Quotes Ghosts Novels & Stories

"One of the guards... it had to be one of the guards." "Your grandmother and I have a lead," Marcus explained, his voice dropping to a cautious murmur. "We can't be certain yet; we only have suspicions. To uncover the full truth, we need Xavier Grayson’s cooperation." Chloe gripped his hand, her fingers trembling. "Grandfather, tell me the truth. Is there anything in this world that defies reason? Are there... are there truly ghosts?" Marcus shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "No. There are no ghosts."

I reached out and pressed the radio button on the steering wheel. My voice was cold, cutting through the static. "Mason Vale, do you see a ghost in your mirror?" I said coldly into the radio. Those words pierced straight through Mason's last line of composure. His car hesitated for an obvious instant on the straight. Now. I smashed the throttle down. The car tore through the air and pulled alongside him. Ahead was a chain of fast S-curves. Seeing that I was about to pass, a vicious look flashed through Mason's eyes.

“Because if it fails…” “Everyone loses,” Puc finished. He turned back to his team. “Final sweep.” The ghosts moved faster now, diving into Veil-lanes, skimming the edges of reality, testing every approach vector. One ghost paused, head tilting. “Something’s wrong,” it said. Althea’s eyes snapped open. “What kind of wrong?” “Not hostile,” the ghost replied. “Just… crowded.” Puc frowned. “Explain.” “Veil traffic,” the ghost said. “Farther out. Small groups. Seven at a time.”

The only memory I had of her was when she encountered an issue with her research data but couldn't locate where the error was. I'd gone to the research lab to pick up some things when I stumbled across the red-eyed Cecily. I asked if she needed help, so she explained the issue. After combing through every step of her research, I finally pointed out the problem. Over the course of five years, much had changed with the young woman who had been crying her eyes out over an issue with her research. I couldn't recognize her right away. Cecily smoothly started leading the way for me, her tone mischievous as she remarked, "Looks like you still remember me, Nathan. I thought you'd forgotten all about

“How poetic.” “What do you want?” Her eyes flicked toward the pack house. “Only to warn you. They’re whispering again. Some say Zac’s spirit still lingers. That he’s… watching.” I felt the blood drain from my face. “Don’t start this.” “I’m not starting anything,” she said, stepping closer. “You’re the one pretending ghosts don’t follow you.” “There are no ghosts,” I said firmly. Her smirk deepened. “Maybe. But you and I both know some sins don’t die easy.”

ghost child . The little girl shakes her head sadly . " She's not ghost . She's real . " Her eyes glistened with tears but the tears didn't fall . " You're real too . I can see you can't I ? " I smile warmly . She giggles . " That's true . But you can only see here . No other place . " She beams at her knowledge . " What does that mean ? Is this place a beacon for ghosts ? " Jace asks . Maybe his vocabulary didn't quite get to her because she looks up at him in confusion and then gets up , running towards the stairs .

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.

"You're hiding something, and I respect that. I also hope it's murder. I like murder. Keeps things spicy." Noah raised an eyebrow. "You always talk like that?" "Only when I like someone. When I don't, I'm worse." A pause. The radiator groaned. "I sat near the back," Noah offered, as if that explained everything. Emrys nodded. "Where the ghosts sit." Noah tilted his head. "Campus has ghosts," Emrys said matter-of-factly. "Not real ones. Well — maybe. But the other kind. People who show up, hover, vanish. Always a story. Always something weird behind the eyes."

He stares at me. Then leans in. Not close enough to kiss. Just close enough to make it personal. “You feel familiar,” he says, voice low. “It bothers me.” I meet his eyes. Say nothing. He doesn’t pull back. “And it intrigues me.” Still silent. “Good night, Mr. Cross,” I say as I smile. Soft. Cold. And I walk away. Because that’s what ghosts do. They haunt. And then they vanish.

Clara's POV. Nine days had passed since I signed the contract and became Clara Cross on paper. Nine days. In just over a week, my life had turned completely upside down, and somewhere along the way, I realized refusing to break had become my only choice. The whole of America already knew the Ghost of Wall Street had a wife. Ironically, I found out the exact same way everyone else did. Through headlines and posts scattered across the internet. The Ghost of Wall Street Is Married. Who Is Clara Cross?