Slasher Books Novels & Stories

"Ahhh!" Then the shot rang out. The proles winced, half turned away from me to growl at something. I didn't even think about what I was doing. Suddenly the serrated knife was in my hand and I just rammed it in the side right into his heart. He yelped, jumped away from me, ripping the knife out of his own body, but the serrated blade did not voluntarily give up the tissue. The proles practically tore their own hearts out, stumbled another half meter and then collapsed bleeding. The eyes in which the aggressive madness of these creatures lived, fixed on me, he breathed out his last breath. There were two holes in his body. A small bullet hole in the flank and a large, deadly one in the heart.

’ I tried to sound less scared and as confused as I can be. ‘Yoh! You won’t believe this. It says here Sharon stabbed her sister then killed herself.’ She said, handing me the newspaper. And yes, I couldn’t believe that the people I have killed made national headlines. And that it was ruled as a murder and suicide. As sickening as it sounds, I felt a little bit relieved that at least the spotlight will be on the late Sharon than me as a suspect. The details on the paper didn’t reveal much, just enough to paint Sharon as the culprit and no forced entry in their apartment whatsoever. I had to be relieved. ‘But how could Sharon do this to her own flesh and blood?’ I looked at Anna with a fake c

I muttered, but it came out warmer than I meant. By nightfall, the city had sunk back into its real skin—neon bruises, the stench of wet trash, the throb of a thousand heartbeats. I fed the safe way: bagged units lifted from a distracted hospital guard. Blood that tasted like regret and rubber tubing. It kept the hunger dulled, but never satisfied.Sometimes I’d walk past bars where laughter rolled out like heat. Men and women leaned over tables, their throats bared in trust, their pulses glowing beneath thin skin. Hunger hit sharp on nights like that. Travis would whisper, “Old you would’ve drained them all,” and I’d hate him for being right.The notebook weighed heavier each day. I filled it

TASHA He slapped me across the face so hard that my ears rang. "You'll pay for this," he hissed. "I swear to God, I'll kill you for hurting her." I touched my burning cheek, shocked. "Kirk... she's faking-" "Shut up! Guards, seize her!" I'd slapped her because she'd made fun of my miscarriage, but she fell to the ground like I had knocked her unconscious. She screamed and cried and rolled around like she was dying.

"Don’t worry. We have many other bedrooms." "Then-" and once again he cut me off. "Because I don't trust that everyone in this house has fed. I won't risk it..." He said. And with that he turned and left. Leaving me in his room...alone. I had to admit that his room was very simple. The duvets were black and white. The carpet was dark blue and the curtains dark red. He had a large desk in the corner which was stacked with the most unexpected things. Reading books! Actual leisure READING books. They ranged from horror to sci-fi. Most of them were written by a famous hunter author named Vladimir Rodriguez. Those books were mainly the "fiction" ones. They were fiction to humans, but all too real

Finally, she found the one she was looking for. Layla managed to grab the book and add it to her stack in her arms when her eyes caught sight of something. A book stood out among the rest. It was bound with dark brown leather and had brandished designs on the spine. The title read - Malleus Vampiro: A Treatise on Vampires. Placing her other books on the floor, Layla pulled the leather-bound book from its home amongst the others and opened it. As her eyes skimmed the pages, she caught a couple of words; SHADOW STALKERS, BLOODSUCKER, PHANTOMS.

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Damn it, this wasn't an action movie. I growled at something very rude, fasted my M19 harder, and sprinted down the sidewalk on this side of the street. I never let our prey out of my sight for a moment. It was almost like a slalom. Again and again I had to avoid people and then I almost ran into a shelter. There was room for a handful of people in these small buildings. If you had to get to safety from a prole, you could run in there, seal the room and call the venators from inside via an emergency column.

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

"Do you really think that I'd allow myself to be alone and defenseless even after knowing all of this?" As soon as I finished speaking, the ropes binding my hands were cut by a small hidden knife. I kicked Camden hard, aiming for his weak spot and sending the knife flying. At the same moment, the warehouse doors burst open. Don lunged at me with a knife, but a police officer shot him in the hand, forcing him to drop the weapon. I took the opportunity to kick Nevaeh to the ground and watched as all three of them writhed in pain and screamed.