Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (60)



Though every evening Ezmerelda waited like a little red moth on the trail to walk her to Hallows, my blood boiled. And every night Blythe’s goddamn outfits were sexier and sexier. Who was she dressing for? The Red Vampiress? I’d cornered the vampire at the start of the week. Even someone as ancient as she couldn’t hide the slash of fear I tasted when I stopped her. It tasted like sour grapes, and she bared her teeth, knowing I tasted it.

“I’m her friend,” she claimed, tossing her long hair over her deceptively delicate shoulder.

My gaze didn’t falter. I may have been behind the paint of a skull, but Ezmerelda knew what lay beneath was far worse than any costume could portray. She’d seen my demon and the fear lingered. Good.

“You don’t have friends,” I countered. “You have fuck buddies. And Blythe won’t be one of them. Don’t touch her, don’t give her any of your kind’s fucking alcohol, and keep Vincent the fuck away from her, too.”

Ezmerelda Bennet’s fear twisted with indignation, the taste like overripe green apples. “Stop feeding on my emotions, demon.”

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, vampiress. And you’ll obey me if you and your kind want access to my lands.”

Her red gaze narrowed as she walked by me. “If you were smart, Ghost, you’d give her to us. She’d be better off under the watch of our coven than The Halloween Boys. It’s only a matter of time before one of you claim her and that poor girl loses her soul.”

“Try to convince me you give a shit about her soul,” I said through gritted teeth.

Ezmerelda twirled on her boot as she circled me in that annoying as fuck way she did to everyone. Her time in the circus never left her. She’d always be a performer. “With us, she’d experience pleasure, not pain, and she’d only give her soul if she wanted to. There have been humans in the past who have decided not to and have aged away. With you though . . . ” She jumped and grabbed a branch several feet overhead. “Her soul is gone the moment you inevitably shoot her up with your cursed cock. Sad you’d even let yourself so close, Ghost. You’re truly out-eviling yourself at every turn. Haven’t you put Ash Grove through enough?” She tsked sarcastically.

I was tempted to shift just to taste the fear again. To put her in her place. Though she spoke some truth and I knew it. “Your people intoxicate your victims and convince yourselves they have free will. The mental gymnastics are almost as good as your physical ones. This isn’t the circus, Ezmerelda. And you will obey my commands.”

A lithe giggle faded as she silently jumped between trees. “Think it over, Ghost. I could treat her better than you, and you know it.”

And she was gone.

Infuriating fucking vampiress. That’s what they did though. They thrived on getting in their victims’ heads, convincing their prey they wanted it. Onyx thought too highly of the other half of his kind, and I kept silent too often so as not to offend him. The vampires weren’t my favorite of the monsters I oversaw. But I knew they wouldn’t harm her. Not after knowing I was watching her. Claimed or not, they wouldn’t touch what was mine. They loved rules and order and following the letter of any law placed over them. I could at least count on that.

At the end of my nights, I’d wait in the dark of the shadows and watch one of my friends drive her home. Following behind, once she was inside, I’d assume my position under the dead tree in the square across from her window and sit in its shadows. Watching, listening, and alone.

Alone except for the crow that perched above me, seemingly doing the same thing I was. Another night I wasn’t chasing the damned and sent the guys to look for it instead. I didn’t care. They got to drive her, and talk to her, and eat breakfast with her, so I got to watch her through her window. It was fair.

And I thought to myself as I watched her brush her hair, I could live like this until she died peacefully of old age. I could follow her and look after her. Then when she left her physical body, I’d find her soul and follow it too. Blythe would be my new guiding light, not dissecting the limitations of my curse, not school, or careers, or even my friends. It would be this woman and this woman alone now. Perhaps stalking her was even more than I deserved. It was selfish and an obsession, but I had no urge to change it. It was what it was. I was what I was. A demon. A ghost.

And now she was cursed with me forever.





CHAPTER 22





Blythe





THE BRIDE OF CHARLES MOORE





We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.

Alice in Wonderland





The only reason I went to my therapy appointment was in hopes of seeing him. But he’d even orchestrated an eleven in the morning lunch break to avoid being near me. I guessed I was right. He wanted a quick lay, and when I proved more complicated, less thankful for his help, and interested in more than just sex, he split. Why couldn’t I have just slept with him? I want you replayed over and over in my mind. His gruff voice, the way he moved so fast to grab my face . . . His lips were right there. I’d had eight days to think about his lips and how close they were. In my fantasies, I acted like a normal woman would and I kissed him. Pulling him close, I’d push him onto the sofa and straddle him. I’d grind on him until he begged for more, and then I’d slide between his knees and do what I should have done then. That could have been my first time having sex. But I wasn’t a normal woman. I was someone who’d been chased, taunted, and toyed with her entire adult life. I’d been surrounded by death and sadness. They followed me to every town I tried to call home, along with my stepfather, who’d recently been concerningly quiet. The smallest, tiniest flicker of hope bounced in my heart that maybe, just maybe, he’d stopped his quest. That maybe something scared him off, or maybe he lost track of me somehow. I couldn’t explain the blank letter and how he knew where I was . . . and maybe he truly was lurking around a corner waiting to strike . . . but for now, I’d keep doing what I was doing. I’d never stayed put after receiving a letter. I’d always ran. Maybe he didn’t know what to do with that, like he never expected me to stay, and he chickened out on killing me. I could only hope.

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