Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (108)

“Thank you, Marcelene,” I said, meeting her gaze. “I mean it. Thanks.” She could have left me for dead, killed me like I killed her. But she didn’t. The crone was better than me, and I was grateful for that.

She cut a nod, her gaze softening a bit. The old bat had a soft spot for me even after all these years. “Oh, and we’re sorry for vandalizing your house every year,” I added.

She dropped her crystal pendulum. “I knew it was you wretched Halloween Boys—”

Onyx and Wolf touched me, and we closed our eyes. At the last moment, another hand touched my leg, and we were gone before she finished her sentence. If I was going to die fighting a goddamn Reaper, I was happy to have gotten one last dig at Marcelene in. As I tumbled through the darkness, I wondered, How does one defeat death?





BLYTHE


Numbness overtook me like an undertow, pulling me down into a blanket of white. This was how a daydream felt. But this wasn’t a daydream, just white . . . nothingness. Funny how I assumed death would be black. Then I saw her. She sat on a throne of gray bones holding a staff. A raven perched atop it, and it eyed at me as I approached. “Can you help me?” I asked the woman.

She looked down at me, and I gasped when I realized it was my own face staring back at me. Me, but different. Twisted horns stretched above my head, and my black dress glowed in the bright white room. She thrummed her fingers on her throne, the other hand caressing her staff. No, not a staff, a scythe. Whoever this was, they weren’t human, and I wasn’t sure if they were good or bad yet.

“You can help you,” she answered. “You’ve had the answers all along. If you’d only listen to yourself.” The bird squawked in agreement.

“I don’t understand.”

“You do, though, you really do.”

I looked to the bird on the scythe . . . Raven. I knew my bird. Another trick, maybe, but I didn’t think she meant to harm me or she would have already. The long, arched blade and the bones reminded me of . . . some sort of Grim Reaper.

The ghost in the shop’s voice rang in my ears. It’s you. You can save us. Please, please . . .

The legion of demons . . . my stepfather . . . They couldn’t see me. Ames couldn’t see me.

Suddenly, we weren’t alone.

Four men stood by her throne.

And four men appeared beside me. I felt his arms instantly. “Ames,” I sobbed into his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed. “We’re here.”

“Are we dead?”

Ames glanced at a man in red I didn’t recognize, and then at the woman at the throne. “I don’t think so. This reminds me of Hell.”

The men standing around her were fierce, and strong, with mighty wings and horns . . . and they were also nearly the mirror image of the men clutching me now. My men. The Halloween Boys.

The woman spoke in my voice. “You underestimated the girl. You thought she needed you to rescue her. You assumed this man chasing her must be magical to fly under the radar. You thought he wanted her only to get at you.” She grinned and glanced at the demon who looked like Ames, who gave a very human-looking shrug. She continued, “Did you ever consider it was her the entire time? That perhaps she’s the one with the magic, and you’re all the average, ordinary monsters? She never needed your help, Ames. In fact, you’re lucky she didn’t kick your ass. Beware the damsel in distress. Sometimes she’s death in disguise. And that’s what you have here. You were too blind to see it. It’s ironic that her gifts make her invisible to being seen because you saw nothing about her even with your talents. You saw what you wanted to see, and you all missed out on who she is. You thought you had a helpless lost girl to save?”

A chill ran through my spine . . . a chill and . . . darkness. It flooded into my lungs, my chest, my body, like the biggest and best breath I’d ever taken. It was me. This was me. I knew who I was. And I could help them all.

The woman . . . me . . . smiled at me then, and winked, before saying.

“Blythe is Death, and she needs no saving.”



We appeared then, back in the gas station. I gulped and panted, as if just emerging from the ocean. But it was real. The guys were here. Onyx stood with green flame flicking around him. Ames shifted, and Ghost stood at full, terrifying height. Wolfgang became his shadowy beast . . . and the man in red . . . he hadn’t come. He was gone.

The goat demon looked between us wide-eyed. “He wants her. He won’t stop until he gets her.”

The chains burned at my wrist, and the spear pulsed in my shoulder. It felt so real. Then I remembered her on her throne of bones . . . Death. I was Death.

If I was truly Death . . .

I tugged, feeling that shadow seep inside me once more. It cooled my bones and steadied me as I jerked my arms forward and stood. The chains whisked away like a cloud, as did the spear, and I felt no pain.

“No,” the demon screeched. “You weren’t supposed to realize it. I was supposed to take you to him unaware. He wants you, and he’ll have you—”

I took a step toward the creature, and she flinched. She spoke again, dropping to her furry knees. “Kill me. You’re the only one who can. Death would be a freedom from what my master will do when he sees I have failed.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ghost growled. The boys grunted their agreements.