Ghosts of Halloween: A Dark Why Choose Romance

I sit up with a groan, my entire body feeling sore like I got a good beating. Really, all my muscles hurt, my head pounds with a headache, and my mouth feels dry and unpleasant. As if I haven’t drank or eaten for ages.

Because of course, I haven’t, but I didn’t really notice this musty taste in my mouth before. When Harlow drops to her knees in front of me, her frantic hands touching my face, I blink hard, because it feels like my eyes have a hard time focusing. It takes me a moment to finally see her clearly, and when I do, I grin. God, she’s so beautiful.

“Hey, princess,” I say, turning my face to the side so I don’t give her a whiff of my disgusting breath. God, I need to brush my teeth. The thought seems strange, because I haven’t done that or thought about it in two years.

Because of course. I was dead.

Wait… was?

“Jack, are you okay? What happened?” Harlow asks, patting me down frantically like she’s looking for injuries. Behind her, Silas and Caden stand, both looking tense.

I don’t answer, frowning at the sheer amount of the things I feel right now. There is somehow so much. I still have a body, I feel my blood pumping, my breaths pouring in and out, but… The sensation is more nuanced than before. Like there is so much more going on under the surface.

Suddenly, my stomach grumbles loudly, and Harlow makes a small sound of surprise. Silas narrows his eyes, and Caden takes a step back, staring at me as if I just grew a tail.

“Are you… hungry?” Harlow asks, watching me with a worried expression. “Jack?”

Fuck, yes. I’m starving. And I haven’t felt hunger since I died. Ghosts don’t need food.

I stare at my hands for a moment, turning them this way and that. My fingers are long, my nails slightly uneven but short, a bit of dirt underneath my thumbnail that makes me grimace. There are faint, silvery scars over the knuckles of my right hand, and I rub my fingers over them. When was the last time I saw myself in so much detail?

Sure, I’ve had a body since last evening. But… I don’t know. It didn’t feel as real as it does now. The thought makes me shiver with excitement, understanding pushing through. But I don’t dare think it. Not until I’m sure.

I try to turn invisible. Earlier, it was effortless. It took just a thought, and poof, I was gone. This time though, nothing happens. My body is still here, solid and completely visible, Harlow’s worried gaze sliding up and down my face.

“Holy shit,” I mutter, trying to rise into the air next. Again, it felt so natural before. Just a thought and I was flying. Now—nothing.

Still not looking up, because I’m actually scared of what I suspect is going on, I ask, trying to keep my voice nonchalant, “Uh, guys? When Michael croaked, did you see that thing? A kind of, I don’t know, spark?”

I still don’t look up, waiting with bated breath until finally, Silas speaks. “Yeah, I saw it. Over his mouth. It looked like you bit it.”

I nod, clenching my hands together, listening to the two whimpering voices to my right. I don’t even know why, because this idea hasn’t formed fully in my mind, but I’m fucking relieved both are still alive. We need two.

“So, yeah,” I say, pushing up with a groan until I stand on wobbly legs, leaning one hand against the wall. “It, uh, kinda called to me, you know? Like I was meant to get it. So I swallowed it. Kind of.”

In the almost silence that follows, I slowly look up at Silas and Caden, glancing at Harlow who stands by my side, clasping her hands together. “So, guys. I think you should do that, too.”

“Do what?” Silas growls, a muscle in his jaw ticking. Caden just stares, seeming bewildered, which is an odd look on him. He’s usually so competent and ahead of everyone.

“Well, you know. Swallow your spark. When we kill another one.”

“Why?” Silas snarls, clearly losing his patience.

“I’m not sure,” I say, because I really don’t want to raise their hopes if I don’t know for certain. Hell, I don’t want to raise my hopes. And if I say it out loud, it will be like… tempting fate or something. Better leave it unsaid.

Silas’s face sharpens with anger, but Caden’s clears in an instant. He gives me a sharp nod, takes the knife from his belt, and walks around the chairs to stand behind Greg.

“That’s for my little bird,” he says quietly and cuts his throat open.

Nobody speaks, the only sound Ryan’s panicked screams that filter through the gag and a wet, visceral gurgling sound Greg makes as a hot waterfall of blood flows out of his wound. I glance at Caden, nodding with approval when I see him staring intently at Greg’s gagged mouth, body braced to act.

Greg shudders and gurgles some more, but his death is quick. Caden yanks the wet gag out of Greg’s mouth as we wait with bated breath. Soon, I see it. It’s like a speck of silvery light. Caden leans in, almost as if for a kiss, and swallows the speck. His throat bobs.

Next thing I know, he falls to the ground with a thud, his feet drumming against the floor, his entire body seizing.

“Fuck!” Silas rushes to Caden’s side, bracing his head in both hands so he doesn’t hit it against anything while he convulses. It takes maybe thirty seconds, and Caden calms down, his face smoothing, body growing lax.

“What the fuck does it mean?” Silas growls, standing up. “Start fucking talking, Jack, or I swear…”

But he breaks off, his eyes going wide. For a moment, he looks like he’s choking, soundlessly trying to cough something out. I stare, and Harlow makes a small sound in the back of her throat, taking a jerking step toward him.

Silas opens his mouth, raising his hands, and I gasp when I see the tips of his fingers. They are slowly losing color, the faint, wispy grayness of his ghost form taking over.

It must be dawn. We didn’t make it.

“Fuck! Silas! Holy shit, you have to… You have to swallow his soul!”

I lunge ahead in a panic, but I’m still unsteady, so I stumble and almost fall as my vision grows unfocused. Silas brings his hands to his throat, scratching at it like he’s trying to dislodge something there. The grayness moves up his fingers, swallowing them knuckle after knuckle.

Fuck. I can’t move fast enough.

I regain my balance, determination helping me stand up, when Harlow rushes past me, dropping to her knees by Caden’s sleeping form. A moment later, she emerges, clutching the bloody knife. It slips in her grip, blood squelching under her fingers as she corrects it.

“Come closer,” she says in a low guttural voice, standing behind Ryan as she yanks the gag out of his gasping mouth. “Silas. Come closer.”

He lurches to her, his face growing red from lack of air even as the ghostly grayness swallows up his wrists. His steps are unsteady, and he’s clearly suffocating, his mouth wide open. I look into his face, twisted by fear and fury, his mouth open wide in a silent scream.

Fuck. I need to get a grip.

“Here,” I say, putting my arm around his waist. When Silas leans on me, my knees almost buckle, my vision blacking out, but I don’t fall. Slowly steadying us both, I lead him closer, so he’s standing right over Ryan’s chair, Silas’s legs pressed into Ryan’s shaking knees.

“Good,” Harlow says, her face tight, left hand that holds the knife to Ryan’s throat shaking. “Stay there.”

She pulls his head back by the hair, baring his throat, and slowly slashes in there. Her brows furrow in effort, and she curses under her breath, gripping the knife more tightly to deepen the wound. I’ve never slit anyone’s throat, but it must take effort.

Blood flows, but Ryan still makes a sound, a little gasping breath that tells me she didn’t severe his neck enough to make him suffocate. Beside me, Silas jerks, and when I look at him, his arms are gone, only their gray outlines remaining. His eyes look bleary, growing unfocused. He isn’t getting enough air.

“Deeper,” I snarl, and Harlow grunts with effort and slashes across Ryan’s neck once more, this time fast and deep. Blood wells and pours out, and he opens his mouth wide to gulp a breath, this time with no sound. She did it.

But as I watch the gray smoke cover up more of Silas, creeping into his chest and stomach and up his neck, I can’t help thinking it’s too late. How long will it take Ryan to die? Every second matters.

“Mouth to mouth!” Harlow barks, and I grip Silas by the hair, thankfully still corporeal, and press his open mouth to Ryan’s while Ryan still shakes and heaves, the agonal spasms of his body letting me know he’s alive.

Seconds pass. Silas grows completely limp, and even as he slowly turns ghostly, he still weighs the same. I groan, holding him up, but fuck. I can’t let go now. My body straining, I keep his mouth pressed to Ryan’s. Harlow’s lower lip trembles, but her body stops shaking. Completely determined and focused, she holds Ryan’s head up so his mouth is pressed against Silas’s lips.

Finally, Ryan goes still. I shake so hard now, I know I won’t be able to stand for much longer. Red dots color my vision, and I don’t even make any sounds anymore, because that takes effort, and every fiber of my being is now focused on one goal only: keep Silas up.

Until he suddenly takes a huge, shuddering breath, the grayness covering him dissipating. Silas convulses, and we both crash to the floor, his body spasming against me until he finally calms down. Harlow hovers over us, giving me a worried look, then gently laying her palm on Silas’s chest.

“He’s breathing,” she whispers softly. “He’s okay.”

“But I’m not,” I say, blinking rapidly. My vision swims, Harlow’s image blurring and sliding until I see three of her. My throat is parched, my stomach burns. “I… water.”

“Of course,” she says, standing up at once. “Stay here.”

As I listen to her receding footsteps, my eyes sliding shut, I can’t help but fear it’s the last time I’ll ever see her. But then I fall under, and nothing matters anymore.