The House That Dripped Blood Cast Novels & Stories

Drip. At first I thought it was the leaky sink in the hallway. But the sound was coming from behind the wall above my head. I sat up slowly. The room smelled wrong. Like iron. Like rust. Then came the sound—squelch. Like something soft and wet being dragged along stone. A sickening line of red trickled down from the corner where wall met ceiling. Not water. Not ink. Blood. I blinked. It kept coming. Thick. Red. Fresh.

A drop of blood slid from beneath his shirt and hit the floor. The house inhaled. That was the only way I could describe it. The walls creaked inward. The window rattled once. The mirror went dark behind us. Then the floorboards beneath Damien’s feet absorbed the blood. Not stained. Not soaked. Absorbed. The drop disappeared into the wood like the house had swallowed it. I froze. Damien looked down. Another drop fell. The wood drank that one too. A whisper moved through the room. Not my mother’s voice.

And then, I stepped inside. The man seated opposite my father did not turn, yet his presence filled the room. Broad shoulders, streaks of silver woven into dark hair, ink curling over his neck, promising more beneath the fabric of his shirt. Strength, control, danger—it emanated from him like smoke from a slow-burning fire.

Maybe she was inside and couldn’t hear me because of some sort of soundproofing, even though the house didn’t look like it had soundproofing. I opened the door to one room. It was empty. Then I moved to the next room. When I opened the door, I saw a pool of blood on the floor at the center of the room. It had seeped through some clothes on the floor and the floorboards and was spreading rapidly. I took a few steps closer to it, crouched down, and slowly touched the blood. When I did, the blood was wet, dripping back from my fingers onto the floor—not dried and sticky, like someone who had been left there for days. This was a very recent occurrence.

Drifting into the dirt path, I slammed on the breaks as I came behind my father’s truck. Getting out, I slammed the door shut and jumped the stairs. Opening the door I looked in. She wasn’t here. No one was. The house looked like chaos though. There was a pot that spilled over on the oven, shattered glass against the far wall, the shards still on the floor. I could see footprints in blood, as though they walked on the glass. Going into the bathroom, I put my arm in my mouth and bit down hard. There was blood all over the tub. There was also a ton of blood in the bedroom on the floor. What the fuck had happened? Where the fuck was my mate?

The butler pointed at the stairs and whispered in terror, “The stairs…” Anthony looked up. What was on the stairs? And then he saw it. Blood—dried, rust-dark—streaked from the attic door down the steps like a river. My blood. I never realized I had lost so much blood. I thought the blood in the room was all there was, but it had flowed all the way out and down the stairs. Anthony froze. Evelyn was also stunned, but she recovered quickly. She covered her mouth and gasped. “Oh my God! How is there so much blood?! Is this real?”

Levi Blood drips from my hands, trickling down my fingers like crimson tears. My shirt is stained, the white fabric soaked with the dark red liquid. I make my way into the tall building, a majestic skyscraper with a sleek, modern design. The ceiling made entirely of glass allowing the light to sip in unhindered. I'm pissed to the core as I make my way to the elevator, my feet grazing the polished graphite wooden floors. The metallic scent of blood lingers in the air around me, the trail of blood behind me as it drips from my hand and once white sparkling shirt.

All the problems had gone away; all the catastrophes had vanished away; now it was the time for them to enjoy their victory, and also to rejoice within their happiness, cheerfulness, as well as joyfulness. “So, has it been the perfect time for you to explain to all of us, Sumico?” asked Evania impatiently. “Yeah, how could you figure out and know that our three drops of blood can work well inside our men’s bodies after we’ve been fully theirs?” followed by Hanny also curiously. “Actually, I’m also considerably curious, Sumi Darling...” Virando turned out to be curious as well. “Thank goodness to your three drops of blood which plays its biggest role in our victory this time, Our Gentle Prett

Blood seeped through the fabric, warm against my shaking hands. I swallowed hard. “Okay. First step: stop bleeding. Second step: don’t panic. Third step: find magical vampire first-aid kit.” A drawer slid open with a loud shunk. I yelped. “BRENDA! That is NOT helping!” Inside the drawer sat a crystal bottle full of thick dark liquid. I stared. I blinked. I stared again. “…Is that blood?” The lights flickered once. Yes. “Is it vintage? Like… does blood expire?”

I, Gabriel Lamb, walked out of Strom Inc. Cradling my mother’s ashes, I sat on the curb. It was my mother’s final wish to have her remains kept in a bottle, all to save money to pay Noelle Strom’s debts. Noelle appeared on the massive display screen in the city square. The news announced, “This just in—Noelle Strom, chairwoman of Strom Inc., after five years of absence from the public eye, has resurfaced with her fiancé, Charles Atkinson, at a ceremony.”