Ghost Wars Novel Novels & Stories

He looked up at me and spat out a chunk of the man, and nodded, ready to go. I walked on, opening doors to make sure they were clear as we passed, knowing Xander and Elias probably had Balista cornered in one of them. I kicked in a door to the left, and no one was there. "Clear!" A few wolves ran past, but Seven stayed on my flank. Gunfire, growling, shouts, and screams echoed off the walls in the warehouse as we made our way through. I kicked open a door to the right. Nothing. "Clear!" Then I came to another door across the hallway and heard voices. I kicked it open, and Xander and Elias were standing there nude, having just shifted, and Balista and Sasha were backed against the wall.

she went back to the gap looked at the stars as she talked to herself. she wished her life was perfect like what the neighbors thought of it. she went down on her knees and pleaded before going to bed. Baraka, the boy living subsequent house to mercy, was at the dining table by himself, his parents were out on a business trip as usual. after he’s done with his meal, he went to bed, took his phone and called mercy to say goodnight. ‘‘I can bill the gloom in your speech even from the phone, so what’s going on with you?’’ baraka commanded

But it bothered me, more than it should. I used to shrug and laugh my curse off ever since I reached twenty years old. And it’s already the 1800 centuries and I never felt close to death, not ever. I never once felt threatened, not with the power I have. I am a powerful werewolf, a witch… and a vampire. I was feared, and no one ever came close. But what the red-haired told me struck me. She had no regrets. Regrets. Will I have no regrets if I don’t find my heart’s content? Will I be satisfied with immortality?

The ones who buried me. Slipping into boys' shorts, I washed my feet under the running water, gathered the clothes I had on, throwing them in a nearby dumpster I saw. The city was emptied, I expected it to be crawling with people but how could it when they were afraid. The only thing disturbing the streets was the two circulating drones, roaming the night skies with searchlights, what are they looking for. Bracing my back against the wall, I looked around the corner, I needed help, yes, but I have a gut feeling that I don't want it from those guys, considering the stories Maurice told me about W.I.K.D. Veering paths to leave, my face and a gun muzzle were a few meters away and standing behin

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.

It echoes through the entire city, a signal for soldiers and Strikers to prepare for battle. He'd known. My face turns whiter than it already is as I scrabble towards the window, looking out at the field over the barrier walls. All that darkness in the horizon are Karensa soldiers. And even from this far away, I see the Ghosts. They are the humans turned into monsters, their large figures almost like wolves as their blood-red eyes search for their next kill. I need to help. Stay in bed. That is an order. Ezra. My face suddenly goes ashen as I realize what he'd chained me to. Had he said that to try and keep me safe? Keep me out of the way?

But my mother just shook her head, refusing to break her silence. Adeline's face went dark. She muttered something to one of her men. Seconds later, a speeding car came roaring out of nowhere and slammed straight into my mother. My mother's frail body flew through the air like a broken kite before crashing to the ground. Blood pooled beneath her as she lay there, eyes slowly closing. I watched it all unfold, frozen, my heart shattering into pieces. Regret and anguish tore through my chest, crashing against each other like waves. I curled up, trembling, tears spilling from my eyes.

"They will not teach you mercy. I won’t either. But I will teach you love—because love is the thing they fear most. The pen shook only once. Then steadied. She wrote about silence, the language of killers. About the way empires rot from within long before they fall from without. She wrote about the weight of a name. Of survival. Of trust sold at gunpoint. Of brothers lost in smoke and sisters buried beneath blood. This wasn't a lullaby. This was war scripture. The second entry in The Book of Blood. And she meant every word. ~~~~~~~~~~ GHOST MOUTH — DAWN Lorenzo stood barefoot in the tide, shirt open, smoke curling from the end of a thin black cigarillo. Behind him, Roji and Inez oversaw the

“It feels so eerie. I remember reading about them in Hound’s book,” whispered one of Gazier’s trusted soldiers, standing far enough away that their new companions couldn’t overhear. “What did the book say to do about them?” “They were supposed to die to the moths,” Gazier replied, a wry twist to his lips as he knotted a frayed lace on his dirty boots. “WHAT?” The soldier’s voice nearly echoed in the hushed, abandoned office building they had chosen as a temporary sanctuary. Four floors high and cluttered with ancient desks and toppled chairs, it felt marginally safe so long as they remained quiet. “Then why are they here—alive?”

Eluwilussit shuddered as he walked the perimeter of the camp. He felt as if he was invading a burial ground that was filled with the spirits of the dead who had yet to find peace in the afterlife. Invading a ground of such unrest was never good. Regrets for agreeing with the council to tend to this white man’s problem abounded.