What Books Are Similar To The Dead Are Arising: The Life Of Malcolm X?

Adrian Moretti’s adopted sister—She knew perfectly well that I suffered from severe asthma and could not be exposed to smoke or strong scents. Yet during the yacht reception, she deliberately dragged me onto the open deck, where cigars burned nonstop and the wind howled. Within seconds, my chest tightened. When I reached for my inhaler, my blood ran cold. It was empty. I collapsed against the railing, gasping violently, my lungs burning as if they were collapsing in on themselves. She crouched beside me and smiled. “You’re always so dramatic. It’s just a little smoke. You don’t need to act like you’re dying,” she said softly. “You’re too weak. You need to build some tolerance.” I looked toward Adrian, my vision already blurring. “Adrian,” I choked. “Give me my inhaler. If I don’t use it right now, I’m going to suffocate.” He frowned slightly. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” he said coldly. “I’ve never heard of anyone dying from a bit of smoke. She’s right—you’re always seeking attention. We finally gathered tonight, and you’re ruining it.” My heart dropped. I fumbled for my phone and called my mother. “Mom,” I sobbed, barely able to breathe. “I’m being bullied… and I can’t breathe.” My voice shook violently.

She was a queen. Then she was a corpse. Then she clawed her way out of the ground with someone else's hands and every name of every person who killed her burning at the back of her mind like a lit fuse. Her husband took her head in a public square and called it justice. She calls it his funeral. She comes back with nothing — no wolf, no allies, no proof she is anything other than what she looks like. What she has is worse than a weapon. And something else lives inside her now. Something that was already there when she woke in the dark. Something that has been waiting far longer than she has. The most dangerous man on the continent has been destroying himself quietly for three years over a woman the world thinks is dead. He feels everything. She feels none of it. She did not climb out of that grave to fall for someone. But he is already in her blood in a way she cannot cut out — and loving him is going to cost her more than revenge ever will. Somewhere in that palace, her son is being raised on lies. Getting him back may break her in ways that dying never did. Can she outrun the thing growing inside her before it finishes what it started? Can she win back a son who has been taught to fear and hate her? And when she finally has to choose between the man who loved her through death itself and the revenge that brought her back — What kind of queen will she become?

Ramses Kane, the international playboy. Voted the Sexiest man alive as per People magazine for 7 years in a row. I've heard it all, seen it all. He and I have been 'together', for longer than I can even count. I am his main love interest. I got over the fact that if I want him in my life I have to share him. I learned that Ramses will never truly settle down. It would be with me if he did. So when he brings another woman into my bar, and introduces her as his girlfriend… I know something is awry. I have a terrible feeling about her. I know she has done something to Ramses, but he doesn't seem to notice. I am not a jealous woman, however, all I can feel is rage when I see Haven's face. I have been a Witch since birth. but attempt after attempt fails as I try to uncover the truth, and I realize that in order to save him, I have to do something forbidden by not only the Witches of the French Quarter, but The Ancestors... The ritual that I pulled power from, goes off without a hitch, but The Ancestors are beyond angry with me now. I had no idea the sheer consequences of my actions… Saving Ramses was worth the risk, but what is a Witch without her magic? The ritual to visit The Otherside is immensely dangerous, but I am determined to meet with The Ancestors and plead my case. I'm not sorry that I abused my powers to save Ramses. I plead my case but If I become one of them, I will never leave this place. Unfortunately, I dug my grave, now I have to lie in my coffin while they slam the lid shut.

My mother was once adored and protected by three men. As such, I had three fathers. After her death, I was raised by one of the greatest doctors, the richest man in Theala, and an award-winning actor. For 13 years, I was showered with overwhelming adoration. That was until three years ago—the day they adopted Erin, an orphan girl. From then on, they began to dote on her. When she accused me of stealing her necklace, they tore my room apart in their search, smashing my most cherished music box in the process. They only felt remorse when they saw me sobbing over the shards. As compensation, they bought me every music box they could find. When she claimed I mocked her for being an orphan, they forced me to write a hundred apology letters as punishment. They only massaged my hands in remorse upon seeing them trembling so badly that I could no longer feed myself. When Erin accused me of shredding her gown, they locked me in the dark basement, starving me for three whole days. When I was let out, they were filled with remorse upon realizing how much weight I had lost. Their bloodshot eyes watched over the grand feast they prepared as an apology. All of that lasted until Erin poisoned my cup of water. I kept coughing up blood as my body grew weaker by the day. Daniel only diagnosed me with malnutrition and made me take prescribed supplements. Unbeknownst to him, those supplements only hastened the poison's effects. After I collapsed at school, I went to the hospital for treatment. "You only have three days left to live," the doctor said. Why then… Why did my fathers drown themselves in sorrow and kill Erin after my death?

When I was three years old, my parents became infamous in our social circle as a mutually destructive couple for a misunderstanding that led them to cheat on each other. To get revenge on each other, they didn’t hesitate to hurt me just to hurt one another. Over the next five years, my mother beat me until my bones broke three times. My father “lost” me on purpose five times. And once, during one of their arguments, they threw me straight into the ocean. Eventually, they grew tired of that life, but instead of stopping, they changed the game. They got divorced, and each of them adopted a new child, showering them with affection as if it were some kind of competition As for me? I became the unwanted piece of trash. The only time I mattered was when they thought of each other, and they needed someone to take their anger out on. The only thing that kept me going was a small locket pendant they gave me when I was born. Engraved on it were the words: peace and joy. It was the only source of comfort I had. That was until I turned ten and someone tried to take this last piece of something that felt like it belonged to me away from me. I fought back with everything I had, and for that, I was beaten until my spleen ruptured. By the time my parents arrived, the ground was soaked in blood. However, their faces twisted with disgust. “Daisy, how did you end up like this? You’re just as disgusting as your father.” “What did you say? Say that again! Just look at her, dressed like that. If anything, she’s just as shameless as you!” My cries for help were drowned out by their argument. My body grew heavier and heavier, and before I realized it, the world went quiet. They finally stopped arguing, too.

She has fallen in love with a character from a book she has read a thousand times and after an incident, has awakened in her arms, but who knew that one's opinion could change so much upon seeing the actions of such a being up close. Even though she no longer sees him romantically, she wants to save him and his little son, she wants to give everyone a happy ending, but... what if they are right in the middle of THEIR happy ending? It should be okay, right? After all... This was never a story about King Callisto.