Supernatural Monsters Novels & Stories

I’m used to Jonathan’s crazy inventions, but that’s different from all this. I am not used to the idea of there being werewolves and vampires. If they are real, what the fuck else is? Fairies? Leprechauns? Genies? Legit, how much of Supernatural is real? Are there hunters out there like Sam and Dean? Is there a God? If he’s anything like Chuck, it would explain why the world is fucked.

“Well… yeah, crudely put. We have assets which can change the aura around you and make you seem like you’ve disappeared. You’d appear invisible to angels who have been sent out to hunt you. We'd be able to move more freely and get to the generals easier.” “What kind of assets?” Serenity had only read about demons and angels. She knew about Skin Writers and Manipulators, but what else was hiding out there in the dark she didn’t know about. “Witches.” The silence in the room grew and she blinked. “Are you serious.” “Deadly. There aren’t just angels and demons and Skin Writers, Serenity. Every single supernatural creature you ever thought went bump in the night, is real.” “Oh, fucking wonderful

“Might as well have. He hung up with all the finesse of Scar letting go of Mufasa’s paw.” “Dark. But accurate,” Koa admitted. Then her tone shifted, heavier, echoing with that layered resonance that meant she wasn’t just joking anymore. “Let’s recap the highlight reel, shall we? The monsters with the red eyes stalked Serenya’s people. They’ve hunted each Guardian, in one way or another, across lands and generations. You’ve all seen them, fought them, or been chased by them. And now Charlie drops the bomb: ‘older than the gods themselves.’” Cheyenne swallowed hard. “Which makes them… what? Primordial? Something that shouldn’t even exist anymore?”

Really pretty. "Danika," I reply, shaking her hand. Her skin is very cool. The thought creeps in before I can stop it. What if she's not human either? The classroom suddenly feels too small, too loud, and too bright. My pulse quickens. Ever since Kaziel came into my life, the lines between reality and impossible have blurred so much that I can't tell what's real anymore. It's like the supernatural cracked something open in my brain, and now, even when I'm surrounded by humans, I can't stop seeing monsters.

After testing, my IQ came back at 200, twice the average. My mother was over the moon. She hired top tutors and swore she would raise me into someone extraordinary. Ophelia even gave me her favorite doll, saying she was proud to have a genius brother like me. The very next day, I threw up all over it. That was also when everything went wrong. I got hit with a sudden illness. My hands started spasming, and I couldn't even hold a pen anymore. The comments flooded the screen. [What the hell is wrong with him? That doll was their dad's keepsake. Ophelia wouldn't even touch it herself, and he just threw up on it?]

He didn't say a word, but he put his hand on the headboard of the bed—a silent promise. "Is the monster gone?" Leo asked, looking at Silas. Silas looked at me, then down at our son. "The monsters are in cages now, Leo. And we’re the ones with the keys.

(Jax’s POV) Lucian had finally gone too far. Undead. On my base. The stench of swamp rot followed Marie wherever she slithered, and now every hunter had that look, fear disguised as discipline. Wolves, we understood. Monsters we could shoot. But this? This was blasphemy wearing a woman’s half-beautiful face. I marched beside Lucian while he ranted about power and kings and destiny. “You brought her here,” I snapped. “You brought them here. Hunters hunt monsters, we don’t bed them.”

"We are needed at the base. " Seraphina's facial expression turned serious. She sat up straighter, her hands curling into a fist again. Her face contorted. The first thought that slammed into her mind was— demons. They were multiplying, scattering across the city in ways The Order hadn't predicted. Maybe another place the nestted have been discovered. She was about to say something when Amara interrupted. "And before you think it's the demons, no, it's not." Seraphina exhaled. "It's something about the Supernaturals —another specie — the lycanthropes."

I let my eyes move across the table, watching their silent reactions. “But it’s the vampires that disturb me more,” I continued, voice soft but clear. “The killer used a forbidden method, death by full blood drainage. No tears, no marks of force. Just… empty. And the way the blood was drained wasn’t just to kill, it looked ceremonial. Intentional. As if someone is trying to ascend… or become something, someone, supernatural.” I stopped there, keeping the rest of my findings close to my chest. I didn’t trust them enough to give more. The room had fallen dead silent.

And that terrified him. Kristen had looked at him like he was more than a monste, like he was a good man. And deep down, he believed her. But belief is dangerous. It makes you soft. And softness is fatal in his world. Carlo collapses into a chair, overwhelmed. He’s a feared man, a killer. But now he’s haunted by the memory of Kristen’s breathless gasp, the warmth of her skin, and the sound of her crying behind a locked door.