My heart skips a beat and before I can think things through, I hear myself say, “Don’t call me that.”
The reaction is instantaneous. Wade’s wounded expression resurfaces and shreds any ounce of self-reserve I have left. He pushes the chair back, standing up and backing away.
I drop my legs, standing up, too. “I didn’t mean to—” I begin.
“Wow,” he says, dropping his gaze to the floor as his eyebrows fly upward. “I mean, okay… I knew things were dire. I knew you were going through something here and needed some space, but I didn’t know we’d reached this place.”
“Wade, we can’t be together…” I say, fighting back tears.
“Why? Because you decided?” he demands.
I roll my head back, staring at the ceiling. A single, stupid tear trickles down my cheek and I swipe at it. “No, because I’m not right for you. Because things would never work. Because we’re so different…”
“And what?” he says, stepping forward and towering over me. Sandalwood and soap circle around me, tugging at every raw emotion left dangling.
My chin quivers, but I manage to say, “Your dad said that we…”
“Who the hell cares what my dad said? He had his one life and he fucked it up. I’m not going to let him dictate the one that I have, too. Don’t you get that?” he spits back. His eyes penetrate mine, pleading with me to understand.
“You deserve someone better than me,” I whisper.
He snorts indignantly. “Are you kidding me? Nah, you’ve gotta be kidding me… Who are you to decide whether or not there’s someone better for me out there? You don’t get that responsibility. My dad, as much as he wishes it weren’t the case…doesn’t get that responsibility. It’s mine. Do you hear me? Mine.”
As if to punctuate his statement, all of the lightbulbs in the room burst. Instinctively, I hunch forward and cover my head.
“It wasn’t me—” Wade cries out, reaching for me.
I drop my hands, surveying the room. Shards of broken bulbs are everywhere, and the only light cascading into the room comes from the far-off sunset that’s about to extinguish itself.
Wade’s eyes are wide as he backs up and turns in circles with his hands raised.
Suddenly, the same intense cold from earlier sweeps through the room. Wrapping my arms around myself, I turn around, hunting for its source.
“Do you feel that?” Wade whispers, shivering as his breath bursts out in small clouds. “It’s like the room just plunged by forty degrees.”
“Yeah, I feel it,” I say, shifting myself closer to him as I continue to monitor the space.
“Is Abigail pissed or something?” he says, reaching out and pulling me into his arms.
I blink hard, unsure whether or not to allow myself the pleasure of staying there or not. His strong arms and warm body are a safe place and I feel anything but safe…
I place a hand on his chest, but gently push myself away, giving us both a little space. “I’m not sure. I haven’t really seen much of her since…”
“Maybe we should, um, go somewhere else to study?” Wade offers, tugging at my sleeve as he backs toward the door.
I nod, taking a step toward the table to grab my things. “Yeah, that might be—”
Behind me, a gurgling sound erupts, making me spin on the spot. Wade’s eyes are large silver circles of sheer panic as he drops to his knees and gropes at his throat.
Chapter 4
Haunting
Racing over to Wade, I drop down beside him. “Wade,” I cry out, reaching for him and trying to process what’s happening.
There’s nothing in sight, but the room is utterly frigid—like all warmth has been ejected. My fingertips freeze against his skin as I try to pull back whatever is there, but there’s nothing.
“Where is it? What is it?” Panic wells up inside me as I realize I have no idea what to do or how to help. My worst nightmare is coming true right before my eyes.
Wade continues to struggle, fighting off the unseen force. His face transitions from a bright red to a muted shade of gray.
“Stop—stop this!” I scream, throwing my arms down like a petulant child.
All at once, the room spins and I find myself flat on my back on the floor as if a blast just went off. Wade drops his arms as he slumps over, landing hard on his right side next to me. He gasps for air, then goes completely silent as his beautiful eyes flutter closed. I push myself up to my knees, scrambling over to him and pulling him into my lap.
“Wade, Wade, please…” I murmur, running my hands over his hair and the side of his face. Bending down, I place my head against his chest. The faint thump of his heartbeat greets me, settling my own out-of-control pulse slightly. “Oh, thank god.”
I watch his eyelashes flutter like he’s deep in a dream and I sit there, holding him and brushing my fingertips against his forehead.
The room slowly warms up, releasing some of its foreboding vibe. The sun has set and the only light penetrating the room cascades in from the chandelier in the entryway. It adds an eerie glow on the top of his head, like he’s adorned with a halo, and it pulls me back to reality.
That was close…too close.
I don’t know what happened, or why. If it was a ghost, I don’t understand why I couldn’t see it.
Some postmortem medium I am.
Suddenly, Wade’s eyes flicker open and he abruptly sits up. His left hand rises, resting at his clavicle as he turns his perplexed gaze to me.
“What was that?” he says, his voice barely a scratchy whisper.
I bite my lip and tug my eyebrows in. “I don’t know. I couldn’t see anything. I wish I…”
Swallowing hard, Wade places a hand on my shoulder, pushing himself to an unsteady stand.
“You should be careful. You don’t have to rush,” I begin.
Wade shakes his head. “No, I need to get outta here. I need air—”
Undeserved disappointment rolls through me, but I nod and stand up, too.
“You should come with me,” he says, his eyes wide. Backing out of the study, he studies the doorway as if it’s the gateway to hell.
“I can’t, Wade,” I say softly. “This doesn’t change anything…”
“Please,” Wade pleads, grabbing hold of my hands. “You’re—it’s not safe here. There’s something in this house and it’s not happy.”
“Then I need to get to the bottom of it,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “Right now, I’m the only one who can. I’ll summon Abigail and get her to help me. Besides, technically, I don’t know that it’s here. You could have brought it with you. I’ve been learning…”
“But—”
I drop his hands and walk out into the landing. “No buts. Go home and get some rest. Keep the phone next to you and call for help at the slightest sign of anything.” I bite my lip as I turn around to face him. “Maybe ask Chelsea to keep an eye on you.”
Wade’s eyes narrow and his jaw sets.
“Come on, let me help you to your car,” I say, bending an elbow for him to grab hold of.
Instead, his eyelashes flutter, and he steps around me, reaching for the handrail. His footsteps are deliberate and slow, but when he reaches the front door, he grabs hold of the handle to open it, then pauses.
A long, awkward silence floods the otherwise-expansive entryway and I hold my breath, waiting.
Finally, he turns around. “Autumn, it’s not me I’m worried about. You need to be very, very careful. Please, reconsider and come with me.”
I tilt my head to the side, shooting him a lopsided grin. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Then please, call someone—anyone. Call James and have him stay with you until your dad gets back. You shouldn’t be alone in this house right now,” he says, concern plastered over his features.
“Okay, I’ll think about it,” I say, walking up and taking hold of the front door. Opening it wide, I stand aside. “Are you sure you’re good to drive?”
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Wade’s jaw sharpens and he nods. “Yeah, I can handle it.” He shoots me a sideways glance and drops his gaze to the ground as he walks out the door and down the front steps. As he reaches the driver’s-side door, he stops as if he’s going to say something, but thinks better of it. With a click, he opens the door and hops inside.
Conflicting feelings twist and churn inside my chest as I watch his taillights fade down to the end of the driveway. Am I doing the right thing letting him leave? Is he right? Should I have gone with him? As much as I would have loved to do that, this event only put things into sharp perspective for me.
I lied to him earlier. Whatever happened didn’t come with him; it was here before he arrived. I felt its presence and didn’t know what it was.
Now, it’s time to figure it out.
I close the door and spin around on my heel. “Abigail,” I call out, letting my voice echo all through the house. “I know you can hear me. Where are you?”
Dead air permeates the space around me and I let out an exasperated sigh. Where in the hell is she?
All of a sudden, movement on the upper landing catches my eye. It’s too fast to see exactly what it is, but I race up the grand staircase after it.
“Abigail? Is that you?” I say, stepping out on the upper landing.
I turn to the right, surveying the hallway. All movement has ceased and there’s no evidence of anyone, living or dead, within eyeshot. To my left, the study doors are still splayed open wide, but it’s so dark out now, all I can see is my reflection on the glass staring back at me. Stepping forward, I grab each door hand and tug the doors shut.
I’ll need to find some consecrated water, salt, and a boatload of sage tomorrow to clear its energy.
As I release the handles, a strange, subtle clicking sound echoes down the hallway. The sound isn’t like anything I’ve ever heard and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Suddenly, staying home alone doesn’t feel like it was the wisest decision. Swallowing hard, I pull my phone from my pocket and clutch it close. Peering into the darkness of the hallway, I take a few tentative steps forward.
The clicking sound comes and goes, stopping at odd intervals that make it impossible to track. Especially as the thrumming of my heartbeat pounds inside my ears.
“Hello?” I call out. My voice wavers, and rather than being clear or forceful, it’s barely louder than a whisper. “Who’s there?”
I continue to creep forward, edging farther from the entry’s light and into the darkness of the hallway. Holding my breath, I eye the light switch where the corner bends, and I debate whether it’s better to make a run for it or continue slowly to avoid startling it.
Slow and steady wins out as I tiptoe down the hallway. The crackling sound skitters across the space, as if crawling the walls beside me, then directly behind me. Goosebumps flash all over my body as I spin around, trying to get a clear view of whatever it is.
I catch a glimpse of a figure, but it phases in and out like an old television show that’s lost its reception. The clicking circles around me until it vanishes down the hall and around the corner. Picking up speed, I chase it, almost forgetting to flick on the switch as I get to the corner.
Stopping, I turn back, flicking the light switch. The archaic sconces along the hallway ignite, casting an amber glow into the hallway, but I don’t know if it has made the space any less foreboding.
Closing my eyes, I try to calm my heartbeat and center myself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past year, it’s that things can go sideways fast when you’re not in control. With my eyes still closed, the crackling starts again, this time directly beside my right ear.
Refusing to even breathe, I wait for it to pass before opening my eyes. As I do, the apparition flickers again in front of me. Its features are part human, part something else, but it all happens so fast, I can’t quite latch onto it. When it reappears, it’s farther down the hallway, and it vanishes into a room opposite my dad’s bedroom.
I’ve never been in most of these rooms, let alone know what they were being used for. However, I do know that the last time I was led by a ghost, it brought me to answers. Walking forward slowly, I choose to follow the specter, hoping this time, it will be the same.
When I reach the doorway, I listen intently. The clicking sound has ceased, but the menacing undercurrent remains. I can’t explain it, but something about all of this feels so familiar…
The lights in the hallway flicker, diverting my attention to them. Suddenly, the chill creeps in again, evaporating the warmth in an instant. It removes any feelings of security and happiness, replacing them with an empty dread. I shiver it away, refusing to let it deter me even if my heart rate is at an all-time high.
This is my house, dammit.
With my phone still clutched in my left hand, I reach out and fling the door open. The room is dark, so I straighten my shoulders and take a deep breath. Stepping inside, I flip on the light switch and soft, white light bursts from the ceiling, casting deep shadows across the furniture in the room. Each piece is covered with large, off-white sheets, making it look as though stereotypical ghosts crowd the space. But I know better.
Narrowing my gaze, I take another small step into the room, eyeing each piece of furniture with suspicion. I pause, half anticipating one of the sheets to move or race toward me. I’ve watched enough horror movies to expect that much. However, once inside the room, the cold dissipates and the despairing sensation vanishes with it, leaving me confused.
Why would it lead me here? Was there a reason? Or was it just to scare the hell out of me?
One way to find out.
I reach out, tugging off the sheet closest to me. As it drops to the floor, it reveals a large, burgundy wing-backed chair. Flashes of a distant memory play at the back of my mind, but I can’t quite place whether they’re real or not.
Yanking off the next one, it reveals a floor lamp with stained glass covering the lightbulb. The next one is a bookshelf piled high with books that overflow its capacity. As I pull the next sheet back, I drop it and stare, mouth agape, at a large table covered with paints, paintbrushes, and a canvas. I stare into the depths of the eyes of a woman in a still-unfinished portrait. Even without being completed, I’d know that face anywhere.
Swallowing hard and backing away, my mother’s familiar features stare back at me.
Chapter 5
Messed Up
I stare at the painting, unable to close my mouth.
Who painted this? Was it my dad? Why was it covered up? More importantly, why was I led here in such a weird, spooky way?
Fumbling for my phone, I tug it out of my front pocket and hit Mom’s number. My heart drums a beat of anxiety in my ear as I press the phone close.
“Hi, sweetie. Is everything okay?” Mom asks, her voice edging on wary.
I exhale audibly, dropping my shoulders in relief. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
She laughs softly, “Why wouldn’t it be? It’s eight-thirty on a Tuesday night. It’s not like Mistwood is the epicenter for craziness, you know?”
Smiling, I say, “Yeah, I know. I don’t know, I guess I just…” I stop, unsure how much I want to tell her. I know how she hates anything supernatural. The last thing she’d want to know is I was guided by a ghost to a painting of her. It would freak her out for days.
“You just…?” Mom presses, alarm beginning to paint her words.
“I guess I just miss your voice,” I mutter, staring into her acrylic eyes in the painting.
“Awww, I miss you, too, sweetheart. We haven’t had a whole lot of time to chat since you started…school last year,” she says, skirting around the obvious.
“I know, I’m sorry. It’s been really busy,” I say, dropping my gaze to the floor. I swallow hard and back out of the room, flicking off the light and shutting the door. “How have you been? What’s new there?”
“Not a whole lot. The neighbors are still crazy an
d work is keeping me busy. On the upside, I love seeing Mr. Larsen’s eye twitch every time I mow the lawn with a push mower instead of a rider. That’s pretty much the highlight of existence out here. What about you? Is…are you adjusting?”
I stare at the closed door in front of me for a moment, letting all the weird adjustments I’ve been through these past few months wash over me. I wish I could talk to her—tell her more than just the surface-level stuff.
“Yeah, things are going good,” I say, trying to convince myself.
“Good, good. And how’s the boyfriend? Wade, right? He sure is a cutie.”
A quick jab to the chest stops my words in my throat. Before I know it, tears are welling in my eyes and I croak out, “We broke up.”
“Oh, Autumn, honey. I’m so sorry. He seems like such a nice guy. What happened?” she asks.
Turning down the hallway, I clutch the phone with both hands as I swap ears. “I don’t know. Things just got…complicated.”
“Oh, I know how that goes.”
Her words are pregnant with hidden meaning and I bite my lip. “Mom, I know you don’t like to talk about it, but…what happened between you and Dad? Why would you leave all of this? I mean, he seems like a nice guy.”
A long pause stretches between us and I open my mouth to ask if she’s still there.
“He is a nice guy and I’m sure there’s a lot you’ve been uncovering. I wish… I just…” she says, clearly having trouble putting her thoughts into words.
Taking a seat at the top stop of the grand staircase, I hold my breath, waiting for her to continue.
“You need to know we never meant to hurt you,” Mom whispers.
“What do you mean? By breaking up? Or—?”
“I meant by not telling you what you were. Autumn, we knew very early on you inherited gifts from your father’s side of the family. You have to understand, I haven’t always hated the supernatural. I know it seems like it to you, but I used to be different. Just like you, I was once enamored by the idea of having powers outside of sheer humanity. When we realized you could see and talk to ghosts, at first we both thought it was a gift. But the older you got…” Her voice drifts off, and I can hear her get up from wherever she was sitting.
Haunted Legacy: The Windhaven Witches Series Page 3