What Moves The Dead Kindle Novels & Stories

I growled and he shifted realizing that I was changing before his eyes. "Nice to meet you, Death," he purred and I instantly transformed into my dark inky mass. I watched the reaper try to break forth but Rai resisted and remained himself. I pushed my excited Death back and continued tying him face down to the bed. I pulled off his pants and underwear and bit his ass cheek, making him jump. I spread his legs and tied each of them as well. Rai watched me curiously as I headed back to the cabinet and came back with a medium size butt plug and a lit candle.

I ignored her and instructed the servants to escort the old woman to her chambers to rest. I knew perfectly well what she really meant. In seven days, the death-feigning potion would wear off and Stellan would come back to life. When that happened, he would not let me get away with it. However, that was fine. I was not going to give him the chance. In this life, Stellan Montclair was going to stay exactly what he was—a dead man in a crypt. "Mother." Ansel tilted his head up to look at me, reaching out with a small hand to tug at my sleeve.

It tries to send the memory through her knees, her hands, her throat. Maya lets it arrive. Then she steps left. The dead follow sound and motion. They do not think. They do not plan. They do not fake low and attack high. They are patient appetite in a ruined suit. “Behind?” she whispers. Clear within twenty feet, LUS says. “Lovely.” The dead man reaches. Maya lets him commit, shifts inside the arc, hooks her foot behind his ankle, and drives the crowbar hard into the side of his knee.

"Not just this thing. The smell. Under the rot." I've been choking on the rot. I push past it. And there it is. The same wrongness that was carved into the birch. I study the thing we killed. I’ve seen enough dead to know the stages of decomposition. This didn't die Tuesday with a cute phone in its pocket. "It's old," I say. "Been dead a long time." Dax goes still. "The ones going missing," he says slowly. "They're disappearing alive." "Yeah." "So this isn't one of them."

My friends already got inside and I was the one who left so I moved faster and I tried to hide in the corpse. While I was doing that I kept on looking behind me because they may be at my back already but I saw that they are a few meters away and they are stuck into the corpse because a lot of them were moving like there is no brain at all. Well, they don't have a brain because they're already dead. I saw Mr. Death walking back to the door of the purgatory. I needed to reach the door before he could go back into his position so I moved fast but I heard one of the guards shout that he saw moving like it's not a dead person.

Then, she grabbed Alice, trying to pull her away, but Alice yelled, "Well, just take Grandma's bankbook! All her money's ours when she dies, isn't it?" I slapped her. I couldn't stand hearing that come out of her mouth. "Keep dreaming. Everything's in my name," I said. I gave them a cold stare and made sure they heard every word. "You're all screwed if anything happens to Grandma!" After they left, I turned around to find Grandma sitting quietly behind me. Helena, looking a little lost, gestured for me to comfort her. Grandma reached out and pulled me into a hug. "Don't be afraid, Zoe."

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐙𝐨𝐧𝐞 The iron grate clattered shut above them with the sound echoing like a gunshot through the narrow brick shaft. Maya fell through the darkness, her stomach lurching as gravity briefly took hold, until her boots hit a layer of cold, stagnant water with a heavy splash.

I was going to have to be enough with the worse ear and a name in an old woman's coat that the whole world was apparently willing to die over. The step came closer. Stopped. Came closer. Maren's hand closed on my drawing wrist and pressed down. Don't. I let the string ease back, slow, a finger at a time. It came up through the pines twenty feet off, and I saw it in pieces between the trunks. Not the man. Not Corvus. Something smaller and worse... one of the dead off the keeper's hill, every human thing gone out of how it moved. The cold rolled off it and I felt it on my teeth. It turned its head, slow, listening with whatever it had instead of ears.

Press it lightly against my chest. There it is. That second pulse. Not painful this time. Not sharp. Just… there. Steady. Present. Like something alive. I frown slightly. My fingers press a little more. It doesn’t go away. Draven is dead. The thought comes quietly. Not as loud as before. Not as sharp. Just… there. He’s dead. I swallow. My throat feels tight. You said it yourself. You accepted it. My fingers curl slightly against my shirt.

Bone snapped under the weight; the beast pinwheeled away, limp, then still. Kimberly twisted in her seat, breath thin. “Is it dead?” Jake watched the ruin on the road shrinking behind them, weapon ready across his knees. “Not for long.” They hammered forward. A beat passed. Then the thing moved. Torn muscle knit. Bones slid back into sockets with soft, obscene pops. It rose, head cocked like something listening to a far whisper. Somewhere in the dark, a call went out. The beast pivoted—not toward them, but away—answering her voice.