Page 24 of Ghoul Me, Maybe
He left this page like a breadcrumb.
And now I’m knee-deep in a storm that’s been building for over a century.
I run my fingers over Elias’s name in the log.
And I feel the pull again.
Like the tide knows my name.
Later that night, the page sits between us like a loaded pistol.
I don’t say anything when I pull it from my jacket and lay it on the table. My eyes lock with his, gauging his reaction. I’m not sure if he’ll bolt, scream, or combust.
“The ink. The words. The names,” he says, looking over it. “I can still smell the mildew of the ship hold. Still hear the whisper of boots on oiled planks, Kerren’s voice low and snake-slick as he lied to my face, knife behind his back.”
For a moment it seems he’s stuck in some far away place, quietly contemplating, and then?—
“Greaves,” he growls.
I flinch.
“That bastard…” His voice scrapes through his throat like it’s being ripped from stone. “He paid me to transport the relic. Told me it was just enchanted cargo. Didn’t say it was cursed—or sentient—or that ittalkedwhen you got too close.”
My vision doubles. The room warps. The bond pulls us tight, and heat flares through my limbs.
The table rattles, and Elias doubles over, clenching his fists like he’s in pain.
I leap to my feet. “Elias—hey—what’s happening?”
“Too much,” he snarls. “Too fast?—”
And then he collapses.
Not like mist.
Like a man.
He hits the floor hard, shoulder striking wood.
Spectral light rolls off him in waves, flickering between blue and violet, like lightning trapped in flesh.
I kneel beside him, hand gently pressed against his chest. His heart—hisheart—pounds once. Just once. And then silence.
“El,” I whisper. “Can you hear me?”
He manages a nod.
The light fades.
For a moment, he looks alive.
CHAPTER 10
ELIAS
Waking hurts.
Which is irritating, considering I haven’tbeenalive in over a century. Pain is a cruel thing to return to.
