Ghostemane Ghost Tattoo Novels & Stories

Drake and Lyca, their two comrades, were already there, their faces etched with grim determination. “We have them," Lady Susan announced, her voice echoing in the cavernous space. She held up three gleaming stones, their surfaces pulsating with otherworldly energy. Drake and Lyca's eyes widened in recognition. "The stone spirits of the werewolf god supreme," Drake breathed, his voice filled with awe. With reverence, they placed the stones on a pedestal before a massive statue, its towering form adorned with twelve piercing eyes. The stones emitted a blinding flash of light, momentarily illuminating the hideout with an ethereal glow.

With a click, the clasp came undone, and the pendant fell to the floor. In a flash, Zoe’s eyes widened. She grabbed my collar like a madwoman. “Y-You… You didn’t switch fates? You lied to me?!” I looked at her in surprise. “What are you talking about?” Miles suddenly exclaimed, “Ow, Maisie. My neck feels itchy.” He pulled down his collar, exposing his collarbone, and clearly revealed who was actually wearing the demonic fate-swapping lock.

The ghost looked at me with pleading eyes. "Those are talismans of Gong tau," Miyako whispered; Chinese black magic. "Those are finger bones," the friendless one added. Smashing them seemed like the sane thing to do. Pamela wouldn't have liked that excuse. I held up each trinket before the ghost. The first one - nothing. The second one - pleading. The third one - nothing. I had to be sure. I smashed the second one. The ghost's shape rippled then began to fade.

Like a normal human being my first instinct was to cover my eyes with my left hand because of sudden wave of light that I wasn’t ready for. Couple of seconds later I knitted my eyebrow and slowly lowered my hand and peeked through, I saw a slender fingered young women standing in door frame weaning a royal pure golden colored hand stitched gown, her honey blonde hair were neatly tied up on her head in bun while her face looked young oval shape face looked enchanting, a feather like smile was playing on her tainted red lips however what disturbed me most was when I saw a young human fetus blue colored ghost clinging to her left foot from behind while around four male ghost and three female gh

Then—a low, dry voice echoed from the shadows. “You look older.” Liam’s hand went to his sidearm. “That’s rich coming from a ghost.” A man emerged from the shadows behind the altar. Gaunt. Pale. Wrapped in layers of torn clothing and an old military coat, his face mostly hidden beneath a hood. His eyes—icy blue—gleamed with feral intelligence. “You brought company,” Ghost said, stepping forward slowly. “That’s new. I thought you preferred to work alone. Or are you finally in over your head?”

I snapped, crossing my arms. He grinned and licked his lips. “I can see why he picked you. I’m Ghost, the Beta of Venom,” he said, reaching for my hand. I cringed, but let him take it, he kissed the back of it. Ghost … you certainly will be soon if I can help it. Please don’t haunt me though, that’s all I need. “The walk over here made me get quite a thirst, you have a drink by chance,” I asked, giving my best smile, polite but not overly forced. Something told me this guy didn’t get many females to himself, Beta or not.

Then, I saw him standing by a door to a room, or somewhere. He had taken off his shirt. His upper body appeared bigger. They were tattoos all over his back, his trousers hung low on his waist, dangerously low. I could run my hands through this type of body all day without getting tired. He was receiving a phone call. He was immensely focused. I stood still, waiting for him to finish. His words didn’t make sense at first, until it got to the part where he said: “She doesn’t know a thing. I have it all under control… In the end everything will be mine.” His words made me tremble.

My gaze drifted unconsciously to his collarbone. There was a new tattoo there. Red, still swollen from being freshly inked, but unmistakable. It was my name. The characters were rendered in the most ancient, wild cursive form of script, like an old, binding sigil. My fingers trembled as I touched it. “When did you… get this?” Henry caught my hand and rubbed it gently against his palm. “Last night, after you fell asleep.” “Did it hurt?” “It was better that it hurt.” His eyes darkened, and a satisfied smile curved his lips.

He was not worthy of being called a man. If he could possess someone’s body, the first thing he would do would be to beat that bastard Lucien senseless. Watching the small girl continue to cry softly, the ghost raised his hand and placed it gently on her back in comfort. Then he mocked himself for being childish. He was only a ghost. How could she possibly feel his consolation? Yet Elowen truly felt a cool sensation against her back. She immediately straightened up and looked around. Seeing no one, she quietly thought that she must be having hallucinations again.

Then the rider lifted both hands. Not in surrender. With caution. Like someone approaching a wounded animal. Their voice came out distorted through a modulator. “Ghost,” they said softly. Everything inside me stilled. Only three people ever called me that. One was dead—Saint. One should’ve been dead—Shade. And the third… The third was an ally long buried in the dark. A ghost from my old life. The rider reached up and slowly—very slowly—removed their helmet. My breath caught.