The Windhaven Witches Omnibus Edition : Complete Paranormal Suspense Series, Books 1-4

by Carissa Andrews

  He nods, more to himself than me, by the looks of it. “Good. Well, I suppose I better…”

  “Right,” I say, nodding. “Let me walk you out.” Standing up, I reach for my pajama bottoms and throw them on.

  “You don’t have to. Really. You should go back to bed and stay comfortable.”

  “Mr. Hoffman, I insist.” I stare him hard in the eyes and his pupils widen.

  “All right, then,” he grins, raising his hands in defeat.

  We walk the hallway in silence, but when we get to the big front door, I wrap my arms around him.

  Without a word, his strong arms encompass my body, and we melt into one another. He places his cheek to the top of my head and pulls me closer. Standing there, I wish I could keep this cocoon around us forever.

  “You better let me know how your grandpa is. I hope he’s okay,” I whisper.

  “Me, too.” He pulls me in tighter.

  “Drive safe, okay?” I whisper into his chest.

  “I realized something yesterday,” Wade says, his words reverberating through me.

  Pulling back, his expression is a difficult mixture to read.

  “With all this Colton stuff, your powers, everything with my grandpa and how close to… I realized I don’t want to waste time. It’s too short. So, here goes. I’m falling for you Dru. And not”—he bites his lower lip—“…not just kinda-sorta. I mean, I love you.”

  Tears brim in my lids and I can’t help but reach out for his face. With my index finger, I trace the lines from the crease of his left eye down to his lips. “Wade, I love you too. I wasn’t looking for you, but I know I never want to lose you.”

  His eyes are wide and he leans into my touch, grabbing hold of my wrist and giving my palm a kiss. Smiling softly, he bends forward until his lips are crushing down on mine. Unlike the reserved kisses in the bedroom, his true passion bleeds through, as he places his hands on either side of my face and presses down hard. My lips buzz from the pressure and intensity of him and when he finally pulls back, I’m left in a state of dizzy bliss; tingling from head to toe.

  “I’ll see you soon, okay?” he says, kissing my eyebrow.

  Without another word, he opens the door and walks out.

  Raising my fingertips to my lips, I stand there, watching as he drives off. I wait until I can no longer see his taillights in the driveway before closing the front door.

  Exhaling slowly, I plant my forehead against the ancient wood.

  “How did I ever get here?” I whisper out loud. I never knew falling in love could hurt, even when it felt so good.

  Taking a deep breath, I turn around to head back to bed. I’m wide awake now, but I need to at least make an attempt at more sleep. Wade and I didn’t fall asleep until well past midnight and goodness knows I don’t want to figure out how little sleep that actually is.

  As I make my way past the grand staircase, some movement to the right catches my eye. I take a step back and have another look.

  “Dad? Are you awake?” I call out, my heart suddenly thumping in my chest.

  Silence greets me and I take a tentative step up the first couple of stairs.

  “Dad?”

  At the top of the landing, the bottom of a woman’s white dress moves from view, heading down the hallway toward my Dad’s wing of the house.

  Goose bumps flash across my skin and the hairs on the back of my neck and arms stand on end.

  “He—hello?” I call out, clearing my throat midway.

  My chest is about to burst as I take another couple of steps upward. Flitting my gaze all over the space, I clutch the railing and race up the rest of the stairs, turning to the right to face the woman.

  However, as I reach the top landing, I again catch the bottom of her dress as she turns to the left and heads down the hallway that leads to my dad’s room. Without thinking, I race after her. If she’s here to do any harm, or hurt my dad…

  When I reach the end of the hallway and turn left, she stands outside the door to his bedroom, staring at it. My footsteps slow down as I make my way closer, but my heart rate continues to pick up. The adrenaline coursing through me makes my limbs shake, but I press myself forward despite it.

  “Abigail? You are Abigail, aren’t you? ” I call out. “What do you want?”

  The woman turns to look at me, her piercing gaze practically sees straight through me. The moment our eyes lock, there’s no doubt in my mind this woman is my ancestor, Abigail Blackwood. Then, without a word, she again faces the door.

  I struggle to take in a cleansing breath, but I walk as close to her as I dare. While she’s dressed in clothing from a completely different era, she looks as real and corporeal as any other person I’ve ever seen. Part of me feels totally validated. She can’t be a ghost. Aren’t ghosts supposed to be transparent or something?

  Suddenly, Abigail surges forward, entering my Dad’s bedroom without even opening the door.

  A tiny squeak escapes my lips and I stumble backward, clasping my hand over my mouth. Before I have the chance to fully process, I race forward, flinging the door back to warn my dad. When I enter his room, however, I pull up short. While his bed is slightly disheveled, he’s not in it. With the sheer amount of dust in the room, you’d think no one had been in here for ages.

  Abigail stands before an ancient-looking, ornate desk. There are tiny little wooden carvings and small pull-out drawers and slots for papers or mail all over it. Down its legs, there are three deeper drawers on either side.

  My insides shake and I can’t quite get a grapple around the thought that maybe I was wrong. Maybe ghosts do exist.

  Getting up enough courage to walk up beside her, I ask, “What is it you want? Why won’t you talk to me?”

  She turns to me, her solemn face unchanging. Raising her right arm, she points at the desk.

  My heart races like I’ve just run a marathon, but I force myself to take a step closer.

  “What about it? It’s a desk. I shouldn’t even be in—”

  Suddenly Abigail raises her hands and the contents of the entire room shake.

  I flinch, raising my hands to my face, in case anything goes flying.

  “It was you—you broke the vase in my bedroom,” I stammer, as things start to make more sense.

  Abigail’s face pinches tight and her jaw clenches. Again, she points to the desk.

  “What? What is it? I’m not going to snoop through my dad’s things. That’s just—”

  Without anyone touching it, a hidden drawer just under the desktop flies open. There are a few papers, bound in some sort of twine, an old-fashioned looking feather quill, and an adorned bronze handle.

  My jaw drops open and I take a step closer. “Is that—?”

  My mind is wheeling, but from here, it looks like a fit for the missing handle in my bedroom. Why would my dad have it hidden in a drawer?

  “Honey?” Dad says from behind me.

  I spin around, pushing the drawer in with my hip.

  “What are you doing in here?” he asks, surprise and confusion written across his face. He walks over to his bed, eyeing the mess, and returns his gaze to me.

  “I was, uh, looking for you. I haven’t seen you all weekend and I was getting worried.”

  “Sorry, sweetie. I had to leave on urgent business,” he says, shaking his head. “I should have told you or had James… I’m still not used to checking in with anyone else. It’s been years since I had to think about that sort of thing.”

  I hold a hand out in front of me. “No, I get it. I was just hoping to introduce you to Wade.”

  Taking a few steps away from the desk, I look over my shoulder. Abigail is gone.

  Dad’s forehead crinkles. “Oh, right. You mentioned that. Wow. Sorry, Autumn. I must be getting old. Forgetting stuff left, right, and center.”

  “It’s okay. He had to leave, though, so maybe next weekend? His grandpa isn’t doing well. So, I thought I’d…” I bite the side of my cheek, trying to think of
why I’d want to come to his bedroom to talk to him. “I’d just make sure you weren’t avoiding him.”

  “No, of course not. I’m very excited to meet the new man in your life,” Dad says, smiling.

  I smile back, trying to make a graceful exit as I inch closer to the door.

  “Well, I guess I should…” I start, jabbing a thumb toward the hallway.

  “Sure. Did you want me to have James make you some breakfast?”

  “No, it’s okay. I didn’t get much sleep, so I think I’m going to try and go back to bed for a little bit.”

  “Sounds good, sweetie. Love you,” he says, nodding.

  “Love you, too,” I say absently, walking out of the room and down the hall.

  As nice as Dad is, I know there’s a reason Abigail waited to show me the door handle when he wasn’t in his room. He’s obviously hiding it for a reason, and who knows what it is. I don’t want to piss him off or make him think I’ve been snooping in places I shouldn’t. If I ask him about the handle, it could put this good thing we have going in jeopardy. The last thing I need is to be contained to certain rooms, like when I was a kid.

  But now that I know where the handle is, I have to see what’s behind the door. The curiosity will gnaw at me. And as soon as Wade knows we can solve this mystery, he’s going to be chomping at the bit to get back here.

  There’s just one problem. Dad flits around this house like a ghost. Most of the time I don’t know where he is. For all I know, he spends the majority of the time in his room.

  How on earth am I going to get back in there to get the door handle?

  Chapter 18

  Shadows & Tattered Wallpaper

  Practically tiptoeing, I make my way to my bedroom with my insides twisting into knots.

  Abigail is nowhere to be seen, but hopefully that also means I’ll have a few uninterrupted hours to do some investigating on my own. Not to mention sort through some of the crazy things happening to me lately.

  I mean, seriously… What’s my dad hiding? And can ghosts really be real? Or am I just seriously sleep deprived?

  Glancing over my shoulder, I release a slow breath.

  If she was a ghost, why did Abigail seem as alive as anyone else I’ve met?

  I reach my hallway, scanning the space for her, but thankfully, I’m still alone. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I enter my bedroom and close the door behind me. Without hesitation, I lock it and take a seat on the end of my bed. Instead of heading straight to the hidden doorway, I flop down on my back and stare at the ceiling. I seriously don’t remember the last time so much was pressing down on me all at once. And the majority of it doesn’t make a bit of sense.

  For a moment, I close my eyes, trying to let all the weird stuff wash over me so I can get to the heart of the truth. When I was younger, I hated this space—hated all it represented. But now…

  “Quell your fear, Autumn. The truth shall set you free…”

  The whisper is breathless and right beside my ear. I bolt upright on the end of the bed, my heart practically ripping itself out of my chest. I scan the room for the source of the voice, but there’s nothing. No one but me is in the room, but I know what I heard.

  “Abigail?” I call out, backing away from my bed.

  My eyes flit to the wall with the hidden door and determination takes over me. I need to find out what’s going on and take control. My tongue flashes across my lower lip and I march over to the wall. Pushing my dresser out of the way, I don’t even try to do things delicately. The urge to figure something out in my crazy, mixed-up world has taken seed in my gut and I start ripping the wallpaper back. The decorative sheets shred, falling to the floor the way leaves tumble from the trees.

  When I’ve managed to peel it all back from the doorway, I take a step back and tilt my head to the side. Surprisingly, the door is tiny in comparison to the other doors in the house, and not at all what I originally expected. Nearly half the height and width, it was practically built for a dwarf—or a kid, I suppose.

  My eyebrows tug in and I walk up, sticking my fingertip inside the lip of the hole. Obviously, there’s no handle, but it’s pretty clear how it should set inside it. Snorting, I take a seat on the floor, staring at my handiwork and the handiwork of whoever built the door. It’s ancient-looking with its thick planks of wood. Most of them are warped and in desperate need of a good sanding. Yet the hinges and delicate bronze handle plate are beautiful.

  “Why are you here?” I whisper to myself, placing my hands on the floor behind me and leaning back. “Why were you hidden?”

  Loud knocking makes me jump and sit upright. It takes me a moment to realize it’s actually coming from my bedroom door.

  “Honey? I don’t mean to disturb you…but are you still awake?” Dad says on the other side.

  I suck in a breath and hold absolutely still.

  Would he be pissed to see the mess?

  “Yeah, I’m awake. But trying to fall back to sleep, though,” I call out, deciding I better give him a reason not to find the key and come on in.

  “Okay, sweetie. Sorry I bugged you,” he says.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say, pushing up to a kneel as I stare at the back of the door. I silently pray he doesn’t try to open it anyway.

  Guilt clings to my gut, because I’m sure he had something on his mind, but I need some time to myself with this. Especially since I’m clearly being haunted and I didn’t even know it was a possibility, not really, until just now.

  After a few quiet moments, I grab an armful of wallpaper and rush over to my small desk. I cram as much as I can of the decorative paper into the tiny wire basket underneath it. It’s clearly one of those minuscule trash cans that are only good for crumpled-up paper and tissues. Maybe a broken pencil. It overfills far too quickly as I rush back with another armful.

  “Ugh. I’m gonna have to sneak out for a garbage bag,” I whisper to myself when it becomes painfully apparent it’s not going to all fit.

  Dropping to my knees beside the door, I bend down, trying to get my fingertips between the door and the floor to see if I can pry it open without the handle. Unfortunately, whoever took the handle off also made sure to lock the door.

  “Figures,” I mutter. The only way in is to get the handle from Dad’s desk.

  There’s no chance in hell I’m going to risk that. At least, not yet. I’m also not going to risk leaving this room until I have a better plan. Besides, I want to keep this mystery to myself, even if only for a little while. I’m sure I’ll have to bring Dad into it at some point. I can’t keep it hidden forever. It wants to be seen.

  Standing back up, I glance at the bed, shaking away Abigail’s words and the creepy way she could appear completely normal, even though she clearly wasn’t. Instead, I walk over to the desk and open my laptop. I click on the Skype icon, my finger hovering over the button to call Wade. He’s probably still driving and likely worried about his grandpa. Instead of clicking it and hopping on a call, I sit back in my chair.

  How did everything get so confusing?

  I run my hand down my face.

  “Maybe it’s best I don’t talk to Wade right now,” I mutter, closing the laptop. “He has more important things on his mind.”

  Instead, I pull my phone from my pocket and text my mom. It’s been ages since I connected and I know she’d like to hear from me. Besides, I could use a little Mom encouragement right about now.

  Hi, Mom! Thought I’d check in. Are you awake?

  After a few moments of staring at my phone, there’s no reply. I’m sure she’ll be up soon, but she’s probably still asleep.

  I almost set the phone down, but instead, I text Cat. Typing quickly, I send my first hello in days.

  Hey, are you up?

  I hold my breath, waiting for an answer. Just as I’m about to put the phone down, an answer pings back.

  Not really. You okay?

  I bite my lip, realizing I’ve probably woken her up, too. It’s p
retty early for a Sunday in Windhaven.

  Yeah, sorry. It’s okay. Go back to bed.

  A second later, my phone rings.

  Taking a deep breath, I walk back to my bed and answer her video call. Cat comes into view, only the side of her face evident, since the other half is still buried in her pillow.

  “What’s up, Autumn? You don’t usually text like this,” she says, blinking away the dreaminess from her eyes.

  I shake my head, pulling my legs into a cross-legged position. “I really don’t know where to start.”

  “Start at the beginning,” she offers, propping herself on her elbow.

  “I think… I think something strange is going on in my house,” I finally spit out.

  Her eyes narrow, but she quirks an eyebrow. “Explain. Strange, how?”

  My jaw sets and I press my lips tight. “Do you remember the stuff you showed me—at the library. All the stuff with Abigail and Warren?”

  “Of course,” she nods.

  I swallow hard, shifting uncomfortably. “It sounds ludicrous, but I think Abigail is still here.”

  Cat’s head pulls back from her hand and she sits up fully. “Like…she’s still alive? Like an immortal?”

  I shake my head. “No, I—I don’t think so. I think she’s something else. A ghost?”

  “Why is that a question?”

  “Because I didn’t believe in ghosts. And she seemed real. Like she should be alive. Only, she walked through a door,” I say.

  Cat’s eyes widen. “Really? That’s so cool. I mean, I’m sure that was super weird.”

  “It was—but scary, too. And I don’t know what any of this means. I feel like there’s so much going on in this house and none of it’s making any sense,” I say, letting my thoughts tumble out.

  “It makes perfect sense, actually,” Cat says, one side of her face scrunching apologetically.

  “How?”

  “Look, I wish we could explain more, I really do. There’s magic involved and if we step outside its laws, it won’t be good. For any of us. We need to get you back to the library. There’s more you need to read. I know the last time freaked you out, but…”