Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (113)
Wolf hit his friend on the back. “I’m in. Let’s go looking for dragons and bloodsuckers. What could go wrong?”
Onyx looked to him in surprise. “What about Fenrir?”
Wolfgang snorted. “I’m not an alpha yet. And I’m in no hurry to train a bunch of rabid pups.”
“I can help,” I offered. “I’ll go too.”
The room went silent. With hesitation looming over me, I cast a glance at Ames, who met my stare. Where I’d expected anger, only a hint of sadness danced along his features. My heart cracked a little. I didn’t want to make him sad . . . but I couldn’t not help Onyx when he needed me. Not when they’d all been there for me in my time of being lost, of searching. I’d been looking for a family, too, when The Halloween Boys found me. How could I not be there for Onyx?
Shadows danced around Ames when he answered, “You have my help, friend. Always.”
Onyx’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “You guys would really come with me?” His gaze searched his friends’ before landing on mine. I swallowed, just then realizing I’d probably follow him anywhere. I’d follow any of them anywhere. If they needed me . . . that was all the reason I needed.
“We’re a pack.” Wolfgang shrugged.
Ames tangled his fingers through my hair. “We’re family.”
Onyx chuckled. “A band of assholes, more like it. Except you, Blythe. You know, except for the hair in the shower shit.”
After my cheeks hurt from laughter, visions of our next adventure thrilled through me. Where would one find dragons? Were all vampires like Vincent and Ezmerelda? Where did they disappear to after Hallows? Was it possible to find someone who could tell me more about what exactly I was?
With love, confidence, and freedom, I said, “Wherever we go, we go together.”
And though I may have been Death itself, something dark and powerful and misunderstood, as Ghost said, I was loyal to those I loved. Perhaps I’d willfully joined them on the wrong side of Heaven and old stories and legends. Despite it all, I’d found what I’d been searching for. Ash Grove had let me in for a reason . . . and I’d found my purpose here. The Halloween Boys were indeed the death of me . . . and the start of my life. Whatever spooky adventure that lay ahead of us filled me with fire and energy. Something dark and ancient lurked beneath my skin, a monster of legendary proportions, And I couldn’t wait to meet her.
I’m Blythe Pearl and I am Death. A Reaper.
And I have never felt so alive.
To be continued in The Halloween Boys Book Two: Dragon. Flying castles, vampires, dragons, and more mysteries coming this winter.
Yes, there’s more
Follow Blythe, Ghost, Dragon, Wolf, and Devil into book two of The Halloween Boys… Dragon.
Releasing this winter. Preorder today.
Acknowledgments
First and foremost I want to thank my religious upbringing for failing at converting me so spectacularly that it spit me out on the other side heavenly beings and sanctuaries. Kidding, kind of.
I have to thank Mr. Blackthorne for his extreme lapse in judgement in thinking marrying me would lead to an average human relationship. You could have had a nice, peppy girl. Instead you picked the girl who writes demon orgies… and I’m really grateful for that. This book wouldn’t have been possible without your unwavering acceptance. You ran literally everything about our lives while I wrote it. Thank you for remembering to water and feed me, and for prying the manuscript from my hands when I wanted to delete it, burn it, curse it into the abyss. I’m glad you didn’t let me do that. I think.
Occult and Esoteric Masters are a thing, and I happened upon the best one for consulting for this book. Imagine sending a text message that says, “What alcoholic beverage would a murder of crows choose?” And getting a serious response back. (It’s mead, by the way.) Also, envision you write a demon in the middle of the night. You text your consultant the weird thing the demon did or said. And he replies, “That’s true, that’s what they do, but most people don’t know that.” That’s not freaky at all. Eric confirmed the underworld’s enthusiastic involvement in this project, and that the demons were expressing their thanks by throwing birds at me constantly. Once it was indeed a literal raven sitting on my doormat. Anyway, having Eric Titus Albion’s guidance from his decades of rubbing elbows with these creatures was invaluable. I think it added a layer to this novel like I’ve rarely seen before. I also wanted to be respectful of these beings and the people who follow and honor them.
And to you, dear reader… I’ve been an author long enough to know that some will vehemently hate this book. Some will be ambivalent. And then a special few, the ones that set my soul ablaze, will find something they needed. They’ll see themselves in someone, creature, immortal, or human, and something will click. That reader will think of that scene or that moment over and over and a real sort of magic will happen through that spell. If you’re like me, who has been so often put under the witchcraft of a book, it’ll change something inside of you. You’ll feel a little braver, a little more seen, something inside will hurt a little less, or feel a bit stronger. Those are the readers that keep me writing.