The Dumont Diaries Novels & Stories

For some reason, I feel nervous as I pull out the book. A strange rune is etched onto the front. It isn’t one I have seen before. Untwisting the string that holds the book closed, I gently open the cover. This is Morgan’s diary. I glance around my new office, looking for anyone who might be watching me. Bruno is snoring loudly on the couch against the wall. Sinking into my chair, I flip through the pages. This diary dates back farther than any book I have ever read. Propping my feet onto the desk, I begin to read the first entry.

"Maybe this diary holds the key to uncovering more about my past." Sonia sat alone in her room, engrossed in the contents of Frank's diary and records spread out in front of her. With meticulous care, she arranged them in chronological order based on the dates inscribed on each page. Deeply curious, she decided to begin with the entry that coincided with her own birth year.

Dante asked while he beamed. Raymond produced Etiennette's diary from his chest pocket and said with a smile, "With this, you'll be able to win Ms. Isla over, Mr. Harrington." The others were puzzled when they saw Raymond showing them a diary. They were wondering how a book was supposed to help Dante win Isla's heart. Dante took the diary. He was also puzzled as he flipped through the pages. He looked up at Raymond with a perplexed look. "I suspect that Ms. Isla Pendragon is the owner of this diary, Etiennette Pascal. The only thing is that she has lost her memories," said Raymond.

He is cold, arrogant, and impossible to read. She paused, her mind drifting to the memory of "D." She traced the letters on the page. In her mind, the "Chairman" and her "D" were two different people. "D" was a hero, a boy who had stood in the dark with her. Damien Black was a cold, powerful man who lived in a skyscraper. To her, they were opposites. She flipped back to the very first pages of the diary. She touched the shaky handwriting of her ten-year-old self. She read about the red heels, the spider, and the boy who gave her the candy.

Zane switched on the overhead lights, revealing rows of old cabinets, sealed boxes, shelves stacked with journals, and several filing containers arranged carefully against the walls. Damien exhaled slowly. “He really kept everything.” “I told you.” The two of them split up naturally, searching through different sections of the room while papers shifted softly around them. Most of the materials were old research documents. Lab observations. Recovery reports. Medical records. Damien opened one of the thick journals resting near the corner shelf and immediately froze when he saw his own name written across the first page. SUBJECT D — PHYSICAL RESPONSE OBSERVATIONS. His jaw tightened slightly. H

Their arrival must have been completely out of the blue and surprising to her then, only furthering the connection between her and Jasper then to Emmet. Lifting up the diary, Emmet rifled through the draws to try and find something else in the draws to tell Emmet about their current circumstances. There was only stationary and when he searched through the other draws, he found nothing suspicious or particularly enlightening. The diary entries would suggest that they were somewhere, at least, at the end of July, but Emmet had to wonder truly if that was true, diaries only telling you the date when you filled them out consistently. Dropping down to his knees, Emmet looked at the television scr

Toward him! I had never been to St. Calliope’s, but when you have the Internet, the maps and pictures do a great job at giving directions. Somehow I ended up in the school library at past nine. The halls were quiet, and the library was much larger than I had anticipated. Ancient diaries of hunters were always kept in plain sight as Mundanes do find the supernatural world boring. If only they knew. Comtesse D’Aubray. Who knew I'd find a page on her as quickly as I opened Hunter Salem's diary of the unknown.

Table in the middle, buried in books and papers that looked older than I was. I stopped. Right in the center was a leather-bound journal with a name faded across the cover. Juliette Dauval. My mom’s name. My hands shook as I picked it up. Most of the pages were worn, some water-stained, others torn. But the last page was still legible. “They’re coming for her next. Audrey is not safe here.” My blood ran cold with fear. What the hell? I wasn't safe from what? “What are you doing here?” Mrs. Beaumont’s voice came from behind me. It wasn't as sweet as earlier. It was strict. “I’m sorry… I just wandered in here. Couldn't sleep.”

The people around her didn't bother to pay attention to her, treating her like a clown. Emilia and Gambetta seemed to have completely ignored her words. Alberto glared at Isobel angrily before speaking up, "My daughter is already married. Her husband is someone you two must be familiar with, he is Damon Manuel Dumont from the Dumont family of Madrid." “Manuel Dumont?" Emilia’s face flashed a hint of surprise: "The younger brother of Magda?" Alberto nodded. "Yes." Emilia’s gaze grew complex: "The Dumont family..."

It seemed the Dumonts were here early. Snooty and pretentious, both Mirabelle and Spencer Dumont oozed elegance. Mirabelle was a raven haired beauty who used to be a Prima Ballerina back in her day. She married Spencer when her dancing days ended. Spencer Dumont was the wealthiest man in the UK, with Sebastian set to inherit everything. Not that the man needed to inherit everything, he owned half of the country already. And by that I mean the majority of the buildings in the country belonged to Dumont Enterprises.