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

by Carissa Andrews

  When I turn on the road that Wade’s grandfather lived on, I have to remind myself not to grip the steering wheel so tightly. My breath becomes nothing more than shallow gulps as I pull into the driveway.

  From the outside, it’s hard to say if anyone is home, but one good sign is how the driveway and sidewalk have been shoveled off. Despite myself, I find myself going over the script in my head if Wade happens to answer the door.

  He might be skeptical at first, but I’m fairly certain I can convince him to at least go out to dinner with me. Taking a final deep breath, I shift into park and pull the keys from the ignition. Before I can talk myself out of it, I exit the vehicle and make my way up to the front door.

  My nerves are going wild, and I feel excited and jittery as I lift my hand and knock on the door. Shuffling on the front step, I pull my jacket in tighter and wait. On the other side of the door, I can hear movement as someone makes their way to answer.

  Dropping my shoulders and lifting my chin, I plaster on a smile and wait.

  The locks on the other side clink and the door opens. My gaze drops a foot down as I stare into the big brown eyes of a little girl who can’t be more than eight years old. She blows back the bangs of her jet-black hair with a sideways puff.

  “Can I help you?” she says, pulling the door in tight and eyeing me with suspicion.

  My mouth is suddenly dry, but I nod and lick my lower lip. “Yes, is—is this the Hoffman residence?” I ask.

  “Who is it, dear?” a woman says, walking up behind the little girl. She has the same brown eyes, but her hair is peppered with gray. Her eyebrows raise as I come into view. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “She’s wondering about the Hoffman family,” the little girl says.

  The mother’s dark eyes soften, filling with empathy as she says, “Oh, I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this. Mr. Hoffman passed away not long ago.”

  My heart skips a beat and I inhale sharply. “Do you know which Hoffman? What was his first name?”

  “William, I think?” the woman says, narrowing her eyes as she thinks.

  I nod, relieved to hear it’s not Wade. “I see. You don’t happen to have a number to reach the family, do you?”

  The little girl takes the moment to slip under her mother’s arm and meander away. The woman takes her daughter’s spot, grabbing onto the edge of the door. Shaking her head, she says, “No, I’m sorry, I don’t. You could try checking with the realty company, though. We used Mistwood Point Realty. I’m sure they’d have someone on record.”

  Fighting back my disappointment, I attempt a smile. “Okay, thank you. I really appreciate your help.”

  “No problem. I wish I could have done more,” she says, shooting me a quick smile and closing the door.

  Turning from the door, I make my way back to my SUV and hop inside. My pulse has softened, but it still beats loudly in my ears. While I might have another lead with the realty office, they won’t be open until Monday at the earliest.

  So, for now, I’m no closer to finding Wade than I was before.

  Putting the vehicle into reverse, I make my way to the one place where I can collect my thoughts without feeling judged. I drive into the cemetery, making my way through the large loop of the newer section and parking in front of the iron gate that marks the older section.

  I park, twisting the key from the ignition. For a moment, I sit there, staring at the old headstones beyond the gate. My thoughts tussle back and forth, vying for some sort of peace I know I won’t be able to find. Not even here.

  Reaching over to the passenger seat, I grab my hat and tug it on my head. I leave the shelter of the SUV and make my way through the gate and into the older section, where the history rolls off of it in beautiful waves. I can feel the serenity in this place as I connect more fully to my natural gifts and the sacred space itself.

  My feet crunch in the freshly fallen snow and already I can feel the tips of my toes getting cold. Yet, I can’t seem to bring myself to turn around. Instead, I find myself sitting down in front of the grave of Charlotte. Her monolithic headstone is a testament to the beauty and care we used to put into memorial monuments.

  Raising a gloved hand, I trace the decorative symbol above her name. It almost looks like a snake eating its own tail, but the clarity of it has worn off with age, so it’s hard to be sure. I stare at it, trying to place why something about it resonates within me.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” a man’s voice says from behind me. I hadn’t even heard him approach.

  Adrenaline races through my system and I spin around, coming face to face with Wade’s father.

  “You,” I breathe, unable to make my brain form a more intelligent sentence.

  His silver eyes flash as he smiles. “And you,” he says.

  “You’re alive?” I say, trying to process what I’m seeing.

  He shakes his head, smirking. “Well, not exactly. But I exist, so there’s that.”

  “So, you’re still the Angel of Death?” I say, standing up and brushing off the snow from my jeans.

  He clasps his hands in the front of his body and nods. “Indeed.”

  My words cling to my throat as the beat of my pulse picks up. “And Wade?”

  His face darkens slightly, and he holds the crook of his arm out. “Walk with me?”

  I exhale a jagged breath and loop my arm through his.

  “What you did was extraordinary, Autumn,” the Angel of Death says, leading me through the various headstones to the slightly less snow-covered sidewalk.

  My gaze falls, and I hope he’s not leading me to a headstone I don’t want to see.

  “I don’t know about that,” I say, unable to hide the worry in my voice.

  “I disagree. Things are as they should be now,” he says, shooting me a sideways glance.

  “What does that mean?” I ask, wondering if he means that I’m no longer with Wade, like he always wanted.

  He inhales slowly, his forehead creasing with thought. “You and I are the only ones who remember what things were like before. In time, it may only be me again. Your memory may fade. You are only human, after all.” Snickering to himself, he nudges me with his shoulder.

  I shoot him a knowing glance. “That’s not all I am.”

  “I am aware,” he says, nodding.

  I sigh, letting my shoulders drop in defeat. “So, is that why you won’t tell me where Wade is?” Turning to him, I watch his movements closely to see what they give away. “He’s not…gone... Is he?”

  His silver eyes practically close as he weighs what to say, and the expanding silence increases my anxiety. He continues walking, drawing out my pain.

  “I can’t promise how things will go from here on out. This is a future I have only experienced in theory,” he says, shrugging. “This time, I have promised myself not to get involved. I will let things unfold as they will.”

  My anxiety eases slightly.

  “Are you saying that if I were to find Wade, you aren’t necessarily opposed to our relationship anymore?” I say, narrowing my gaze.

  The Angel of Death stops walking and turns to face me. “Keeping the two of you apart was one of many attempts at keeping you on your mission.”

  My mouth falls open. “It was about me? I thought you said it was against—”

  He raises a hand between us and tilts his head slightly. “I’m not going to say necromancers don’t directly play in opposition to what angels of death are here to do. But we’re not that inflexible.”

  “Unbelievable,” I mutter, shaking my head and walking away.

  Wade’s father chuckles but follows me. “Things are different now. You’re much more than simply a necromancer. So, to answer your question bluntly, I would still love the opportunity to meet my grandson, should that be the course things take.”

  My heart skips a beat and I stop walking. Tears spring to my eyes and I look over my shoulder at him. “It was a boy?”

  The co
rners of his lips curve upward.

  I press my fingertips to my lips, trying to keep them from quivering. How do I find my way back there when I don’t even know where Wade is?

  “I really do admire you, Autumn. There has always been something very special about you. Even when you were facing death as a young child, you did so with a dignity I’ve rarely seen,” he says. “It would be an honor to call you family.”

  “Then help me find Wade,” I say, pleading with him.

  He shakes his head, patting my hand and letting go of my arm. “Don’t you think I’ve messed with fate enough?”

  Before I have the chance to say anything else, he reaches out, placing a hand on my shoulder. As he steps back from me, I realize we walked in a circle through the cemetery, and we’re right back where we started.

  “My time is up. I really must go,” he says, taking a few more steps backward as the black smoke opens up behind him.

  “But—” I begin.

  Before I can say another word, he steps into his portal and is gone.

  I blow out a puff of defeated air and turn back to Charlotte’s grave. “Charlotte, what do you think I should do? Should I hunt down the realty company next? What happens if it’s another dead end?”

  Kneeling down, I run my hands over my face.

  “You look like you could use a friend,” a voice says from behind me.

  My heart skips a beat as I register the words—the same words that sparked something beautiful a lifetime ago.

  No… it can’t be… Can it?

  Chapter 28

  Second Chances

  My heart practically jumps out of my chest as I scramble around in the snow to face the other direction.

  “Angel?” I blurt out.

  Wade stands back a few feet, wearing his signature black leather jacket, which disrupts the sea of white all around him in the most beautiful way. My breath catches in my throat and I gape at him.

  He really is an angel.

  His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs slightly agape. Tentatively, he steps forward. “Do I know you?”

  I shake my head, trying to calm my heart and mind. I want to tell him everything and rush to get back to the way things used to be, but I know better. Things have to unfold the way they’re meant to.

  “No…you just startled me,” I say, backpedaling.

  His silver eyes become narrow slits. “And you make a habit out of calling out for an angel in your moment of need?”

  I wince. “I…guess so?” It sounds like more of a question than a statement, and I hope like hell he doesn’t think I’m totally insane.

  “That’s kinda weird,” he says, his eyes flashing with that hint of curiosity I know so well and instantly I know what to say next.

  “I’ve been, um…studying angels,” I say, trying to sound more reasonable. “I’m a student at Windhaven Academy.”

  A smile erupts across his handsome face. “Really? That’s cool. So am I, actually—or I will be next week.” He takes another step closer. “Well, I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just wasn’t expecting to find anyone else out here.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, unable to wash away the relief and excitement budding inside me. All I want in the world is to rush over to him and wrap my arms around him and tell him I’ll never let him go.

  Instead, it’s torture staying put and waiting to see if he comes closer.

  As I hoped he would, he walks forward, then takes a seat in the snow beside Charlotte’s grave. His eyes float across the stone, appraising it.

  “She seems nice,” he says, smirking.

  “Oh, definitely. Great talker, too,” I laugh.

  He shrugs nonchalantly. “Sure, if you like those Chatty Cathy types.”

  I burst out laughing. Unable to help myself, I sit down beside him, keeping my knees as close to him as I dare.

  “So, what’s your name, anyway?” he asks, tipping his chin toward me.

  I chew on my lip for a moment, trying to remember why this moment feels so significant. Then, it comes to me.

  “Drusilla,” I say, the corner of my lips curving upward.

  He snorts. “Sure, and my name is actually Angel.”

  My eyes widen, but again I chuckle. “I could totally see that, actually. As long as it’s not Angelus, I think we’re five by five.”

  “Ha—quoting Faith, huh? See, now I know you’re talking crap,” he says, winking at me.

  My breath catches and I find myself a puddle right beside him. God, I’ve missed that wink.

  “I knew I’d like you,” he says, interrupting my internal gushing.

  My eyes widen. “You did?”

  “Yeah, I mean, it’s not often you find anyone else alive in a graveyard, let alone a beautiful woman with a sense of humor,” he says, shooting me a lopsided grin.

  My heart melts and I have to work to keep my utter giddiness in check.

  “Was that too cheesy?” His face scrunches. “It was, wasn’t it?”

  I shake my head. “Just enough cheese, I think.”

  He beams back.

  A moment of silence spreads out between us and he clasps his hands between his legs.

  “So, is she family?” he asks, pointing to Charlotte’s grave.

  I shake my head. “No. I don’t think I have any family here. I was just in town, so I thought I’d stop and check out the older part of the cemetery. What about you?”

  “I came to visit my grandpa. He’s over there in the columbarium. But no family over here, as far as I’m aware of.”

  “So, what brought you to this part of the cemetery, then?” I ask. I have my own hunches, and I’m sure a certain angel actually did have something to do with it.

  “I guess you could say I feel sorta drawn to the spirits here,” he says, laughing to himself.

  I glance down, trying to hide the smile that springs to my face. If he knew I was actually in on his little joke, I wonder what he’d think? Would it be a relief? Or would it freak him out?

  “So, Drusilla, do you believe in ghosts?” he asks, flitting his gaze around the headstones.

  Taking a moment to think, I’m struck by the déjà vu in the flow of our conversation. There are so many synchronicities, even within the tiny differences from the last time we met.

  “Yeah, actually, I do,” I say, kicking out my legs and leaning back on my hands.

  “Me, too,” he says, clearly happy about this statement. “Guess that must be why we both love us a good Buffy reference. We’re on the same wavelength.”

  “Guess so,” I agree with a nod. “Well, to be fair, my mom used to make me watch it with her. But who’s counting?”

  He tips his head back and laughs. “Ah yes, the obligatory Mom duty. I totally get that.”

  My head snaps up and I quirk an eyebrow. “You do?”

  He snickers, making a face. “Well, of course I do. I do have a mom, you know. It’s not like I was forged or something, as cool as that would be.”

  I shake my head, trying to knock loose my surprise. “Yeah, of course.”

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re a little odd?” he says, scrunching his face.

  Nodding, I say, “On occasion, yes.”

  “Well, I suppose I better head back,” Wade says, standing back up.

  “So soon?” I say, pulling my legs in to stand as well.

  He reaches a hand out to me, and I accept his offering. Even through my glove, my hand vibrates at his contact and as I rise, the warmth of his body radiates straight through me. My breath hitches as I stand only a few inches from him.

  “Thanks,” I mutter, releasing his hand and taking a deliberate step back to clear my head.

  He blinks, as if he was suddenly under the same spell I was. Inhaling deeply, he releases the breath and nods to himself. “Yeah, my mom’s over there paying her respects, but I’m sure she’ll be ready to leave soon. She’s not dressed for the cold.”

  I look over his shoulder, beyond him and the gate into the
other area of the graveyard. A woman with long brown hair is sitting on the bench just outside the columbarium. Her hand is clutched at her neck as she pulls her winter coat in tighter.

  Part of me would love nothing more than to go with him and meet her, but at the same time, I’m terrified.

  “Oh, I see. Well, I need to get back to Windhaven, anyway,” I say, checking my watch.

  “All right. Guess I’ll be going, then,” Wade says, shifting through the snow. He moves away from me slowly, as if he’s fighting the same urge to stay together.

  “Okay,” I say, biting my lip.

  He flashes me another grin and turns on his heel, making his way to the gate. When he reaches it, he turns around, “See ya around, Dru.” He winks, opening the gate and walking out.

  Everything inside my chest screams to follow him. To kiss him, to give him my number—anything. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this is the way it begins.

  The hunt. The mystery of it.

  We’ll both be at Windhaven Academy soon and if he’s anything like the Wade from before, he won’t stop until he finds out who I really am.

  I don’t move from my spot in the snow until he and his mom get into a red SUV and drive off. There are so many fighting emotions within me as I make my way to my own vehicle. I’m so happy for Wade. His mother’s with him and he still has his father—sort of.

  After the way this trip started, I actually feel like everything is really going to be okay.

  When I clear the gate, I notice a woman standing beside my vehicle. Her dark hood obscures some of her face, but instantly, I know who she is.

  No, no, no…

  Everything inside me is screaming to run the other direction—to walk away from this fight. But instead, my feet continue carrying me forward.

  “What are you doing here?” I demand. With my fists clenched at my sides, I take a deep breath.

  I will not let her take my second chance away.

  The woman pushes back her hood, her worn face somehow years lighter now. In her hands are the large shears used to cut the threads of life. The same shears that had stabbed her sister and ended countless lives.