Wake Of Vultures Book Novels & Stories

Sam woke to the sound of screeching birds. He opened his eyes and saw, high up overhead, several huge vultures circling. There must have been a dozen of them, and they circled lower and lower, seemingly right over him, as if watching him. As if waiting. He suddenly realized they assumed he was dead, and were waiting for their chance to swoop in and eat him. Sam jumped to his feet, and as he did, the birds suddenly flew off, as if startled that the dead could rise again.

she whispered. They walked out of the master suite, their boots echoing through the hollow lodge. Outside, the pre-dawn silence was shattered by the sudden, synchronized roar of thirty V-Twin engines. The mist was being torn apart by the headlights of the Iron Vultures, a sea of chrome and leather waiting in the gravel. Julian stepped onto the porch of the Nest, the President of the city's deadliest gang finally fully realized. He looked at the men, then at the road that led back to the city.

They were wolves the size of small cars, their breath hot and smelling of raw copper. "Rowan, get up," I pleaded, shaking him. "Rowan, please, they're going to kill us!" Rowan’s eyes were open, but they were glazed. He was staring at Valerius, his body twitching. "Kaima..." he whispered. "The violet... it’s not ink. It’s not ink anymore." A War-Hound lunged, its jaws open to snap Rowan’s neck. I threw myself over him, closing my eyes, waiting for the teeth to tear through my real, fragile skin. I waited for the end of the story. I waited for the final "Delete."

She teased him further by twirling a crimson curl around her finger, but even without her encouragement, he was eager to have his fill of her. He wanted to yell out, "Ravena !" However, he had no control over the dream's speaking portion. He was unable to hear the birds chirping in the trees or the wind rustling the leaves. Despite the thundering clouds forming in the night sky, which indicated they would soon receive a burst of rain, he was unable to smell the pine needles or spruce or determine whether they were due for a shower. He was only able to gaze in awe at the spectacle before him and reach out to touch her, feel her skin on his like silk, the sheen of her hair, and the beat of her

In her dream, the world was on fire. She stood in the middle of a blood-soaked field, the sky above her weeping crimson rain. Wolves lay strewn across the earth, broken and still—familiar forms that tore her heart asunder. Zevi's curls were matted with blood. Rune's strong hands were limp at his sides. Lioren's lips, once always smirking, hung parted with no breath between them. Zarek—gods, Zarek—was sprawled nearest her, his chest unmoving, his black hair dusted with ash and ruin. "No," Veyra whispered, stumbling between their fallen forms. "No, no, please—"

Time hadn’t touched this place, it had only made it colder. Dario Vescari stood in the library, a crystal glass of dark liquor in his hand, watching the fire burn low in the hearth. The scent of cedar and old books filled the room, wrapping around him like memory. Behind him, the Vulture paced, his silhouette sharp against the stained glass. “Your estate,” the Vulture said, voice flat, “still reeks of ghosts.” Dario took a sip. “Better ghosts than traitors.” The Vulture didn’t reply.

But nothing could have prepared me for what we found. The Steel Vultures' compound looked like a war zone. Worse than a war zone… like the site of a massacre. Buildings reduced to smoking rubble, vehicles overturned and burning, debris scattered across ground that was dark with too much blood. Bodies lay where they'd fallen, human and wolf alike, testimony to violence that had raged for hours. The scent hit me like a physical blow. Death and smoke and underneath it all, faint but unmistakable… Kiera's scent. Terror and fury and something that smelled like wolf-shift under extreme duress.

The sound wave hit the frequency of the Carrion Birds. High above the storm, a flock of mutated, scavenging vultures had been circling, waiting for the loser to die. They were attracted to high-pitched distress signals. One of the vultures, a forty-pound bird with a beak like a pickaxe, dove. It wasn't aiming for Valerius. It was diving for the source of the sound—Hailey. But Hailey slipped on a patch of slime. She fell. The bird missed her.

“What is it?” I inhaled sharply—and the scent hit me. Rancid. Bitter. Not pack. Not friend. Rogues. My lips peeled back into a snarl. “Trouble.” The gates shuddered, then burst inward with the force of bodies slamming through. Shadows spilled into the courtyard—wolves, lean and feral, eyes glowing with hunger. Rogues. At least seven of them. The air erupted with chaos. Guards shouted, steel clashed, claws ripped against armor. The courtyard became a storm of violence.

But if I could not live with him, then I would make sure these vultures never touched him too. When I opened my eyes, I saw the fear in theirs. And I laughed again. Pure satisfaction. They wanted to run but they were still convincing themselves I was lying. If they ran and it turned out I was only lying, it would make them look weak, which was one of their biggest fears. "You thought you had me," I whispered. "But I have all of you." The explosion came like thunder. A roar that shook the very bones of the mansion. Heat, light, and fire swallowed everything. The walls cracked and flew apart. Screams filled the air, short, sharp, cut off as the flames devoured them.