His eyes are locked on the water beyond the creature. I can vaguely remember something significant about it, but I’m not certain what. Oddly enough, behind him, the vortex of tree limbs and shrubbery abruptly stop. Everything drops to the ground, as if simply let go.
“She hurts. She can’t escape it. She bleeds the thread,” the creature screams, its voice echoing across multiple layers of time and space. “The thread leaks from her veins. It is nearly unraveled.”
The creature’s words don’t sound gleeful; instead, they sound just as terrifying as the energy it exudes.
“Time is running out. Time is running out,” it says, flashing in and out of being. “She must understand. But he must get out.”
Suddenly, Wade gurgles, and stumbles on the ground. As he drops to his knees, I tumble to the ground, rolling across the debris and uprooted grass. He gropes for his throat, just as he had inside the house, as the creature flickers into existence before us, one arm outstretched and fist closed.
“He must go. He must get out. He draws attention,” the creature says, its black eyes and ashen face locked on Wade with an expression of pure loathing.
“Let him go,” I scream, abruptly coming to my senses. As if this one act was the button that releases my fear, I rise to my feet and rush at it with my arms outstretched.
It will not hurt him. I won’t let this happen again.
I don’t know what I was expecting would happen, but as I go to tackle it, my body falls straight through it and I land hard on all fours on the other side. Bending over, I heave, unable to shake the way its energy was a potent mixture of terror, fury…and desperation.
It wants something so desperately, and it’s willing to do anything and everything to make it happen. In that instant, I almost feel sorry for it. Almost.
The creature screams, clutching at its chest. It drops Wade and flickers momentarily out of existence. A second later, he’s a yard or so away.
On the other side of the creature, the vortex of pain and terror lift from my being like a blanket being ripped away. Instantly, my head clears and I remember why I’m here. I remember what it was we were trying to do. The stone in my pocket practically burns against my hip and I shake any last sense of dread.
Almost afraid to look back at Wade, I scramble from my hands and knees and climb to my feet. The tendrils of the creature’s energy reach out behind me, trying to pull me back into its cage, but its strength has been diminished in all of the force it’s already expelled.
I ignore it, locking my eyes on the water’s edge.
I can make it.
Rushing forward, I run as fast as I can to the pond. My lungs feel like they’re about to explode, but when I get there, an intense desire to ensure the ward extends as far as it can succumbs me. I race out further, running onto the dock. I come to a halt on the last plank, and pull the smooth stone from my jeans.
For the briefest of moments, I stare at the stone in the palm of my hand, praying Wade’s right. That this is the one thing we need to expel the creature.
“By the element of water, I ward thee. Guard this space from all ill will and any unwelcome energies that may wish to bring us harm,” I cry out as loudly as I can muster.
Without any further hesitation, I skip the stone out across the pond as far as I can. It glows brightly as it skips along the surface of the water and quietly slips into its depths.
As it submerges, I hold my breath, waiting for something—anything—to happen.
At first, all is quiet. Even the creature behind me seems mesmerized, wondering what will happen next. Just when I think I’m royally screwed, or that we’ve gone past our time, a shockwave of energy bursts from the center of the house outward. It practically knocks me off my feet and into the pond, but I manage to stay upright by sheer will. All around us, a crystalline dome arcs overhead, beginning along the lines connecting each of the four stones. As quickly as it arose, the imagery of it begins to fade, even though the ward is beginning to take hold.
Twisting around, the malevolent creature rushes at me, but its energy dissipates like a balloon being deflated.
“The Inflexible One will not be held at bay,” it screeches, its voice magnified and distorted. “They’re coming for you. They’re all coming for you.”
Then, as if the creature’s energy gives up completely, it explodes in a plume of vapor, dissolving before my eyes.
Chapter 16
His Time Has Come
I barely remember Wade’s arrival on the dock, or how we somehow managed to find our way back inside the manor. Everything is a blur of colors, movements, and sound.
All I can focus on now is that Wade has run me a tepid bath and has demanded I get in. His hands run across my hair as he slowly pours the water over it. As he does, the cool liquid slowly turns rust-colored, tainted by the blood from my scalp.
“That branch really did a number on your head,” Wade whispers, worry bleeding into his tone. “I’m so sorry, Autumn. I should have protected you. I should have done more…”
I flit my gaze from the plume of red spreading in the water to his torn expression. Small cuts criss-cross his face, but they’re all superficial. Still, they tarnish his beautiful face.
I raise my hand, tracing one of the cuts on his chin. “It wasn’t your fault,” I say, trying not to let the dizziness spiraling in my brain pull me under. “That…creature was…” I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose in the hopes it will help me stay focused.
“I know,” he says, taking my hand in his and kissing my knuckles. “That was intense. What matters is you were able to cast it out.” He lets my hands drop back into the water as he continues the soothing motion of rinsing out my hair.
I close my eyes, focusing on the way the water trickles through my hair, making my scalp tingle with coolness.
“You’re lucky, though. It doesn’t look like you’ll need stitches. But we’ll need to keep an eye on you to make sure you don’t have a concussion,” he murmurs in my ear.
“Mmmm,” I nod, unable to form any more words.
“I’m nearly done here and we can get you in bed to rest. The first twenty-four hours are pretty critical after a head injury,” he says, going into medic-mode.
“Yes, Doctor Hoffman,” I say, grinning up at him sleepily.
He chuckles, bending in and kissing my temple. “That’s the spirit.”
After what seems like forever, Wade finishes rinsing the blood from my head and body and helps me to step out of the bath. His hands are sturdy and comforting, and I can see why he makes such a good PCA for the elderly. He’d make a fantastic doctor, too, if he ever wanted to pretend he was human.
Once I dry off and get dressed in my pajamas, he helps me climb in bed. My body’s starting to accentuate the pain from all of the bumps and bruises, and it’s pretty clear I’m going to be in a world of hurt tomorrow.
I pull the blanket up close, tucking it under my chin and laying on my side.
Wade drops down beside me, resting on the top of the covers as he faces my direction. His discerning silver eyes sweep my face as he traces the side of my cheek with the side of his index finger.
“You know, it’s a good thing you thought to throw the stone into the water. I’d lost our saltwater in all the commotion. That pond must be sacred water,” Wade whispers.
My eyebrows tug in. His words only halfway make sense in my brain. “Huh, I hadn’t even thought about that. I just followed my instincts.”
“Good instincts, if you ask me,” he says, grinning. “Are you hungry? Do you need anything?”
I wiggle my head into the pillow. “No, I’m just sleepy.”
Wade props himself up on his elbow and kisses my forehead. “Okay, get some rest. We’ll stay here tonight, since it looks like the wards worked. But I’m going to hop into the shower super-fast so I can clean myself up. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“Okay,” I whisper, closing my eyes.
He kisses me on
my forehead, his breath warm against my skin. The bed groans as he exits it, but he runs his warm hand down the side of my arm before he leaves the room. I sigh into the motion and drift into the darkness beyond.
The inflexible one?
The words permeate the recesses of my mind and for some reason, I can’t quite shake them away.
Who said them? What do they mean?
Suddenly, the cylindrical room in the center of the catacombs comes into view, as if it’s the center stage of a play and the curtain was just pulled back. I squint into the darkness, trying to make something else—anything—out.
Just when I think I’m all alone, Abigail emerges from one of the tunnels. Her dress sways heavily against the dirt floor, drawing my eyes with the trails it leaves behind.
“I apologize for my absence. My energy has been very much afflicted by the presence lingering in the manor. I had hoped to bind him long enough to relay my concerns to you. Alas, it was I who was bound in his stead. Please forgive me,” she says, her Colonial accent tinging her words as she walks up beside me.
I look at her, confused. Her words tumble at me like a dust devil, spiraling around, but never quite gaining enough impact to be effective.
“I’m not sure I—” I begin.
“There is much we need to discuss, and in great haste. You see, I have been grievously distressed. I am afraid my words have fallen upon deaf ears and there is much I need to relay. Your body is in need of repairs, allowing your mind to slip beyond the veil. I am hopeful this will be the most effective means to communicate at present. My wish is that our communication will linger after you awaken,” she says, her expression sorrowful.
Apprehension spreads through my solar plexus and I hold my breath, waiting for what might come from her lips next.
“I had yearned for a better way to express this most dreadful news,” she says, wringing her hands and taking a few steps from me. “Yet, I find myself without the means to do so. I must press upon you the difficult decision you will soon be presented. It will not be a task undertaken lightly, but it is most important it be dealt with without delay.”
My shoulders tighten and I’m certain I don’t want to know what’s on the other side of this comment. But I know it’s coming whether I like it or not.
“His time has come, and we need you to be strong. Stronger than ever you could imagine. This will not rest until he’s safe inside these walls,” she says, holding her arms wide. Abigail’s voice drifts off, floating through the ether as she slips from my dream and into the darkness of the catacombs.
I wake up with a start.
Moonlight floods in through my bedroom window. I stare at it, trying to understand why the shape of the window is somehow different than I remember. Slowly, the memory of all the destruction filters into my mind. My bedroom had been decimated by the malevolent spirit and like someone snapped their fingers, it’s been repaired.
Are there magical construction workers?
The thought creeps into my mind, and after everything that happened here less than forty-eight hours ago, I’m certain there has to be. How else can you explain such a turnaround?
On the other side of the moonlight, something moves in the darkness. Blood pulses in my ears and I clutch the blanket close, unable to move. My breath drops into shallow gulps of air as I struggle with myself. I should move—I need to move. Yet somehow, I’m paralyzed, unable to escape the confines of the bed.
The movement transforms into a shadowy figure and as it comes closer, it takes the shape of a man. My mouth opens to scream, but I snap it shut when I realize I know the man.
“Dad?” I whisper. The confines of fear fall away as if ropes binding me were suddenly cut loose. “What are you doing in here?”
He walks up, one side of his face lit by the moonlight. The other half is shielded in darkness. However, the smile on his face is evident as he looks down upon me.
My eyebrows tug in and I shift in an attempt to sit up. Behind me, Wade groans, and rolls over, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. He tugs me closer to him and I drop back into the bed.
I flitted my gaze back to Dad. His expression has switched from contentment to agitation as he stares at the place where Wade’s arm rests. As if fighting with himself, his head flicks back and forth quickly, switching between happiness and irritation. Without warning, he stops, facing the doorway to the resurrection chamber.
I bolt upright in bed, following his gaze. In the shadows beyond the foot of my bed, Abigail is hunched over, her hair partly obscuring her face. Her lips move quickly, as if muttering something just out of earshot.
“What’s going on?” I say in a frantic whisper, trying to remain calm as my body begins to tremble. “Why are you both in here?”
Wade shifts slightly, running his hand along my arm. “Lay back down, Autumn. You need your rest,” he says, sleepily.
I clutch his hand, leaning on him for emotional support. I don’t dare move a muscle, and I’m unable to take my eyes off of the way Abigail’s hunched form looks like it could attack us at any time.
“Dad, Abigail is—” the words catch in my throat as I turn back to him. No longer fighting with himself, the side of his face once highlighted by the moonlight looks as though the skin is rotting off. His eye is missing and a wide-open socket stares back at me.
The room fills with a high-pitched scream as I scramble backward. My back slams against the headboard and the movement pushes Wade clear to the other side of the bed. Within a fraction of a second, he’s out of the bed, searching for the lamp.
“Autumn, what is it? Why are you screaming?” He says, reaching for the chain on the lamp, but it refuses to turn on.
I shake my head, my wide eyes unable to divert from the horrors of my father’s face.
“This has to be a dream. I’m still dreaming… I have to be dreaming…” I swallow hard, fighting back tears, and squeak, “Please be a dream.”
“Autumn, what is it? Talk to me,” Wade says, jumping back on the bed, and kneeling right beside me. He pulls my face from my dad, forcing me to look at him.
“I…I…” I stutter, unable to form words.
My chin quivers, and I tear my gaze from Wade. Suddenly, my dad is inches from my face. A wave of intense cold seeps from his being as his breath hits my skin, making me shiver in terror.
As if no longer able to restrain himself, he gropes for my arms, tugging me in close. His frigid touch is worse than his breath. It seeps into me at soul level, making my body freeze and my heart ache.
“You must denounce it. You must denounce it all,” he says, his words coming out in slow, deliberate sentences.
I shake my head, afraid to move much else. “What are you talking about?”
“Promise me,” he yells, gripping me tighter. His frozen fingertips bite my skin and I cry out in pain.
“I promise. I promise,” I say, unsure what it is I’m even agreeing to.
“I was wrong. So, so wrong. You must denounce our legacy and leave this place. Leave Blackwood Manor and forget about all of this. You need to go now—” he says, his desperate words vibrating in the air as they begin to distort, echoing after each other.
My eyes widen and my fingertips fly to my mouth as a horrific knowing emerges. “No, no, no…” I say, shaking my head, unable to stop the tears from forming. “No…”
“They’re coming for you. They’re all coming for you…” he says, repeating the words from outside. The words from a vengeful creature hell-bent on hurting me. Or so I thought.
“We need to get out of here…” Wade says, gathering our clothing into his arms beside me. “Autumn, we need to go.”
“Yes, go—” Dad practically screams in my face. “Before fate forces you to join me in death.”
Chapter 17
To Whom This House Belongs
No matter what I do, I can’t stop my screams from coming. It’s like they’re a part of the home’s essence now. They won’t go away. Not now—not ever.
They’ll bleed into its very existence, haunting anyone who dares to become a part of the Blackwood legacy.
Hot tears stream down my face and I blink them back, refusing to let them cloud my vision. I can’t look away. As much as I want to, I can’t pry my eyes from my dad’s decomposing specter.
Wade pulls me into his arms, trying his best to calm me down. He rocks the two of us back and forth gently on the bed. But I can’t calm down. Nothing will ever feel calm again. My world has just been tipped on its head.
The room suddenly tilts and I bend over, lurching bile and water all over the floor.
This can’t be happening…
“It’s okay, Autumn,” Wade coos in my ear, stroking my hair, oblivious to the horrors staring back at us. If he knew, he wouldn’t be saying that. If he knew, he’d be running in the opposite direction.
I shake my head, unable to put words to any of it. My brain is a blur of colors, emotions, and sounds. That’s it.
“I tried to keep you safe. I tried to protect you,” my dad says. I’ve almost gotten used to the way his words sound more like an anomaly than anything else. “You have to trust me. I did this all for you. Repent. Repent everything, or they’ll take you, too…” he pleads frantically.
“No, no, no,” I repeat, shaking my head as Wade and I rock back and forth. “Can’t be true. This can’t be…”
Nothing about this makes sense.
I close my eyes, no longer able to take in the horrible way my father’s face looks like it’s melting against the bone.
Plummeting into the surreality, my mind whirls through all of the recent interactions with him, trying to make sense out of this.
I have to be dreaming. Please, tell me I’m still dreaming. He can’t be dead. He can’t be. He was just here. They said he was okay. He told them to start work on the house. That’s what James said…
“Autumn, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Wade repeats, rocking me and stroking the back of my head.
Haunted Legacy: The Windhaven Witches Series Page 11