“You can’t risk? This is all about your risk, is it? Autumn, I’m willing to risk everything to be with you. My whole life, I’ve wandered from place to place, searching for the one thing that would bind me to this human form. Because honestly, so far, things have kinda sucked. All I was looking for was that one reason to stay. Did you know that when my grandpa passed, I planned to end my own life?”
His silver eyes bore into mine and my heart stops.
“What?” I sputter.
He swallows hard and nods absently. “I had nothing left. No parents, no friends. And when Grandpa was gone, no family at all. They were all on the other side. Why would I want to stay when I could ascend early? I could begin fulfilling my true purpose and have all the powers that come with it.”
“But you only get one life to live. And it could have changed. You have so many years ahead of you. You could travel and see the world. You could have met…”
“And I did,” he says, cutting me off. “I met the one woman who has made all this torment worth it. She was my one reason to stay.”
His words linger between us—heavy, potent things that could crumble realities and break down barriers. My gaze falls to the table as I contemplate their meaning.
Inhaling sharply, my eyelashes flutter. “Does that mean…? You wouldn’t—”
Wade’s face is suddenly the epitome of calm. “No option is off the table.”
Chapter 7
The Thread of Life
I look up, meeting Wade’s expectant gaze. “You can’t be serious?”
“It’s not ideal, obviously. But I’m not ruling it out, either. Granted, I do have a few more cards up my sleeves as I try to get into some good graces,” Wade says, grinning and clearly trying to lighten the mood.
“No, you can’t do that,” I say, shaking my head. “You think you can drop that kind of a bomb on me and then change the subject? Nope. No, sir.”
Wade’s expression is thoughtful as he says, “Autumn, you and I view life very differently. I love that about you. But for someone like me, it’s just a pit stop on the way to my full-time gig. I know what’s waiting for me on the other side of this. Most people—you included—don’t. That’s why it seems so scary.”
My stomach churns and I feel utterly sick. Even if he’s right—even if this life means little to him because he knows what the rest of eternity looks like, I can’t imagine a time when he’d consider just…opting out.
“Yeah, but you should want to protect this chance. Don’t you think? Not waste it?”
“It’s a lot easier to put things into perspective when you know one lifetime is all you get.” He flashes me a quick smile and leans back. “I mean, I know most people believe that, or at least worry about it, but they’re so disillusioned. They don’t think in terms of a whole lifetime anyway. They just see what’s happening right now. When things go wrong, they think it’s the end of everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, when they can’t afford something, or they lose a job…”
“Or a girl,” I add, shooting him a pointed glance.
He ignores me and continues. “But for me… I don’t care about all the stupid stuff—money or jobs…” He catches my eye and holds it for a beat. “…Or rules.”
I narrow my gaze, but I can’t think of anything to say to that. There’s a certain amount of sense hidden in those words and I could feel them taking seed in the back of my mind, if I’m not careful.
“Sometimes rules keep us safe,” I say breathlessly.
“Not when they don’t make sense,” he responds. “That’s when I make my own rules.”
“And on that note…” My gaze floats to my laptop and I tap the top of it with my fingertips. “We should really get this assignment done.”
“All right,” he says, smirking slightly. “Let’s bring on the Fates, then. Maybe they’ll back me up here.”
With the tip of my head, I lift open my laptop and pull my notebook out of my backpack. This afternoon’s conversation has my mind spinning in a thousand directions, and none of them are focused on this research project.
Wade stands up, pulling his chair over to my side and setting it down inches from mine.
I shoot him a look of surprise, but he sits down, holding his hands up innocently. “I need to see the screen, too. No laptop over here.”
Nodding softly, I turn back to the laptop and type ‘the fates’ into Google. It brings us to a page on the Moirai. For some reason, this name rings a bell, but I can’t quite put my finger on why. I’m fairly certain I’ve never heard the name before and we didn’t even get this far when Wade had come over.
I lean forward and scan the result. “It says here they control the thread of life for every mortal from birth to death. One sister is the ‘spinner,’ another the ‘allotter,’ and the last is the ‘inevitable.’ I suppose that means death?” I say, chancing a sideways glance. Wade’s close proximity makes my pulse race and his scent does absolutely nothing to clear my head. If anything, it cracks my resolve and makes me question what in the hell I’m thinking.
“Well, it might mean the one who calls upon death, but she wouldn’t be death itself. We know that already,” he says with a tip of his chin.
“Good point,” I nod, turning back to the screen. “Ah, it says here she merely chooses the manner of a person’s death and the time frame it happens in.”
Wade tips his head, reading. “So, while the other sisters create and maintain the thread of life, this last one—Aisa—she cuts the string with some sort of magical shears.” He leans back a bit, his eyebrows furrowed.
“I know that look. What is it?” I ask.
“I dunno. It just kinda seems a bit ludicrous, doesn’t it? I mean, who writes these things? A thread? Shears?” He chuckles. “It’s like someone asked a kid to explain the ways of the universe and then just wrote down what they said.”
“I take it this doesn’t jibe with what you know?”
“Not exactly. But then, who am I? Sure, I have access to this school for now, but I won’t unlock any of my family’s gifts until much later. So everything I know could be bunk. But this…it sounds like a fairy tale gone wrong. Don’t you think?” he asks, meeting my gaze. “I mean, if it were really that simple, why hasn’t someone tracked down the Moirai and stolen those damn shears? Hypothetically, it could mean they’d live forever, right?”
“Well, maybe it has nothing to do with the shears per se, but more about the entity wielding them? For all you know, any shears she holds becomes magical,” I say, playing devil’s advocate. “Heck, maybe she could even bite the damn thread and it would end a life? As long as the cord is cut, that’s the end of that, so to speak.”
Wade shrugs. “A fair point.”
“You don’t look convinced?” I say, lowering my eyebrows.
“It’s not that.”
“What then?” I ask.
“It seems like an awful lot of fuss for each mortal life. You know? Three larger-than-life entities, all working to balance the lifespans of humans. I mean, as the population grows, so do the number of Angels of Death, for example. How in the hell could three sisters manage all of that?” Wade says, scrunching his face.
I shake my head. “Don’t look at me. Until last year, the strangest things on my mind revolved around whether or not forensic scientists could really figure out a death by blood spatter.”
Wade snickers. “Yeah, things have gotten significantly more outlandish.”
“Well, regardless, we need to learn what we can so we can pass this presentation. Then, whether or not they exist becomes irrelevant, I suppose,” I laugh.
“Yeah, unless one comes knocking on your door,” he says, leaning over and bumping his shoulder into mine.
“Let’s hope not. At least, not for a very long time,” I say, shuddering.
We spend the next two and a half hours digging through all of the known history archived at the Windhaven Academy on the Moirai. By t
he time we’re done, I have more questions than answers in terms of who the Fates are and whether or not they’re even real or simply a metaphor. Separating fact from fiction is certainly difficult, to say the least. For some reason, none of the documentation at Windhaven Academy seems to separate out where the stories began or if there have ever been any true sightings.
On the upside, the discussion in class should be entertaining, if nothing else. Especially if Wade has anything to do with it. I can already see him opening up a discussion on how the Hellmouth is more plausible.
Wade leans forward, thumping his head onto the table beside me. “I tap out. I can’t research this anymore.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, me either. I think we have enough to at least sound like we know what we’re talking about. Don’t you?”
“God, let’s hope so,” he says, his voice muffled by the tabletop.
Reaching down, I grab my backpack. “All right then, it looks like we can head out.”
Still leaning forward, Wade tips his head up, leaving his chin on the table. “Wanna get a bite to eat? I mean, it’s almost 7:00 p.m. and I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
“Wade… I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” I warn.
“Come on, Autumn. It’s just food. Please?” he asks, sitting all the way up and pressing his hands together in prayer position. “Don’t make me eat alone.”
I stare at him for a moment, then exhale in defeat. “Fine.”
“Excellent,” he says, suddenly hopping off of his chair and reaching for the back of mine.
“I got it,” I say, shooting him a sideways glance.
“As you wish,” he says, backing away genially.
“Where would you like to go?”
“The usual, of course. It’s not like there are many options in this teeny tiny town,” he says, grabbing his backpack off the floor.
I snicker under my breath. He’s certainly not wrong.
“Okay, so I’ll meet you at the Bourbon Room?” I say, shoving my laptop in my backpack.
“How about we ride together? It’s just down the road. I’ll drive,” Wade offers.
I hesitate, wondering if I should insist we drive separately. Against my better judgment I say, “Yeah, okay.”
Ten minutes later, we’re sliding into a booth on the far end of the restaurant. It overlooks a small lake, which glitters in the setting sun.
“So, I’ve been thinking…” Wade says, scrunching his face as he sets his hands down on the table between us.
“Okay?” I say, narrowing my eyes.
“Have you ever seen other ghosts in your house?” he asks.
I give it a moment’s thought and shake my head. “No, I don’t think so. Just Abigail.”
“Does your house have any wards or anything that would have kept them out? Or only let the nice ones in?”
My eyebrows rise, but I shake my head. “I honestly have no idea. I’m hoping to track down my dad. If I get the chance, I’ll ask him.”
Wade nods, but doesn’t say anything at first. His expression twists into one of contemplation. Then, after a moment, he says, “Why do you think it’s been so hard to contact Abigail?”
I shrug. “I don’t know? I guess I sorta just thought it was because of what happened back at the catacombs. Dealing with the Fetch and then inhabiting my body—it took a lot out of her.”
“Yeah, but it’s been almost five months. How long does it take a ghost to recharge?”
I snicker. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
The server walks up, her tablet computer in her hand. “The usual?”
“Yeah, sounds great,” Wade says, nodding.
She starts to spin away, clearly believing Wade spoke for both of us.
Instead, I raise a hand and say, “Actually, I think I’d like something different.”
Wade quirks an eyebrow and leans back.
“Okay, honey. What will it be?” she asks, eyeing me with curiosity.
“Can I look at a menu?”
“A menu?” She says, almost incredulously. “The two of you have been in here at least a dozen times a month for the past year.”
“Please?” I say, smiling serenely.
She rolls her eyes, grabbing a tattered copy from her apron and handing it to me.
I splay it on the table and take a good look. Nothing sounds as good as the usual mushroom and Swiss burger, but I’ll be damned if I eat the same thing as always.
“I think I’ll go with the fish tacos,” I finally reply, closing the menu and handing it back to her.
“Mkay,” she says, snatching it back and whirling around.
When I face Wade again, his eyebrow is arched high and a smirk graces his lips.
“What?” I retort.
“Nothing. That was just…” he says, shrugging. “I think you hurt her feelings.”
“Oh, shut up,” I say, swatting at his hand. “I just felt like something different.”
“Interesting.”
I scrunch my face. “There’s no hidden meaning in there.”
“If you say so,” he laughs, raising his hands like he’s about to be arrested.
“Anyway…” I say, watching him from the side of my eye.
“Anyway,” he repeats.
We both sit there in a moment of awkward silence and I clear my throat. “Where were we?”
“Oh, yeah…” Wade says, dropping his chin and nodding to himself. “Uh—I was thinking about Abigail. Do you think she knows the house is being haunted?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, is she being suppressed by the other energy? Or”—he eyes me intensely and raises a hand to the ceiling—“is she allowing it to happen?”
My eyebrows tug in and I sit back. Surely she wouldn’t allow a malevolent energy to invade the home. She’s never seemed like that kind of ghost.
Granted, my experience with them has still been limited, but it feels right.
But the question does pique my curiosity.
With the new entity in the house, why hasn’t she been around? Could she be in trouble? Or worse…even if she’s not the one haunting the house in a creepy way, could Abigail be letting it happen? And if so, to what end?
Chapter 8
Lucky to Have Found You
As I park Blue in the circular drive, my thoughts are a swarm of frustration, worry, and suspicion. But as I walk up to the front door, the darkness ignites a new concern—one that says I still haven’t pinpointed the source of the new hauntings and I’m not entirely certain how safe it is inside.
Taking a deep breath, I unlock, then push open the front door. It creaks loudly, echoing into the main entryway, announcing my arrival.
Surprisingly, light filters into the entryway before I even flip the light switch. Setting down my backpack next to the staircase, I walk into the dining room, following the light.
“Hello?” I call out.
I wasn’t expecting anyone, but Dad could be home, for all I know. That would be a relief.
As I enter the kitchen, James looks up from the stove. “Ah, Ms. Blackwood. I was hoping I’d catch you this evening.”
“I—uh, I was kinda hoping I’d run into you, too,” I say, smiling.
“Yes, your note. You’ll be pleased to know I’ve been in contact with your father and he plans on returning tomorrow,” James says, stirring some ground meat in a pan.
“That’s fantastic. I have a few…uh, questions I really need to ask him,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “Whatcha making?” I hop on the counter beside him, wrapping my hands around the edge of the granite countertop.
“Breakfast burritos. Your father said you used to be fond of them as a child, so I thought I would whip up a batch to put in the freezer for you. They’re far healthier than those toaster tarts and Red Bull,” he says, shooting me a sideways glance. His soft brown eyes sparkle with a certain knowing that only wisdom in age brings.
“You’re not wrong,�
� I say, grinning.
It’s actually nice to have someone else in the house—someone who doesn’t bring any baggage. I didn’t realize how off I’ve been, being here all alone.
“Everything all right, Ms. Blackwood?” James asks, quirking an eyebrow.
I blink away, realizing I must have been staring. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking…”
“Anything I can be of service with?”
I think on that question for a moment, then hop down. “Well, maybe, actually. You haven’t… Do you ever sense something odd in this house?”
His eyes meet mine with a surprising level of guardedness and I chew on my lower lip. “How do you mean?”
It occurs to me, he may have no idea about the Blackwood family abilities, let alone the haunted nature of this house.
My eyebrows knit together. “Do you ever feel like there’s something here? Like a presence?”
James shuts off the burner and turns on another one. He walks to the refrigerator and pulls out the eggs. “Every now and again, I do get the distinct impression we are not alone inside Blackwood Manor. But from what I understand, that is to be expected.”
“You mean Abigail?” I say, narrowing my gaze.
He nods curtly.
“Yeah, I don’t mean her, actually,” I say, scrunching my face.
James turns to me, his eyes clouded with concern. “Would this have anything to do with the mess in the study?”
My mouth pops open and I nod. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I should have told you—”
He waves a hand dismissively. “It’s quite all right.”
“I was going to clean it up this weekend. I’ve just had so much on my mind.”
“It is all taken care of,” he says turning back to the stove and cracking a number of eggs into the pan. “But to answer your question, yes, I have felt at times the energy of the manor take on a more…ominous vibe. I had hoped your father could explain it to me but we seem to be missing one another in person as of late. You know, when your father hired me a number of years ago, I was under the impression it would be him and I as the only living souls wandering these halls. It’s been ever so pleasant to have you here,” James says, reaching out and patting my leg.
Haunted Legacy: The Windhaven Witches Series Page 5
