The Book Of The Unknown Vikings Novels & Stories

“Don’t you understand? That book... is a gold mine of knowledge!” “Er...” “That’s Vevila’s Grimoire! Her witch’s bible!” I dropped the book in shock. ________________

“Seems like a nice book, you got there. What is the name?” “Oh it is…The title is the Unknown Luna, it is about a woman who didn’t know she was mated to an Alpha and she was… It probably doesn’t sound like the kind of things you like to read. After all werewolves aren’t real.” She said as the old woman laughed heartily and said,

They moved deeper into the library until Pat stopped at a lone pedestal in the center of the room. Upon it sat a thick, dusty tome bound in what looked like pale, cracked leather. The cover bore no title—just a symbol: a blazing fire crowned by three horns, with jagged lines splitting its base. Pat opened the book carefully. “Mad kings of the underworld” Jo leaned in, reading the strange, curling script etched in faded ink. She flipped to a brittle page near the middle and read through the passages. Jo squinted at the faded riddle, where she finally saw a mention of the name “Malrik.”

There were many good books in this library and Steve was enjoying himself as he read through some of them. His favourite was Werewolves: Origins. It intrigued him because the author was unknown which gave the book more mystery. He also noticed some books and was certain Emma had read them. Healing with Magic. The Cure is Everywhere. Steve also noticed that the authors were anonymous. It was as if the library only kept books of mysterious authors. It piqued his interest and made him wonder how Emma’s father had gotten his hands on these books.

Without looking to Owen for confirmation, I say, “We do. Please, explain.” She opens her bag and removes a few tattered paperbacks. The spines are unreadable, they’ve been cracked in so many places. One is missing a cover. All of them have a forest of neon tabs jutting out from their sides. I hear Hannah’s audible gasp of delight and admiration. I’m surprised she doesn’t ask for the brand, style, and inventory number of the tabs. “Our pack is so obsessed with the story of our origins, that we ignore the story of our ending.” She opens one of the books and it lays flat, pages perilously close to falling out. There’s a woodcut illustration of Fenrir devouring Odin.

“I have a task for you, a special kind of task.” “I’m up for it.” “There’s a book. A fantasy book,” he added so she could be more interested in it. “It has dragons. Villains. Princess in distress.” Ivana let out a short laugh. “Already sounds great.” “Yes? But the problem is, no one knows about the book yet. It’s a great book, and it will be wonderful as a movie,” Calvin said in a soft voice. Ivana frowned, her head bobbing slowly like she was finally seeing where he was going with this. “You catch my drift?”

“Mondrian’s bond with you strengthens all of us.” I didn’t believe him. His tone was too odd—desperate even. But before I could press him further, his expression shifted. “Found something,” he said, holding up a thick, leather-bound book. Immediately my suspicions were thrown out the window as I dived for the book, excitement fueling my being as it read: History of Blessed Wolves—white and Black.

"Viktor planned this for years. He won't just walk to our door. He has extra plans and ways to run away." "So we have to be smarter," I said. I stood up next to my brother. "We have to guess what he will do." "How?" Marcus asked. I looked at George. We understood without words. "The book. Mom's book. She wrote about all the families Viktor hunted..." "We can see how he did it before," George said. "Then guess what he will do here." Dane's eyes looked happy and proud. "Smart." Elder Miriam gave me the old book. "Your mom wrote everything carefully. Every family she knew. Where they lived, their special gifts, their weak spots."

Then the Vampire book Liberty was reading earlier catches my eye. What was it Alpha Thoran used to say? Know your enemies, keep them close, don’t strike prematurely. There is only so much we can know about Kendrick, but there is no such thing as over informed, right? Especially when we have a creature we know nothing about living right here, in the pack house, a few doors away from our leaders. I open the dusty cover and scan the handwritten contents list. Two words jump off the page and slap me in the face. I flip to the corresponding chapter, suspicion swirls inside me and I kind of wish I hadn’t been curious.