White Walker Novels & Stories

It was declared bankrupt three years after he took lover. We don’t see White Claw very often. He is constantly on the move. Many different beings would try and end his life if he stayed in one place for too long, so they have to try and catch him first. We communicate regularly through our mindlink but I never know where he is. His powers of prophecy and abilities mean, that if he were ever caught, he could be used to change the course of the present to manipulate the future. It is why the witches have sent hunters after him through the ages, all of them have had their heads returned in a bag to the door of which ever coven sent them. Even the Vampires have tried to catch him and when that’s

I demanded, stepping toward her. Mira leaned forward as far as her chains would allow, her black eyes locked onto mine. "If he does not get affected, then in truth, you are the one. You are the white healer our village has been looking for for decades. The only one who can walk through the death and remain clean."

He opens his leather satchel, pulling out a heavy silver syringe filled with a dark, amber liquid—the concentrated Zetro Vesper mix laced with Moon Yetako. Old Frederick Whitmore lies in the heavy carved chair at the end of the dais. His eyes are cloudy, his legs wrapped in thick furs, completely motionless. He tries to lift a hand, his lips moving silently, trying to reach out toward me, but Malcolm steps in front of his line of sight, blocking him. "Do it, Doctor," Malcolm commands. "Stop," I say. My voice isn't loud, but it drops the room's temperature by ten degrees. Arabella laughs, a high, mocking sound. "Or what, Darcy? You'll bite us? You don't have teeth! You're a human girl in the

"Elowen, your hearth is cold, but the Whitlock bloodline still flows warm in your veins," Garrick Whitlock says, his thick fingers tightening around my wrist like iron bands. "I brought you a cup of spiced winter-mead. Drink it. You look pale enough to pass for a corpse."

It was here that the masks the city's secret immortals wore in the human world could be removed. I saw a famous surgeon named Dr. Alistair Finch and a solitary centuries-old artist known only as Silas engaging in a quiet game of chess. I also saw a rock star who had achieved fame under three different names in three different centuries laughing with a prominent Wall Street financier. We go by the easy moniker of White Vampires which befits a challenging decision. We only consume animal blood because we see ourselves as protectors of humanity rather than its murderers. Although it is a noble life, it is never truly satisfying.

like so white it almost looked like it was grey in the lights. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Zach hissed. "What... no, what the fuck," I shook my head at him, confused at that question. Who in their right mind attended a party just to get killed? "No, Zach, what are you talking about?" Zach leaned closer, making sure his tone was low when he spoke. "I have no idea how she did it or why she's doing it, but I do know she doesn't smell human or werewolf." His eyes flicked toward the doorway where Rhea had just walked through. "River... that girl is a damn vampire."

"The ancestral liquor in this sector is brewed with wolfsbane extracts to test a bloodline’s resilience, Chika," Lucien muttered, his knuckles turning white against the armrest of his transport chair as the banquet hall cleared out. "My uncles are intentionally pressing the glasses to see if my system can still filter the toxicity. If your core isn't built for heavy tactical sedation, you need to return to the barracks immediately."

“You’ve grown broader since you survived the Whitmore slaughter, Chika.” “Thank you, Maestro,” I say, bowing my head in respect. Vance walks over to an iron workbench and pours three glasses of dark, distilled wolf-whiskey. He pushes two glasses toward us. “Drink. It cuts through the chill of the war-zone.” I take a glass and swallow the burning liquid in one gulp, the alcohol firing through my throat while Peyton sips his cautiously, sniffing the rim first. Vance chuckles at Peyton’s paranoia. “Jamaican Blue Mountain moonshine, aged in charred silver barrels. The water temperature during distillation was kept at absolute zero to extract the raw magic.”

One drink would leave a regular human near drunk so I couldn’t image what it would be like for them and Star had already had some of the drinks I made tonight. “It’s just those drinks are way stronger than normal ones, this bar is ran by witches and a warlock.” I said pointing in the direction of Ji-ho’s office. My mate growled a little at the mention of Ji-ho’s name, I only rolled my eyes at him. We finally made it to Star and Axel as they were facing a group of other wolves who were also downing the special drinks. A large man who looked older with a bold head and long beard was downing another shot before he got all wobbly and fell from his chair.

"Because you should have never come close to what was mine, Rhea. You’re a stray. A human girl with a drop of special blood who thought she could walk into a kingdom and take the crown." She reaches out and strokes my hair, a mock-tender gesture that makes my skin crawl. "Don't worry. It’ll all be over soon. Do you know what was in that wine? White Shade. That is a rare sedative that doesn't just knock you out, it clears your most recent memory, especially the ones that took place right before you go unconscious.