Reading Ghost Novels & Stories

I move the glass closer to him and hear him whimper as I lift his arm, slicing his wrist with my nail and setting it to drain into my glass. “Now, is there anything else I need to know about my grandfather’s estate?” I ask him. He’s staring horrified at his wrist dripping blood. “It’s haunted.” “I’m a bloodsucker as you said, so I’m not scared of ghosts. There isn’t much that goes bump in the night that isn’t afraid of me,” I tell him. “Anyone come looking for the place recently?” I ask, making sure that my father hasn’t found it yet. “Yeah, another bloodsucker.”

I boasted. "Well... you're quite brave," Agatha said. "Alright, if you're not scared, let's do it tomorrow. Let's go to the White House and do some ghost hunting." "What's ghost hunting?" Onin asked. "Oh, dummy. Ghost hunting. Searching for ghosts. G-O-O-S-E, right," Agatha said, even spelling out 'goose.' "Is that the spelling, Carms?" Onin, not believing Agatha, turned to me for confirmation.

It was displayed. My chest tightened as I lifted it with a gloved hand. The scent hit immediately, chemical, sharp, layered with something metallic underneath. Chlorine and cold steel. A smell I had not encountered in years but recognized all the same. It was the same ghost note that had clung to the air the night my parents died. This was not chaos. It was not a fight gone wrong or a rogue passing through. This was intent. Someone had gotten close enough to Owen to inject him, or had taken him elsewhere and left this behind as a message. Either option required control, preparation, and knowledge of what we were.

"You’ve cleared the site. You’ve removed the threats. Why are you still looking for ghosts?" He gripped my waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of my dress. "Because ghosts are the only things that can walk through walls, Eden. And Silas Vane is the best ghost in the business." "I haven't seen him; I doubt I'll see him while I'm indoors," I said, the lie tasting like copper in my mouth. "He’s just a name in a file to me now."

Suddenly, thunder cracked, despite the clear sky. A single crow cawed, landing at the balcony just above the vault. In its talon, another note. This one, fresher. More direct. “Hello, Grace. You’ve grown into quite the flame. Let’s see if you’re ready to burn.” Her breath caught. He was watching her already. A Game of Ghosts Vincent Ashford returned unannounced that evening. Dressed in a long coat, streaks of gray in his beard, his presence still commanding.

I whispered, my words slipping through the air like a sharp blade. Her face paled, and her hands trembled as the realization washed over her. Samantha, the ghost from our past, a specter we had long thought banished to the depths of forgotten memories. Yet here she was, resurfacing like a vengeful spirit, intent on wreaking havoc upon our fragile existence. I moved swiftly, my hands still feverishly gathering our belongings, tying up loose ends. It was a race against time, against the shadow that loomed ominously over us. I refused to let Samantha's malicious intent extinguish the fragile flame of hope that burned within our hearts.

CHAPTER 30 – GHOSTS OF THE HIGHWAY The alley was chaos incarnate. Rain poured like a relentless drumbeat, washing blood, mud, and ash into the cracks of the pavement. The ledger lay scattered, pages fluttering in the wind like wounded birds. Smoke curled from shattered streetlights, and every shadow seemed alive, moving, waiting. I stood amidst it all, chest heaving, soaked to the bone, knuckles raw from fighting. And Luca… he was gone.

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.

As he flipped through the yellowed old pages, he sat down on the neatly made bed and began to read, curiosity etched on his features. Don Carianno’s writing was in beautiful cursive. It looked like he took his time to scribble, dotting all his i's and crossing his t's. He flipped through the first pages, there was an entry about a new shipment, but it didn’t make sense. He could not decipher the code words. He flipped through a few more pages, and that was when he saw an entry about him. It read: "Ghost, that’s what we’re going to name him. He’s, after all, a Ghost."

As the plane took off, I finally exhaled—like something heavy had snapped loose inside me. Phone on airplane mode. Eyes shut. Real sleep, at last. Sleep I'd been chasing for years. Soft music played in my ears, and for once, the past felt far away. "Hedley Hart, you're finally free," I whispered, voice shaking. For years, I'd lived in her orbit. Loved her so hard I disappeared. Even after ninety-nine rejections, I never thought about quitting.