Soulless Ginger Novels & Stories

With a click, the clasp came undone, and the pendant fell to the floor. In a flash, Zoe’s eyes widened. She grabbed my collar like a madwoman. “Y-You… You didn’t switch fates? You lied to me?!” I looked at her in surprise. “What are you talking about?” Miles suddenly exclaimed, “Ow, Maisie. My neck feels itchy.” He pulled down his collar, exposing his collarbone, and clearly revealed who was actually wearing the demonic fate-swapping lock.

I put aside the tingling feeling in my body, which I got at the thought of my spleen being displayed on the wall as if it was at an auction. 10 $ ! Going once ! Going twice ! Oops , no one decided to buy it, the victim died for nothing. I cringe internally at the mental picture. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘command’ and I’m not entirely sure what you mean by dimensional portal.” For all I know, it could be ghetto talk. “Take a wild guess.” He drawls out, waving his hand in front of my face. I gulp as I see the fingernails being sliced through by claws. I hadn’t imagined it. It was real.

Soul Sight: a rare hereditary ability, manifesting in early childhood in those with a predisposition toward soulbound recognition, enabling the perception of— The text had been damaged after that. Water-warped. I had spent two weeks trying to find another copy and failed. But I didn't need the text to understand what I'd seen. Golden threads running from my chest to his. Longing in the space between them, vast and old and inexplicable. The knowledge arriving not as a thought but as a fact: he is mine.

"Impossible! That's utterly impossible! We've got so many doctors in the institute, and this is just a simple renal transplant. You'll just sleep through the whole thing. Oh, go ahead and take the medicine already. Be good!" I kept silent and merely turned away with my mouth tightly shut. My noncompliance enraged Miles, and he was visibly upset. He smashed the glass of water on the ground, his gaze on me menacing. "You're nothing but an invalid now, Cassidy. Without me, you'd be lying on your back, popping out kids for someone else. I don't care whether or not you've regained your memories, but you're taking the medicine!" I clutched my wrist, now bleeding from being cut by a shard of glass.

“I said I wasn't to be…” “Hi!” Ginger chirped, beaming as if she’d just found a long-lost sister. Before Qye could process the intrusion, Ginger had already slipped past her shoulder and bounced into the center of the room, spinning around to admire the decor. “Here looks pretty boring” Qye stood by the open door, her hand still on the knob. “Who the hell are you?” “Relax, relax,” Ginger said, waving a hand dismissively as she flopped onto Qye’s designer armchair. “I’m Ginger. Your host. You're Qye, right? The one everyone says has the 'iron pulse'?"

a shrill voice so high that goose bumps could ooze out rang in the silence. That was Zhu Yeqing, a Presbyter of the Broken Souls Cult who shared his name with that of a venomous snake. Tall and lanky, his face was powdered so thick that one might mistake him for a woman, despite his Adam's apple, and his strange and peculiar looks made it hard to differ him from man or woman. Beside him stood a giant of a man. A tall, dark and well-built brute reaching almost two meters in height; he carried a huge sword and his name, was Jin'gang.

Ginger used to be scared of him. She would rather offend ten gentlemen than offend a single crazed delinquent. And her cousin, Roger Strand, was precisely that, a crazed delinquent.

"The ghost chef always uses ginger when she prepares a meal. It is her signature. She thinks it cleanses the palate. She uses it in almost every dish she serves to Alaric." I looked at the fire. My plan was perfect. It was a work of art. "There is something we can add to the young prince’s medications." I said. Magnus was the one supplying the boy’s medicine. He controlled the apothecary. "It is something that is poison but not poison. It is simply rat poop. On its own, it does nothing. But when mixed with ginger, it causes the throat to close. It causes the heart to erratic. It looks like a sudden, violent illness."

II—The Echo of Severance The chamber had no windows. Candlelight licked the stone walls, soft and unsteady, throwing shadows that clung too long to the corners. Salt had been poured in a wide circle across the floor, its white line broken only where three figures stood inside it. The air smelled of ash and old incense, the kind that lingered in places where grief had been practiced into ritual. The bonded pair stood facing each other at the circle’s center. They were young. Not in years, perhaps, but in the way their hands shook when they tried to hold still. Their fingers brushed, then hesitated, as if even touching might make what was about to happen more real.

He kept his attention straight ahead, an ability I wasn't equipped with. The closest figure softly wheezed and yanked my attention in the direction the eyes were closed but the body was jerking and waved as if it was recuperating from a long run. The movement of the body alone made me uncomfortable, so I stopped walking and examined the body closely. The veins in all of the exposed skin were black but the skin itself was pale almost see-through. My eyes followed the veins down the face to the bloodstained neck and down to the shredded shoulder, and chest where deep claw-like gashes littered the body's torso. I examined the arms or what would be the arms one was missing large portions of meat