Spill Blood Chapter 1 Novels & Stories

I woke with a gasp. The room was dark. The fire in the hearth had burned down to embers. The window was black with the night. And the Book of Blood, which had been locked in the council hall, was open on my bedside table. I sat up slowly, my heart pounding. My hands were glowing faintly silver, just like Mirren's had when she first discovered her spirit-wolf. The light pulsed once, twice, then faded. The Book was open to the first page. The names of the bloodlines glowed faintly in the darkness, and I could feel them. All of them. The families who had been waiting. The survivors. The lost.

I hear a smirk within the creature's voice while my fighting hands fall away from the gripping beast’s own, allowing my vision to slowly fall into darkness. Wriggling in agony, the creature unexpectedly releases its hold. Opening my unswollen eye as I heave a deep breath, I reluctantly look up to see the creature pulling its blood-soaked claw behind him while raising it past his head, ready to send it thrashing down once more. Anticipating the savage blow, I close my eyes, wincing expectedly, defenceless and ready to take the next hit. Preparing to accept my fate. A swooshing burst of movement rushes past my ears, leaving me in a state of confusion when no apparent pain seems to follow. Than

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Irina's POV I slit my throat. There was so much blood. It sprayed across the leather seats. I saw it splashed onto Alexei's newspaper. It soaked into my clothes, turning everything red. I saw the shock on Alexei's face. His eyes went wide. His mouth dropped open. He wasn't expecting it. "What did you..." he started to say. But I did not hear the rest. Everything was spinning. The world was tilting sideways.

Like saying it out loud is its own kind of relief. "Don't talk," I say. I put my hands on him. The Moonblood knows what to do. I don't have to direct it or manage it or be afraid of it. It moves through me the way it has been waiting to move — not forced, not pushed, simply allowed. It finds the powder's trace in his blood the way light finds the edges of things in a dark room. Not by force. By nature. By the simple fact that where this kind of light goes, the things that hide in darkness cannot stay hidden.

It resisted me like bone. I hit it again. Again. A fourth time— Until the sound changed. Not wood. Not splinter. But flesh. The bed let out a groan—wet, thick. And then— Blood. Gushed from the center of the mattress. Soaking the sheets. Spilling to the floor in rivulets of crimson. I staggered back. The room began to pulse. The walls bled. The ceiling screamed. And from within the mattress, something moved. ---

It was not a trickle, but a sudden, violent gush, a living, pulsing stain that instantly drenched the side of her perfectly clean white collar. Her arms, raised instinctively to ward off the invisible assault, began to tremble violently. The world tilted and spun, and the polished floor rushed up to meet her. The slow-motion collapse began as a dreadful, inevitable slide. Her knees buckled first, giving way with a soft, desperate sigh of fabric and bone. She didn't fall forward, but spiraled downward. As she sank, the flow intensified. Blood streamed past her ear, down her neck, and collected in a crimson pool where her shoulder met the floor.

He calls out with no compassion at all. Scent, nicked? I'm bleeding? I look down at my wrists which I suddenly realise are wide open and my blood is flowing from them like a river, like the running water in a ... shower? Shower! I stagger, falling hard against the trunk, flash backs of my darkest moment attack my mind. "No". I sod, clutching my head, blood dripping onto my, "No, why?" "Chilli?" A voice echos softly in my ears, "It's okay Chilli, I'm here, I'm here".

Fear succumbed her whole body making her unable to move. "N-no! I am not the cure! Stay away from me! No!!!" That was the last words were heard by her as the people started tearing her skin making her blood ooze out non-stop. With such strength by numerous people attacking her, they managed to tear apart her limbs without difficulty. There are some people who had seen this soul-taking scene and managed to ran away fast. They were scared that these people might get them.

SANDRA'S POV The mattress under me was damp and I thought at first it was sweat, my whole body soaked through with it, fever burning under my skin so hot I could hear my own pulse in my ears. Then the cramp hit sharp, twisting through me like a fist closing around something it had no business touching. I jumped up as fast as I could and the room tilted. "No," I said. "No, no, please." I looked down at the floor and there was blood. Dark and spreading across the sheet beneath me, more than I'd ever seen come out of my own body at once.

"Clean up this filthy mess and hunt down the shameless trespasser on my territory!" Spencer shouted orders still shrouded in darkness and slowly walked away from his men. After Spencer entered his small office, he immediately wiped his hands with a handkerchief because of the blood splattered on it. Then he took a wine and a glass and poured it and sat in his swivel chair and leaned back. "D*mn this f*ck*ng life!"