Ghost Chapter 2 Novels & Stories

“We’ve got a fucking ghost. Someone smart. Someone close. Someone careful.” And that, more than anything, was what terrified me. Because ghosts didn’t make noise. Ghosts slipped through cracks. Ghosts could sit beside you at dinner and laugh at your jokes and call you family while plotting your death. I looked up at him, my breath shaking. “Then I guess it’s time we start looking for ghosts.” And Zach, he didn’t smile. He just nodded once. Because if it was us or them? It wasn’t going to be us. Not this time.

Ghost had truly gone mad, grafting the flesh of others to himself to absorb the power of the spiritron vein! She shuddered in fear—it was as crude as it was horrific! Ghost simply shrugged. "Well, you're not getting away now that you've seen my secret. Leave me your flesh and the power of the spiritron vein that you embody!" Laughing freakishly, he lunged at Skyler. "So fast!" Skyler was stunned, her mind barely registering a thing as she only saw a blur before she found herself staring at Ghost's grisly bandaged face. Bang! She raised her arms to block his punch, but it sent her flying anyway, crashing down to the edge of the hospital roof.

He snapped his fingers and vanished from the living room. As Pascal arrived on campus, he heard boisterous cheers emanating from a particular direction. Intrigued, he made his way towards the source of the commotion. However, something caught his eye - a ghostly figure standing in a corner, staring at him with a lifeless expression. Pascal frowned and wondered if this was the doing of Ghost.

The altar’s broken shape loomed behind them, cracked stone glowing with unnatural pulses. I gasped. Sarah’s hand found mine. Daniel crouched nearby, silver blade drawn. John’s torch flickered far ahead just a flame swallowed by shadows. David lay before the altar, unconscious. His mark glowed a violent red. The ghosts’ hunger pulsed toward him. Their chant deepened. A voice whispered in my mind, cold as frost: “He remembers. I remember. You belong.” I froze. Sarah tugged me back. “We have to move.” But the ghosts didn’t wait,they surged forward.

Dima (with a sly smile): There she is, I see her now, fast asleep. Malik (commandingly): Come closer... Grab her by the neck. Suddenly, in a flash, Dima's shadow began to take shape, curling into a dark entity, stealthily slipping into Miranda's room like a silent spirit. The door opened slowly, its sharp sound shattering the villa's stillness. Dima's ghostly form slid inside, its chill spreading like poison through the air.

She wanted to wake him up and see those grey eyes look at her with that confusing gaze of suspicion and heat. But then, she remembered who she was. She was the Ghost. She had a bounty on her head in three territories. The Rakan Guild owned her blood debt. If she stayed... they would find her. And they would kill him just for standing next to her. “I can’t,” she whispered, her voice cracking in the silence. She pulled away. Kornel grunted. His hand grasped at the empty space where she had been, seeking her warmth even in his sleep.

My breath falters once. I don’t know the name. That should be enough. I steady my breathing and listen. Nothing outside but wind through the trees. Still, I step back. Ghosts don’t keep personal items. They don’t have pasts that can be written down. I open the cover just enough to see the first page. My name is there. Written in a hand I don’t recognize. Footsteps approach. I snap the book shut as the door handle turns.

His number would not ring. Maybe he needed space to sort out everything going on. I stared at the torn page in front of me—a fragment I’d found near the old vent shaft in the hallway closet. Watermarked. It had Discolored ink and was part of the Obsidian report. It had been one of the first clues, the first sign that this house had ghosts hidden in its walls. My stomach twisted.

Chapter 126 – Ghosts of the Past The late autumn sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the cemetery as Clara Winthrop stepped through the wrought-iron gates. The air was crisp, the kind that sent a shiver down her spine, but it was the haunting memories gnawing at her heart that chilled her most. She wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck, though the warmth was faint against the chill of loss.

The coincidence was just too much to be true. He took another look at the name on the ID card; with his imaginative eyes he slowly turned the name Heaven backwards and it appeared as Nevaeh. He has been sleeping with a ghost he concluded. There was no need to call a prophet to reveal it, even the blind will see and understand this. He needs to drive this thought away, make the pain and fear disappear, he needs to get drunk; so he ran away from the morgue and went to a beer parlour.