Jack leaned against the wall, letting out a slow exhale as he surveyed the dim, empty room. This place wasn’t worth much thought, just another shadowed corner of London, another backdrop to the endless nights he’d spent pursuing his plans. He wasn’t sentimental. Not even when it came to the beautiful, captivating souls like Jonathan who had crossed his path.


    Jonathan had been different, though–not in any meaningful way, Jack reminded himself, but there had been something about him. That easy confidence, the way he knew his worth and let the world pay what he demanded. Jonathan had a charm that could turn the transactional into an art form. He was worth every penny Jack had given him, every moment of distraction he’d offered.


    A chill crept through the room, pulling Jack out of his thoughts. He felt it before he saw it–that familiar, spectral presence, thickening the air and filling it with a bone-deep cold. It was Jonathan, as pale and insubstantial as a wisp of smoke, but his gaze was the same: sharp, assessing, amused.


    “So,” Jonathan’s voice drifted through the stillness, his tone as easy and practiced as it had been in life. “Didn’t expect to see me again, did you?”


    Jack bristled, forcing a neutral expression as he locked eyes with the ghostly figure before him. “It’s not a habit of mine to dwell on… past encounters,” he replied, his tone dry. “I figured we were done.”


    Jonathan laughed, a sound that echoed strangely in the cold room, a mocking edge laced with bitterness. “Done? Is that what you call this?” He gestured to his faintly shimmering form, his expression hardening. “Your sister has made sure I’ll never be done, Jack. She’s bound me to her little collection, kept me here like some tool to be used and discarded at her whim.”


    Jack scoffed, crossing his arms. “And what do you want me to do about it? I thought you were clever enough to know how this world works, Jonathan. You’ve had plenty of practice playing by its rules.”


    “Yes, but I didn’t sign up for this,” Jonathan replied sharply, his eyes flashing with anger. “I may have been a pretty face for the right price, but I was alive. I had choices. Now, I’m trapped, bound to her like… like an ornament.”


    Jack let out a quiet, reluctant sigh, knowing too well the ruthless efficiency of Jackelin’s methods. He didn’t disagree with them. He’d never cared much about what she did with her phantoms, how she bound them or used them. But seeing Jonathan here, knowing he’d been caught up in her schemes, stirred something uncomfortably close to guilt.


    “Look,” Jack said, his voice softening just slightly, “You were… a good distraction, Jonathan. That’s it. You knew what you were doing, and you knew how to make yourself worth every bit of it. But you’re asking me to go up against my sister over this?”


    Jonathan’s gaze was steady, unwavering. “I’m asking you to at least try. I know I didn’t mean anything to you beyond some nights’ company and a bit of charm. I know you don’t care. But that’s exactly why you should do it, Jack. If I didn’t mean anything, then there’s no reason not to.”


    Jack hesitated, his fingers tapping against his arm as he mulled over the idea. It was true–Jonathan hadn’t been more than a temporary indulgence, a diversion. But he’d had a certain respect for Jonathan, for the way he’d carried himself, confident and pragmatic, taking advantage of whatever opportunities came his way. Jack couldn’t deny that he’d admired Jonathan’s cunning, his ability to thrive even in a world that would discard him at the drop of a hat.


    And now, here he was, reduced to this–an echo, a soul bound to Jackelin’s power, helpless and forced to plead with him for freedom.


    “You’re really pushing your luck, even as a ghost,” Jack said, his voice tinged with reluctant amusement. “But I suppose it’d be worth seeing if she’d at least consider… reconsidering.”Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Jonathan’s expression softened, though a trace of his usual sarcasm lingered. “I’d hate to be a nuisance, Jack. But you know as well as I do that I don’t belong in this half-existence. I’m more useful free, even if you don’t believe that matters to you.”


    Jack shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “And I thought I’d be done dealing with your clever tongue.”


    Jonathan’s form flickered, his expression somewhere between relief and that old, confident charm. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it, even if it was just for a moment. But if you can find it in you to get her to release me…” He trailed off, his gaze piercing, haunted by the spectre of his own fate. “Well, I won’t be around to haunt you anymore.”


    Jack nodded, his smirk fading as he took one last look at Jonathan, the man who’d once been just a passing thrill but who, in this moment, was something else–something closer to a mirror, reflecting a cost Jack was only beginning to understand.


    “I’ll try,” Jack murmured, the words carrying a strange weight. “But no promises. You know I’m no saint.”


    Jonathan’s expression softened, a faint, rueful smile crossing his face. “You don’t have to be. Just… don’t let me be another one of her trophies, Jack.”


    And as Jonathan’s form faded into the shadows, Jack felt the chill dissipate, leaving him alone in the empty room, the echo of Jonathan’s voice lingering in the silence. For the first time, he felt a tug of unease–an obligation, however faint, to honour the cunning and resilience he’d once respected in the man now bound to his sister’s will.


    As the room returned to silence, Jack let out a long, steadying breath, brushing off the remnants of that strange, lingering sense of duty Jonathan’s plea had stirred. But before he could fully gather his thoughts, he felt another presence–one far more familiar, sharp, and chilling in a way he recognised instantly.


    Jackelin’s figure slipped from the shadows, her presence as controlled and quietly powerful as always. She’d been watching. Of course she had.


    “Eavesdropping again, Jackelin?” he murmured, forcing himself to hold her gaze, knowing he was at her mercy in more ways than one.


    “Merely overseeing, Jack,” she replied smoothly, a hint of mockery in her tone. “You should be used to it by now.” She stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with a sharp, knowing look. “Jonathan may be able to escape many things, but me? He’ll never be able to hide from me.” Her smile was cold, almost amused.


    Jack kept his face neutral, though a flicker of irritation flashed in his eyes. “So, you heard everything.”


    “Every word,” she replied, watching him closely, her gaze lingering with a curiosity that sent a chill down his spine. “And I know how much you hate being asked for favours, Jack. So I’m prepared to make you a deal.”


    Jack raised an eyebrow, trying to mask his surprise. “What kind of deal?”


    Her smile deepened, a calculated edge beneath her composed expression. “I’ll release Jonathan,” she said smoothly, letting her words settle in the silence, “if you perform the ceremony to turn him back into a Soul.”


    Jack stared at her, his mind reeling. The ceremony to revert a phantom back into a Soul was a rare, complex rite–one that would mean Jonathan would be freed permanently from the cycle of returning as a phantom. A Soul was at peace; it couldn’t be bound or manipulated like the twisted forms Jackelin commanded.


    Jackelin’s expression remained serene, but there was a glint of satisfaction in her gaze. “Once he’s a Soul, he won’t return as a phantom, won’t cling to the living. You’ll be rid of him entirely.”


    “Why do you care if he’s a phantom or a Soul?” Jack asked, narrowing his eyes. “You’ve bound countless others.”


    “True,” she replied, shrugging slightly, her tone deceptively casual. “But this one seems to have your interest, however slight. I’d hate to think I was keeping something so valuable from you.” She tilted her head, her gaze cold but calculating. “Besides, a Soul has a certain… finality that a phantom never does.”


    Jack considered her offer, weighing it in silence. It wasn’t as if he felt anything close to sentiment for Jonathan, but the idea of releasing him, truly and permanently, held a strange appeal–an end to this part of his life, a clean slate that would leave him unburdened by Jonathan’s lingering spectre.


    “What’s the catch?” he asked, his voice measured, his gaze sharp.


    Jackelin’s smile didn’t falter. “No catch, Jack. Just a bit of ceremony. A few whispered words and Jonathan will be a memory, a Soul free of this world’s pull.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a low murmur. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer him to haunt you forever. A perpetual reminder of your past indulgences.”


    Jack hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Fine. I’ll perform the ceremony.” He forced himself to keep his gaze steady, even as he felt the weight of Jackelin’s own amusement pressing down on him.


    She stepped back, satisfied. “Very well. I’ll prepare everything and let you know when it’s time.”


    As she turned to leave, Jack felt a strange mixture of relief and apprehension settle over him. Jonathan’s soul would be free, spared from Jackelin’s grasp–and he would be rid of any lingering connection to that part of his past.


    But he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that, somehow, Jackelin had managed to orchestrate the entire thing. And as she slipped into the shadows once more, he couldn’t shake the sense that she was already several steps ahead, her own plans playing out in ways he hadn’t even begun to understand.