Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted - Chapter 474

Chapter 474: Ava: A Ghost’s Heart
The ghost’s cackling makes me want to claw my own ears out. He’s been circling overhead for fifteen minutes, singing nursery rhymes along with songs he’s made up on his own. Or maybe they’re just songs I’ve never heard before. Either way, they all make my skin crawl.

“Round and round the witch girl goes, where she stops the dead all know…”

I tap my foot against the hardwood floor, checking my watch for the third time in two minutes. Waiting for Acarus and Orion to finish whatever the hell they’re doing upstairs is much like those movie scenes where you stand in line at the DMV—if the DMV were staffed by cryptic supernatural beings who held the answers to life’s mysteries but refused to share them in anything but riddles.

Seriously, Selene’s got a lot of resemblance—

Don’t you dare.

—to herself. Just herself. Nobody else.

“Can you please shut up?” I snap at the translucent figure floating above me.

The ghost giggles, spinning lazily in circles. “The sleeping one wakes, the waking one sleeps. The circle never breaks, just repeats, repeats, repeats…”

I lean against the wall, straining to hear any movement from upstairs. Nothing.

Selene sits dutifully at my side, her blue eyes tracking the ghost’s movements. He seems to be trying to explain something. He’s a very consistent ghost, for someone who’s gone mad.

“Lovely,” I mutter, running my hand through my hair. Deciphering crazy ghosts is not what I need to add onto my pile of Luna duties.

The ghost dips closer, his face suddenly inches from mine. “She thinks she can hide, but death sees all sides.”

I jerk back, slamming my head against the wall with a strangled shriek.

He darts away with a giggle.

Finally, the floorboards above creak. I straighten up, trying to look less like someone who’s prone to being scared by a ghost.

Magister Orion appears first, his massive frame taking up most of the stairway. Behind him comes Acarus—and over his shoulder, bound in the rope we’ve enchanted, is the dream-eater. It looks strange, like a human-shaped shadow, its edges blurring and shifting as if it’s now made of smoke.

My nose wrinkles at the faint scent of blood wafting from it. Not strong, but not there before. The vampire’s done something to it, and it feels kind of like…

Deconstruction, Grimoire muses. It seems unstable compared to before.

Yeah. Kind of like that.

Acarus doesn’t even glance my way as he reaches the bottom step, his attention fixed on his cargo. Magister Orion gives me a nod, his face unreadable as ever. The ghost above me launches into another verse of his twisted song, louder now.

“I still have questions—and I don’t even have a way to contact you,” I blurt out, stepping forward before Acarus can walk away. Not the smooth way I wanted to approach the conversation.

He pauses, finally looking at me. No surprise shows on his perfect face, but there’s a moment of consideration, as if he’s weighing something in his mind. He doesn’t respond immediately, just tilts his head slightly.

Then, without warning or flourish, he holds out one hand. The air above his palm shimmers, and suddenly two strange devices materialize. They’re not modern smartphones—more like chunky flip phones from the early 2000s, but with strange markings etched into their casings.

I blink at them. “…Are those phones?”

He extends one toward me. “This is how you reach me.”

I take it hesitantly, turning it over in my hand. It feels heavier than it should. Then again, I’ve never held an electronic relic like this before. It’s older than I am. “Aren’t you worried the New Order might be able to listen in?”

“These do not utilize mortal networks.” His tone makes it clear no further explanation is coming.

But if vampires had magical cell phones, why didn’t I get one a long time ago?

Though, considering Magister Orion’s fascinated expression, he might not have known they existed, either. Huh. Interesting.

The ghost has been hovering behind me this whole time, still murmuring his nonsensical jingles. But when Acarus’s gaze flicks up to where the spirit floats, the ghost vanishes instantly, mid-word. The sudden silence is jarring.

“I wish I had whatever that is,” I scowl, glancing up at the now-empty space. “He won’t leave me alone.”

“He’s tethered to you,” Acarus says, adjusting his grip on the dream-eater. “But even the tethered can be anchored.”

This sounds promising. I inch closer, curling my fingers around the ancient and arcane-ified phone. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“The spirit can be contained,” he explains, his voice calm and methodical. “You must isolate its heart and place it within a crystal vessel. Once contained, it will become invisible and inaudible to others. Only you will be able to sense its presence.”

He shifts the dream-eater slightly on his shoulder. “But take care with the vessel. If the crystal breaks, the ghost will be released immediately.”

I listen carefully, trying to commit every word to memory. “What the hell is a ghost’s heart?”

“What’s binding it to the mortal plane,” he replies as if it should be obvious. “All ghosts have one.”

Selene presses against my leg, her ears pricked forward. Ask him how to get rid of it permanently.

“Is there a way to get rid of it for good? Not just locking it up?”

Acarus nods once. He always looks regal with everything he does. It’s almost offensively condescending, but he’s so pretty, it feels natural. “To purge the ghost entirely, you’ll need a soul token. As a witch wanting the power to cross the realm of Death, you could use it to sever the tie completely.”

This all sounds very ominous. Power to cross the realm of Death? Very voodoo-sounding. But I’ll bite; after all, I’m the one being haunted by an annoying, singing ghost. “Great. Where do I get one of these soul tokens?”

“They are crafted only by Shamans,” he says, watching me with those unnervingly perfect eyes. “Vampire blood witches.”

And yet a new word has been added to my magical vocabulary, though I’m startled to hear they aren’t… well, human.

Vampires have witches?

“And where do I find a Shaman?”

“They are chaotic. Self-serving. They have no stake in this war.” His voice remains flat, factual. “Even other vampires avoid them when possible. They take payment in bodies, mostly. Sometimes memories.”

My stomach knots. I can’t tell if he’s exaggerating, but judging by how matter-of-fact he is… probably not.

Acarus shifts the dream-eater on his shoulder, clearly preparing to leave. The ropes around the creature pulse slightly, like they’re containing something desperate to escape.

“So you’re really just going to disappear again?”

He looks at me, calm and without a trace of offense. “There are other pieces in play. But you have the phone now.”

The way he says it makes me feel small somehow—not because he’s trying to make me feel that way, but because I can suddenly feel the scale of whatever game he’s playing. His priorities are broader. Centuries wider. I’m just one piece on a massive chess board.

I watch him turn and walk away, the dream-eater’s shadowy form rippling with each step. The door closes behind him, and I’m left standing there with a strange phone in my hand and more questions than answers.

The ghost doesn’t return, and the silence feels heavy.

In the end… what’s a ghost’s heart? Selene asks, looking up at me. He didn’t explain it very well.

“No,” I say softly, staring at the closed door. “He really didn’t.”