Haunted Numbers Novels & Stories

He’d have to remember this. He shifted, drawing one leg up to face her more fully as made himself comfortable. “Many years ago, there existed on this world a race of people known as the Haunt. They were a special race, different from humans but not so different that they couldn’t live in peace.” Andrea’s eyes opened wide as she gave him her full attention.

My eyes closed slowly, and my heart stop beating at the count of 5, 4, 3, 2. "Nooooo!!"

The wife of the most recent count. I noted, with the small honest precision I had been learning from my own autumn, that the number had landed in me without producing horror. I noted, also, that the absence of the horror was itself a piece of information. The horror was not absent because I had not understood what twenty meant. The horror was absent because I had already, somewhere underneath the conscious work of these two months, integrated the truth that the man who had walked into my living room at nine forty-seven on a Tuesday in November was a man whose practice included a number, and the number was the number, and the question of *how high* the number was had not been a question whose

Amina leaned towards the wall, shaking. Adrian stood nearby. Waiting. Knowing what came next. She lifted her head slowly. “How many?”. His expression tightened. “Don't.”. Have you ever done this? Silence. Then: “Fifty-six.”. The number smashed like a hard rock. She stared. “This is cycle fifty-six.”. Her body went numb. Fifty-six lives. Fifty-six versions. Fifty-six endings. All leading here. All erased. All replaced. She swallowed against rising nausea.

My eyes burned, but a single page pulled me upright. Coordinates. A string of them, written backward in mirror script. I grabbed a sheet of scrap paper, reversed the numbers, and felt a chill. Ghost Harbor. The words pulsed like a warning or an invitation. Damien leaned over my shoulder. “That’s where we finish this.” Before I could answer, the overhead lights flickered. Once. Twice. Then darkness swallowed the room. Mom’s sharp intake of breath echoed in the silence. From the ventilation shaft came a low, deliberate whisper.

"You? You get a gold bar for burying a coffin. If your brother could do the job, wouldn't it be better? "You've laid to rest so many young souls, maybe it's your turn now." Mom's face twisted into something monstrous, her arms and legs jerking towards me like a puppet on strings. I sobbed and stumbled backward, "Mom, it's me, Silvia, what are you doing?" "The Haunts world is here. No one's going to make it out alive. I know how your blood calms the wind. Maybe if we drain it dry, they might spare us."

Henry**** The words from the journal haunted me, etching themselves into my mind with every heartbeat. Claim your power, or be consumed by it. The warning seemed so simple, yet the weight behind it was overwhelming. Could I embrace the power that had been kept from me for so long? Or would it destroy me, just as it had been meant to destroy my father?

I was faster than her. Hilda Farell's smile twisted into a deadly and malevolent grin, her eyes gleaming with an otherworldly intensity. "You have no inkling of the torment that awaits you," she hissed, her voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "I will haunt you until your dying breath, and even beyond that, I will ensure your soul is forever trapped in a realm of suffering."

The clock struck 1 am, adding to her despair. Feeling lost and overwhelmed, she crouched down beside a sleek black car and unraveled into sobs. It had been an unsettling night, filled with one of her usual nightmares that had left her sleep-deprived and disoriented. Whenever she woke up from the terrifying dreams, snippets of different scenarios flickered before her eyes. Some involved a haunting accident, while others featured a pulsating club party. The visions overlapped in her mind, creating an indistinguishable mess that she couldn't shake off.

Her vampire had peeled off his clothing and hung them to dry using the suspender frame over the bed – a clever idea she thought, but of course Talen would have had it. “I don’t know,” Heath sighed it out. “I am not sure it is exhausted delusion, or instinct, but… This feels significant. Many years ago, we were visited by another Triquetra… there are thirty-three now across this land,” he added. “Angel numbers, or the rule of threes? I do not know. See,” he scrubbed his hands over his face. “I am too tired to make sense.” “Tell us about the other Triquetra,” Talen said gently taking Heath’s shirt and tie to the chair as Rhett and Cameron entered the room and began to undress. “Are things secu