The Black Dahlia Novels & Stories

The woman speaks, I hear movement and see D disappear. “Who’s in your room, Gunner?” I hope it isn’t anyone they need. “Just randoms, let him kill them. There's more if needed.” He shrugs and I nod, I watch as the doctor and woman leave. Sitting I stay next to Daisy, first Rosalie now Daisy. Maybe she is safer away from us? Hours pass before D comes back through, he’s covered in blood but doesn’t speak. Instead, he sits next to Daisy and rests his head on her.

The king was focused to Chief Black at once. "We found this in hidden in the belongings of the crown princess, Your Majesty." Chief Black lifted his hand for everyone to see. I gasped and my throat ran dry when I saw what he was holding. It is a black little bottle with black lid. "And we found out that it indeed contains the deadly extract of the poisonous flower Lily of Morte." I felt like my whole world crumbled into ashes. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. It felt like doom was suddenly in front, standing right before me.

Henry almost choked after hearing his sister's careless words, he gave her a pointed look but the girl was totally oblivious of it meaning so she just brushed it off, the little princess somehow felt obliged to acknowledge her friend's intelligence and was proud to do so, that pride reflected on her as she was the one Dahlia served, she was the one who brought such a mastermind to the light and she found a shred of pride in that fact, luckily for them Rima pulled the conversation toward the three invading kingdoms before more people got involved in talking about the creepy girl, Unlike Nara, the snow queen understood Henry's vague intentions, and even though she wasn't fond of the girl who t

I called out, finally having some of my strength back. “Those flowers…” she turned to face me, her jaw clenched. “Black dahlia and poppy…they are the harbinger of evil; a symbol of death. And they were cursed. How did you get your hands on them?” “I-I…” I pressed my hands to my throat, feeling like I hadn't had water in ages. Sarah got up from her side and handed me a glass of water, which I took gratefully and drank it all in one go like I had been parched for centuries.

I won't pretend I didn't take advantage of the situation. Kai and Sienna didn't know what I knew — that when Dahlia drinks past a certain point, she doesn't black out so much as she disappears. The lights go off. Nobody home. She could look right at you and not see a single thing. Her friends were standing there assuming she'd recognized me, chosen me, made some kind of conscious decision. She hadn't. I knew that. I carried her anyway.

> “She’s asking about scents more often now. She can already track keener than most full-grown warriors. I caught Dahlia watching her again. I don’t trust that girl. Her smile is too quick, too calculating. Today, I felt a sharp twinge after the tea she brought. Mira didn’t drink any. Thank the goddess.” > I freeze. Dahlia brought her tea? My stomach tightens. My head snaps up. “Eryna,” I whisper, “there’s more.” She’s already beside me. I hold up the journal, tapping the page. We meet each other’s gaze, a mixture of shock and surprise on her face, she joins me in reading the next line: > “The blend of valerian and blackroot slows the effect of thallium… If anything happens to me, it will be

Dahlia’s voice sliced through the garage, smooth and venomous. “Well, well, Blackjack and her pet soldier. I know exactly what you’re planning with those little flips and secret meets, and Marcus was only the beginning. Keep pushing, and I’ll make sure Vex gets every delicious detail before you even reach the desert. Tick tock, lovers. I have front-row seats to your ending.” She crackled before the radio went dead. Raine’s hand tightened on my arm as Dahlia’s voice echoed.

Author's pov At the mansion's rear entrance, Mrs. Dahlia was personally escorting Maggie Locke --and her silent assistant--to their waiting car. "I'm so sorry the plan didn't work," Dahlia whispered, wringing her gloved hands like she was scrubbing guilt from her skin. "I failed you completely." Maggie waved a gloved hand with cool detachment. "There will be other opportunities," she said, as if canceling a lunch reservation. "But I've offended the Black family," Dahlia moaned. "My standing in Denver's social circuit is finished. The local grapevine will devour me by morning. What am I supposed to do now?"

“Remember this, b*tch! The toddler you handed over to me is your own grandson!” “That street vermin is not my grandson!” Dahlia hissed. “He’s a b*stard and is from the slums. My son was only having a fling with that w*ore. God knows who else she had slept with! She tried to frame my son but I know better. She’s a c*nt! And now, you’re trying to blackmail me? Dahlia Yuan? Do you even know who I am?”

The bloody knife was lying nearby, having fulfilled its intended purpose and wanting to return to its former place among the wooden spoons. The figure in black descended over the dead man and pulled the letters by the corners, folded them carefully, putting them under the cloak. A heavy sigh broke the silence of the night. Standing over the body, he looked into the wide-open eyes of the dead man, the iris had lost its former brightness, the skin shone blue. “No one will see you anymore,” the killer whispered and grabbed the dead man by the wrist and pushed him into a potato sack, mixing the blood with dried peelings and earth.