Page 91 of Ghosts of Halloween

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 raisemyhopes. 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.

---