Danny Phantom Ghost Novels & Stories

Phantom said. For a moment, the tension in the room shifted. Phantom had brought with him a glimmer of hope, and I was desperate for anything to stop this nightmare. But it wasn’t over—not yet. Damon quickly recovered, a snarl escaping his lips as he stood, summoning his shadows once again. The room grew darker and his energy surged.

My other hand balled into a fist, as I let my ice cream drop, pulling Danny along towards the exit. “The crazy desire for blood, the presence in the night, the irritated reaction to garlic…” Danny kept on muttering things as we left. I could smell the fear all over him. I turned to him, grabbing his chin and pushing his head up. “What the fuck is your problem?” I asked, as I let go of him almost immediately. “He's a vampire.” He said, his hands shaking like he was about to suffer epilepsy. “Moon Goddess,” I said under my breath, rubbing my face with my palms as I sighed. “There's no way I'd get beaten by a vampire, that thing was way too strong, and his obviously not a vampire.”

"And the Ghost is born. Are you certain about this, Agent? Once you step through those gates, the Bureau cannot pull you out. You are officially an unregistered rogue." "I’ve been a ghost for ten years," Dante replied, his eyes tracing the silhouette of his mother’s face on a burning photograph before it turned to cinder. "Is the Vanni introduction set?" "It is. Enzo 'The Cleaver' Vanni is bleeding thirty million dollars a week because the Marcone family is raiding his northern supply lines. He’s desperate, paranoid, and looking for unlisted muscle. But he will test you, Dante. He’ll want to see if you bleed blue or crimson."

‘The person who could brave through a wall of phantoms will not die easily. She will not die like this. I don’t know why, but I trust her,’ said Alpha Dylan at the back of his restless mind. Alpha Dylan was convincing himself the entire time. He watched as the legion of phantoms flocked around the trashing white winged beast. The clashing of flames with black and red flame exploded like fireworks onto the northern sky. He was so transfixed observing the aerial fight that his other senses were muted.

I whispered, the name tasting like cold ash. From the black-emerald light of the Ziggurat, a new figure stepped out—not a god, and not a machine, but a Revenant of the Foundry, his skin still charred by my sunset-gold fire, his eyes glowing with the hollow, blue light of a Man who has already been through Hell. "Welcome back to the Foundry of the Soul, Darlene," Silas growled, his voice a perfect mirror of my own nightmares. "It’s time to find out if the 'Queen' can survive the Ghosts she thought she had Buried."

"Just don't be afraid of me. If it bothers you, don't look." With those words, he seemed to dissolve into a thick stack of black fog. His face peered from the center and took on a horrifying, almost demonic appearance, with glowing red eyes and elongated features made of the same fog. Emily opened her mouth in a silent scream, but the only sound that emerged was an almost inaudible squeak. "Don't look," he commanded, his voice sounding like a haunted howl of wind. "Hold on tight," he instructed as the group barreled through the line of werewolves and into the night.

“This way, I decide whom I see and when.” “Unless they touch you without your permission. Spirits reaching out for help or trying to scare you away don’t hesitate to touch you.” “Oh, true,” I muttered. “You should try and see what happens.” He swallowed and turned to the open door, raising his voice. “Hey, kids! Wanna play a game?” I giggled, seeing how naturally he transitioned to Haunter Supreme to boss ghosts around and resume breakfast. “What game?” asked one of the tablets a moment later. Brandon replied like he was addressing any regular kid and nodded to me, his mug right by his mouth.

Its ears had stood up straight, searching for the source of the sound, slowly breathing through its muzzle as its eyes searched round in the darkness and the woods for the one who made such sound It still had a Mark on its claws. The other had shifted back to his human form, and his pain had increased with his shifting process. He was weak beyond imagination. The Phantom was a powerful beast that night, and his strength had failed him when it came to fighting such a monstrosity. It searched until its eyes had caught the sight of something hidden within the trees. It intentionally reduced his breath, breathing slowly while it strained its eyes deeply into viewing what it had suspected to be t

He yelled out a spell, while cursing the woman who was right behind him, Jenny. "You traitor! You brought me here to be killed..? You'll forever regret this you bitch! What an ass hole you are, traitor! I'll deal mercilessly with you, I promise you swine!" There was a look of a scared beast on his face. The shadow moved closer, and when the final moment struck, the shadow's mouth opened up in fury. Malison turned again to Jenny as he met her gaze. The shadow became a hungry monster, showing its fist, ready for action. Malison's vampire charged up, and released the first strike, but the shadow dogged and blocked the swing. The impact of the fist was heavy. He gripped his sword and came at Mal

"Everyone in back, move it! The higher-ups are breathing down our necks again." All the Phantom Patrols wore boring suits and had completely forgettable faces. Blanc and Noir stood out though. They kept taking a step forward, then glancing back at her nervously. Some Phantom Patrol they knew walked over. "How come you only brought one today? Are you still dealing with that York family mess?" He pulled out what looked like a Ghost Candle and offered it to Blanc. Both of them sniffed it hard—that was how dead people socialized down here, and it's called soul communion. They were pretty much like cigarettes for living people, but way more potent.