Novelas y relatos de Vampire Painter

“They said the corpse looked like it was ravaged by dogs. The article went into gore detail about the claw and bite marks, and how he was sucked dry.” We turned to another hallway and was immediately greeted by the huge framed portraits of all the captains the guild had over the years since it was established. It adorned both walls so walking through this particular hallway had always been my least favorite part in wrapping up a mission. It didn’t help either that each captain in the portraits held a frightening scowl on their faces. Why was it a requirement to scowl in photographs? I wish somebody smiled in pictures for a change. “Sucked dry?” Kyle inched closer. Our cheeks were touching, m

I asked, making sure that he could be seen in my peripherals. He seemed confused by my question. I took that opportunity to further elaborate, less I start staring at him again. "Well, she obviously lied to Xander that she wasn't feeling well even after she was, and then she lied to both of you about her having a stomach ache." Still, he looked confused. "What?" He asked. I turned my head to meet his gaze. Not anything else, just his gaze. "Can't vampires tell if a human is lying?" I asked. He thought for a moment, finally understanding what I wanted to have answered.

Kat left, and Tyler took the seat that she had vacated. "Please have a seat," Monica said to the two. They were both vamps. I opened the folder. The two vamps stared at the crucifix around my neck and dropped teeth. I stared at them. One was a tall thin, slick-dressed man. He reminded me of a pimp. His hair was dark and tied behind him in a long ponytail. The other was small and looked like a weasel. What criteria did Masters use when turning vamps? These two looked like two-bit thugs.

She was dressed in a simple, flowing dress, her hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. Remembering an old memory that hasn't died yet, even after centuries. I had painted the portrait when I was still mortal and as young as 15 years old, the same day I was turned into a vampire. It had been one of my earliest attempts at capturing the beauty of the world around me, and I had poured all my love and admiration for my mother into the painting. It was the same day I touched a paintbrush and attempted to paint. The same day and hours before my mother was killed, the beautiful smile on her face in the painting vanished a few hours after, the same day our manor was attacked by rogue vamp

It's a drawing of a werewolf giving its heart to a human girl. It felt surreal yet real. I was certain the painter had some sort of inspiration and interpretation behind this painting. “Ahem,” I turned my head swiftly to see who had coughed. It was the driver—or I could identify him as the man I almost killed. His stubble is more visible and his curly black hair juxtaposes his tan skin tone. “Looking for something?” He asked firmly, his eyes darting from me to the painting. I strode a little further towards him.

On the left-hand page of this enchanting tome, Astrid's eyes fell upon the captivating portrait of none other than the enigmatic Vampire King, Dexter Aquilo Gunner. His allure was beyond compare, akin to a masterpiece that had been granted the very breath of life. Dexter's vampiric features added a tantalizing edge to his persona; his porcelain skin appeared to shimmer and gleam under the gentle caress of the moon's ethereal glow. His sleek, snowy-white hair, meticulously arranged into a fashionable fringe, cascaded gracefully, partially veiling his inscrutable brow. It was as though the moonlight itself had conspired to frame him in an aura of mystique.

"Are you sure that painting isn't a fake? Do you mean the original painting by Michelangelo?” He spoke. "Yes. There have been vampires in existence since the 13th century, and some of the paintings or weapons that you see here were taken by mortals but were later recovered. Additionally, some of the paintings and weaponry that you see here were stolen by vampires.” He spoke the following words: "My ancestors are somehow friends with him and do paintings with the greatest artists of all time including Leonardo da Vinci."

Morvath said evenly, “that something is being written.” Silence again. He continued. “Small alterations. Coincidences bending too cleanly. Outcomes aligning where they should not.” Kaelith leaned forward slightly now. “If the Painter exists, they would not know what they are.” “Correct,” Ilythra replied. “Untrained?” Valerian asked. “Yes.” Cassian exhaled slowly. “That makes them more dangerous.” Because an unaware creator has no discipline. No restraint. Druvien’s eyes flicked across the chamber. “And you believe Pendragon and this Painter are linked?”

He was like a wind when he went near them, you could not even notice him with your bare eyes when he does that, it was one of his abilities as a VAMPIRE. The criminal and the victim were shocked by his sudden appearance, they didn’t notice him. The woman cried, she was glad that someone came to help her, but she was still worried because she could only see a thin yet tall young man, she wondered if she could beat the guy who was thrice bigger than him, especially that he has no weapon. “How dare you disturb me when I’m not even finished and just starting to feel good,.,’’ he glared at him as he let go of the woman’s neck.

“Wha' wrog?” “They found another body,” She said, “Under the bridge. Same place as the last one. They said the body had all its blood drained out.” “Just like the last ones.” I shivered. She turned to me, eyebrows raised. “Apparently there are no obvious wounds. Do you still think they’re animal attacks?” “Of course.” I rolled my eyes. “What else would they be? Vampires?” “You think I’m crazy, but that’s the only explanation that makes sense.”