Soulless Ginger Novels & Stories

She had told him about their scary and terrifying figures and their names. The one who was a tall and had gaunt figure with sunken eyes that glowed like smoldering coals was named Morgrath. Her black robes hung loosely around her skeletal frame, giving her an air of ethereal menace. Morgrath was a master of necromancy, capable of commanding the spirits of the departed to do her bidding. Seraphina had told him was said that she wore jewellery made out of the bones and cursed artifacts, which were remnants of her twisted experiments.

I tell him and he nods. “Am glad we have an understanding and I think from now on. You and I will get along fine. Now, do you remember what I said if something like this happens again?” I asked him. “Yes, I remember.” He answers, his face is white as snow, and I can see that he is in a lot of pain. Poor man. “Good, Fingers, drive him to the nearest hospital and leave him there,” I tell him and get out of the cold room. I met Souls just as I am headed to the shower, they call him Souls because he enjoys watching people as their souls leave their bodies when they die. Creepy I know but this is the bratva world, the world of weird stuff, blood, drug, and money.

Ga-chi. The sound of my neck grinding reached a fever pitch in my auditory sensors, though my stone jaw stayed locked. The violet rot from the Well of Souls was moving through my pedestal, a cold, oily tide that tasted of every discarded shifter the High Council had ever spent. I felt the poison mapping the micro-fissures in my marrow, turning the indigo light of my core into a bruised, necrotic purple.

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.

Realizing that the Soul Hunters had been lying in wait for them even in Mr. Bates’s home, Gerald couldn’t help but frown as he sneered, “You Soul Hunters just don’t know when to quit, do you?” “Quit the cr*p and hand over the Phangrottom Talisman already! Your only other option is to receive a one-way ticket to hell!” warned the grey Soul Hunter in a frigid tone. Once he retrieved the Phangrottom Talisman, then their mission would surely end in success!

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'?"

I break the seemingly unending silence, my low-key words cutting through the silence and earning their attention as they still try to gauge me: “Where did you get the right—the nerves, the freaking guts, the rotten hearts—to sign me off to such a shameless, stained dog? The child that you gave birth to, and you are selling me off to such a dog that has no respect even for his own self?” Another silence, but it is cut short by Cynthia. Her mouth never runs dry. She always has some shit to vomit. Trying to prove how annoying and a bitchy character she is. And oh, how much she is a saint compared to the sinner that I am. Always trying to crash me in every sense. “For the simplest reason, you du