Only A Ghost Could Save Me Novels & Stories

"We have the ring. We have the suit." "We are ready," Cale said. "For the finale." "For the war." Outside, the sun began to set, turning the sky the color of a bruise. Lysander was coming back tomorrow. The cameras were coming back. But tonight, they had soup. They had cash. And they had a letter from the dead saying it was okay to live. Cale looked at the torn painting. You can't save him, the ghost had said. You can only love him. Cale touched his wrist. Three marks. I will do both, Cale thought. And he closed his eyes, waiting for the static to take him.

His action was futile. The ghost focused on Rian. Her black eyes burned with recognition. Her hatred intensified. "Traitor," the ghost hissed. Her voice tore at the edges of my sanity. "You killed me to save the world. You gave the Mate to the darkness." "She is not the darkness," Rian shouted. He was fighting psychological warfare. "She is the Anchor. She is the cure." The ghost laughed. The sound was dry. It was cold. She plunged her spectral hands into Rian's chest. She did not harm the flesh. She targeted his core.

But your mother's about to die—I know you'll show up. Her words jolted me back to reality. I pressed a hand to my chest, where my heart ached with a dull, numbing pain. How I wished I could tell her myself. That I've been here all along. It's just that... I've been dead for four years.

"You unleashed the beasts. You tried to erase the ghost." I looked up through the iron bars, my blazing silver eyes locking straight onto her shivering frame. "Now tell me," I whispered, flexing my silver claws in the dark, "who is going to save you from me?”

Marcus, the quiet guy from accounting leaned against the door, arms crossed, with a bitter smirk twisting his lips. “McAllen,” he said. “You’ve been looking real happy lately. I see you enjoy your late night with the boss.” My stomach dropped. “What the hell are you talking about?” He stepped closer, I could see the jealousy in his eyes. “ I saw you leaving the private elevator. Looking like a man whose ass has taken some cock. You’re not the first, you know. The Ghost destroys anyone who tries to get close. You’re just the latest toy.” “The Ghost?” I laughed it off, but my voice sounded shaky even to me. “Sounds like some movie legend bullshit.”

But the closer I got to the entrance, the closer the men got to me. Suddenly, something pierced my neck. I quickly yanked it out and threw it away. Surprisingly, it didn’t take me out. But just when I thought I was close to escaping, I stumbled over something on the road, and my legs faltered, slowing me down. That was all the time those people needed. Hands grabbed my arms as they dragged me toward the van, which had already moved closer to us. I could see Ghost struggling to stay awake and get to me. Despite slowly losing consciousness, he staggered toward us, holding a hand out.

“Elena, it’s not real!” “It’s Dad!” I sobbed, tearing free, crawling through the ash that was now the restaurant’s floor, my hands burning on hot coals that weren’t there. “I have to save him!” Mamá’s voice cut through, raw and ragged. “Mija, he’s gone! You can’t save a ghost!” She was on her feet, blood pouring from her shoulder, dragging herself toward me with a ferocity that defied her wounds. “You save us!”

The only sound was the hiss of the kerosene heater and Ghost’s frantic, wet gasping. "Kai?" Evangeline was shaking. She’d made it to her feet, leaning heavy on a pallet. "Who is she?" "The backup," I said. I didn't take my eyes off the hitters. "Ghost. Tell them to leave." Seraphina loosened the wire just enough for him to speak. "Get... out..." Ghost wheezed. "Go!" The two men hesitated, then backed into the darkness of the loading dock. Their footsteps faded into the rain.

she said, mimicking Velan’s pet name with a cruel twist. “He’ll devour you, only I can save you. The blood stone’s our only salvation.” Her form flickered, fading into the shadows, leaving me alone with my sobs and the ghost of her touch on my back.

I send him in to sleep it off, and give the driver my own address next. The last of the adrenaline drains from my system as I lean against the taxi door, resting my forehead on the cool of the window. The whole incident is hazy in my mind, as though wrapped in cotton-wool. The hypnotic stranger, the ecstasy of dancing with him, the appearance of the Grey Woman and Great-Uncle Mathewe. Bellmouth, in the distance. Bellmouth only bays when the life of a family member is in danger. I wonder just what it was that the Blackmarsh ghosts have just saved me from, and I shudder.