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

by Carissa Andrews

  “So, you’re saying they find us because I’m a magnet for them?” I say, scratching my forehead.

  “Perhaps,” she says, raising a pointer finger in the air. “But the soulless are but empty vessels. They do not possess the qualities of the departed. They are soulless.”

  Frowning, I trying to make sense of what she’s saying. “So, if they’re empty vessels, is it just coincidence they find us?”

  “Unequivocally…no. They are but adhering to the whispers of their maker,” she says matter-of-factly.

  “Their maker… So, someone else is deliberately sending them to me?” I say, my jaw slacking open.

  “It would appear to be the case.” She nods. “Who would wish you ill?”

  I run my hands over my face. “This makes no sense whatsoever. I have no idea. Honestly, I haven’t really interacted with many people. Those who I have, are friends.”

  “Unearthing this treachery must be paramount. You must find the perpetrator and put an end to their unnatural summoning. Then, whatever remains must be brought here to the catacombs to rest. It is the only way to quell their calling.”

  “If bringing them here is the only way to stop them, how were we able to stop two of them?” I ask, completely confused.

  “I would not be so certain that you did,” she says, casting me a knowing look that makes my skin crawl and my heart race.

  Could those revenants reanimate themselves again?

  Abigail sighs, walking away from me. When she reaches the archway to where I came from, her fingertips trace the symbols in the stonework. After a moment, she says, “The last time soulless roamed Windhaven—you say thirty years ago…to me, it feels but a blink of the eye…” Her gaze extends to one of the other tunnels before she walks back over to me. “It took the combined efforts of our family, the Gilberts, the Cranes…and another to overcome their torment. Your father, gifted though he may be, did not possess a tenth of the innate ability you bring forth. So, he had to rely on the talents of others.”

  The blood drains from my face and I swallow hard. That’s a lot of magical power. Thirty years ago, all of those families were far more skilled than any of us. Even my father has been more in the know than myself.

  “I wish Dad was home. He’s gone away and I don’t know when he’ll be back. How am I meant to do this without him? Are you saying we’ll need to round up the Gilberts and Cranes again? Or—? He could have helped with all of this,” I mutter, trying to ignore the surprising well of anger from his absence and lack of technological know-how.

  “Your father would be an ineffective teacher. While he may retain much knowledge, it is but abstract to him in many regards,” she says. “This challenge, it is one you must face through experience. Your gifts will guide you, as will I.”

  “Great,” I say, biting my lower lip. As if there isn’t enough to worry about right now. “And how exactly are my gifts going to know what to do?”

  She tips her head to the side, walking away from me again. It’s like she can’t stand still for longer than two seconds. “Those bodies, once reanimated, will never cease. They are abominations, and they will never stop hunting. What is worse, more will come unless you find the conjurer and put an end to their misconduct. This will require much skill on their part and yours. Based on what you’ve relayed, any new graves made above ground will need to be sanctified by someone with holy virtue. Someone blessed by death, but who does not wish to control it.”

  I snicker to myself. “Yeah, because that’ll be easy to find.”

  “You may be surprised,” she says, casting me a sideways glance.

  The space between my eyebrows tightens.

  “You are still so innocent, Autumn. How I do miss those days,” Abigail smiles softly. “You will learn there are many others, existing on many planes, who come and go. Each caring for the delicate balance between life and death. Be not fooled. We are not the only ones graced with the ability to orchestrate the heavens.”

  “But…” I sigh. “Orchestrating the heavens? I don’t even know what I’m doing, Abigail. This is all so new and, truth be told, my mind is kind of exploding right now. I mean, how do I know what I’m meant to do? Or how to find the help I need? I don’t even know if I want any of this…”

  “Do not let the challenges unhinge your confidence. Time will test you, as it always does. Here, this may be of some assistance,” Abigail says, sweeping her arm out, palm side out.

  Behind me, in the center of the circular room, the middle stone shifts. I turn around as a pedestal materializes before my eyes. Resting on top is the oldest-looking book I’ve ever seen.

  “Wh—what is that?” I ask, unable to take my eyes off of it. It resonates with a power that pulsates in this small room, emitting a low hum that’s both peaceful and ominous at the same time.

  Abigail walks forward, gently flipping open the enormous tome. “This, my dearest Autumn, is the Blackwood family grimoire.”

  My eyebrows rise and I take a step forward. I’ve studied grimoires at Windhaven Academy, but I’ve never seen one this old.

  “If you are to be successful in vanquishing the soulless, you will require the assistance of the spells held within these pages,” she says, running the palms of her hands over the splayed leaves.

  Stepping up to it, I look from her, down to the book. The pages seem to glow from the inside out, with no other source of illumination or light being directed at the grimoire itself. Each page is worn, possibly through centuries of use. The ancient-looking texture and beautiful scrawling of the words and symbols draws me in, begging me to consume its secrets. However, none of it makes sense.

  My forehead wrinkles and I bend in even closer, narrowing my gaze. “What language is this? I can’t make out these words. How am I meant to use it if I can’t even read it?”

  I turn to her expectant gaze, and she shoots me an apologetic look. “This is written in our family’s cipher. Had our training not been disrupted in your youth, you would have learned how to read and write it. I am gravely sorry this could not take place before now. But we shall have to start some training post haste, in order to make this possible.”

  “That all sounds well and good, but what about the stuff that’s happening right now? How do I handle them?” I say, trying to be reasonable. If things are as bad as she says they are, surely getting on this is pretty important.

  “Your job right now, this very moment, is to find the conjurer and gather your alliances. The soulless must be brought here as quickly as possible by you and you alone. The disruption is growing and will only become more distressing,” she says. “Do not worry about the grimoire. When the time comes, you will have the enlightenment you seek. One way or another.”

  “Well, that’s good. Because I’m pretty clueless,” I say, flipping slowly through the book. There are hand-drawn images of humans, muscles, skeletal systems, plants, and so much more buried inside the pages.

  “You are more awakened than you might think. Wise beyond your years, but uneducated at the same time. All of that will change,” Abigail says, tipping her head in determination.

  I shoot her an uneasy smile.

  God, I hope she’s right. This messy middle, where I’m aware there are things I’m clueless on, makes it hard to move forward with any sort of confidence.

  Abigail catches my gaze. Her forehead creases as she opens and closes her mouth, evidently trying to decide on what to say. Finally, she takes a deep breath and says, “Autumn, it would do you some good to contemplate on what we do. What our kind has always tried to do. Necromancers work within the alignment of natural law, even if it appears we are bending it to our will. You would do well to remember that. Should we go beyond the bounds of those laws, there are always consequences to beheld.”

  Her words have a certain resonance and finality to them. I open my mouth to ask her what she means, when the entire catacombs begins to quake. The lighting on the walls flickers violently and I turn back to Abigail. She sets her ja
w and slams the grimoire shut.

  “You need to go. Now—” she demands. “Your time here is up.”

  Chapter 20

  Convergence

  Abigail’s form suddenly flickers before my eyes, jittering between solid and translucent. The rest of the space, the wall, torches, and even the floor do the same. It’s as if their entire reality is threatened by whatever is making everything tremble.

  Without any time to question who—or what—is doing it, I nod at Abigail, who returns my gaze with a deep intensity. She tips her chin and vanishes completely.

  Twisting on my heel, I only manage a few steps toward the tunnel out when I’m plunged into complete darkness. I can’t even make out the entrance on the other end.

  Sweat beads across my forehead and my heart thrums loudly in my ears.

  If I accidentally choose the wrong tunnel, missing it because I’m a step or two off, who knows where I could end up?

  Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to center myself. The quaking sensation tugs at the location around me, like some sort of seismic activity. Only, we’re not in any kind of volcanic or earthquake zone.

  Panic coils itself through my thoughts, despite trying to clear them away.

  Stones crumble around me, peppering the sandy floor, and I take off running. The last thing I want is to get stuck in these catacombs if the whole thing collapses.

  My vision remains dark, so I run solely on instinct, trying to make it to the other end as quickly as possible. Then, without warning, colors erupt through my perception. It starts out small at first, just little white dots at the edges of my periphery. But they get bigger, and brighter, until my entire field of vision is consumed by colors, all rotating in rapid succession. The effect is dizzying and I bend over, trying to breathe instead of hurling.

  “Autumn,” a voice calls in the distance. The masculine undertones of it are familiar, but I can’t put my finger on why.

  I perk my ears, trying to focus on the source of it.

  “Autumn, come back to me…please…please…” It pleads. There’s an edge of panic to the voice and anxiety unfurls through me like an explosion. “Come back to me. It’s not your time.”

  Suddenly, I bolt upright, finding myself in Wade’s warm embrace. He lets out a cross between a sob and a sigh, pulling me against his chest.

  My head swirls through thoughts, experiences, and images, but none of them stick around long enough to latch onto.

  “What—what’s going on?” I say, my voice sounding distant even to me. I lick my lower lip, trying to bring moisture back to my mouth, because it feels sucked dry of every drop.

  Wade refuses to let me go; instead, he clutches me so closely I can barely breathe. “I thought I’d lost you. God, Autumn, don’t you ever do something like that to me again.”

  My eyes flicker open. The resurrection chamber’s familiar energy and ambiance greet me like the comfort of a mother’s embrace. Only, we’re resting on the sandy floor beside the wall that leads to the catacombs.

  I pull back from Wade, blinking back my surprise.

  The wall is completely intact. There isn’t a single stone loose or piled up on the floor.

  “What the hell?” I sputter, scrambling to my feet.

  Wade gropes for me. “Autumn, you should really be careful. You were—”

  I stand up anyway, ignoring the dizzying sensation rolling through me. I place my hands on the stones, feeling them for any abnormality, but they’re exactly as they were before I pulled them apart.

  “This can’t be…” I mutter, more to myself than anything.

  “What is? What’s going on?” Wade asks, his voice still coming out in an elevated pitch.

  I point to the wall. “I went through there. This wall, it was… I…” I stutter, trying to figure out what to say or what I saw, until I remember what Abigail said. No one living should enter.

  Was it all in my mind?

  Wade’s wide eyes show the tiniest sliver of silver and his face is beyond pale. His complexion has taken on a greyish appearance, not unlike the revenants.

  “Autumn, I thought you were dead. I don’t know what’s happening, but I’ve never been so scared in all my life,” Wade breathes, his eyes pleading with me to understand the gravity of his words.

  I swallow hard and take a step toward him. “I’m so sorry, Wade. I didn’t mean to scare you.“ I pull him into my arms, wrapping them around his torso. “I didn’t know.”

  The two of us stand there, trembling from the trauma and realization.

  “I still don’t understand. What were you doing? Why didn’t you answer my calls?” Wade says breathlessly beside my ear. “God, as if I wasn’t already having a heart attack.”

  “I’m sorry,” I repeat, letting the guilt roll through me. “I should have. It’s just—Abigail was here. She was trying to show me more about my powers. About our legacy.”

  Wade releases me, taking a step back. “Did she attack you?”

  I chuckle softly under my breath. “No, nothing like that. She was showing me how to use a new sense of vision, I think. To see things, sense things without using my eyes. At least, that’s what I thought…” My voice trails off as I try to mesh the reality of what just happened with my previous perceptions. “I thought I was in the catacombs.”

  Everything is suddenly thrown into question and I have the burning desire to go back in—to see if I can get back there.

  “How? From here?” Wade asks, his gaze floating around the room.

  I shake my head. “I’m not sure now. It all felt so real…but maybe I was just dreaming?”

  “Whatever you were doing, it was not dreaming. Your body was stiff as a board and you had lost almost all color. It was like you were...” his voice quivers, but he manages to get out the last word, “dead.”

  The anguish in his face tugs at my heart, making it constrict. I step forward, placing my hands on either side of his face, staring him hard in the eyes. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily. I’m here to stay, Mr. Hoffman.”

  His shoulders drop and he closes his eyes. “I didn’t know what to do. All I knew was I was willing to do just about anything to bring you back,” he whispers.

  “If it’s any consolation, I think whatever you did brought me back.”

  Wade’s dark eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean?”

  I drop my hands, taking a few steps away. My eyes flit to the intact wall and I shudder away the memories of removing all of those stones. “When I was in there, everything began to shake, like there was an earthquake or something. Nothing was making sense and I was scared I wouldn’t find my way out. Then…”

  “Then?” he presses.

  “Then there was you. And here I am,” I say, shrugging.

  Wade’s face brightens at first, then falters. “We have more problems. I feel stupid even bringing it up to you after all of this, but I have to.” His lips tug downward and he runs his hands through his dark hair.

  My forehead creases and my heart suddenly feels like it might beat out of my chest. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  He exhales a jagged breath. “I was at home when I got a knock on the door. I thought it was you at first. I know how hard everything has been and the tension that’s come between us after all of this shit…but obviously, it wasn’t. It was Chelsea.”

  “Okay?” I say, watching as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. My emotions burn under the surface as I try not to jump to any conclusions.

  “You know how she is—she’s like a magnet for supernatural news, thanks to Sheriff Gordon,” he begins.

  I release a slow breath and nod. “I do.”

  Wade’s tongue skirts across his lower lip and he says, “Well, you know the revenants we killed?”

  Instantly, I know where he’s going with this. “They reanimated.” It wasn’t a question.

  Wade’s eyebrows scrunch in. “How’d—?”
>
  “Abigail,” I say, raising a hand. “Go on.”

  He tips his chin, letting his gaze fall to the floor. Taking a moment, he blinks rapidly. “The ones they’ve found so far were being kept in the forensics lab at the police department. Something about weird energy signatures. But the ones we took down, they attacked the forensic scientist who was working on the case.”

  My hands fly to my mouth. “Oh, my god. Is the scientist okay?”

  Wade nods. “Yeah, I think so. She’s at the hospital, but alive, thankfully.”

  “Good,” I say, my shoulders relaxing.

  “The thing that worries me, though, is the fact that they attacked again, and they’re getting stronger and more vicious. The police had to take drastic measures to take them down.” Wade shudders.

  “Drastic measures?” I say, quirking an eyebrow.

  “They blew them up,” Wade says, making a face.

  I flinch.

  “Chelsea said the feds are worried that the longer the revenants are up and moving, the more rabid they get. Like, they begin to operate on a whole new level of instinct. So, naturally, I wanted to warn you—and check on Grandpa. The last thing I wanted was for you to inadvertently get in the way of…” His voice drifts off and he shudders.

  Realization washes through me and I feel horrible for scaring the hell out of him. “Oh, god, Wade. I should have answered—”

  “Autumn, that’s just it, though… My grandpa’s missing.”

  Wade’s final word hits the inside of my skull with a resounding thud.

  “Are you certain? What about the boat house?”

  He shakes his head. “He’s gone. The door’s been ripped clear off its hinges.”

  “Shit,” I mutter. My insides feel flipped outside and I can’t breathe. I wonder how long he’s been gone? “If he’s out—”