The Woman In Black Novels & Stories

A woman emerged into the light. She was a tall, elegant woman, with steel in her spine. Her existence was a knife at the neck, serrated and unmoving. Her hair was dark and tumbled in loose waves, her eyes hard and unforgiving. I recognized her immediately. Because legends lingered even in exile. Lilith Blackmoor. Jameson remarked under his breath. “Oh, fantastic. It’s her.” Soraya stiffened. “She’s dangerous.”

came a woman’s shriek. They all turned to see a woman marching towards them from down the hallway. She, too, was dressed in all black, with long, flowing red hair that trailed past her shoulders, and large, shiny green eyes. She was tall, ageless, and strikingly beautiful. I felt humbled in her presence, like I had just shrunk. This was a woman. Or was it…vampire? Whatever she was, she was a creature that I could never compete with. I felt deflated, prepared to concede Caleb to whoever she was.

IN THE WOODS. In the deepest woods that was completely dark because of the several huge trees, feminine figures could be seen sitting on mortars that were covered with black clothes. They all sat in circles with their black long hairs almost covering their entire face, leaving only their completely black eyes visible and standing in front of them was a woman in a long black cloak and a long black veil draped over her face. There seemed to be a heavy sadness among them and in the silence, the muffled sobs of one of them could be heard. Unlike every of the other witches black hair, the sobbing woman hair had a large amount of grey hair in the middle of her hair unlike before.

Their soft wails filled the sterile room as if the sound itself sought to cut through the mansion’s cold silence. But there would be no rescue, no salvation. Soon, a woman in a white lab coat, her nameplate showing, Dr. Ana Blackwood walked among the cribs, her eyes scanning the infants with a detached clinical focus. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly, her face pale and expressionless. She had been with the Black Order for decades now, her loyalty and her role in Project Regen the Elixir of Youth were pivotal. She was no stranger to death or suffering—it was merely a part of her work now.

Her heart slammed in her chest, but her mind was razor-sharp. She wouldn’t lose him again. She turned the corner into a wide corridor—and froze. A figure stood at the far end. But it wasn’t Victor. It was a woman. Tall. Slender. Dressed in black from head to toe. And smiling. “I was wondering when we’d meet,” the woman said smoothly. Her voice was cold silk. “Who the hell are you?” Elena demanded. “The one Victor trusts with the things he doesn’t want stained by his own hands.” She tilted her head. “You’ve been quite the problem, Miss Romano. Or should I say—Raven Black?”

I had been to Mila's house lots of times, but it wasn't even a quarter of this I forced my expression into indifference, refusing to let my awe show, I felt my jaw drop as Rowan led me inside, past the angel shaped fountain outside and through the steel doors. Inside, the air smelled faintly of wood polish and something expensive I couldn’t name. The ceilings were high enough to swallow sound. My footsteps felt too loud, I felt small, both literally, and figuratively. Rowan led me forward. “This way.” A middle-aged woman appeared near the staircase, her posture straight, her smile warm and practiced. “This is Mrs. Black,” Rowan said. Her eyes softened. It seemed she was staff. “Welcome home,

And to Peter’s left, standing so still she seemed carved from the shadows, was a woman who could only be Morwen. The witch. She was slender, wrapped in dark gray wool, her hair the color of smoke. Her face was ageless—neither young nor old—but her eyes… they held a depth that made my skin prickle. They were the deep green of forest moss, and they saw far too much. “Jessica Blackthorn,” Peter said, his voice like stones grinding. “Or should I say, Blackwell-to-be?” I stopped in front of him and lifted my chin. “You know who I am. And you know what you’ve done is an act of war against both Blackthorn and Blackwell. My father will burn your territory to ash.”

"How do we know these mate bonds are real? How do we know you have not bewitched the three sons?" "I have not bewitched anyone," Miranda protested. "Then prove it," Thomas demanded. "How? How am I supposed to prove something you have already decided is false?" The room erupted in arguments. Some defending Miranda, most questioning her. The noise grew louder, voices overlapping until Miranda could not track who was saying what. Then the door opened. Everyone went silent. A woman entered. Tall, elegant, dressed in black. Her hair was silver-grey, pulled back severely from a face that might have been beautiful if not for the coldness in her eyes. She moved with the confidence of someone who had

Now, either that man was always thrilled by the prospect of having a near death experience… or… he had an unhealthy obsession with flowers and flower vases. Security appeared almost immediately on our floor and went in for the woman— a blonde haired, pretty woman with boobs so huge and so fake that they barely moved out of place despite her crazy movements. She was beautiful… you know, the kind that somehow managed to make plastic surgery work for them, which made it even more confusing. What was so fucking special about Adonis Blackwell? “You!” The venomousness in that word alone was enough to rouse me out of my thoughts and send chills down my spine as the strawberry blond tore herself awa

The rogues remain in the shadow of the forest though, like they are waiting for someone, waiting for an okay. A moment later a woman steps into the light, she’s short, with jet black hair and Asian features. She’s fully dressed in black tech-wear and on each side of her head I can see a handle of a sword. From one look at her blood red eyes I can tell she’s a vampire.