Tokyo Ghoul Cochlea Novels & Stories

Marcus, the quiet guy from accounting leaned against the door, arms crossed, with a bitter smirk twisting his lips. “McAllen,” he said. “You’ve been looking real happy lately. I see you enjoy your late night with the boss.” My stomach dropped. “What the hell are you talking about?” He stepped closer, I could see the jealousy in his eyes. “ I saw you leaving the private elevator. Looking like a man whose ass has taken some cock. You’re not the first, you know. The Ghost destroys anyone who tries to get close. You’re just the latest toy.” “The Ghost?” I laughed it off, but my voice sounded shaky even to me. “Sounds like some movie legend bullshit.”

' Sia growls. Followed by him,another ginger coloured wolf appears as big as him and then there are our Professors. "Oh my God!" Professor Sheila looks at the headless nightcrawler and then toward me whose teeth are soaked in the blood of the nightcrawler. But at that moment the only thing I can care about is the dead bodies of the students.

I stared at her, this woman so different from the one I remembered, and felt utterly lost. Was this really the woman I had loved all those years? "Carrie!" A sharp, anguished cry cut through the air from inside the car—it was my father. He had just watched the love of his life, his wife of decades, lying in a pool of blood. Grief overtook him, and he struggled to break free from the car, but his captors held him in place. Adeline's face twisted into a sinister smile. Through the car window, she said in a low, cold voice, "Tell Samuel to come out right now and perform the surgery—or his mother won't make it."

I said, my voice filled with surprise and gratitude. Cole nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Of course, we’re stronger together.” He said simply. “But how did you know water would kill them?” Ricky asked, slapping a hand around Cole’s shoulders. “I just noticed that as they attacked us, they seemed to avoid the pool of water, then I remembered reading about ghouls in Dad’s library one time, about their allergy to water.” He answered with a laugh. “Phew,” I sighed. “I guess we all should have read about ghouls. Who would have thought about that.” I added jokingly and we shared a laugh.

He yanked the drive out. "Override Code: Museum Audio System!" Alex shouted. BZZZZT! Suddenly, the museum's speakers blasted at maximum volume: The roar of a T-Rex. ROOOOOOAAAAAR! The sound was deafening. The sensitive ears of the Hellhounds couldn't handle it. They whined, pawing at their heads, disoriented and stunned. "Let's go!" Mia grabbed her fallen baton and sprinted towards the skylight rope. Alex grabbed her waist and hit the winch button.

From where Trisha and Wilkes were, their hearts pummeled against their ribcage. “With... What?” Derek coughed out, trying to reach his axe but to no avail. “Who. Are. You?” “I ask the questions here!” the ghoul said forcefully with an unhidden tint of animosity. “You are going to help us get your friend, Harold Girard.” Like that, the ghoul twisted his neck tighter and as a reflex action, Derek opened his mouth wider, not daring to breath then unrealistically, Trisha and Wilkes watched the ghoul float into his mouth in mere seconds with its dark, smoky wisps gliding down his throat.

The last thing she heard was a smooth familiar voice yell; “Enough! She’s staying." data-p-id=7e9013ab2d2276816a3fc59976f040a9,Blood. More blood. Screaming. Blood. Screaming. Pain. Ghoul. Blood. Mum. Dad. Flesh. Human flesh. Blood. Ghoul. Pain. Dead. Both dead. Blood. Ghoul . . . Blaise.

“Lift a paw to your nose, Manolya. It reeks of demon filth.” I swept the light across the chamber. In the center sat an empty stone coffin, its edges jagged. I stepped closer, squinting at the surface. Gnaw marks. Deep, frantic grooves in the stone that no human tool could make. “So it is indeed ghouls,” I murmured. “They are hiding from the sun.” “Low-level pranksters,” Aziz scoffed. “So annoying. What is the motive? Why here? That part I do not understand.”

Her voice dripped with mock disappointment, as if she were scolding a child who'd tried to sneak cookies before dinner. "Oh, Rachel. Sweet, naive Rachel. Did you honestly believe that in all my years of studying creatures like you, I wouldn't have contingencies? Backup plans?" She tilted her head, watching me with the clinical interest of a scientist observing a lab rat. "You're not the first Ghost Wolf I've encountered, dear. Just the most stubborn." The moment her hands came together, I heard it—a soft hissing sound, like steam escaping from a kettle. Hidden vents in the ceiling, ones I'd never noticed before, began releasing a fine silver mist that caught the light from my aura and sparkl

{Special delivery, boss,} Ankou announces in his doll-like voice which always sounds like it’s coming from a phonograph record embedded in him. The only difference this time is his head with the Cheshire-cat grin has been torn off and is tucked under his arm. {Spank these foul creatures back to our hole sweet hell.} Without warning, Ankou’s voice is reduced to gurgling, as though the doll had suddenly been thrown into a fire. At Hell’s Helm, Spinstra has just sliced his throat.