Tate Langdon Skull Novels & Stories

In the center, driven deep into the soft earth, was a stake. Impaled upon it was the massive, bleached skull of an alpha wolf. Time seemed to slow. The rain dripped from the yellowed bone, tracing the grotesque, bloody symbols painted across its forehead the same arcane, twisting marks that had been left on Tess’s studio door. But it was the final violation that made Liam release a sound between a gasp and a growl. A rusted iron dagger, ancient and pitted, was driven with brutal force through the skull’s left eye socket. Pinioned beneath the blade was a tattered scrap of faded blue cloth, embroidered with a silver crescent moon now stained brown with old blood.

A body made for war. "Let’s start from the back," he said, turning. I dragged my gaze over the designs. He started with the skull, the first tattoo he ever got—at eleven—after his first kill. It was massive, covering most of his upper back, though other ink had been added over time. "The woman’s face over the skull, to the left," he pointed, "that’s my mother. And the dove beneath it signifies her demise." His voice was detached, but I felt the weight of it.

We got to a particular place after mounting the stairs upwards, hence leading us to a higher floor, when I saw something that made me yell out sharply, like the sound a person would make when needle is jutted on his butt. But I took me minutes to realize that the sound had originated from my lips because I was momentarily frozen. It was a skull hung on a stick that had been dug a few feet below the ground. The skull was dipped in a crimson red color instead of the organic brown or white that it normally was. It was obvious that it was someone's blood that had been poured on the skull. I wondered if it was the blood of the people he murdered in the past. Somehow, I got the feeling that it was

They cut under the chin first. And even full of drugs, he felt pressure swell from that point around his neck, a phantom noose pulling tight in the scalpel’s wake. Then, gloved fingers dug under the edge and slowly peeled the skin up and away from his face. Finally, it pulled free. His skull popped out of its skin and hair cap with a plop and thumped wetly onto the table. He stared with horrified fascination into the mirror above at the reflection of his new face; the bald, gristle-spotted pate, cavernous eyes and cheekbones, looming nose-hole and grinning-death teeth.

She tiptoed towards him, leaned forward and looked over his shoulder and gasped in fright, breaking his concentration. He quickly spun round and hugged her face to his chest to stop her from seeing the ghastly sight before them but it was too late. She had already seen it. A skeleton with bits of clothing on it in tatters and a huge part of it's skull missing. On it ring finger, it wore a gold ring with De Luca written on it.

I could only make out a bit of the top of the tattoo, so I slowly undid every button and opened his shirt. A hooded skull wearing a crown sat in the middle of his chest, with large angel wings covering the rest of his chest. I trailed my fingers on his tattoo, completely fascinated by it. It was such a beautiful work of art, and the details on the skulls and wings were incredible. I glanced up at Damiano, who was watching me intently with his piercing gaze. I felt a rush of shyness wash over me, and I had to look away. “We should get back to the others.” I tried to get off his lap, suddenly remembering I had left Cara all alone out there.

“You’re sure no shifters had this mark?” He gave a single nod. I studied the tattoo—a serpent coiled through a three-headed skull, each skull bearing the distinct features of a mamba, a cobra, and a viper. A flicker of recognition stirred in my memory, but I couldn’t place it. Pulling out my phone, I snapped a picture. “I’ve seen this before—just can’t remember where. I’ll dig into it from my office. Thanks, Doc.” He acknowledged me with another nod before sliding the body back into its cold drawer.

His helmet was gone, exposing a skull stripped clean of skin, the bare white bone covered in a fine, lace-like mesh of crawling, purple veins. Where his eyes should have been, two iron surgical bone screws had been driven deep into his sockets, pinning the nerve clusters flat against the back of his skull. "Inquisitor Malachi," Rusty choked out, dropping his lantern into the dark water with a sharp hiss. The light died instantly, plunging the tunnel into near-total darkness, save for the faint, bioluminescent violet pulse radiating from the creature”s exposed spinal column. "God in heaven... Dominic didn't kill him when he went rogue... he processed him."

Tethys strode into the tomb with the exact same arrogance that defined him, his every movement an exercise in calculated confidence. He was flanked by his marids, their dark, obsidian bodies shimmering in the dim light. They were creatures of pure malice, their eyes glowing with the malevolent fire of their master. With a silent, sharp gesture, they carried forth a massive skull, a grotesque relic of long-forgotten beasts. The skull was oblong, its surface marred by jagged teeth that seemed to glisten with a hunger of their own. They placed the skull right next to Aylin’s suspended form, and the air around them immediately began to pulse with dark energy.

Immediately I get to the gate, the gate man rushes to meet me with a parcel even before he opens the gate. “Who is this from?” I ask, looking at the heavy box. “It…it is from Kayden. Kayden dropped it” I smile and let him go before I open the box. Seems like Kayden survived, which means Amelia survived. Inside is a burnt skull, or body. Black with visible burnt skin and closed eyes. A note follows “A head for a house. This is Stefan's head by the way” What the fuck….