Ghost Number 13 Novels & Stories

It body got drained of blood, has no leg to move but rather moves through the air, it head was of the exact shape of a skeleton. I couldn't control my feet anymore for the speed exceed that of Usain Bolt athlete. As I tried to run inside the house, she was right behind me just as I read it in the Black Cults book that ghost in Tortuga are faster than any human. She almost entered the house with me but Sorcerer pointed a stalf at her, casting the spell, "INCENDIO" with wide range of fire coming out. And then she vanished.

However, everything just took a turn and went for the worst as my blood immediately left my body, replaced with ice coursing through my veins as I read the message from an unknown number. ‘I see, you have a visitor.’ It was him. My phantom. He was watching me.

I call ghost, he got more than one skill, and opening closed-door virtual and real ones are one of his many skills. He uses his key locks tools and messes with the door for a bit until it opens. Finally, I walk down with ghost behind me, I find a small girl laying naked on the floor. She's thin, too thin, her blond hair match mine only hers is dirty and matted on her head. Her blue eyes are hardly open, I can see bruises all over her fragile body. Taking off my shirt I cover her quickly and pick her up leaving this hell behind. "You're safe now baby sister" I whisper in her ears she closes her eyes letting darkness take her.

She snapped, irritated. "Hedley Hart, are you mute now?" "County Clerk's Office." Silence. Then that tiny gasp—like she just remembered her own promise. The deal: after ninety-nine rejections, she'd show up for the hundredth. Say yes. Instead, she'd gone to a concert with Pierre. "I... wait for me. I'll drive over." Click. End call. I canceled the ride. Not out of hope though. Snow started falling—hard and fast.

Dante muttered beside me, already pulling out his phone. The blue glow of the screen lit up his face as he dialed rapidly, stepping aside and barking into the phone. "What the fuck is going on? Kill that signal now. Now!" But no matter how many calls he made, the masked man didn't vanish. He only flickered on the screen every now and then. "My name..." the man announced. "Is Ghost." "And I mean no harm…if you just listen." I frowned, confused. But for some reason, I still listened. There was some kind of mystery around this "Ghost" that instantly made me eager to hear what he had to say.

She seems to be simply shinning, something between the two of them, they just seem so much happier now that everything has happened. “Natalie?” I ask quietly, which succeeds in getting her attention. “Yes Lyrica?” “How many monsters were there?” She looks up at me and I see the happiness that was in her eyes start to dull before she reply’s. “Nine, there was only nine, but it felt like hundreds.” “Nine seems like a weird number to send, you think the master would at least send an even number.” “Yeah that’s what I thought too.” She glances around the room scanning for any monsters that might be hiding in the shadows waiting to attack.

Alice had always been a thorn between us—sharp, immovable, impossible to ignore or remove. I looked at Grayson now and wondered: if he knew I was dead, would he feel relieved that he was finally free of me? Grayson's phone rang. He answered it, not bothering to put it on speaker. I drifted closer, curious. Could it be someone calling to report my death? I studied his face intently, waiting to see his reaction when he learned I was gone. But when I glanced at the screen, I froze. The caller ID displayed my name. The voice that came through the line was unmistakably mine.

Memories of the chilling night she spent guarding the family mausoleum flooded back, rendering her unable to sleep without lights until now. Just as she contemplated seeking help, the lights flickered back to life. But her moment of relief was fleeting. Just as she stood clad in nothing but her undergarments, the lights dimmed once more, accompanied by eerie wails reminiscent of that ominous night. Clara knew this was no mere coincidence; someone was behind it. Summoning her courage, she hastily dressed, intent on fleeing the room. Yet before she could act, a ghostly figure materialized at the window. Its headless form dripped with blood, lunging toward her with a chilling cry for her life.

It was a distorted reflection of the original Spire, its chimneys belching black smoke into the vacuum. Inside the Ghost-Engine, the corridors were filled with the whispers of the "First-Gens." Audrey saw the faces of those who had died in the North, their eyes filled with a perpetual, icy fear. She didn't turn away. She walked into the "Heart-of-the-Furnace," where the "Core-Nightmare" was located. It was a massive, pulsing engine of "Pure-Sorrow."

The grandfather clock in the grand hallway of the Silvercrest packhouse struck midnight, its heavy, rhythmic ticks echoing like a countdown through the silent room. Evelyn Vance sat perfectly still on the edge of the leather armchair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The silver band on her left ring finger felt exceptionally heavy tonight, cold against her skin. Three years. For exactly one thousand and ninety-five days, she had worn that ring, and for those exact same days, she had been a ghost in her own home.