Nameless Ghoulettes Novels & Stories

said Easy Street as he pulled the machete out of Curtis’s chest. Curtis lay unmoving. Jeannine couldn’t process what had happened. She was feeling nothing, thinking nothing. She was like a radio tuned to a station that played only static. “Shall we go?” asked the ghoul, pointing the ancient blade at Jeannine. “Your escort awaits, dig?” Dozens of Civil War ghouls materialized silently from shadows, pointing their weapons at Jeannine.

I looked through the window of his eyes, wondering what was wrong. “Ghouls!” Came the sturdy voice of Kir. “They are here and in large numbers. I can smell them!” He explained, and every atom of peace left me. Ghouls were bad news, and Ithra lay asleep on Kir’s back, totally undisturbed. They were dead spirits that escaped the underworld, roaming through the dark forest and sniffling souls from every living thing they sensed. Thankfully, as a werewolf, we learned to mask our scent using the earth, and Kir was ready to do that. Except that Ithra was still asleep and in harm's way.

A human bone… Gag. Looking at Catherine, they nodded to each other and turned running back the way they had. As quietly as they could. Once far enough away Opening their l**k to as many pack as they could within the area. “Barghest in the Colton’s Graveyard! I repeat Barghest in the Colton’s Graveyard. It’s huge! We need back up! Now!” With their hearts pumping Yolanda and Catherine kept watch around them. The Barghest wouldn’t be alone. These were pets of more powerful Fae. A Shining One if they were unlucky owned it.

My eyes closing and sleep taking over me. Once again the faces of my past haunted my dreams. Only this time I could place each one by name. Mum, Dad, Lilith, Lucas, Darren, Lucifer, and the last face was the scariest of them all, the man who came for my mother. Lucien, my Uncle.

Their smell was suffocating and the noises they made was repulsive. A very faint and low whisper filtered into her ear as he rasped "Ghouls." She did not know much about the amortal world, but in the movies, she remembered them portraying ghouls as monstrous purifying humanoids that preyed on human flesh and corpses, spreading their virus through bites and scratches. The modern name for them was zombie. What were they doing here? She thought this planet was shunned by amortals and every other being? Soon after the ghouls passed, a few minutes later, she heard coherent voices speaking as they drew close.

ZEPHYR’S POV “Yes, there are two of our ghosts who are not with us now.” “Do they have names?” I asked him. “N….” He paused, rethinking his reply again. Then he said. “We go by one name, Ghost. Any other name aside this, I am unaware of it. I know it seems undutiful for me to not have this simple information but sometimes our ghosts tend to break out of character and hence get themselves into scenarios that end up leaving them with souvenirs like names, tattoos, tags.”

Warm blood slides down my cheek as the ache swells and throbs. The shadows gather, their forms flickering in and out of focus. Four silhouettes emerge, closing in with unnatural slowness, their movements dragging through the air like figures wading through water. They hover at the edge of my vision, shifting and distorting, a pack of vengeful ghosts drawn together by hunger. “There’s nowhere to run, Tabitha Huxley…” Their mouths stretch into impossible smiles as they advance, teeth gleaming too white in the dark. NO!

This was absolutely a bad sign for those experts, which meant that they could no longer crush the ghoul army. Roars, screams, angry shouts, explosions... All kinds of sounds began to fill everyone's ears. Greenish Spirits of the Dead, red blood, white bones... Death was coming at any time and place. Nothing but a ghastly sight could be seen. Something even more frightening happened. The corpses of every human and demon expert would soon be occupied by the Spirits of the Dead. They turned into undying monsters, and their bodies were shrouded in a strangely greenish glow. They stood up again and waved their knives at their fellows.

This isn’t just a party — it’s a goddamn masquerade of killers and liars. Mafia kings, cartel lords, their mistresses, and enemies in disguise. Everyone in here has killed people or sent someone to die. Everyone is armed, even when pretending to flirt. Men with tattoos that tell stories of loyalty and blood. Women with eyes like poison. And me? I’m the ghost they’ve heard of but never seen. I felt the heat of every eye on my ass as I glide through the hall. Good. Let them look. I reach for a glass of champagne from a passing tray and take a sip. Cold.