Haunted Numbers Novels & Stories

Chapter 126: Haunting Shadows Hana’s body stirred restlessly beneath the thin sheet, her breaths shallow and rapid as she fell deeper into the abyss of her nightmare. The moonlight that filtered through the window barely reached her, casting faint shadows across the room. But in her mind, the darkness was much more overwhelming—an unrelenting void filled with ghosts of her past.

Book 1 The Shadow of the Haunter In the darkness of the night Waiting for the light to come When the demons in your mind Remind you of the damage done. Always talking, so much to say Like a haunting ghost from the grave And Heaven seems so far away. —Daughtry, Changes Are Coming * * Sometimes, things have a funny way to happen before you can even realize what on earth is going on. Hi, I’m exhibit A.

This wasn’t just someone trying to scare her. Whoever was behind this… They were watching her closely. And they were dangerous. — Across the city. Inside the Hale mansion. Adrian stood in his study while Daniel waited beside the desk. “Sir, we traced the numbers that contacted Mrs. Hale.” Adrian looked up. “And?” “They’re all unregistered prepaid numbers.” Adrian’s expression darkened. “Disposable phones,” Daniel added. “Someone is being careful.” Adrian slowly leaned back in his chair. His mind immediately started connecting pieces.

Hazel was startled awake, her whole body trembling. She opened her eyes and saw a dark shadow by her bed. She also heard the sound of dripping water, faint but not enough to make her heart race. Outside, the rain was pouring down, the streetlights dimmer than usual, and wind howling loudly. She shuddered and clutched her blanket tightly, screaming, "Ah! Ghost!" Jack was taken aback by Hazel's reaction, then overwhelmed with anger. Ghost? His handsome face twisted slightly, and he cracked his knuckles.

PRIME ARCHIVE: INTEGRITY CONFIRMED RETRIEVAL STAGE ONE COMPLETE Seraphina pressed both hands to her temples. Something moved inside her mind. Not a voice. Doors. Hundreds of them. Opening one after another. A laboratory corridor. Her father kneeling before her. A woman screaming. Needles. A red folder. A sequence of seventeen numbers. The faces of children she had never met and somehow knew. Lucian’s hands hovered near her. “May I touch you?” Seraphina could not answer. Another memory opened. Adrian Laurent leaned close, his face bruised, his eyes desperate.

But when I reached her, I couldn't speak—couldn’t do anything except whisper in the quietest, most desperate way possible. “Please, help me.” I couldn’t even look her in the eye, but I could feel her watching me, almost like she knew everything that was happening inside my head. I just wanted to leave, to escape the terror that had haunted me for what felt like forever. But then, Harmona knelt in front of me, and something in the way she moved sent a cold shiver down my spine. She didn’t seem surprised or worried about my state at all. In fact, she seemed calm—too calm. And that was when I truly saw it. The cake. And the candles. My heart stopped when I saw the number '18' flickering in the

“How are you getting this knowledge Lona Jones?” “I don’t know where it’s coming from. Maybe this is why the Oracle insisted Dreamer, Oracles, and Seers were interconnected. Some sort of connection like what a Seer has. I haven’t a clue what is happening or how.” They came to the haunted house and Raven walked around it. Stepping over things that seemed to litter between the haunted house and the fun house with its mirror maze. They could see the carts stopping and starting as they entered and exited the haunted house. The soundtrack of screams and horrific moans came from inside the building.

The nightmares did not stop. Every night, the ghosts came. My mother, her face twisted into a mask of shadow, her voice accusing. Kaelen, his eyes black, his hands reaching for my throat, his fingers cold. Lorna, her white hair wild, her crown of thorns dripping blood that sizzled where it touched the floor. Marcus, laughing, always laughing, his black eyes watching me from the corners of my dreams, his voice whispering that I would never be free.

Just hearing it made the trees outside the window blur like home was hiding behind them. “Give me the rundown again,” William said, eyes still on the road. Alexandra reached for the wrinkled sheet of paper on the dash. “So, about a month ago, this group of teenagers decided to go poking around this supposedly haunted house on the edge of town—” William cut her off. “Haunted by what?” “Allegedly,” she said, “by a spirit who hates women. Legend says it targets girls—hangs them in the rafters.” “Oh,” I said dryly. “Awesome.”

“I can count that high. I’ve counted higher.” “When?” I furrow my brow. “When Bronx and Ghost had surgery when the hag attacked him.” “Alright, cool. Go for it.” I shake my head. “Let me know when you hit the ten thousand marks.” Ghost loves to count when he doesn’t have much control of anything else. When our minds have absorbed all the details around us and there’s nothing else for us to do, he counts. I think it’s been years since he’s told me he’s going to do it. The last time was Sin’s attack on the pack when we were waiting for Lenora to come back to the packhouse safe and sound.