Soul Legacy: A Supernatural Ghost Series (The Windhaven Witches Book 2)

by Carissa Andrews

  Chapter 7

  New Doors Best Left Closed

  I stare out the passenger window of Wade’s car, watching the dead-looking trees and snow mounds drift by. My mind circles around the questions plaguing us the past week like the snow devils spinning alongside the road.

  Who would vandalize the graves in both Windhaven and Mistwood Point? Why would they take the bodies from some, and the ashes of others? There’s now been a total of seven graves desecrated, one in Windhaven and three more in Mistwood.

  While no one has found Wade’s grandpa’s urn yet, the cemetery has been able to replace the door to his columbarium. I didn’t realize just how much having it broken was weighing on Wade until he asked me to join him. He’d nearly broken down as he told me and I’m not sure if it was from the relief to have that part taken care of—or the overwhelm from dealing with everything the past week. Maybe both?

  Twisting in my seat, I reach out and take his hand in mine. “Thank you for bringing me with you.”

  He gives my hand a squeeze, then lifts it to his lips. “Thank you for coming with me.”

  “Of course. Where else would I be, silly?”

  “You could have said no,” he says, shooting me a sideways glance. “I’m sure you have just as much homework as I do.”

  “And yet, it’s still not as important as being there for you,” I say, shooting him a smile.

  His cheeks mound as he turns to face the road. “It’s been an odd week, for sure. Nothing like what I expected. Hell, I wouldn’t even blame you for wanting to keep your distance from me, you know.”

  My solar plexus clenches. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Still,” he says, shrugging. He flips on his blinker and takes the next left into the cemetery.

  I shake my head, sitting up straighter and looking around. Despite the recent bout of new vandalism, there’s no immediate evidence of it as we pull in. The cemetery looks as pristine and serene as usual, thanks in part to last night’s snowfall.

  Wade pulls us up to the columbarium, parking in front of the large wall of concrete cubes.

  “So far so good, huh?” he says, removing the key from the ignition and dropping his hand to his lap. His eyes sweep the graveyard, just like I had.

  I nod. “I can’t even tell anything unusual was going on. Can you?”

  “Nope, everything looks five by five,” he says, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car.

  I follow after him, staying a foot or two behind so he can be the first one to check out the new door. However, when he’s a few feet away, he turns around and reaches his hand out. Smiling, I take it and stand beside him.

  “Looks exactly as it should be,” Wade whispers after a few moments. “They didn’t change the style or anything.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “Too bad he’s no longer in there. I still can’t get my mind wrapped around that. Like, why would anyone want to do something like this? Damage graves. Mess with the dead. There are grieving families mixed into all of this. It’s not just some funny prank,” he says, taking a few steps back. He dusts off the snow from the same granite bench we sat on when his grandpa’s ashes were laid to rest, then sits down.

  I walk over, taking a seat beside him and sliding my hands between my knees. “I don’t know. Whoever they are, they obviously weren’t thinking about that. And if they were…well, it makes them kind of horrible in my book.”

  “Mine, too.” Wade nods, taking a deep breath and dropping his gaze.

  “So, what next? Is the cemetery going to increase security or anything?”

  Wade shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s in their budget. As it is, the guys digging the graves around here are just people at the church down the road, who happen to know how to run a backhoe.”

  My eyes widen and I stare out in front of me. “Oh. Well, that’s not very promising, then.”

  “Tell me about it. At this point, I’d be better off dawning spandex and a cape and trying to capture the bad guys myself,” he snickers under his breath.

  Flashes of him in tight leggings and a cape flash through my mind and my midsection erupts in butterflies. “Well, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. As long as I can watch.”

  A surprised laugh escapes his lips. “I’ll do some digging to see what I can find.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they have superhero costumes down at the local clothing store,” I say, keeping my face forward as warmth takes over my cheeks.

  He shoots me a sideways glance. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  After a few moments of comfortable silence, I turn to him and say, “I know this whole thing has been hard on you. It’s nice to see a little more of your normal self coming back.”

  Wade’s dark eyebrows tug in and he nods. “Yeah, I’ve felt a bit out of sorts. It’s hard enough dealing with death, but then all the other stuff…it’s been kinda crazy. Plus, I definitely wasn’t expecting the level of scrutiny I’ve been met with the first couple of weeks of school. You know?”

  “I can imagine.” I bite my lower lip, trying to decide if I should darken the subject by telling him about my conversation with Abigail and some of the concerns I have. Instead, I stand up, walking a few feet away from the columbarium so I can scan the tombstones. “Where do you think the latest grave robbings were?”

  Wade follows me. “I dunno. I only heard they were fresh graves, just like the last time.”

  “Do you want to go look for them?” I ask, letting curiosity get the better of me.

  Wade narrows his gaze. “Mmmm, I don’t think that’s probably the best of ideas. I mean, people already think I’m guilty. The last thing I’d need is someone snapping a picture of us at the desecrated graves.”

  “Oh, good point. I’m sorry, I should have thought of that,” I say, wiping my hand over my face.

  “It’s okay. I don’t know why it would occur to you,” he says, glancing around the rest of the cemetery. “You’re not the one they’re targeting.”

  “It should have. I guess I just don’t believe all the rumors, so it didn’t even occur to me that someone else might take advantage. It’s not how my brain works.”

  Wade bends in, kissing the side of my neck. “And that’s why I love you so much. You have such a good heart.”

  My stomach rolls and I frown. “Wade, I have to tell you something…”

  His eyes widen slightly as he turns to look at me. Concern is clearly written across his features.

  “It’s nothing bad. At least, I don’t think it is…” I say, straightening my shoulders. Immediately I opt then and there to only bring up one thing. “The other day, when you found out your dad was involved with something similar to this…I went home and summoned Abigail.”

  “All right…” he says, his silver eyes scrutinizing my every move.

  “She thinks we need to be cautious,” I say, fiddling with my pinkie. “She also seems to think the bodies need to be found. It was a pretty ominous message, actually.”

  Wade’s eyes narrow and he asks, “Did she say anything else? You know, less cryptic?”

  I nod. “She also said something about needing to understand my gifts more. That I’m here to protect the dead, not just raise them. She thinks I should do some digging into the manor, but I don’t really know where to start. I mean, the library had some information, but I got the distinct impression what I need to know won’t be found there.”

  “So, what about your dad? Could you ask him?”

  “That’s the plan. He’s just been super-busy lately. Between him being gone and me being with you…finding a time when we’re both home has been a challenge.”

  “Well, make it a priority to connect with him. Abigail hasn’t steered you wrong so far. If she thinks there’s something important about the manor, you probably want to figure out what it is,” he says, reaching for my hand.

  I take a deep breath, feeling better for having told him that piece. It’s like a wei
ght has been lifted and in the spirit of truthfulness, I grab hold of his hand, giving it a squeeze. Perhaps I could draw some truthfulness out of him.

  “Wade, I really want to talk about that guy I saw you talking with the last time we were here,” I say, exhaling slowly.

  Wade quirks an eyebrow.

  “Like I told you, when Cat and Colton had their accident…something strange happened. When the Vodník was destroyed and the souls were released…a man came. The same man I saw talking to you. Obviously, I don’t know who he is, but he was going to take Cat’s soul and I wouldn’t let him. He threatened me, saying he’ll be back. That I had no place meddling with things.”

  Wade’s shoulders stiffen and his eyebrows tug in. Releasing my hand, he takes a step away from me, opting instead to stare at the columbarium.

  “Wade, look, I know you were lying before about knowing him; I just don’t know why. There’s more going on here than you’re letting on and I don’t know why you’re hiding it. I wish you’d just talk to me. I promise, I won’t be mad. I just want to know what’s going on,” I say, walking up and reaching for his arm.

  He lets me hold onto him, but refuses to say anything at first. His eyes rest on the large concrete structure looming in front of us.

  Finally, he exhales, gently placing his right hand over mine. “Autumn, you’re right to look for information. Especially after—” His gaze drops to my expectant eyes and he lets his fingertips graze against my cheek. “The thing is, I’m not sure what I can tell you.”

  I narrow my gaze, leaning into his touch. “I don’t understand. Why can’t you just open up about it? Are you—is he threatening you?”

  Wade snickers under his breath, and he shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing like that.”

  “Then tell me. Who is he? Why would he come to collect the souls? Is he like the Grim Reaper or something? What’s really going on here?” I say, searching his eyes for comfort and answers.

  “To be honest, I’m surprised you can even see him. And those who do usually forget after a few days. But I suppose that’s neither here or there,” he says, chewing on the side of his lip. “Ah, the hell with it. I’ll tell you, but you have to promise me—”

  A strange, scratching noise behind the columbarium makes him pause. Twisting around, I follow his gaze, but there’s nothing there.

  “What was that?” I whisper, holding tightly to Wade’s arm out of surprise.

  He shakes his head. “I dunno.”

  “Do you think someone’s watching us? Oh god, what if you’re right? Is there someone here taking pictures to incriminate us?” I say, suddenly concerned.

  “Stay here. I’ll check it out,” he says quietly, holding an arm out and taking a tentative step forward.

  “Not a chance, Angel. We go together. I’ve seen enough horror movies to know you never split up when there are strange noises,” I say, shaking my head.

  He shoots me a smirk, but nods. “Fine, but stay behind me. Deal?”

  “I can handle myself,” I say, jutting out my chin.

  “Fine, together, then,” he whispers, rolling his eyes in defeat.

  Together, we take slow, deliberate steps forward, inching our way to the side of the columbarium. The sunlight is dwindling as it sets behind us and casts deep grooves on the small mounds of snow at our feet.

  Before we reach the back of the columbarium, the scraping sound erupts again, and a man stumbles out from behind the structure. His clothes are tattered, and his skin is an awful shade of grey. Clumps of hair are even falling out of the top of his head.

  Stumbling backward, I cover my mouth to keep from screaming. “What is that thing?” I squeak.

  Before Wade can answer, the creature turns its empty eye sockets in our direction and races straight for us.

  Chapter 8

  Undead Things

  Wade spins around on his heel, grabbing hold of my arm as we run the opposite direction. Behind us, the creature lets out an ear-piercing screech and it surges forward, trying to keep up with us.

  Before we can make it to the car, another zombie-like woman blocks our escape. She races out, coming between us and the vehicle. Her marble-grey hair is missing from one side of her head, and the skin on the left side of her face is beginning to flake away. Yet, just like the other one, her sunken eyes and missing eyeballs are the most horrifying part about her.

  “This way,” Wade commands, switching directions and heading toward the older part of the cemetery.

  I follow him without question, my eyes scanning for a place to hide or a way to get away. Unfortunately, there are only gravestones, fake flowers and wreaths, and dormant trees—most of which have no low-hanging branches to grab onto. There are no buildings or even mausoleums to escape into.

  “What do we do?” I cry out, my voice cracking as I struggle to maintain my momentum. The cold air makes my lungs hurt, but I keep running despite it.

  “We need to find a better defense position,” Wade says, scanning the area but refusing to stop running. I’m sure he’s come to the same conclusion I have.

  There’s nowhere to run.

  The two undead creatures pick up speed behind us, squealing like pigs about to be slaughtered. The sound is terrifying, and I clap my hands over my ears, trying to drown it out.

  My legs begin to falter, and panic starts to bleed into every cell of my body.

  “Whatever we do, we have to do it soon. I can’t keep this up much longer. My quads are gonna give out,” I cry.

  I no sooner say the words than my left ankle rolls in a small dip hidden by the snow. The resounding crack and shot of pain that zips up my leg instantly pulls at my impulse to gag. Before I know it, I lose contact with Wade’s hand and go down. I’m planted face first on the snowy ground, my leg throbbing from the knee downward. I bend forward, clawing at my leg as if it will somehow help.

  Wade scrambles back to me, groping at my arms. “Come on, come on, Autumn.” He does his best to yank me back onto my feet. “We have to keep moving. I don’t know how to stop them. We have no weapons or anything.”

  I scream out in pain as I’m pulled upright. “I can’t—I can’t run. I’ve twisted something. It might be broken.”

  Panic swells inside me and the horror of the situation crashes down like an entire building being demolished. We’re done for.

  I’m done for.

  “You need to go—” I yell, trying to push him away. “Get out of here.”

  Without even arguing with me, Wade scoops me up into his arms and trudges forward as fast his legs can carry us. Unfortunately, within seconds, the creatures close the distance. They reach out, tugging at the bottom of Wade’s leather jacket and throwing him off balance. He stumbles forward, trying to set me down gently, but instead, he ends up dumping me into a small snow pile before he goes down as well.

  I scramble back, doing my best to ignore the blinding pain as I try to put distance between myself and the haunting remnants of what used to be people. The rotten woman chases after Wade; the other decides I’m his, with his rotting fingers reaching out for me as I scramble back.

  Twisting around, Wade kicks wildly at the creature as she drops to the ground, following his descent. Despite having no eyes to see with, they both have surprisingly quick reflexes. They crawl after us with fervor, dodging any attempts we throw at them to keep them at bay. Wade kicks vehemently as the as bony fingers wrap around his ankle.

  “Autumn, grab me the wreath stand,” Wade yells, pointing to a freshly placed wreath a few yards away.

  Scrambling to my feet, I half-crawl, half-hop to a wreath stand a couple of feet away. I pluck the wreath from it and fling it aside. Then, I hobble as close as I dare and hurl the stand in Wade’s direction like a javelin. It misses him by a foot or two, but he manages to plant a forceful kick straight in the face of the undead woman. The impact removes the rest of her flesh, exposing her skull down to the bare bone. Luckily, it’s enough of a hit for him to break free and crawl t
o the side to retrieve it.

  As he swings back around, the male zombie shifts gears and takes the opportunity to go after Wade as well. He clutches at Wade’s jeans, trying to make his way up the leg. Wade shifts the wreath stand in his grip, aiming the pointed end that would ordinarily plant into the ground, toward the creature. With absolutely no fear to stop it from advancing, the man continues to lurch forward, groping for Wade with terrifying fingers. Without hesitation, Wade thrusts the metal stand directly into his eye sockets.

  Following the momentum from the creature as it lunges forward, Wade hoists him up and over, using his right leg to give himself more leverage. The dead man lands in the snow behind him with a sickening crack, but it doesn’t regain animation.

  The female, on the other hand, reaches out and grabs Wade’s foot. Her grasp must be insanely strong, as she yanks hard and drags Wade across the snow like a rag doll. His arms go up and over his head as he twists and turns, trying to grab onto anything to break free. Finally, Wade bends forward and clutches at her bony fingers, pulling off chunks of flesh with each attempt to make her release his foot.

  Without thought, I limp over to the motionless creature a few feet away and try to pull the wreath stand from its head. I bite down on my lip to avoid screaming out in pain, but it’s no use. The steel is embedded deep into the other side of the bone and refuses to let loose.

  “Dammit,” I curse, twisting around to see if I can find another one—or at least something like it.

  Unfortunately, being in the older part of the cemetery means fewer people paying their respects through decorations. The closest wreath stand, or anything moveable for that matter, is far beyond my ability to grab it and get myself back to help.