Eli From Ghost Whisperer Novels & Stories

I ask as my eyes land on a mark on Eli. Tracing my fingers over what looks like a fresh wound on his chest right above his heart. ‘You don’t have to talk out loud. I can hear you just fine in our head…. And to answer your question. I am your spirit.’ Getting confused I slide off of Eli, not wanting to wake him up as a shiver of fear races up my spine. ‘My spirit, what is that? Like my wolf spirit? But I have never heard of anyone being able to talk to their wolf spirits before.’ I say in my mind wondering if she will really be able to hear me.

"And the Sterling temper, if the reports of the 'Glass Needle' are true." ​"Who are you?" Kael asked, his voice low. ​"I am Elia Davis," she said, stepping into the light of the island’s dying sun. "Great-granddaughter of Mia Davis. Captain of the Respiration. And the last hope you have of surviving what’s coming behind us." ​The Ghost of Mia

But I knew about this place. Knew it. The Whispering Willows. A sacred place I had only heard about in books, in ghost stories. I exhaled slowly, stunned. “How long has it been?” came a voice like velvet and wind. I turned quickly. Elara stood near the base of one of the larger trees, her robes blending with the shadows, silver hair gleaming like starlight. I hadn’t even heard her arrive. “Elara. What are you doing here?” I breathed, so many questions on my mind.

My heart slammed against my ribs. “No. No, I buried you. We did the rites. Father made us burn everything—” “Elara,” the voice cut gently. “He lied. They all did.” My legs buckled, and I slid to the floor. “No. You can’t be real. This is some kind of trick. Dorian’s sick enough to play games.” “I am not a ghost,” she whispered, and something in her voice hit deep—like an old lullaby I hadn’t heard since I was a child. “And I am not his game. I’ve been waiting for you. I never stopped waiting.”

Elior’s breath hitched as the words echoed through the mist-laden forest. Welcome home. It shouldn’t have been possible. That face—that voice—it belonged to a ghost, to someone long lost in the blood-soaked pages of his past. His pulse thundered as he stepped forward, drawn by something he couldn’t explain, couldn’t fight. Sienna grabbed his wrist. “Elior, don’t.”

It wasn’t coming from the speakers anymore; it was resonating through the metal walls of the relay station itself, vibrating through the floor beneath their boots. “Carter?” Damian’s whisper sounded smaller than the storm. The laughter that answered him was soft, deliberate. “You make me sound like a ghost.” Eli’s heart hammered in his chest. “You are a ghost.” A hiss of static rolled through the air, like a sigh. “No, Eli. I’m what’s left when the ghost refuses to leave.” The room’s temperature dropped another few degrees. Their breath misted in front of them. The rain outside slowed again, as though even time had bent to listen.

Her eyes were like mine—but filled with endless grief. “She’s been trapped here since the gods burned her name from history,” he said. “But your blood sings to hers. And now… she wakes.” The ghost moved forward, her mouth parting in a silent plea. I felt her inside my chest. In my bones. Like a memory I hadn’t lived—but had always carried. I fell to my knees. “Elara!” Kael grabbed me, but I couldn’t focus. My vision blurred. My heart slowed. A voice filled my mind—not the man’s.

Leaning close, the girl whispered against the man’s ear, his mouth formed in a shocked and pained expression, “I can’t have you warn your friends, Tristan. I have to protect my people.” The man, full of so much strength, keeled over, an angry and pained grunt leaving his lips, “I am your people, you piece of..” Tristan's words fell away, and so did Elaine, hiding the bloody dagger in her pocket, she turned to run from him. Even Elaine, closed and guarded from the world, didn’t want to see the man with the voice bathed in music die. “Elaine!” It was laced with pain, “You can’t let him see you. You can’t let Benjamen see you. You have to protect the book.”

But now, I wasn’t sure if I’d damned her instead. Her hand moved slowly toward mine. “Lucien... Do you hear it too?” “Hear what?” She closed her eyes. “The whisper. It’s not a voice. It’s more like... a beating inside my head.” I did hear it. Faint but steady. It wasn’t human, it was magic. Old and nasty. “It’s him,” I said softly. “It’s Elias.” Her eyes flew open. “You don’t know that.”

Her vision blurred, shadows creeping at the edges as the specter’s touch drained her strength. “Elara!” Kael’s voice rang out, sharp with alarm. He swung his dagger, but the blade passed through the ghostly form harmlessly. The specter didn’t flinch, its hollow gaze locked onto Elara as it whispered something unintelligible—words in a language long lost to time.