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

by Carissa Andrews

  My eyes drift to the bronze plate at its feet. The words read: I pledge my soul for your sins and ask God Almighty to remove their burden from you and place them with me to consume.

  I shudder at the imagery those words invoke.

  Was she leading me here to atone for my sins? Or was she leading me to my death, in order to consume the mistakes of my ancestors?

  Chapter 7

  Lies

  I stare at the red thread, unable to force my mind to make my body move. Instead, nervous energy rolls through me and I bend over, sucking in the crisp winter air as if my life depends on it. And I suppose it does.

  “Are you okay, Dru?” Wade asks, kneeling beside me.

  I shake my head. “No, I’m really not.”

  He rubs a circle on my back, leaning in close and providing the kind of comfort only he can offer.

  “I would have followed her anywhere. Had you not snapped me out of it—who knows what would have happened?” I say, wiping at the side of my mouth to keep from being sick. Slowly, I stand up. The red thread flutters in the breeze, taunting me to free it from the stone fingertips.

  Reaching out, I tug it free, and crumple it up in the palm of my hand.

  “The Moirai are getting more relentless. It’s a good thing we’re here to get answers,” Wade says, circling his gaze around the cemetery. “It’s so strange. I have so many mixed feelings about this place.”

  I follow his stare to the columbarium where his grandfather’s ashes would have resided—had they not risen as a revenant.

  “Yeah, I know the feeling,” I whisper.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here,” he says, wrapping his right arm around my shoulder. “Maybe your mom is home now.”

  Taking a deep breath, I pull out my phone to see if she’s tried to get in touch. There are no messages. Scrunching my face, I put the phone back and trudge out of the cemetery.

  This place used to be my favorite location in all of Mistwood Point. It was the one place where I felt safe. But now, it’s as if my family legacy has triggered nothing but apprehension for it instead.

  Our footsteps together are much slower than on the way into the graveyard. Wade slides his arm down, interlocking his hand in mine. For a few minutes, we walk in silence, listening to the sound of our shoes crunching on the snowy sidewalk.

  The lamp posts have sprung to life, illuminating the walkways and guiding us back the way we came. The businesses on this edge of town begin to dwindle as it fades back into the more residential part. The majority of the houses now have lights on inside, where the businesses have turned dark.

  As we pass by the small Mistwood Community Center, a grouping of about ten women and two men filter out the doors. They all chat among themselves as they pull their jackets in tighter against their chins when they meet the winter wind.

  One guy hikes a gym bag up on his shoulder. “See you ladies on Tuesday. Have a good weekend, Ted,” he says, waving. “Merry Christmas.”

  The rest of them look up, each responding with a slight wave of their own.

  “Merry Christmas,” most respond back.

  I catch the eye of one of the women and she stops dead in the middle of her stride. “Autumn?”

  “Mom?” I say, picking up my step to reach her.

  “What are you two doing here? Did I know you were meant to be here tonight?” she asks, looking flustered.

  I shake my head. “No, it was meant to be a surprise.”

  Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t respond.

  “So, surprise,” Wade offers, doing jazz hands for effect.

  Mom’s hazel eyes flit from me to him as she shakes away her surprise and smiles. “Well, I’d give you both a hug, but I just got done with Pilates class. So, you might want to take a raincheck until after my shower.”

  “I didn’t know you were taking Pilates,” I say, surprised. She’s always liked to work out, but doing anything that involves sweating around others is definitely new.

  “Yeah, I thought it was time to see what all the hype was about,” she chuckles, tipping her head toward the direction of her house. “Well, come on. Let’s get to the house before we freeze out here.”

  We make our way down the sidewalk. The others in front of us start to disperse, disappearing into their relative houses.

  “Does this mean you’ll be staying for Christmas?” Mom finally asks, turning back to us.

  I nod. “Yeah, that’s the plan.”

  “Excellent. I was really hoping you’d change your mind,” she grins, reaching out and squeezing my hand.

  Wade nudges me with his shoulder.

  I swallow hard, suddenly aware of how sweaty my palm feels. Clearing my throat, I say, “Mom… I have some stuff I need to talk to you about.”

  “What is it, sweetheart?” she asks, turning a questioning gaze my direction.

  Scrunching my face, I point to the house a few hundred feet away. “Let’s get inside first.”

  “Oh, boy. Is this going to be a big talk? You’re not pregnant, are you?” Her hazel eyes widen as peers at us suspiciously. “Because the timing wouldn’t be great.”

  Wade’s shocked expression turns to me expectantly.

  “No—that’s not…” I say, shaking my head. Leave it to my mom to go someplace completely mundane rather than think about what I’ve recently been through with the estate. My insides tighten and I race ahead, taking the steps two at a time. I make it to the door first, pacing up and down the porch.

  The two of them follow behind me, but as Mom takes out her keys, she narrows her gaze. “Hmmm…” she mutters. Unlocking the door, she swings it open, letting the two of us slide past her first.

  “Okay, how about a cup of tea?” Mom says, dropping her keys on the entryway table. “Wade, you like British tea, right?”

  “That would be great,” he nods, following her.

  I stand in the middle of the small entryway, trying to settle my flyaway heart. My eyes drift along the banister to the stairs leading up and I sigh.

  Pregnant. I wish that’s all this was.

  Shaking my head, I follow them.

  With the kettle in hand, Mom walks to the sink, filling it up. Wade takes a seat at the breakfast bar, clasping his hands out in front of him as he waits.

  “We can order pizza. How does Hawaiian sound?” Mom asks as she sets the kettle on the stove.

  My forehead creases, but I nod. “Yeah, that’ll be great.”

  Wade seconds the response with an adamant nod.

  Mom grabs three mugs from the dishwasher and sets them down on the counter. “Okay, so what is it you want to talk about, then?”

  Part of me would like nothing more than to sit down next to Wade, but the other part of me is too agitated to sit still. Instead, I opt for pacing behind him.

  “Mom, you and Dad were divorced, right?” I blurt out. The moment the words leave my lips, I turn to face her, holding my breath. I watch her every movement and micro-expression as if they are the only things that will lead me to the truth.

  The question does as I expected. She pauses, wide-eyed and mouth slightly agape. Then, her eyes flutter frantically, as she turns to check on the kettle.

  “Mom?”

  I glance at Wade, whose expression tells me everything I need to know.

  She places her hands on the oven’s handle, dropping her chin to her chest. “It’s not that we were keeping things…”

  Releasing my held breath, I reach for the other stool and take a seat.

  Mom turns around, her sorrowful gaze meeting mine. She holds it for a moment, but no more words escape her lips.

  Tears brim in my eyes and I shake my head. “Mom… how could you keep that from me?”

  Wade’s hand is suddenly on my back, his warm palm rubbing circles against the space between my shoulders.

  Her voice is barely a whisper. “We thought it would be easier on you. Help you live a more…normal life.”

  “Normal? You call any of this normal?
” I sputter. “Dad’s dead. I’m being hunted by the literal Fates. And until a little over a year ago, I had no idea there was anything supernatural about me. But you knew—you knew all of this.”

  I lean forward, reaching into my back pocket. Pulling out the letter from my dad, I slap it on the counter between us.

  Mom’s forehead creases. “What’s this?”

  “A letter from Dad,” I say, sliding it over to her.

  She swallows hard, but takes a step forward, reaching for the envelope. Removing the letter, she shoots us one last confused glance before reading his words.

  I already know what’s said in there. I read it when I found his journal, thanks to Abigail. He was going after the Moirai to protect me—and he wanted her to know he’d do everything he could to keep me safe.

  Yeah, that went well.

  Tears fill her eyes and she clutches at the necklace dangling in front of her throat.

  “Did you still love him?” I say, swiping at my own tears falling across my cheeks.

  Her expression is nothing more than pure agony, and my heart rips in two. “More than anything,” she whispers.

  “Then why? Why did you leave him?” I demand. “Who does that sort of thing? Was it because of me?”

  “Autumn, you have to understand…” she begins, trying to sound reasonable, despite the tears brimming in her eyes. She looks between Wade and me as if searching for the best way to deliver the news. Or maybe just hoping he’d help her find a way to calm me down.

  “Mom, enough of the bullshit. Just tell me what the hell is going on. Why was Blackwood Manor willed to you? And why did I have to find out about you and dad from some goddamn lawyer? What in the hell could possibly be the reason for keeping me in the dark about all of this?” I spit.

  “We had to—” she fires back. As soon as the words leave her lips, her eyes widen and she presses her fingertips against her mouth.

  I narrow my gaze. “You had to?”

  Mom sighs, setting down the letter on the counter. “I’m sorry, Autumn. You deserve to know the full story. I just don’t know if—”

  “Mom, we’re down to the wire here. Those signs Dad talks about in the letter,” I say, pressing my index finger into the crumpled paper. “They’re happening to me now. Everywhere I go. The mall, the manor, the cemetery here in Mistwood. I don’t know how long I have. I don’t know how to stop this when he couldn’t even put an end to it. What I do know is my entire childhood has been a lie and I need some damn answers. Otherwise I’m going to end up like the rest of the Blackwood family—dead.”

  Mom gasps, pressing her fist against her heart. Her head twitches back and forth, clearly shaken by my words. Part of me is actually pleased that they had such an impact.

  “I really tried to keep you safe. We both did. But it’s clear that’s no longer up to me.” She stifles a sob. “You’re right. I’ve been keeping so much from you. It’s time I tell you everything.”

  Chapter 8

  Family Matters

  Mom’s face is a mixture of emotions as she paces from one end of the small kitchen to the other. Both Wade and I watch her closely, anticipating what she might say. There are so many secrets she could be holding onto. Neither of us say a word; we just wait for her to be ready to reveal whatever information she’s ready to share.

  After a minute, she stops moving, leans against the sink, and places her hands on the counter behind her. “Last year, we talked a little bit about things, Autumn. Like what happened when you went missing. But you hung up before we could really talk.” Her eyes flick up to me, holding my gaze for a moment. “Not that I’m blaming you at all. Things between us have been so strained because of… Well, it is what it is. However, I knew”—her eyelashes flutter across her cheeks as she looks down—“that day on the phone, I knew something was going on. Something horrible. I could feel it.”

  Goosebumps flash across the back of my arms and my eyebrows tug in. Mom has always been incredibly perceptive. Even as a kid I could barely get away with a white lie about eating all of my vegetables without her finding the place I’d dumped them outside. But the way her words linger in the air between us, there’s something much more potent than simply a mother’s sense.

  She continues, “There’s so much… I’m not sure where to start in all of this.”

  “Start at the beginning,” Wade offers in his soothing way.

  Her gaze rises, landing on him momentarily. A question lingers there, but she nods. “The beginning… That’s a place I haven’t cared to visit for quite some time.” Her eyes dart back and forth with her thoughts as she works to pull the pieces together. “Autumn, all this time, you must be wondering why I despised the supernatural world so much. Especially knowing what you know now about your gifts…and your father’s.”

  My lips press into a thin line, and I nod. She already knows these questions have lingered in my mind. I’ve even voiced them to her.

  “I have lived in the world of the supernatural far longer than you realize. Far longer than you can perhaps comprehend,” she says, dropping her gaze again to the floor.

  Alarm bells go off inside my head and I can’t help but push the stool back and stand up. “What do you mean?”

  Her sorrowful hazel eyes meet mine and her eyebrows upturn in the middle. She holds her breath and releases it, as if the breath itself was a heavy burden to carry. “Autumn, in times past, before supernatural beings were accepted the way they are, we were often considered to be gods. Particularly those of us who defy the traditional roles of death.”

  My brain seizes up and it’s my turn to be flustered. I take another step back from the bar. “Us?”

  Wade scoots his own stool back, standing up and preparing to get between us, if need be. His silver eyes dart between us, as if trying to decide who will make the first move.

  “Yes, us,” she says, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry, sweet girl. In another life, I was so excited to show you the beauty in our powers. But…”

  “Us?” I repeat, my hands flying to my hair as I pull at the red strands. This can’t be happening. There’s no way my mom is a supernatural being. No possible way. I drop my hands, twisting back to her and demand, “If you have powers, what are they? What are you? Prove it.”

  “I have many powers. They’ve developed through the ages,” she whispers.

  I close my eyes, trying to process her words. Ages?

  “Are you saying you’re one of the old gods?” Wade asks, somehow managing to break the chaos clouding my mind and asking a question buried in my thoughts.

  My head snaps up just in time to see her flinch.

  “No…” I say, raising my hands and backing away. “No. Just, no. You can’t be. I’ve lived with you my whole life. You like your sleep. You hate to argue. You eat eggs, drink protein shakes, and work out. You do Pilates, for crying out loud. You can’t—”

  Looking up from beneath her eyebrows, she says, “I’ve gone by many names in my lifetime. But the one that stuck in the pages of history is Hecate. I can’t say it’s my favorite.”

  My mouth drops open and my mind goes completely blank. It’s like the entire world I live in, everything about it, has been nothing but one big, fat lie.

  For the first time, Mom walks around the counter that was separating us. Wade takes a protective step forward, but the look on my mother’s face makes him step back.

  “Autumn, you have to know, there are so many times I wanted to tell you. To explain why you had certain gifts for things, like accidentally resurrecting the neighbor’s cat when you were nine and bringing birds who hit the window back to life. Instead, I had to pretend to ignore them—write them off as completely normal occurrences. It’s gone against every instinct I have to keep silent, but I had to protect you. That’s been my priority since—”

  “Gifts? Ignore them? I don’t remember any of that. Until I went to live at Dad’s, I didn’t even know I had supernatural gifts,” I sputter.

  Mom shakes h
er head, placing her hands on my shoulders. “That’s not true.”

  “Then why don’t I remember?” I fire back.

  “Because I made sure you didn’t,” she whispers, locking eyes with me. “Your memories around those events needed to be a blank slate or the Moirai would sense your growing power; your connection to the forces of life and death. They’d know you were still alive and they’d look for a way to take you from me.”

  “But they’re Fate,” Wade sputters. “They create the fabric of reality for every single life. Wouldn’t her thread tell them she’s still alive? Hell, the fact that she is alive—wouldn’t that technically be their doing?”

  “I don’t know,” Mom whispers, shooting a sideways glance toward Wade.

  An absurd laugh bursts from my chest. “You don’t know? You’re a friggin’ goddess and you don’t know?”

  Mom makes a face as she turns to me. “First of all, I’m no different from you or any other supernatural being. I just live longer. That’s all. Secondly, what I do know is that the signs—the red threads—they stopped appearing when you vanished. They didn’t start back up when you reappeared, either. What you did, resurrecting yourself, it should have been impossible. So we figured perhaps the Moirai didn’t know you’d returned. We took that chance and it worked well for us while we searched for answers.”

  Wade’s eyes are wide as he looks between the two of us.

  “If you’ve been wiping my memory anyway, why did we have to leave? Why did you take us from Dad? Ugh, none of this makes sense,” I say, slamming my hand on the table in frustration.

  “The manor is at the center of a vortex. Its energy draws in the supernatural, but also opens the veil between the dead and the living. Keeping you there—it was too obvious. They’d find you, even if I kept your memory clean,” she says, breathing heavy as she fights back tears. “God, Autumn. I wanted to stay there. You have no idea how much I wanted to stay.”