Ghost Of Reach Novels & Stories

And for Gerald, it was a return to a world he thought he'd left behind. Tomorrow, the real work would begin. Tomorrow, they would start dismantling Xavier's empire piece by piece. Tomorrow, Victor Reis would remind New York why they used to fear his name. But tonight, as their cars wound through the city streets, they were just four people united by loyalty, revenge, and the promise of what was to come. The Ghost had returned to America. And soon, everyone would know it.

“Like how we help send your ghost stalker to the other side so he can rest in peace.” “He’s not my stalker, and if he is a ghost, why is he haunting me? I have never seen him before in my life.” I thought back to every guy I had ever encountered up to this point. “Are you sure you haven’t? Like at a camp or something?” Cal had a look on her face like she was trying to remember him for me.

It was as if he didn’t know they were there, or didn’t care. When they reached the hitching post in front of the mess house, Roy hopped off his horse with his hand extended. “It’s good you’re back,” Adam said as he shook Roy’s hand. Roy gave Jackson a curious look. “Ya seem a little green. Are ya feelin’ okay?” Mike took the reins of Roy’s horse. “He’s just realized that this place is haunted.” Roy raised a brow as he looked from one person to the next. “Good thing I brought the medicine man with me.”

I said as I meet his eyes and I saw the glint of sadness and loneliness as he smiled at me and then turned around to gather his things. When he took his leave, I sat there looking at Cassidy, and for a moment, I let myself feel the familiar sadness and loneliness. Regretting my decision and wish that I could spend more days with Devon, as me, as Hannah, and not us someone else. Suddenly, I felt my heart aching, Lucy's heart seemed to stop beating. I grabbed the arms of the chair as I gasp for air. I breathe in deeply and I calmed for a bit. "Damn, this body is weak. I need to do something fast." I got my mom's phone from her purse and searched for possession of dead bodies. I was horrified b

We were having a gathering before graduation. My girlfriend and best friend were getting congratulated by the whole class. They had gained guaranteed spots into the campus' top course's postgraduate program. I was sitting in a corner, staring at the Hertford University offer that would ensure I went straight to my doctorate. I hesitated on making a decision for three days just for my girlfriend. Howard Herbson, my best friend, turned to me. He had a look of pity and condescension in his eyes as he said, "How about your job hunt? Don't worry. Not getting into the postgrad program isn't the end of the world. The lab's requirements are ridiculous. "It's going to be near impossible for you t

Even if she did, she'd blame it on the wind. "Ghost?" Sharon was becoming concerned, "I thought you don't believe in such things?" "Really? Oh, em." Geneva cleared her throat and spoke confidently, "that's true, I am not scared by flimsy things such as ghooosts!" The last word Sharon heard was the word 'ghosts' being screamed into her eardrums before she heard nothing else. The phone had fallen and disassembled and the call, disconnected.

“Who we are does not matter, what matters is that the Wolves will die tonight!” Zephyr huffed, produced out his sword, and quickly sprinted towards him. “Ha! Do you not know where you are? I am Ghost! You will not be spared tonight!” he replied. Seeing Zephyr rush over, Ghost steadied himself. “Wolf’s Howl!” Ghost howled, with that the attack started. Even though he looked barbaric and unruly, he was very careful. Seeing how many of his men had been slaughtered, even if he did not know who Zephyr was, he knew he was formidable.

The sound reverberates through the Throat of Echoes like thunder, like prophecy, like the final word of a god: “The war has already been won.” Every version of me—Tyrant, Martyr, Warrior, Sage, even the flickering Ghost—falls to their knees. The compulsion is absolute, inevitable, written into the very structure of reality. We are moths before a sun that wears our own face. Only Ghost-me remains standing, and she's smiling. "Finally," she whispers, her form growing more solid even as the others fade. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

I looked at my reflection in the mirror—pale, bloodied, and looking like Satan's personal laundry—and I finally recognized the man staring back at me. I'm not the guy who used to buy fancy gifts anymore. I'm the Reaper now, and I'm going to show Marcus why his dad was scared of people like me. My phone buzzed really loudly on the bed, breaking the weird quiet. I grabbed it fast, my heart beating super hard, and saw a message from a secret Daiz server. It was a picture, kind of blurry and far away, of a gray van with dark windows turning onto the private road to the secret Castellano airstrip.

I thought I’d buried him. I thought when the flames swallowed the last remnants of Reagan Blackwood’s empire, they took the monster with them. But when my private server flickered to life at three in the morning—when my secure line, buried under layers of encryption, pulsed red—I knew. I knew ghosts didn’t die in fire. They lived in the wire. The message was short. A single string of characters that danced across my screen in a pulse like a heartbeat: [HELLO, IVY.]