The Stalking Dead Novels & Stories

“Square in the chest. Don’t hold back.” Her fingers flex. She shifts her weight, clearly considering it, but she’s overthinking—telegraphing every movement. Then she swings. I sidestep at the last second, catching her wrist and twisting it smoothly behind her back. She gasps as her back presses against my chest. I lean down, my breath brushing her ear. “Dead.” She jerks against my hold, but I don’t release her right away. Instead, I lower my mouth closer. “That was slow.”

said a gruff voice. Gripping arms pulled me up, hoisting me into a chair. They bound me, the rough ropes cutting into my wrists, pinning me like a beast before slaughter. Phantoms circled around me, figures gliding with muted malice. I could hardly raise my head, but I felt their gazes on me as if they were vultures around a dying man. A lone overhead light flickered on above the empty warehouse. The walls were dank with cracks and stains from ancient rust and the corpses of victims past. The air reeked of oil, sweat and my blood.

He played with them. “When did you…? Are you stalking me?” “Yes.” And he was admitting with a straight face. Wait, if he was truly stalking me, then he should have seen all the weird things I did while I was alone. “You’re weird,” I chuckled. But I quickly took a serious expression. “Do you know who was murdered?”

She cursed the tears that had made her miss her way so… cursed the entire town and the day she ever set foot in it. Natalie had always thought Clarksville was bad— and to be honest, it was, but at least she could deal with the things that happened to her over there, Being bullied and being the town outcast seemed to be nothing when placed in comparison to having a stalker watch your every mood while claiming you as his! Oh Natalie, but what makes you think it’s a man? Her subconscious mocked darkly, drawing a shiver out of the young, scantily-clad woman. She didn’t even have time to contemplate if her shivering had to do with her thoughts or with the chilly nature of her surroundings, for sh

The black blood of the stalker hissed as it hit the stone, a foul, acidic smell filling the narrow tunnel. "They hunt in waves!" Kaelen shouted, her own blade flashing as three more of the things dropped from the dark. The Sentinels formed a circle, their backs to the center, but the sheer number of stalkers was overwhelming. They were pouring out of the cracks in the ceiling like a flood of pale flesh. I felt the panic rising, but then I felt the cool, steadying influence of the black veins on my arms. They didn't want me to hide. They wanted to feed.

"This isn't a soot-storm anymore. We have a 'Phase-Shift' breach!" The suspense of the "Descent" was a nightmare of shifting geometry. The Stalkers didn't need to break the bronze-wood hull; they simply vibrated at a frequency that allowed them to pass through solid matter as if it were a liquid. On the residential levels, the temperature plummeted. Wherever a Stalker passed, the moisture in the air didn't just freeze—it sublimated into jagged frost-flowers that hummed with a low, malevolent energy.

They were massive, prowling the edge of the crater on four multi-jointed limbs, their featureless heads sweeping back and forth. Unlike the Sentinels, the Stalkers didn't just delete what they touched. From their backs, tendrils of void-whips lashed out, casually unmaking boulders and debris as they paced. There were six of them. We were out of comms. Dax looked at me, then at Reaper and Sienna. He tapped two fingers against his chest, then pointed to the left flank of the crater. I will draw them left. He pointed to Reaper and Sienna, slicing his hand down the middle. You take the center. Cover fire if it goes loud. Finally, he looked at me and pointed directly at the glowing purple tear in

Something that still carries the Church’s coin and the Church’s warrants. He sips his ale slowly, eyes scanning the wall behind the bar where fresh posters have been tacked up. The ink is still damp in places. Raven Winterstar stares back at him from the parchment—child’s face, white hair, sharp blue eyes that seem to follow him even in charcoal and soot. Below the sketch: **NECROMANTRESS. 500 GOLD MARKS. DEAD OR ALIVE.** Garrick sets the tankard down. Wipes foam from his mustache with the back of his hand. He’s seen worse bounties. He’s hunted worse things. But a child who raises the dead… that’s new. That’s interesting.

Chapter 13: Now spread "I... don't understand. Who are you, and who's the walking shadow with the knife?" "My n-name's Kelly. He's the Stalker. He comes every night since the first time he caught me. He won't leave me alone. Every night he comes and... and..." She broke into tears again. Michael took her in his arms and allowed her to sob into his shoulder. Unfortunately, he was a teenage boy and not used to comforting crying women. After a while, however, her tears subsided. She looked up at him. "He comes every night to rape me. All I can do is hide, and he always finds me." She looked away, as if disgusted with herself. "The things he does to me... It's worse every time. I d-don't think I

She said taking the phone and she looked at the screen, when she saw it, she dropped the phone immediately and fell to the floor puking her guts out. "And that is why you never went to med school." Korina said watching Daniella in her own pile of vomit. Gross. "You have nothing to worry about honey, I took care of him like I promised." Korina read this text again and again and then she looked at the picture, her insides turning, the mangled form of jeffery's body and dismembered body parts. It wasn't a pretty sight. "I can't even look at that." Daniella dropped the glass of water she held and shook her head in irritation, "your stalker is one hell of a psychopath."