“Oh, honey, a little snow isn’t going to hurt you. Your hair is already an injustice to haircuts everywhere,” Renaldo says, tsking him under his breath.
Aiden rolls his eyes and walks past me into the dining room. Renaldo dips his chin, making a grumpy face before following after Aiden.
Colton laughs, shaking his head. “They’re always like that.”
“And at least you fine folks get to enjoy it for a while so I can get some peace,” Diana says, making a big, Cheshire grin.
Blake nods my direction. “Good to see you again, Autumn.”
I wave, still unsure how this new reality fits together. My memories are getting all muddled together and I get the distinct sense it won’t get better anytime soon. Maybe after some rest…
Colton and I walk into the dining room, taking our places. I sit down toward the head of the table, beside Cat. Colton and Aiden sit on the other side of her, with Dominic, Diana, Blake, and Renaldo filing around the end of the table and up the other side.
“It’s a darn good thing you have such a big table,” Renaldo says, taking a seat at the end.
I nod in his direction. It’s the first time I’ve seen so many people seated at it. In fact, it’s the first time I’ve seen more than two of us sitting here.
Mom and Dad walk out, carrying the turkey and green bean casserole dishes. They place both in the middle of the table and take a seat opposite me.
I eye the head of the table, surprised they’re planning to keep it open. However, James walks out, smiling and waving at everyone as if he’s well acquainted.
“Ah, this looks delicious, Andrea,” he says, patting my mom on the shoulder as he walks up. Without another word, he slides back the final chair, sitting down at the head of the table.
Confused, I narrow my gaze and flit it to my dad. He reaches out, grabbing hold of my mom’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “She outdid herself this time.”
“Hopefully it’s as good as it looks,” Mom says, a hint of rosiness creeping into her cheeks.
“I have no doubt it will be incredible. I only wish your mother were still here with us, Lyle. Christmas was always her favorite,” he says, his brown eyes sparkling as he turns to my dad.
“I do, too, Dad,” my father says, sighing. “But I think she’s smiling down on us.”
Despite myself, I double take. “Dad?”
Everyone turns to look at me with bewildered expressions.
“What’s going on with you tonight, Autumn? Seriously, are you feeling okay?” Mom says, leaning across the table and placing a hand over my forehead.
James chuckles. “I know you’re a big supernatural college student now, but you haven’t forgotten your grandpa already, have you?”
“I, uh—” I blink hard and shake my head. “No, of course not.”
As my memories try to catch up, I’m suddenly acutely aware of aspects of my life that were still hidden in plain sight before.
James is my…grandpa?
Mom drops back into her seat and raises her hands to the ceiling. “Okay, everybody. Dish up.”
Everyone does as they’re told, grabbing platefuls of food and settling back into their seats. The conversation picks up as little groups form and smaller discussions break out. The atmosphere is so lighthearted and fun, yet I still can’t seem to shake this feeling like I’m forgetting something important.
I suppose it’s all important. My brain is literally rewriting history inside of itself.
“So, Autumn, are you excited about the new semester?” Cat asks, nudging me. Then she leans in close and whispers, “I heard there’s a few new students coming in. Maybe you’ll finally find someone worthy of stealing your attention.”
Suddenly my heart skips a beat and it all comes rushing back to me. A deep sorrow bubbles up and my hand instinctively drops to my abdomen.
I’m no longer pregnant, and the one person I wanted most is missing.
What’s happened to Wade?
Chapter 27
Done with Fate
As much as I try to settle into this new reality, Christmas has lost the majority of its meaning, knowing Wade is missing from my life.
For whatever reason, the memories of him refuse to fade. In all honesty, I don’t know which would be worse, continuing to live without him… Or having forgotten him the way everyone else has.
Both are torture in their own right. But this way, at least I can find out if he’s alive, even if he has no idea who I am.
The drive to Mistwood Point is slow and tedious, thanks to the freshly fallen snow. On the upside, it lends a mystical quality to the landscape that lifts my spirits slightly. I find myself hoping the magic in the air is a good omen.
As I get closer, my pulse begins to race. I try to think of all the things I can say to him if I see him. Or what I would ask his grandfather if he’s still alive. One way or another, I will find a way to track him down.
Despite all the relief and happiness about the way things have turned out, I can’t fathom not having Wade in my life. And I refuse a possible future where I don’t at least try to find him.
I turn off the highway, taking the final exit that brings me to Mistwood Point. As far as I can tell, the town looks the way it did before, with some minor changes. Granted, many of my memories have faded into a dreamlike state; there are still some aspects where I can barely tell there are differences.
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 corners 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.
Cursed Legacy: The Windhaven Witches Series Page 19
