Novel & Cerita Ghost Trapped In A Jar

“Does your... friend... have any idea of where we should be looking?” At my question, Geo looks away and to a spot right beside me, causing a chill to race down my spine as I understand that the ghost must be there beside me. “He says it is in the burial grounds behind the temple.” Geo says quietly. “But there are boobytraps set up everywhere to stop people from getting near it.” Boobytraps… Were we characters in an action series? Why were things turning into some sci-fi movie? It was mind-blowing, but I guess just the fact we as wolves existed and hid our identities from the humans made it clear that anything was possible.

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.

I wrap my fingers around the cold iron and yank on the gate, but it doesn’t budge. I wait until Caspian’s footsteps fade away before I try to mind link with Adrian so I can warn him, but not only did he put the block back up, he reinforced it somehow and even using all my powers, I can’t break through it. “Queen,” someone whispers in the hallway. My stomach tumbles over and I automatically look to the two jars on the floor. Are they alive in there? I kneel in front of the floating heads and stare into their milky eyes. “Did you say something?” I ask, feeling like a fool.

After Cara collected the jars, she and Adelia returned to her mansion, where Alphaeus, Arthur and the two other leaders were waiting for them. “She did it,” Cara informed them and she placed the three jars on the table. “So these are the things that are keeping him alive,” Arthur commented as he stared at the jars with an unreadable expression on his face. “Hmmm,” Cara affirmed. Arthur didn’t take his eyes off the jars and without warning, he pushed them off the table causing the jars to fall onto the ground and breaking them.

He shook Jack's hand before letting go. "Jack. Since we already alerted them, I think this might be a nice spot to make a little distraction." Jack pulled a jar out of his jacket and walked to the dead Alpha. His legs lay at odd angles and a pool of blood spread out from the head wound. Jack held the jar in front of him and studied it. The lid of the jar was thick and heavy with small little circuit boards covering it. He pressed the button on the lid and it started to hum. He set it gently between the torso and arm of the dead hybrid, hiding it as best he could without covering the top.

My face was disoriented because I could hear a female voice that did not belong to Mary and there was no other female in the house but Mary and me. I slowly and carefully started walking towards the guest room. My heart was pounding against my chest. It might be a thief or even a murderer who knows. The door was slightly open. I peeped inside, trying not to make any noise. What I saw inside had my eyes widen in disbelief. Ivan was inside with an unknown woman. His tongue was deep inside her throat. Before I could stop myself, a gasp escaped my mouth getting both of their attention.

"Again, you work slow, stupid girl!" I hissed irritably, stomped my foot, and followed this bastard. Inside the house was immediately greeted with a luxurious winding staircase. I immediately squinted my eyes when I saw the many damn antique jars that stood firm in all corners of the room. Because of that damn jar, I'm stuck with an arrogant guy like Edmund. I became suspicious that Edmund kept the jar as a talisman to keep him rich. Can you call it that?

The Ghost. My jaw clenched, a low, savage pulse of possession throbbing deep in my gut. For a year, I had believed I was holding a delicate, bruised songbird in a velvet cage. I had spent countless nights lying awake beside her, holding my breath, terrified that my darkness, my brutal corporate lifestyle, would shatter her. And all the while, she had been a phantom. A lethal, beautiful monster hiding behind soft smiles and trembling hands. The heavy steel security door at the end of the bunker corridor let out a sharp, pneumatic hiss as the multi-bolt deadbolts unlocked.

Later, just like Mom said, a stranger appeared before the burial, bringing a massive jar—taller than a person and filled with a strange liquid. The final image I saw was Aunt Marlene being lowered into that jar and sealed inside. "Abby? Abby, what are you doing? That's your father!" Mom's sharp voice suddenly pierced my ears. As my vision blurred and my head spun, I felt my body swaying. When I opened my eyes again, I realized I was choking Dad hard. His eyes were rolling back in his head, his face turning a terrifying shade of purple-red. I instantly yanked my hands away. I stared blankly as he started coughing violently, gasping for air.