is a wretched sinner!" Father Edmund frowned slightly, gently easing my mother's hands off his arm. "Eleanor, calm yourself. Why would you say that to your daughter?" "Because she’s a prostitute!" my mother screamed, pointing a shaking finger at me. "She sells her body! She fucks men for a living, dragging our family's name straight into hell!" I felt the judgment of every holy statue in the room, but I wasn't about to stand there and let her humiliate me. I crossed my arms, tilting my chin up as my stubborn pride took over.

His voice vibrated against my skin, low and laced with a murderous intent that made the air in the grand dining hall grow instantly thin. Over his broad, towering shoulder, Victoria stood like an elegant statue of execution. Her eyes were unblinking, her fingers still poised near her throat in that silent promise. Her brother and sister sat perfectly still, their faces clear of any guilt, waiting for me to pull the pin on the grenade.

The confident smile on her face froze, then cracked, as she read the first line. NAME: Seraphina Venti-Moretti STATUS: Wife of Dante “The Ghost” Moretti. La Madrina of the Moretti family. Dante Moretti. The shadow king of Chicago. The man her own father had to steer clear of in business, the man he paid a hefty “security consulting fee” to every year. The file included Dante’s dossier, filled with bloody rumors: traitors were tied to cement blocks and dropped in Lake Michigan; enemies had their throats slit in their own beds; his nickname, “The Ghost,” was because anyone who saw him get his hands dirty became a ghost themselves.

Suhee said, smiling at her warmly. “So,” she continued, clapping her hands together, “what should we name our little group?” “Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas!” Cornelia grinned. “Aethera, Monarchy, Sirenx, Luxrae, Lunas, Evoque, Miyora, Velvet Gems, Gemini, Mirage84, STN5—short for Stanton Five—” “I think I like velvet gems” Suhee began. “Yeah,” the others agreed, finishing her thought. “And what about the roles?” one of the girls asked.

“You…called my name earlier… You know me?” “Yeah, my name is Sinsa, and I owe you a debt I would always be thankful and sorry for. I thought I'd finally gotten death, but that monster Verik brought me back for his gain and my powers, and the wicked female is Navori,” she mutters but spits out blood. “I'm sorry, but my throat is so messed up after he slashed it,” she says, and Myra feels goosebumps on her skin. Verik was a monster for what he had done. “I'm so sorry, Myra.”

Lucifer “I’m sorry, Gabriel, but I don’t remember much about my sisters. Even in my visions, their faces were obscured by shadows. I don’t even know their human names. I just referred to them by their horsemen names. All I can tell you is that they were close to my age. The other had brown hair and oddly shaded eyes, and the other had red hair. The only thing they had in common is that they all seemed to be frightened of someone who wanted to hurt them. I don’t remember anything else. I’m sorry,”

I'm not even sure which one I want him to say, although I get the feeling I know, when going off the small amount of researched I've done into all the Purebloods. Hale rubs his hands through his mussed hair, looking grim. "Lust. He calls himself Sinful. We can visit him if you like." "You don't seem convinced," I note warily. "No, not really. But it's all I can think of to help you," he murmurs. Lust? That sounds like a very unpredictable Sin. But all Seven, other than Hale, he me be the less likely to be violent. "Then we leave right now..." I say, getting to my feet. I need to do this before I decide against it. It's far too easy to wallow in this cave with Hale to comfort me.