Haunted Legacy: The Windhaven Witches Series

by Carissa Andrews

  “Wait…you knew?” I say, unable to stop the rising resentment from building inside me. My entire childhood, she made it seem like the supernatural community was a bunch of miscreants who needed to be controlled.

  Mom’s heavy sigh doesn’t make me feel any better. “When we lived at Blackwood Manor, you would often tell us about the friends you’d see in the house and on the grounds. We knew right away what was really going on. But when you went missing…” her voice chokes off.

  I press my fingertips to my lips to keep them from quivering.

  Her voice is a little more solid when she continues. “Autumn, I swore when we found you on that dock after weeks of being missing that I would do anything and everything in my power to protect you. The Blackwood family has trodden the line between life and death for centuries, and I wasn’t going to let you fall prey to its legacy, if I could help it. That’s why your father and I parted. We knew being in that house would only heighten your gifts and one day…if we weren’t careful, it would claim you, too.”

  The oppression from this revelation is almost too much, and the air in this wide-open entry closes in around me.

  “So, you’re telling me I’m the reason you and Dad broke up?” I squeak.

  “Honey, it’s not like that. We wanted to keep you safe…”

  “I, uh…Mom, I love you. But this is…” I say, blinking back tears as I stand up. “I gotta go.”

  Without giving her a chance to respond, I click the phone off and cram it back into my pocket.

  Not only did my mom know what kind of supernatural gifts I had all along—they’re the reason my parents aren’t together.

  The longer I’m in this world of the supernatural, the more I understand my mother’s despise of it. Then again, maybe it’s me who’s the problem?

  If I had any other ability, being with Wade wouldn’t be a problem.

  I always thought having powers would make me special, or open the world up to me. Not close it in and make it impossible for those around me to have any kind of a relationship—whether with me or not.

  I thought having powers would be a blessing. Not a curse.

  The entryway feels far too big and oppressive as I sit here all alone. Taking the stairs two at a time, I race down the hallway to my bedroom. Before I even reach my bedroom door, I can feel my phone buzzing in my pocket. It’s likely my mom trying to call me back or Wade calling to check in on me. Either way, I can’t take any more draining conversations. I need some time to process.

  I’m still no closer to understanding what’s happening in this house. Why a ghost attacked Wade and why I couldn’t even see it… or why I was led to the painting of my mother.

  On one hand, it feels as though my gifts are getting stronger, but on the other… Just when I think I have a good grasp on what I’m capable of, the rules change.

  As I walk into my open bedroom, I flick on the light switch and move straight to the large picture window. The landscape is a sea of dark blues and blacks, and I drop the blinds, needing to pull into my space, wrapping it around me like a safety blanket.

  For the briefest of moments, I consider trying to Skype Cat, but think better of it. My laptop is still upstairs and the study is the last place I want to go until it’s daylight. While I could call her from my phone, it just doesn’t feel the same.

  Eyeing the clock, I see it’s barely 9:00 p.m. While it might be a Tuesday, it’s still awfully early. Resigning myself to an early night of solitude, I head across the hall to run myself a bath. I need to calm down and if there’s one thing the big tub is good for, it’s relaxing. After grabbing a handful of lavender and sage bath salts, I hold my hand out, letting the running water release them from my grip. Instantly, the scent calms my nerves and I pick up the lighter from the top drawer of the vanity and light the candles around the room.

  After an uneventful, candlelit bath, I wrap myself in towels and plod across the hall with my hairbrush and dirty clothes in hand. Dropping the brush on my desk and the clothes in my hamper, I take a seat on the edge of my bed, eyeing the doorway to the resurrection chamber.

  How did things get so messed up?

  Rolling my eyes, I walk over to my desk so I can brush my hair. I pull up short as I reach for a brush that’s not there.

  “What the hell?” I say, staring at the desk like it’s going to magically appear.

  Shaking it off, I walk over to the hamper and dig through the dirty clothes. Not there, either.

  Confused, I walk out of the room and back into the bathroom. It’s not there, either.

  I did grab it, right?

  My brain is a swirl of bewilderment, but I pull open the drawer with my extra combs and picks. They’re not ideal for brushing out my unruly red locks, but when needs must. I’ll hunt for the brush tomorrow when my brain is clearer.

  Dressing in my night shirt and underwear, I hop into bed and stare the ceiling for what feels like forever.

  Eventually, my eyelids flutter closed and darkness consumes me.

  The cool autumn breeze ruffles the back of my hair. It’s not quite cold enough to induce a shiver, but it’s enough for me to tug the collar of my shirt up.

  Walking through the dense trees, I make my way to the altar space, unsure if I will be successful this time. Things have been getting worse, and if I can’t find a way around this curse, people will die. People I love.

  Kneeling down at the edge of the pentacle, I light the first of five red candles. Bowing my head, I utter the incantation, and move on to the next one, until each are lit.

  My heart pounds in my chest, threatening to break the confines of my ribcage as I enter the circle’s sacred space. Blinking back the terror rising within me, I reach into a small pouch dangling at my side. This time, I believe I have everything I need to do this properly. With my right hand, I let the salt trickle out. It cascades downward, catching the sun’s light and making it appear like gold streaming from my palm. Slowly, I walk clockwise to seal the circle’s energy.

  Turning to the center, I light the large, white pillar candle. When it flickers to life, I bow my head, stealing a moment to calm myself. Despite my best efforts, my pulse continues to race.

  Should this go wrong, I’ve made assurances. My legacy will live on. Yet, I still hope for the best.

  Digging into my left pocket, I hold out my hand above the candle’s flame until the skin aches from the heat. Should this be my last act, I want to at least remember what it feels like to be alive. Bowing my head, I whisper the words meant to call the Moirai to me.

  If this works, it will go one of two ways. They’ll either forgive this transgression, or I will be dead before I can speak my piece. There’s only one way to know for sure.

  Opening my palm, I allow the handful of frayed red threads to fall into the flames.

  I wake up in a cold sweat, unable to move or even breathe. The dream was so real, but so far away. As if I was watching someone else—not me—do the actions.

  Something big is coming and whatever it is, I’m totally unprepared for it.

  If I can’t get Abigail to come to me, there’s really only one person I can turn to for clear answers.

  Tomorrow, come hell or high water, I will find a way to track down my dad.

  Chapter 6

  One Reason

  As it turns out, tracking down a man without a cell phone is more or less impossible. Over the next two days, I’ve tried just about everything imaginable. Just shy of calling my mom and asking if she would know, I finally resign myself to scribbling a note on the kitchen counter for James.

  I still have no idea when he comes and goes. He’s almost as elusive as one of the ghosts. But if there’s anyone who would have details, it would likely be him. Even if he wants to pretend he doesn’t.

  Tomorrow, Wade and I have to do our presentation on the Fates and we’ve barely even scratched the surface on research. After what happened last time, it’s safe to say neither one of us wants to study at my house. But I
’ll be damned if we study at his. So, the Academy library it is.

  With my dad still MIA and the study session lingering over my head, the entire school day drags on and on. As interesting as it is to learn about psychic drawing, spirit crossings, and truth hidden in myths, it’s not until I get to Malevolent Spirits 101 that I actually perk an ear.

  “As we’ve been discussing, malevolent spirits aren’t always easy to distinguish. Oftentimes, they come across very benign,” Professor Lambert says, sweeping his light-brown eyes over the entire class. His expression is tight, as only a tenth of us seem to be paying any particular attention. The entire back row appears to be in varying degrees of grogginess.

  To be fair, it’s hard to concentrate in his class. It’s the last one of the day and by this point, even with the cooler autumn air, the room is stiflingly hot. Add on top his slightly monotone speech and you have yourself a recipe for glazed eyes and nodding heads.

  “So, with this in mind, what is the number one way to know if a spirit you encounter is benevolent?” he continues. Professor Lambert catches my gaze long enough to realize I’m awake and he says, “You there, Ms. Blackwood. Any thoughts?”

  I sit up a little straighter. “Not exactly. But I can tell you from experience, when they’re angry, you’ll know it.”

  The professor quirks a gray eyebrow. “You’ve encountered a malevolent spirit?”

  I nod, scratching at the side of my head. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Do you feel safe?” he asks, sudden interest blossoming in his tone.

  I squirm a bit in my seat but tip my head. “Yeah, it’s no big deal. It’s only been the one time.”

  He holds my gaze for a moment but returns to his air of academia. “You see, the manner in which a human dies plays a vital role in its ability to cross over. Not every soul becomes a ghost, and not every ghost deteriorates into malevolence.”

  I raise my hand.

  “Yes, Ms. Blackwood?” he asks when he notices.

  “Is there any reason a ghost would go unseen?”

  He narrows his eyes. “How do you mean?”

  “Well, I already know I can see ghosts. But the one…the malevolent spirit—I can’t see it. I was wondering if you knew why?” I say.

  Tipping his head in contemplation, he says, “Could be any number of things. Appearing corporeal takes energy. If the spirit is fairly new, it might not have mastered that ability. Did you say it was angry? Did it do something?”

  My eyebrows knit together, and I nod. “Yes, it attacked a friend.”

  Professor Lambert paces in front of his desk and rubs at his chin. “All right, so it could be that it needed to muster enough energy to physically interact. When we’re alive, we take all the physical interactions we have for granted. But when you’re a spirit, each interaction is depleting. The more energy it needs for one form or another, the less it has for a different form. Does that make sense?”

  “I think so,” I say. “Basically, if the malevolent spirit wants to, say, choke someone or blow out lightbulbs, it can’t also muster the energy to be seen?”

  “Precisely,” he says with a curt nod.

  “Ah, gotcha.”

  My mind is a cyclone of thoughts, each vying for a moment’s attention. I barely hear the rest of the class as I contemplate who—or what—is now in my house and how I can get rid of it. Even if it’s never attacked me, the energy has certainly turned more hostile, and the last thing I want to do is live in a haunted house. Well, more haunted than usual, anyway.

  When class is over, I make my way down the hall as people everywhere disperse from the building and head home. Wade is already waiting for me at a back table when I enter the library.

  “Hey,” he says, flashing me a tentative smile.

  “Hi,” I say, sliding into the seat across from him. I drop my backpack to the floor and pull out my laptop.

  “So…” he says, scrunching his face.

  “So,” I repeat, locking eyes with him.

  “How have you been? We haven’t really touched base much since the whole conjuring reenactment,” Wade says, smirking.

  “I should be asking you that, actually,” I say, pointing to him. “Are you okay?”

  He shrugs nonchalantly. “Fit as a fiddle. But definitely glad to be studying here.” His silver eyes catch mine and I can see the wheels in his mind turning. “Anything else happen? I mean, have you been—”

  “Yeah, nothing really all that strange since. It’s weird, though… Since I can’t see it, I don’t know who or what it could be. I mean, I know it’s not Abigail, even if she’s been a bit MIA. I can still sense her around me. It’s like she’s just, I don’t know, busy or something. But this—”

  “Yeah, I don’t think it’s Abigail either. When I was disembodied, I got a good sense of her. She means well and definitely has an air of benevolence. Whatever attacked me…”—his eyes go distant—“it wasn’t her.”

  “What did it feel like?” I ask, narrowing my gaze. “When it attacked you.”

  “Like something was pressing on my throat and I couldn’t get any air,” he says, shuddering. “But first…there was just an extreme sense of oppression. Anger. Fury, even.”

  “I’m so sorry, Wade. I didn’t mean for—” I begin.

  Wade raises a hand and cuts me off. “It’s not your fault, Autumn. I’ve felt something there before, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It comes and goes. But…for whatever reason, it’s growing. Getting angrier.”

  My forehead creases and I lean back. “You’ve felt something at the manor? When? You never told me that before.”

  Wade’s gaze drops to the table in front of us and he winces. “Yeah, I guess… I figured you knew. I mean, there are a lot of energies. But it seems like they all kind of like their space.”

  Surprise and irritation flare inside me and I bite down on my lip to keep from saying something I’ll regret. As much as I thought I knew Wade—and as much as I love him—secrets seem to shroud around him like a blanket.

  Not just any secrets, either; big, terrible, life-altering secrets. Like the fact that my house is full of ghosts I’ve never even realized were there.

  Like he’s next in line to be a freakin’ Angel of Death. Oh, and he’s not supposed to have anything to do with necromancers like me.

  So, there’s that.

  “I know that look,” Wade says warily. “What’s on your mind?”

  I sigh. “It’s nothing.”

  “Come on. Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out,” Wade whispers, his eyes pleading with me.

  “You hold a lot back from me. I thought we were both on the same level…but there’s so much I didn’t know about you. Or what you can do. Or hell, what I’m dealing with,” I say reluctantly. “For all I know, you even got a read on who it is. Or maybe your dad has? Surely the Angel of Death can do that, right?”

  Wade’s eyes widen, but he shakes his head. “Angels of Death are bound to take the souls ready to cross planes. They don’t focus on the ones who wish to stay behind. I guess you could say there’s too much to do and not enough time to do it. There’s no point in focusing on the energies that don’t want help.” He quirks his lips to the side and continues. “But to answer your question, no. I don’t know who it is. I don’t have any powers. Not really. I only get vague impressions of energy right now. Good, bad. Happy, not so happy. I suppose you could call it empathic, but I don’t even know if it’s as potent as that. And truth be told, I never even thought to ask my dad. He wouldn’t overly approve the request, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” I whisper, tucking my hands under my thighs. “He’s not a fan.”

  Wade’s eyebrows tug in and he leans forward. “Autumn, he doesn’t know you. He only knows what necromancers do to the status quo. He doesn’t know you.”

  “I know,” I say softly. He doesn’t overly want to get to know me either and a part of me can’t even blame him. I didn’t know I was a necromancer
for most of my life, but one thing’s for sure, I’m not even sure I want to be one. It’s done nothing but cause problems.

  “Look, if you want help figuring out what it is”—Wade reaches across the table—“I want to help. I know I can’t cast them out or cross them over, but I can at least try to guide you with the stuff I do know.”

  “I’m a big girl, Wade. I can handle it on my own,” I say, shaking my head.

  His face tightens and he says, “I’m perfectly aware of how strong you are. That’s not what I was implying at all.”

  “I know. It’s just…” I swallow hard. “It’s hard enough having to work with you on this presentation.”

  Wade snorts. “Is it actually that bad to work with me?”

  “You know what I mean,” I retort.

  “Do I?” he says.

  “Wade I don’t like this any more than you do. None of this is my choice. I’m just—”

  “Not your choice? Autumn, this is all your choice,” Wade says, slamming a hand down on the table. “It’s certainly not mine. I want to be with you. There’s nowhere on this whole fuckin’ planet I’d rather be. Don’t you get that? I love you…”

  My breath hitches and I blink back the emotions threatening to consume me.

  “I—” I stutter, unable to form words.

  “I don’t know what your deal is or why you keep pushing me away. But I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to help you get to the bottom of this. Whatever is going on in your goddamn house could be really bad. Maybe it hasn’t attacked you yet, but it could. I’ll be damned if I let that happen. We’ll figure it out together,” he spits. His jaw clenches tight and his nostrils flare, but he doesn’t back down.

  I know better than to fight this. As much as I want to protest, I know it will only make him dig his heels in deeper. “Fine. You can help me, but that’s all. Nothing else has changed. I can’t risk—”