Dash Quest Ghost Lantern Novels & Stories

Tears rolls down his mom’s face while Evelyn spirit walks into the office smiling and she flashes back to how her spirit comes out of Marylyn’s body and keeps following her mom, she was feeling pitied for her at the party that she doesn’t know she was dead only for her to see her buying chemical at the chemical shop and injecting it to her drink and gives it to a waiter to bring it to Marylyn who was sited finding everything strange. She was shocked to see her mother inject the drink and wanted to give Marylyn because she thought she was the one and she when the waiter was about bringing it she entered into the waiter to control her at that moment and she changes the drink and she serves her

She staggered a few steps, her eyes closed, breath steaming from her nose in a single long stream. "Oh my God! Not now Jelnimia...!" Malison quickly halted his movement, holding her hand, as she fell to the ground, she was near unconscious and blood gushed out from her mouth. Hot light flared, a bolt of flame blasted towards them. Even with his shoulder he felt the vibrations in the ground beneath him and at the very last moment he felt a shock which almost knocked him off his feet. The blazed section of his lamptern went dim, and in a flash, a pillar of light appeared with a blinding shockwave, making Jelnimia scream out in anguish as it tore open, almost consuming them.

I rode shotgun in the lead Kenworth. Lula drove the matte-black ’69 Charger behind us, tail-gun ready. Dax sat beside me with a sawed-off 12-gauge on his lap. Saint lay spread-eagle and naked in the open bed of the second rig, sunburned raw, cock locked in the steel cage I welded myself, sign on his chest flashing “PROPERTY OF GHOST QUEEN.” The meet was supposed to be smooth. It wasn’t. We rolled in at twilight, sun bleeding behind the mountains, dust devils dancing.

The possessive way he fucked me like he both hated and needed me. I forced a grin. “You’re crazy, man. You watch too many movies.” He stepped aside but whispered as I passed, “Run while you still can. He’ll ruin you.” Later that day, I overheard two employees gossiping near the cafeteria. “Did you hear about The Ghost? Some billionaire who shows up masked at underground parties. Pays good money, fucks like a demon, then vanishes. Nobody ever sees his face.” I laughed it off again. But deep inside of me, i was worried for myself.

A light breeze moving through the leaves. Then her mind glitched again. It hit like lightning behind her eyes, sudden and total. She stumbled, catching herself against a park bench as the present dissolved around her, replaced by a flood of locked memory that felt as real as the concrete under her shoes. She was no longer in the sunlit park. She stood in a dim hotel corridor somewhere in Eastern Europe, years earlier. Sixteen, heart hammering, hands perfectly steady. The memory carried the metallic taste of fear laced with resolve. Dark clothing. A small suppressed pistol in her grip. The voice — faceless, the same one from the earlier dreams — murmured through a hidden comm: *Target's alone

RECOVERY_PROTOCOL_01: TARGET_DANTE_VANE. The car's GPS screen flickered. A single destination appeared, thousands of miles away. The Red Room. I looked at Dante. For the first time, his finger twitched against the steering wheel. "I see you," I whispered. I floored the gas.

“I would remain indebted to you all my life.” “All your life,” Ghost laughed. “Follow me, boy. I have something to show you.” Ghost walked out of the apartment and Steve followed him closely behind until they got to his car. Steve stared at the White Lincoln Limousine and turned around to face Ghost. “This is your car sir?” Steve asked. “Hop in,” Ghost replied opening the door and entering the driver’s seat. Steve entered and Ghost turned the key in the mouth and the car sparked into life. Ghost drove off immediately with speed and Steve held on to the seatbelt closely.

My vision tunnels, red at the edges. Someone grabs my arm. “He’s dying,” I growl, already half out of the booth. “Echo,” Ghost snaps, yanking me back down. I spin on him, teeth bared. “He fucking dies.” “Okay, how about this,” Ghost says, voice low and fast. “You wait. When we leave, give me one name. I’ll handle it. Quiet. Clean. But I’m not letting you slaughter half the city tonight because some drunk slid cash into her garter.”

It showed a younger version of Dante, maybe five years younger, standing beside a sleek dark car with a distinctive modification along the rear panel — a specific silhouette that Rhys, despite having no real interest in underground racing, recognized immediately from the handful of articles he'd skimmed in the days since the King's Race, chasing his own curiosity about exactly what kind of world Ravyn had walked into that night. It was Ghost's car. Or a car that matched every visual detail anyone had ever documented about Ghost's car, back before the legendary driver had vanished from the circuit entirely. Rhys studied the image for a long time, his expression giving nothing away, though som

He flinched away, Ashen slashed one specter down a forgotten villain who bled ellipses instead of blood. “They want attention,” Ashen said. “But they can’t have form.” Kael asked, “Is Liolai in this?” “She’s not dead,” Ashen replied, “but she’s in danger of becoming this.” Kael’s hand tightened on the locket. Then: a sound, A child’s voice. Close, Calling, They followed the sound to a broken archway made of punctuation. Commas, Semicolons, Ampersands. It held no door just a veil of ink mist that pulsed like a heartbeat, Across the top, it read: