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

by Carissa Andrews

  There’s no sight of my mom as I sneak my way to checkout with my contraband in hand. She’s probably grabbing her shampoo, so I have to be fast.

  I slide my items on the checkout, standing on my toes to hunt for the pharmacist assistant, who’s usually right there and waiting. Rocking back and forth on my feet, I lean as far across the counter as I dare.

  Thankfully, she looks up from whatever prescription she must have been filling.

  “Be there in just a second, dear,” she says as she finishes up counting.

  I look again over my shoulder, eyes wide, as I try to locate my mother. My fingertips tap the side of the counter as I try to dispel my impatience.

  The woman sets aside the prescription and walks over to the register with a smile.

  “Ah, Autumn. I thought that was you,” she says as she gets closer.

  “Yep,” I say, trying not to bounce up and down. I shove the items across the counter to her.

  She grabs the toothbrush first, scanning it. My insides are screaming at her to hurry up. Relief floods through me as she reaches for the pregnancy test. Thankfully, the woman doesn’t say a word. She just quirks an eyebrow and presses her lips into a thin line.

  The register dings loudly as she scans it and sets it aside. I hold my breath as she reaches for a bag.

  “Is that a pregnancy test?” Mom says from directly over my shoulder.

  Chapter 10

  Put to the Test

  I twist around, meeting my mom’s expectant gaze. Her eyes sparkle with a strange glow that makes the green flecks in her irises pulsate. How have I never noticed that before now? She holds my stare, but after a moment, the corner of her mouth twitches into a half-smile. In the simple gesture, my lips part for me to say something, but I end up snapping them shut.

  “You don’t need that test. I could tell from the moment you walked into the house,” Mom says, setting her shampoo on the counter behind me as she turns to the pharmacy clerk. “Hi, Terri. How’s your mom doing?”

  “Good, Mrs. Blackwood,” Terri says, tipping her chin. “Want me to ring these all up together?”

  “Yep, sounds good,” Mom says, ushering me aside with a swipe of her arm.

  I stand there, staring at her as she takes charge with the sale and manages everything else in complete stride. Me, on the other hand… Can a person forget how to think?

  Blinking away my shock, I take another step back from the counter. I practically bump into the small display of sunglasses as I give Mom room to pay for everything because I lost all sense to stop her.

  After a few more quiet words with Terri, she turns back to me. “Ready to head home?”

  I nod, still unable to form words just yet. One word rattles around inside my head.

  Pregnant.

  I follow Mom outside, barely aware of my surroundings, let alone how to put one foot in front of the other.

  Mom pulls me aside when we hit the sidewalk. “He really loves you, you know. It’s pretty evident in the way he kissed you before we left.”

  I stare back at her, nodding. “Yeah.”

  “Do you love him?” she asks, tilting her head to the side and taking in my every movement.

  My shoulders release and I exhale. “More than anything.”

  Her face softens and she chuckles under her breath. “That’ll change when the little one arrives. Not that you’ll love him any less, mind you. But your capacity to love just gets so much bigger. Bigger than you ever thought possible. In fact, so much so that it can be downright scary.”

  “More scary than being hunted by fate?” I sputter. They’re the first words that come to mind, but they’re my truth at this moment.

  She raises her hand, pressing her thumb against my chin. “Not quite, but damn close.”

  My face must betray me because she sets the bag of stuff on the snow-covered bench outside the drugstore, then pulls me to her. After a few moments, she whispers, “We will find a way out of this. I promise you that.” I shoot her a doubtful glance and she sighs. “He’ll make a good dad, you know.”

  “Yeah, if we ever get that far.” A smile flits across my face and tears well in my eyes. I pull back to wipe them away. “Are you sure? I mean about me? About this?” I ask, letting my hands fall to my abdomen.

  Mom’s eyes crease and she says, “It’s one of my specialties. We might share a lot in common when it comes to death and the afterlife, sweetheart. But there’s actually a fine line between birth and death. You just have to know where to look.”

  Anxiety wells up inside my chest and I swallow hard. “This is not a good time.”

  “It’s never a good time, Autumn. Kids are scary shit,” she chuckles. “But you can’t fear living just because you know one day all of this will end. The end comes for most of us someday. No, I don’t care if you’re twenty-two or being chased by the Moirai. Take it from me. Running in fear means you end up missing the point of life entirely,” she says, frowning.

  “Are you talking about you and Dad?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

  Her forehead creases. “Had I known you would have ended up right in the middle of all of this anyway, I don’t think I would have made the same choices. I would have insisted we take a different path.”

  “You have no idea how much I wish you had,” I whisper, thinking of all the lost time with Dad—with the manor. With my gifts. Maybe having learned about them and the Moirai earlier would have been what we needed to overcome them.

  What if now it’s too late?

  “Mom, I can’t bring a baby in the middle of all of this,” I say, suddenly overwhelmed by the emotions clawing at my insides. “What in the hell am I going to do? We have to stop the Moirai—”

  “Listen to me,” she says, gripping me by my shoulders. “We will find a way out of this. All of us, together.”

  I nod frantically, hoping the truth in her words somehow finds a way into my soul, because right now, I’m feeling utterly helpless and alone. Raising my hand to my mouth, I sputter, “Oh, my god. Wade. How am I going to tell Wade?”

  “Just relax. Sit with this a bit. Take that test, if you think it will make it easier. Then, wrap it up as a present and give it to him for Christmas,” Mom says, her expression thoughtful.

  I glare at her from under my eyebrows. “That’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “And yet, I bet you don’t have a better plan.” She grins back.

  I run my hand down my face.

  “You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Whatever you choose—however you decide to tell him—it will be perfect.” She reaches past me, picking up the bag and facing my body toward the house.

  We walk back, listening to the sound of our feet crunching in the snow. The closer we get, I’m a bundle of nerves as I try to figure out the best way to tell Wade. Do I do what Mom suggested, as corny as it is? Or do I find some other way to tell him?

  What will he say? What will he think?

  God, we never talked about this—any of it. Kids, marriage. It’s almost as if neither one of us could foresee a future where all of that existed.

  I shudder at the thought, pulling my coat in tighter.

  When we reach the house, I’m practically ready to head back in the other direction. Mom must sense my apprehension, too. As we walk inside, her gaze floats around the room to find Wade. When they land on him sitting on the couch, she hands me the bag and says, “Hey sweetie, can you bring the shampoo and toothbrush to the bathroom for me? Then, let’s get started on Christmas dinner. Wade, did you want to help, too?”

  She walks away from me, allowing me the excuse to run to the bathroom while she occupies Wade with our next Christmas task.

  I rush down to the bathroom, my nerves once again on high alert. For whatever reason, I’m more terrified to know if Mom is right than anything else. Give me the Moirai—let me face fate and death. Just please, don’t let me be pregnant. I can’t be…

  Closing the door behind me, I make sure to flick the lock
. I pull the toothbrush and shampoo out, placing them in plain sight in case Wade comes in later. I also carefully remove the pregnancy test and set it on the counter as gingerly as possible. Then, I stare at it as if it might catch fire any second.

  My heart throbs, making my hands sweat. I wipe them on my jeans and reach for the box. Without allowing time to talk myself out of it, I rip the box open and pull out the test. The small plastic stick is one of the most intimidating tools I’ve ever seen—and that’s saying something. I have a mysterious, magic box in my possession, after all.

  My hand shakes and I flip the box over, bending in to read the instructions. Because there’s no way I’m screwing this up.

  I follow the instructions to the letter, then sit down on the edge of the bathtub to wait. I hold my breath, watching the second hand tick forward from the small clock on the countertop. When the time is up, I stare forward, unable to bring myself to look over the results just yet.

  “Autumn—are you okay?” Wade calls out from the hallway, making me jump.

  I stand up, clutching at my heart. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Were you sick again?” he asks, his voice close—clearly on the other side of the door.

  “No, not at all. Just needed the bathroom,” I sputter, picking up the box and instructions so I can toss them into the bin. “I’ll be out in a second.”

  “Okay, your mom is starting on the turkey. She goes all out for this Christmas stuff, huh?” He chuckles.

  “Yeah,” I mutter, trying to calm my breathing down as I stare at the back of the door.

  When I hear his footsteps echo away, I lean against the counter, staring one last time in the mirror before casting my gaze to the test.

  Now or never.

  I glance down. There are two pink lines clear across the little window.

  Tears swell in my eyes and a sob escapes my lips.

  Pregnant.

  Oh, my god, I’m pregnant.

  I inhale deeply, staring at the test. There’s no turning back. We have more than just ourselves to protect now.

  Without thinking, I reach forward, shoving the test into my front pocket. Suddenly, the idea of wrapping it up and giving it to him for Christmas doesn’t seem so ludicrous after all.

  I’ll find a way to sneak away after dinner’s in the oven so I can wrap it. I don’t know how he’ll react, but one way or another, he’ll know soon enough.

  I open the door, walking down the hallway and into the kitchen. Mom’s at the sink, washing her hands. On top of the stove is the prepared turkey, ready to be placed in the oven. She’s decked it all out with citrus fruits and onions.

  Wade grins, grabbing an olive from one of the small bowls on the counter. “Hey there, beautiful.”

  “Hey,” I say, walking over to him.

  Mom turns around, catching my eye. She quirks an eyebrow—her silent question coming across loud and clear. I tip my chin slightly in return. The smile on her face broadens and she walks to the stove, pulling open the oven door.

  “Well, I don’t know about you two, but I’m looking forward to a proper turkey dinner,” she says, placing the beastly pan inside.

  “I’m just excited to be a part of a family dinner,” Wade says, smiling softly.

  Instinctively, I place my hand on his back, rubbing it back and forth. I’d forgotten how little family experiences he’s had. He was on the street since he was fifteen—just after his dad died. With his mom out of the picture, what did his holidays look like? God, they must have been so sad.

  Suddenly, the idea of being pregnant takes on a new meaning. It’s the exact thing Wade’s always been searching for. And here I am, scared to death of it being true.

  Mom’s right. This might not be perfect timing, but it might still be perfect.

  A strange rush of excitement flows through me and I reach for the test in my pocket.

  “Do you smell that?” Wade says, scrunching up his nose.

  I raise my nose, sniffing into the air. All I can smell is the turkey cooking in the next room.

  “What do you smell?” I ask.

  He frowns, his eyes distant as he shudders. “It’s like…something’s burning.”

  Mom chuckles. “Well, I know you haven’t eaten here often, but I assure you, I know how to cook a turkey.”

  Wade shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. It’s something else. Something horrible. Like burnt hair and flesh.”

  My eyes widen as I look around the room. The panic button inside me instantly goes off. “Are you sure? I don’t smell anything like—”

  Suddenly, Wade clutches at his chest and arches backward on his stool. Before I can stop him, he twists back, falling from the stool and crashing to the floor.

  Chapter 11

  Breathe

  Before I even reach Wade, Mom is on the phone behind me, sputtering out words like “ambulance” and “hurry.”

  I scramble off of my stool, dropping to my knees beside him. “Wade,” I cry out, pressing my hands to his shoulders.

  He groans in agony, clutching at his chest as the rest of his body writhes on the tiles.

  “I don’t understand. How can I help you? What’s happening?” My words tumble out in a higher octave as I try to calm him down, but I don’t know how to do that when I can’t calm myself.

  He groans incomprehensibly, and his silver eyes widen, begging me to stop whatever’s tormenting him. Reaching up with his left hand, he tugs at his t-shirt collar, exposing the upper part of his clavicle and chest. The mark left by his father is clearly evident, but dark spidery lines emanate from the jagged circle, spreading outward across his chest and snaking their way up his neck.

  Out of shock and terror, I pull my hands back. “Oh, my god, what is that?”

  Still clutching the phone to her ear, Mom drops down beside me. She pulls back the fabric from Wade’s chest, eyeing the mark and its new infection with the expression of a surgeon.

  “Is this the mark he was given?” she asks, turning her concerned gaze on me.

  I nod frantically. “But it shouldn’t look like this. There’s something wrong.”

  Wade’s body clenches forward, and he gropes again at his chest.

  “Do you smell that?” he repeats, trying to reach out for me. His pupils are fully dilated and wild with panic.

  I press my hand to his forehead, trying to soothe him. “No, Wade. I don’t smell anything.” Turning to Mom, she meets my gaze with uneasiness clear in her eyes.

  Setting the phone down on the counter, she presses her hands to his chest and closes her eyes. I hold my breath, watching her.

  After a moment, she releases her hands and sighs. “I don’t know what this is. It’s obviously a reaction to the mark—but I’m not sure what’s caused it. The ambulance is on its way. Hopefully, the doctors can find more to go on.”

  “No, no doctors,” Wade sputters, shaking his head.

  “Honey, you’re not dying on my kitchen floor,” Mom says, pressing his head back down to the tile. “Now, just relax for a minute, okay?”

  “Dying?” I cry.

  Mom shifts her hazel eyes to me, holding my gaze for the longest minute of my life. Finally she says, “Something is very, very wrong here. He’s treading a thin line… Can’t you sense it?”

  My pulse skyrockets and tears swell in my eyes. “No—he doesn’t even know…” I shake my head. “Absolutely not. Do you hear me, Wade. You stay with me.”

  Suddenly, there’s a booming on the front door and Mom is on her feet, racing to open it.

  Two men the size of tanks rush in with a stretcher in between them. As they enter, they drop the stretcher and it clangs loudly on the tiles. One of them kneels on the floor beside me while the other one places a gentle hand on my shoulder. He asks me something, but I have no idea what. All I know is I’m suddenly being tugged to my feet.

  I reach out for Wade, not wanting to leave his side. Tears stream down my cheeks and I’m acutely awa
re that my own words are incoherent.

  Mom wraps her arms around me, holding me close as the two men assess Wade on the cold, gray tile. Her presence radiates, and I can’t help but lean into it. I raise a trembling hand to my mouth, trying to squelch the terror rising in the back in my throat.

  The first man cuts open Wade’s shirt, revealing the extent of the mark and its infection. The dark tendrils go clear down his abdomen and wrap up and around his shoulder to his back.

  “We’re going to need to get him to the hospital,” the second man says, twisting around to face us. His dark, chocolate-brown eyes are empathetic as he stands up.

  Rushing past me, he grabs the stretcher, dropping it beside Wade’s body. Together, the two of them lift Wade up and onto the mesh of fabric, metal, and plastic.

  “Ready?” Burly guy number one asks, setting his blue eyes on the empathetic one, who nods in return.

  My head is a swirly cyclone of confusion and panic as they lift him up and start to remove Wade from the kitchen. But the motion of it is the kick in the ass I need.

  “Wait!” I cry out. “I’m coming with you.”

  I follow them outside, watching them carefully maneuver the snow-covered walkways.

  When we get to the back of the ambulance, they hoist Wade inside with ease, clearly used to this sort of thing. Their calm demeanor is almost unnerving as the brown-eyed man turns back to me.

  “What’s your relationship to this man?” he asks, holding onto the doorway and blocking my entry.

  Anger courses through my body and I practically scream at him, “I’m his girlfriend.”

  He shakes his head, “I’m sorry. Only family can be in the ambulance with us. You’ll have to meet us at the hospital.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I growl, getting ready to punch my way onto that ambulance if I have to.

  “We’ll follow you,” Mom says, suddenly by my side. I hadn’t even noticed her standing there. “Come on, Autumn. Let them focus on doing their job. We’ll be right behind them.”