Gaunt's Ghosts Book Order Novels & Stories

Well, at least I could die knowing I’d made the infamous Caius Blackwell crack a grin. Ghost stretched his arms and shook out his hands, working himself up for what he was about to do. I licked my salty lips and sucked in another sharp gasp. “The second I move time is going to start up again. You’ll need to be fast, Ghost.” He bobbed his shaved head. “Guess I better get a running start then.” Backing away, Ghost crossed himself and whispered a prayer to the goddess. I didn’t look away from Caius as he launched into a run, picking up speed until he was full on sprinting my way.

“Okay, whatever suits you best.” I connected my laptop to my phone’s internet and opened the one streaming platform that offered all nine seasons of Haunters. I signed up for a free thirty-day trial, still refusing to waste a single dime on Brandon Price’s boys band. “Shall we?” I asked, opening the episode list. “Go to season one.” “You want me to watch their first visit to the Manor?” “For context.” “Okay.” Watching Haunters with a bunch of ghosts turned out to be way funnier than I would’ve ever expected.

I was gone, and it wasn't as though they could speak ill of me now, not while my body was being buried in the ground. Even my mother-in-law came. She was already a frail, tiny woman, but seeing her there made her appear decades older. Grayson knelt before my gravestone, convinced he was performing some act of atonement. But to me, his presence was nothing more than repulsive. After the funeral, he returned to the small apartment. Alice, starved for three days, lay there, barely clinging to life. The moment she saw Grayson, fear overtook her—a fear she couldn't hide.

A cold dread, sharper than the chill in the air, shot up from the soles of my feet. The patch of shadow in the corner began to writhe unnaturally, coalescing into a denser form. A human silhouette, darker than the darkness around it, slowly detached itself from the wall. It was tall and gaunt, its entire form wreathed in an impenetrable, smoky blackness. The air grew still and heavy, as if the room itself was holding its breath. Then, a voice, cold and utterly devoid of emotion, sounded not in my ears, but directly in my mind.

Chapter: 19 ****** Christopher and Zyter could feel the urgency in the air as they made their way toward the mountains, their core-bane swords glinting in the fading light. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a veil of darkness over the land, adding an ominous glow to their mission. The howling wind brushed against their faces, carrying whispers of the approaching evil with it. As they reached the foothills, a chilling presence engulfed them. The Blood Ghosts, ethereal beings cursed to roam the night, were known for their relentless hunger for human souls. And they were on the brink of infesting the city, bringing only death and despair.

My ghost trembled on the verge of unraveling. I was dead. I'd been sold to the brothel, tortured beyond measure, devoured by dogs until nothing was left of me. And all of it—every last shred of suffering, every ounce of guilt I'd carried for "killing" my brother—had been one colossal, sick joke. A tidal wave of absurdity and bitter rage crashed over me. My spirit screamed in silence, howling, splintering apart. But when the crying was over, all that remained was a hollow, unfamiliar calm.

Her men swarmed my elderly father and hanged him alive—right there, in front of my grave. Despair and regret swallowed me whole. I screamed, I sobbed, I begged her to let him go. But as my father's body swung lifelessly, Adeline's smile only grew colder. "Now it's his sister's turn." At that moment, her face was twisted and grotesque, like a demon that had crawled straight out of hell.

The other two… Those were where the fun happened. I dropped into my chair, set the plate beside the keyboard, and cracked my knuckles. “All right, Ghost.” My fingers danced across the keys. “Where are you?” A dozen command windows sprang to life. Lines of code streamed down the screens faster than most people could read them. Numbers, IP addresses, encrypted tunnels, relay nodes… Beautiful. Most people looked at this and saw gibberish. I saw fingerprints. Ghost was good. Better than good. They managed to stay invisible while making half the underground think they knew where they was. That alone was impressive.

Some were made of leather, others of scales, and some in what might have been human skin. In the center, a pool of black water reflected no light. “The Library of Things That Were,” the ghost announced. “Every book here tells of the old agreement, the first prophecies. The Bridge especially.” Tamara moved to the nearest shelf. The books whispered as she passed, like they recognized her. “This one,” the ghost said, pulling out a book that looked like a piece of the night sky. “Start here.” Tamara opened it. The words weren't English. Weren't any language she knew. But she understood them.

HIS DARKEST SHADE BOOK-THREE ~Prologue~ “Even if you end up hating me for it.” His tone was vicious. “I might scare you,” he continued, his gaze roaming over her trembling form, “but they are far worse—formidable, vicious… and willing to do whatever it takes to get what they want.” He gestured toward her. “Including you.” “Never.” She shook her head, her voice trembling but firm. “I’m not scared of your words. You’re just trying to scare me so I’ll listen to you!”