The House That Dripped Blood Cast Novels & Stories

To make it more meaningful for them, I locked the three of them in the Stormbringers’ villa—in the same basement room where Bran once lived. Celina had once told Bran that the basement wasn’t bad. She told him it was totally livable — bright, with a ventilation shaft. I had surveillance cameras installed and reinforced the door with a solid iron grille. Now I wanted to see how this family of three survives in what they once called a “totally livable” space. They’d better not disappoint me.

I dried my tears and kept quiet as the Enforcers drove me to the Blood Pack territory. We arrived at the packhouse, and the driver drove to the back. There were two doors at the back. One read 'Bloods only' and the other read, 'Service only'. we went through the 'service only' door. The place stunk. It was musty dark, and old. "This is the service quarters." one of the men told me. The place was very unkept. I was ushered to a room that had three bunk beds and six dressers. The room stunk of piss, and I wanted to vomit.

Edward’s face pales as he gags and dry heaves. She rips out John’s heart and holds it up in front of Edward’s face and squeezes it until it pops like a balloon in his face spraying blood all over his face. Veronica wipes her hand off on Edwards shirt and goes back to stand in front of him. She nods to Hector who gets Edward out of his chair and chains him to ceiling. Edward is trying to fight his way out of Hector’s hold the whole time.

Her voice barely audible as if she's afraid someone will hear her. my eyes instantly find the house she's looking for and sure enough there's a man in his early fifties staring out of the porch of the normal looking two story town house and he has definitely noticed us. I don't think I just floor it to pass by as quickly as possible. I successfully make it past the house before the man is able to make it to the street. He's yelling obscenities and throwing rocks as I make a turn and round the corner.

All I have with me is my blood and the fact that I am a human, a Helsing. Helsings are humans, hunters rather. They're known as the protectors of the human kingdom, Doria, way before the vampires, werewolves and other night creatures took over the throne. They hunt down the nightcrawlers. Their blood smells nice too. Our blood. My blood. My head spun around, all the things that surrounded me began to disappear until everything went black and I opened my eyes. I woke up that morning with no energy at all. Lord Minir left the mansion without even saying goodbye to us except for a note he left on my bedside table, saying,

I nodded my head doing a mental check on all the things I needed to do before leaving, I need my bags, and a shower, I could still smell the blood. The car came to a stop in front of a building, it was an abandoned cabin surrounded by nothing but trees for miles, it had broken windows, and a huge sign with red paint splattered all over it, that looked almost like dried blood, on the one intact window, the fake blood wrote ‘GET OUT’ a mark in the front that almost looked like a gash.

she muttered Cynthia drained enough before making her way back to the restroom. Then, she let the blood drip onto the tiles near Damien’s forehead. The deep red liquid spread slowly, trickling across the floor like a trail. She gave the cloth one last squeeze, and more blood oozed out, seeping into the grout lines between the tiles. The scene was perfect. If I hadn’t been the one behind all of this, I would’ve believed Damien had slipped and crashed to the ground.

DAISY POV Blood dripped from my face onto the cold concrete floor. Drop… after drop… after drop. Warm and sticky, it slid down my cheek, tracing a slow path along my jaw before soaking into the collar of my shirt. The metallic scent filled my nose, thick and nauseating. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I stared at the spreading red spots, my vision blurring with tears. I slowly lifted my eyes and looked at Diesel. There was pure shock written across his face. His storm-gray eyes were wide, locked on the blood covering me. For a terrifying second, the whole room seemed to freeze. Then he muttered, his voice rough and low, almost broken:

The gates opened—slow, deliberate, gold-plated iron sliding apart. Elena drove through without hesitation. The driveway curved beneath a canopy of interlocked oaks. Ancient. Conspiring. At the final bend, the house emerged—three stories of pale limestone, tall windows lined up like frozen eyes, and doors thick enough to swallow a scream whole. A man in black directed her to park. His stillness was too practiced for a security guard. His eyes never stopped moving. The front door opened before she touched it.

Blood dripped on the carpet—dark red splatters that soaked in fast. The game wasn’t bloodier now. It's becoming personal. As it was before.