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

by Carissa Andrews

  “I can walk with you again, but show you the normal way next time,” he says, a hint of a smile hidden in the mounds of his cheeks.

  “Sounds like an excellent idea,” I nod. “Thank you.”

  Colt turns away, heading to wherever he needs to go next, but I run over to him and tap him on the shoulder.

  “Hey, do you… I mean, would you have time to hang out after school? I’d like to learn more and maybe you could show me where this library is.”

  His eyes widen in surprise, but he nods.

  “Great. Do you want to meet at my place at, I don’t know, 4:30 p.m.? I need a few minutes to drop all my stuff at home and…”

  “Sure, 4:30 works great,” he says, his eyes sparkling.

  “Here, let me write down my address,” I begin, scrounging though my backpack for a piece of paper and a pen.

  He shakes his head. “No need. I know where you are.”

  My head snaps up, “You do?”

  “Well, yeah. We’re practically neighbors.”

  “Oh right. You live across the pond.”

  He steps back, surprised.

  “Don’t get excited. Your sister told me,” I say, tipping my head.

  “Ah.”

  “Speaking of which, I suppose I better go make up with her in Spellcasting or she’ll be on me for the rest of the day. See ya later,” I say, waving.

  He nods and turns on his heel like a toy soldier sent on a mission.

  Walking into class, I take my seat beside Cat. She glances up as I sit down and I manage a smile.

  “Hey, I’d be pissed too, if I knew people where withholding information from me. I’m sorry, Autumn,” Cat says, her eyebrows tipping up apologetically.

  “I know. Look, let’s just say going forward, no more secrets. Okay? Colton’s going to come over tonight to show me where the county library is. Wanna come with?”

  Her eyes widen. “I—are you sure? I mean, you aren’t leading him on, are you?”

  I snort. “Of course not. What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “N-nothing. You know, nevermind. Yes, I’d love to come, too. Especially since I’m the driver,” Cat says, smirking. “Colton has, as of yet, to get his license. He’s just not in a big hurry, I guess.”

  “Okay, it’s settled. Colton’s promised to point me in the right direction to get answers. If I can get my bearings, I can figure out what Dominic’s problem is.”

  “You’ll probably find more than you bargained for…” she says, her voice trailing off. “I just hope you’re ready.”

  Chapter 15

  Library & Dead Ancestors

  Do you ever know when you’re ready to face big truths? Is there an internal clock of knowing? Or is it more of a slap in the face that puts you on the path of discovery?

  Racing to the front door, I swing it open to face Colt and Cat’s wide eyes.

  “Hey guys,” I say, trying to ignore the way their stares at my house make me totally uncomfortable. “Ready?”

  The pair of them nod, but no words escape from their mouths.

  “Erm…you guys okay?” I ask, unsure how else to respond.

  “Ah, yeah. Fine. It's just…wow, Blackwood Manor,” Cat says, an air of awe lingering in her voice.

  Colton’s expression is identical to his sister’s and I scrunch my face

  “I know, it’s actually pretty cool,” I say, closing the door behind me, “right?”

  They both blink back their surprise, but nod.

  “Yeah…uh, it is,” Cat mutters, turning to face her SUV.

  Walking up to their Pontiac Torrent, Cat opens the driver’s side door and hops inside. Colt walks around to the passenger side and opens the door. Rather than hopping in, as I expected, he stands beside the door, looking at me expectantly.

  “Oh,” I say, realizing he’s holding it for me, “thanks.”

  Grinning awkwardly at him, I hop in the front and reach for my seatbelt. The gesture mimics something Wade would have done and I can’t help but wonder if it’s a guy thing, or if Colton is hoping it will put him in my good graces.

  Colton nods silently as he closes the door for me and gets in the back.

  Cat exchanges a significant glance with me, her eyebrows popping up in surprise.

  Mental note: introduce Colton to Wade. Just to be sure.

  “Okay, so to the Grove County Library we go…” she says, turning the vehicle on and putting it into gear.

  “Guess so,” I say, buckling my seatbelt.

  Silence floods the vehicle for the first few minutes on the road, but eventually, Cat leans over and flips on the radio.

  “Too quiet,” she says, shrugging at me.

  “Agreed,” I laugh.

  The music is a weird combination between ’90s pop and techno, and I have absolutely no idea what on earth they’re singing about.

  “Who…uh, who’s this?” I ask, pointing at the radio.

  Cat shrugs, “No idea. I was hoping you’d know.”

  Colton snickers in the backseat.

  Twisting around, I grab hold of my seat and ask, “What about you? Any idea who this is?”

  He shakes his head. “I couldn’t even wager a guess.”

  “Lord, woman, why on earth are we listening to music none of us have a clue about? Yeesh, leave this to me,” I say, cracking my knuckles outward and reaching for the dial.

  After flipping through damn near every station in the vicinity, I shut off the radio entirely and lean back in the seat.

  “There is literally no good music out here,” I declare.

  Cat laughs. “There really isn’t, is there?”

  “Next time, I’m grabbing my aux cable and we’ll plug into YouTube or something. Because that was ridiculous.”

  “Oh, YouTube… Good point,” Cat says, her eyes suddenly wide, like a lightbulb had gone off inside them.

  Colton snickers under his breath and I can’t help but laugh, too.

  “Well, luckily, we won’t have to endure anymore awkward silence. We’ve arrived at our destination,” Cat says, splaying one hand out above the steering wheel and dashboard.

  As she pulls into the parking lot, I lean as far forward as I can, trying to take in the architecture of the library. The old, damn near ancient stone façade instantly reminds me of the academy and my mouth drops open.

  “Wow. This is the library? It looks more like an out-of-place castle,” I say in awe.

  “It’s not big enough to be a castle,” Colt chuckles, opening his door.

  I kick open my car door and get out.

  “Well, good point, but the stonework sure does remind me Windhaven Academy—and that looks like a castle, too. I mean, look, it even has gargoyles like the school,” I say, pointing to the creatures atop the uppermost parts of the building. “I bet the same architect who built Windhaven Academy built this, too.”

  “Very true,” he says, nodding his head. “It probably was.”

  I grin triumphantly.

  Cat walks over, clicking the button on her car remote. It beeps loudly as all the doors on her Torrent lock.

  “The two of you are adorably dorky,” Cat says, walking past us and up the stone steps.

  My eyebrows tug in at the odd phrasing, and I shoot Colt a sideways glance. He runs his hand along the backside of his neck and rolls his eyes.

  “Okay. Uh, come on,” he says, following her.

  The double wooden doors groan as he pulls them open for us to enter. The open entryway is adorned with a mixture of stone and wood, continuing on the semi-castle motif. Beyond is a large desk with only one station for a single librarian to sit. It’s nothing massive, but certainly impressive.

  “Wow, back in Mistwood, they had at least three librarians working all the time. Kinda quaint in here, huh?” I whisper.

  “Three? How big was your library?” Cat gasps.

  I shrug, “Not super big. But they did a lot of community outreach stuff, though.”

  “Well, here, our lib
rary does books. Old books. And that’s about all…” Cat whispers back.

  “Alrighty then…” I say tipping my head in acknowledgement.

  “Come on, I’ll show you the section you’ll want to start digging into,” Colt says, walking out in front and leading us past the librarian’s desk and deeper into the library’s depths. The smell of old, musty books and papers assaults my senses, but I breathe it in deep, like it’s a familiar scent of home.

  “I love that smell,” I say, inhaling deeply. “Don’t you love that smell?”

  Cat cocks an eyebrow, but Colt’s lips curve into a genuine smile.

  “I do, too,” he says, leaning in close. He smells like aftershave and a hint of something else…burnt wood? Cinnamon? Colt straightens up, adjusting the collar on his jacket and picking up speed again so he can show us the best place to research.

  Oddly enough, we leave the confines of the normal-looking library, as we take a set of stairs in the back, leading down to the lower bowels of the building.

  “Okay…because this isn’t creepy at all,” I mutter, taking the stairs slowly so I don’t trip.

  “You’ll see why everything’s down here in a minute,” Colt says.

  Cat wraps her arms around her body, but doesn’t say anything.

  As we enter the lower level, the old-books smell gives way to ancient-books smell. The thickness in the air actually borders on decomposition.

  Colton flips on a light switch and a series of low-hanging incandescent bulbs flicker to life.

  “Jeez, are we even supposed to be down here?” I ask, taking in the shelves of old tomes, newspapers, and goodness knows what else.

  “Yeah, I come down here all the time. It’s where the old histories of Windhaven are kept,” Colt says, clearing off some space on a dusty table in the center of a small enclosure of shelves. “Well, anything older than the turn of the millennium, anyway.”

  “Well, that’s good to know. Because it kinda looks like an old person’s attic or something,” I say, chuckling.

  “Smells like it, too,” Cat laughs.

  “Right?” I say, flipping my left hand upside down and pointing her direction.

  “Okay, before you get started, you should know, you may not like everything you find,” Colton says, placing his hands on the table and leaning in.

  “Mmkay. Ominous,” I say.

  “I just wanted to be up front,” he says, tilting his head. “There’s a lot down here and, well…whatever you find needs to come to you. Does that make sense?”

  “So, is there anything you can actually just tell me? Or is this some sort of initiation kind of deal where I need to do it all on my own?” I ask, grabbing the back of a chair and pulling it out.

  “A little of both, but first, it’s sorta better if you uncover a bit on your own. Because, well, you probably wouldn’t believe us if we told you,” he says.

  My eyebrows tug in. What could they possible say to me that I wouldn’t believe? I go to a supernatural school and I’m surrounded daily by people with incredible gifts I could only dream of wielding.

  I turn to Cat, who simply nods in agreement.

  “All right. Hit me. What should I check out first?” I say, taking a seat.

  “Uhm…” Colt says, twisting around and walking over to one of the shelves. He tilts his head to the side while his right pointer finger follows along the spines of the old books.

  From here, I have no idea what on earth any of them say. Their etchings are worn and scrolled in a strange kind of typography I’ve never seen before.

  “Ah, here it is,” he says, plucking one of the books out and walking it back to the table.

  He places the huge book, nearly the size of a scrapbook, on the table and shoves it across the dust to me.

  “Start here,” he says.

  Cat pulls out the chair beside me, then casually drops into it. Her expectant gaze is hard to read.

  Pulling the book to me, I run my hand along its worn binding. The brown leather on the front cover is completely blank, but the spine has words along it that have all but rubbed off.

  Colt continues to pull books from the shelves, adding to a growing stack in the middle of the table. My eyes widen, but I shake my head and flip open the one he handed me.

  Inside the first few brittle pages are handwritten scribblings in the margins. But I finally come to the title page that reads:

  Windhaven est. 1786

  “Is this some sort of history of Windhaven?” I ask, glancing up.

  Cat nods, her face a furry of anticipation.

  “Okay,” I begin. “Weird place to start.”

  “Trust me, you’ll want to read this. It’s important,” Colton says, shifting the books aside to take a seat on the table beside me.

  “You know there are hundreds of pages here, right? You’re not expecting me to read the whole—”

  Cat giggles, “No, no. You’ll be able to skim it. The important pieces will jump at you. Trust me. It’s the way this goes.”

  Scrunching my face, I narrow my eyes and turn back to the book.

  She’s not wrong. The very first page pulls me up short as elements inside almost highlight themselves in a glowing light. To the right, in a large picture which as been clearly drawn, is a home that looks oddly familiar. The front façade is older and has slightly different architecture than it does now, but the resemblance is still undeniable.

  “Is this my—?”

  “Yes,” Cat says before I finish.

  “Okay…” I say, staring at the black and white image.

  A man and woman stand beside the front entry, their faces stoic and blank. The woman’s in a light-colored dress, and instantly conjures up images of the woman I saw laying on the entryway floor. In an upstairs bedroom, it almost looks as though children look out of the window.

  What would make the artist draw things this way? Why would the children not be drawn with the adults?

  I raise my hand, running my pointer finger gingerly over the woman. Could this be the same woman? And if so, am I losing my mind?

  “That’s your great-great-great, who knows how many actual greats, grandmother,” Cat whispers with an air of reverence.

  “Keep going,” Colton urges.

  I flit my eyes to him, then back to the book. Turning the page gently, a more modern account, as if cut from a local newspaper, is enclosed in the pages.

  The Blackwoods

  The first residents of Windhaven, Warren and Abigail Blackwood, began construction on their estate in 1790 and it was completed in 1797. Their home stood as a monument and testament to those who considered venturing out into the wilderness the way they had. The Blackwoods were instrumental in developing the layout of the original town of Windhaven, as well as recruiting similar families for their small community. They had a vision they wanted to fulfill in establishing the small town. With Warren Blackwood’s innate ability to commune with the dead and Abigail’s gift of healing and regeneration, the couple had no trouble in accomplishing their vision. Unfortunately, Abigail met an untimely death in…

  I stop reading and look up, horrified and confused.

  Cat leans over and begins to read where I left off, as if she knew exactly what made me stop. “Unfortunately, Abigail Blackwood met an untimely death in 1800, just as the town was beginning to gain more residents and get itself established. She was found dead inside the residence, having fallen from the second-floor landing. Authorities were called in, but no evidence of foul play was found. Her death was ruled a suicide.”

  I lean back in my chair, my memory flashing to the woman I saw, and the surprise and terror it invoked. Could I have actually seen her?

  I glance up, looking both of them in the eye.

  Should I tell them?

  “Your great-grandmother met an untimely death, which is sorta sad itself. But that’s not the part we need you to read. Keep going,” Colt says.

  Pushing away the surprise, I nod and continue to read out loud,
“After the death of Abigail, Warren Blackwood locked himself inside Blackwood Manor, refusing to leave again. Until his dying day in 1838, it is thought he spent his days adding rooms to the estate for all the children he and Abigail would never have. He then spent his evenings trying to conjure her spirit.” I stop reading and shake my head. “This is utterly ridiculous.”

  Colton makes a face. “Keep going.”

  My eyes narrow and I flip the page back to the photo. The blank stare of a little boy makes me shudder.

  “So, if Abigail and Warren didn’t have kids…who’s this?” I ask pointing to the old photograph.

  Cat’s eyebrow twitches upward, but she says, “That’s your great-great grandpa, or something like that.”

  “Okay, so Abigail and Warren did have kids? I’m so confused,” I say, leaning back.

  “That’s the part you’re confused about?” Colt says, cocking his head to the side.

  “Well, it said he spent his days adding rooms for…oh,” I say, realization dawning. “They meant more kids. I get it. They wanted a bigger family.”

  “Well, if the Blackwood legacy died with them, where did you come from?” Colton says, raising a knowing eyebrow.

  “Good point,” I say, clicking my tongue and mock shooting him with my thumb and pointer finger.

  “Your ancestry plays a role into how people in this town, uh…view you and your family, I guess…” Colton says, splaying his hands out in front of him on the table.

  “Okay? I don’t get that. Why should I be judged by the heritage of my dead ancestors?” I ask, turning the pages.

  “It’s hard to describe because in some ways, it doesn’t make sense to us, either. Keep going,” Cat suggests, tapping the book.

  There are pages of black and white drawings, or pictures of paintings, along with stories of all of the founding families. My fingers stop when I reach a page that reads: The Gilberts.

  “Is this your family?” I ask, pointing.

  Cat nods, “Yup.”

  “So our families go way back, huh?” I grin.

  “Yeah, actually. Our families were very close. It’s why our house is across the pond,” Colton shrugs.

  “Wow. Okay, now that’s kinda cool. I mean, what are the chances we’d become friends? I had no idea,” I say, snickering to myself.