Tophat Ghost Novels & Stories

Neither of us said anything for a long time. Then the past walked in with mud on her boots and a hood pulled low. “Snake,” Ghost said without turning his head. I didn’t move. “If you’re a ghost, I’ll tear you apart anyway.” She pushed back the hood. The scar at her temple looked new. The eyes didn’t. Those were the same—sharp, stubborn, a little haunted. There was rainwater at the ends of her hair and dirt under her nails. Her hands were up, not in surrender exactly, but in acceptance.

Ivan hesitated, clearly terrified to speak the name. “She’s made contact with him. The Ghost.” The temperature in the room dropped instantly. I looked between them, confused. “Who is the Ghost?” Nikolai’s face had gone deathly white. He slowly sat down, rubbing his face with both hands. “The Ghost,” he said quietly, “is a legend. A shadow. No one knows his real name. He doesn’t run a family — he destroys them. He’s the one who orchestrates silent coups. The one who makes entire bloodlines disappear overnight. Even my father was afraid of him.”

But a hand dangled from behind his body just as he stood up. Edgar swallowed. He glanced at the hand that had black fingers and long nails. Edgar also saw Elissa, who was still laughing. That meant the one who was touching Edgar's shoulder was not Elissa. Edgar's heart was beating faster. He looked back, and when he saw a tall black figure with a face full of blood, Edgar did not scream. He fainted immediately. The ghost who was about to scream had not screamed yet. The spirit immediately revealed his costume. He intended to wake Edgar up.

Tim and Edwin were rendered speechless, but not so for Agatha and Kira who came from an era of a greater belief and understanding the world of magic and spirits. The spirit before them was of a taller than average stature. He was dressed in a fine linen coat and breeches of a rich royal blue. His stockings and neatly tied cravat glowed a dull white in comparison. His well-attended wig finished the look of breeding and prosperity. His face was aged, but still quite handsome. It took only one quick look to verify that he was definitely related to Edwin.

Fifty-six minutes remained before the final sweep. He pulled his heavy black coat tighter around his massive shoulders, his face returning to that unyielding, terrifying mask of stone. He had successfully penetrated the absolute center of the empire, but as he stepped out of the gatehouse and into the freezing downpour, he knew he wasn't going back to the light unchanged. The Ghost had finally taken the throne, and the throne was made of bone.

No shape could ever truly contain the deep and pervasive horror that Death inspires and to behold it in all its extradimensional glory is to spontaneously fry your brain. In one fluid, memorized motion, Septimus whirls his overcoat off and into the air and a spirit steps out of a wall of monitors to assume the role of a coat-stand. This spirit is fully skeletal; tragically its head is missing so there’s nothing but its spine protruding between the shoulder-blades, making it otherwise perfect as a peg. Septimus tosses his guitar case in the same direction and the decapitated skeleton also catches this out of habit before stiffening ramrod straight like a foot guard at Buckingham Palace.

She called out, her voice echoing eerily in the vast emptiness. "Ghost?" she whispered, her voice barely a sound. A chuckle, low and sardonic, filled the darkness. Then, a single figure emerged from the shadows. Tall and shrouded in darkness, its face hidden beneath a hood, this was Ghost.

Those who had discovered the truth were swiftly silenced, their secrets dying with them. The rumors about The Ghost were the stuff of criminal legend. They said he could walk through walls, that he had spies in every major organization, that he could make people disappear without a trace. Some said he wasn't human at all, but a vengeful spirit who had returned from the dead to punish the wicked. Victor did nothing to discourage these tales—in fact, he cultivated them.

They followed us, looking around, mostly up at the Manor itself, like expecting to see something pop up in a window. “You’ll be meeting the Blotters in the afternoon, guys,” I said. “After the housekeepers leave.” “The housekeepers don’t know about them?” asked Ted. “They don’t dig having ghosts around,” I replied, smiling. “So we pretend it’s an ordinary house until noon. Then the poltergeist show begins.” Brandon and Isaac laughed at their friends’ faces. “She’s kidding, guys,” said Isaac. “The Blotters are too civil to do something like that.”

The old clock in the safe house ticked faintly, as if silently counting the passage of time. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Alicia held her breath and slowly made her way to the door, peering through the peephole. She saw a familiar face - the Ghost and Nova. Alicia let out a sigh of relief and opened the door to let them in. The Ghost was still tall and silent, with his long black hair neatly combed back and his electronic glasses reflecting cold light. Nova, on the other hand, appeared more alert, with her silver short hair looking like it had been dyed recently and her sharp gaze scanning every corner of the room.