“Wait,” I cry out, coming to my senses. “Please, don’t hurt him. None of this was his fault.”
Wade’s soul turns back to me, shooting me a lopsided grin. “I got this, Dru. And a little piece of advice… Don’t ever bargain with him. It never ends well.” Turning back to his father, Wade’s soul moves forward until he comes to a stop just behind his lifeless, kneeling body.
“Do you see now?” the Angel of Death says, his voice a deeper, scarier version of itself. “The affairs of life and death are not to be trifled with.”
Wade’s soul nods. “I never doubted you on that.”
“Then why?” his father asks, slowly transforming back into his human form.
I can barely imagine a place in this world where the Angel of Death even needs to ask a question like that.
“You already know why,” Wade says softly, looking back at me.
Inhaling deeply, Wade’s dad turns his gaze to the ceiling, as if asking for help from God. “There are millions of women—millions yet who have powers. Of all them who exist in this world, why would you choose to love…a necromancer? She defiles everything we stand for—everything we vow to protect and uphold. Is this a rebellion thing?”
Wade actually has the guts to snicker.
His father peers through his eyebrows. “You know the rules, Wade. One day soon you’ll be taking your place by my side and you’ll have to do what I do. You’ll see all I see… I wish I could show you just how wrong it is. How wrong her kind is… Necromancy is a power that should never have existed.”
“What’s with all this her kind, your kind bullshit? She’s a good person. Her heart is in the right place. She didn’t ask for this gift—it’s how she was born, for fucksake,” Wade says, moving away from his body and his father. “You know what, if you’re going to anoint me early, then just do it. But regardless of when, I’ll still run things the way I see fit.”
“You won’t be allowed to stay with her,” his father growls, stepping forward. “You will have duties to perform.”
I swear, even the torches dim under the intensity of the anger bubbling to the surface.
Wade drops his chin to his chest and turns back around. “Isn’t that what you want? For me to give up everything the way you did?”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Wade’s dad sighs heavily. “You know why I had to… If I could have stayed longer—”
“But you didn’t, and you took Mom down with you,” Wade spits. “And I’ve been here to pick up the mortal pieces alone. So forgive me if I don’t give a damn about the legacy you want to impress upon me.”
His father’s face crumples, but his jaw sets. “I will not help you again. Death follows this one like the plague.” He raises a finger to point at me and I jut out my chin. He ignores it and turns back to Wade. “Next time, no more games. No more defiance. You will take your place.”
“Fine,” Wade mutters under his breath.
“And I will not allow you use our assets to help—”
“I said fine,” Wade repeats, practically spitting venom back at his dad.
“Wade—” I start, taking a cautious step forward. “Please be careful.”
Wade shoots me a sideways glance and holds out a hand, telling me to stay back.
His father turns his penetrating gaze on me. Despite looking so much like the man I love, a terrifying shiver races up my spine and I clamp my mouth shut.
Sighing heavily, he extends a hand summoning Wade’s soul. His spirit sweeps forward as if being sucked forward without his consent. Then, with the flick of his dad’s wrist, Wade’s soul is thrust back inside his body.
Instantly, Wade crumples over, sputtering for air and groping at his chest. Despite myself, I rush forward, reaching out and wrapping my arms around him.
“Final chance,” his father whispers.
“I heard you,” Wade says, taking deep breaths and pushing himself up to stand.
I stay beside him, offering my shoulder to lean against as I wrap my arm around his waist. His father peers down at me, as if still confused by what his son is doing with someone like me…and truth be told, a part of me is beginning to wonder the same thing.
After a moment under his scrutiny, his presence becomes overpowering, and I fight the odd urge to kneel at his feet.
“I am not the only one whose radar you’ve fallen upon. You have many choices ahead of you, Autumn Blackwood. I hope you choose them well,” he says, peering down at me from the bridge of his nose.
“I’ll do my best,” I say, forcing my words to sound more confident than I actually feel.
I mean, Death doesn’t want me around his son…and is telling me directly not to fuck up. That’s kinda trippy.
“If it wasn’t for the fact that your father helped me in the past, and your ancestors have taken up the task as keepers of these sacred catacombs—your lineage would have been extinguished centuries ago.”
I blink wide-eyed back at him, unsure what to say to something like that.
Taking another step closer, he lowers his eyebrows and cocks his head. “So help me, if you put my son’s soul in jeopardy again, I will not hesitate to extinguish your lineage anyway. No matter the bargains of your ancestors. Are we clear?”
Panic sweeps through me and I nod, unable to form words.
“Excellent,” he says, straightening up and adjusting the end of his sleeve. “Now then, I believe this belongs to you.” He holds his hand out, offering me something.
I extend a shaky palm, unsure I want to take anything from the Angel of Death. Particularly after he just threatened me.
When my hand is directly beneath his, he lets a single red thread fall. It’s the size of a piece of yarn, but frayed and tattered like it’s been chewed up and spat back out.
I look up, confused.
But he’s gone.
Chapter 28
Where Do We Go From Here?
I barely remember the next blur of events, as Wade somehow manages to summon the rest of the revenants into the main chamber. By some strange miracle, they all file in, one after the other.
When the last of them shuffle in, fourteen in all, Wade turns expectantly. “You’re up.”
My mind churns through everything that’s happened these past few hours and I nod absently.
Wade watches me with those deeply intense eyes of his and I stumble backward, realizing he means it’s my job to inter them. Taking a deep breath, I call out, “Abigail, the rest of the revenants are here. We need your help.”
Both of us stand shoulder to shoulder, scanning the rounded room, eyeing each of the tunnels in case she comes out of the darkness.
When nothing happens, Wade drops his chin, kicking softly at the dirt on the floor. The revenants don’t seem to mind the delay; if anything, they seem perfectly content as they wait for their end.
Clearing my throat, I shrug and walk over to the spot in the middle of the room where the grimoire resides. I mull over how I intend to use it, considering how I can’t even read any of the pages. As I get closer, the stone pedestal rises, almost as if it senses me.
When the pedestal reaches its full height, I pause, letting my fingertips trace the symbols on the cover. One of them stands out, now vaguely familiar after Abigail used me to draw it. The triple triangle, overlapping and interlocking through itself.
Wade watches me from across the room, waiting patiently to see what I plan on doing. His expression is almost expectant, like he thinks I have it in me to do this without Abigail… But I know better.
Shaking my head, I flip open the grimoire, unsure if I should even be bothering with the book. The words Abigail spoke before have settled in the back of my mind and maybe, just maybe, I could conjure them up again without the book.
Yet, as I stare down at the pages, my mouth falls open. Everything—every word written—has somehow managed to rearrange itself into an intelligible order. I take it all in, unable to believe my eyes.
How is this possible?
Is it the book? Or was it something else that’s allowed this to happen?
“What is it? Is everything okay?” Wade says, taking a tentative step towards me.
“Yeah. It’s just—” I tug my eyebrows in and nod. “Long story. But I think I can still do this.”
Wade sighs in relief. “Good. I don’t overly wanna babysit these guys for long.”
I shoot him a grin of agreement and turn back to the enormous tome. Flipping through the pages, I scan each one, looking for the right spells. When I find it, I bend in, studying the words, suddenly able to make sense of what Abigail was doing.
Lifting the grimoire off the pedestal, I walk around it to face the revenants. Then, dropping down, I balance the book on my left knee. Closing my eyes, I tune into the energies around me. The lifeless revenants and the beating heart of Wade. There’s a special quality to each, and it sings me a lullaby that I hadn’t heard before.
When I feel as though I’ve centered myself, I open my eyes. With my pointer finger, I draw the interconnected triangles into the dirt a few feet in front of the revenants.
As if from muscle memory, or perhaps whatever memories linger from Abigail, my hands easily form the symbols needed to inter the bodies and inanimate them. As I do so, each of their eyes glass over with a hazy blue film.
Glancing at Wade from the corner of my eye, his face is open in bewildered amazement.
I stand up, holding open the grimoire so it’s right in front of me. I feel almost like a minister about to marry two people, not lay a horde of them to rest.
Clearing my throat, I stand tall. My words come out a bit scratchy at first, but grow in strength. “Hail all gods, goddesses, and protectors of the Temple of the Soul—each who weigh heaven and earth in delicate balance, and in honor of the Fates’ grand plan. Oh mighty Death, taker of life, I deliver unto you the bodies before me. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, bless them all, so they may slumber in eternal rest.”
As I speak the words, I realize it was likely these very words that called Wade’s father to us. The power in them is not innate from me or even my family—but rather, from death itself.
Seconds after the final word is spoken, each of the bodies standing before me fades away, just as Wade’s grandfather had. Their solid bodies disintegrate into small, glittery granules as they’re extracted from this chamber and entombed in their final resting place. Each body escapes through one of the ten remaining tunnels as if the catacombs themselves know exactly where they should be settled.
When all of them are gone, and Wade and I are alone, I close the grimoire. Exhaling in relief, I stare at the empty space in front of me.
It’s done…
Beside me, Wade also breathes out, but as he turns to face me, his expression is clouded with worry. I pull the book in tight, using it almost as a protective shield.
There’s so much we need to discuss now. So much that needs to be laid out straight. But I don’t know if I’m ready for any of it yet.
He takes three giant strides over to me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling me in tight. “Autumn, I—”
Before I can stop them, tears stream down my cheeks as the torrent of emotions I’ve been bottling up release. I lean into him but shift to gently place the grimoire at my feet.
“Wade, I know there’s so much…” I begin.
This time, he places both hands along the sides of my face. His lips bear down on mine, and the room swirls with a heady need for him. Reaching up, I entwine my fingertips into his hair, and pull him closer.
Whatever we are… Whatever this is… I don’t even care. All I know is we have each other right here, right now. Wade’s alive and his soul is back where it ought to be.
When he finally pulls back, breaking our kiss, he places his forehead against mine. “Autumn, I’m sorry about everything. About Colton— I know you weren’t keeping things from me to hurt me. It’s just I…”
“I know,” I say, shaking my head. Lifting my gaze to his, I fixate on his beautiful eyes—those extraordinary silver eyes.
His pupils widen, but the more I stare into their depth, the more I’m overcome by their magic. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, and after witnessing his firsthand, I can without a doubt say it’s absolutely true. Everything about him, his whole essence, it’s all right there in those tiny, magnificent orbs.
“I should have told you, and you have no idea how many times I wanted to. Or I thought I should. I just…” I sigh, trying to find the right words. “I just want you to be happy and I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you. Even if I wanted nothing to do with it.”
“None of it matters,” he says, running his thumb across my eyebrow. “Being thrust into the aether has a way of putting everything into perspective.”
“But what about…” I bite my lip, unable to finish the sentence. It’s not a path I’m overly ready to go down, but one I need to, nonetheless.
“I know you have so many questions and I promise to answer them all. I wish I could have answered them for you earlier, I truly do,” Wade says, his eyebrows crumpling in the middle.
“Why couldn’t you?” I ask, dropping my arms and sliding my hands inside his.
He inhales sharply through his nose and tilts his head. “Our kind is sworn to secrecy. If the wrong people were to find the lineage for the Angel of Death...well, let’s just say there could be consequences if that information got into the wrong hands.”
“So, it’s true then,” I whisper, dropping my gaze. “You’re an Angel of Death?”
I look up to meet his burdened eyes. “Not yet. Not until I die.”
His words hit me like a punch in the gut. That’s why he had said what he did about anointing him early. Had his father wanted to, he could have claimed his soul right then and there.
My words come out in a hushed sob. “But your dad—he let you stay…”
Wade lifts his left hand, brushing aside a strand of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. “He did.”
I swallow hard. “But he doesn’t want you to be with me. He doesn’t think—”
“I don’t give a damn what he thinks,” Wade says, pressing his lips into a thin line.
“But you should,” I cry. “My god, Wade. Death. He’s…Death.”
Wade chuckles as he nods. “He is. So is my grandpa now. And my great-great grandpa…and so on and so forth. There will be plenty of time for death and he knows that.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
“We get one lifetime. One experience here on this mortal realm. With the exception of my father’s misguided rule about necromancers, he doesn’t have a say in how I live it,” Wade says, smiling. “And as you can see, even there, he doesn’t have much say.”
“But—?” I begin, trying to process all of this.
“Look,” Wade says, squeezing both of my hands. “The way I see it, we’re perfect for each other. I have no powers at all until I ascend. I get flashes, maybe a few insights… strange sensations and vibes. That’s all. But in the meantime, I study. And I can live vicariously through you. Besides, I still say our meeting in the cemetery was fate at play, Dru.”
His nickname for me resonates like a jolt to the heart and my mouth pops open.
“Angel…” I whisper, taking a step back and brushing my mouth with my fingertips. “I nicknamed you Angel.”
Wade snickers softly, as he grins and drops his chin. “Yeah, I was ridiculously pleased about that. Believe me, there’s been more than a couple of times I’ve chuckled to myself about it. See? Fate…”
I drop his hand, suddenly unable to take in much more. I pick up the grimoire, walking it back to its pedestal as I process. As I place it back on top, the pedestal descends back into the floor. I stand there, staring at it as it vanishes from view.
There are so many questions knotting themselves together and I’m not sure how to sort them all out. If he’s next in line to become an Angel of Death—how do we make sure he has a g
ood, long life?
Like the billowing black clouds his dad appears from, fear begins to take over.
What if his dad is right… what if death does follow after me?
I lift my gaze to him, trying to squelch the panic rising from the center of my torso.
What if his dad’s rule has nothing to do with necromancy or me? What if his rule is to protect Wade so he lives that good, long life?
What if being with me is actually putting his life at risk?
To my right, Abigail’s form flickers in and out of reality, making me jump. Her face is contorted in an odd expression of fear and horror as she tries to speak to me. Her arms splay out wide, and at first her words don’t reach me, despite her clearly trying to communicate.
Confused, I shake my head. “What is it? I can’t understand you… What are you trying to say?”
Abigail reaches out to me, then vanishes again, only to pop up on my left side.
“What’s going on?” Wade asks, his eyes floating around the space.
Abigail bends forward, her face inches from my neck. A frigid cold creeps up my neck as she whispers into my ear, “You need to be ready. His time has come.”
To Be Continued in Book 3: Haunted Legacy.
Available November 3rd, 2020. Preorder now!
Next in the Windhaven Witches Series…
What did Abigail mean when she said, ‘His time has come’? Is Wade’s time coming to an end? Or did she mean someone else?
Find out by preordering your copy of
Haunted Legacy, Book 3 of the Windhaven Witches. Available November 3rd, 2020!
PREORDER YOUR COPY NOW!
Being haunted by ghosts isn’t unusual for Autumn, but this time it’s someone she didn’t think was dead.
Autumn’s world is a life of ghosts, death, and destruction. The last thing she wants is to be the cause of her boyfriend’s early demise. Especially when she’s already been warned by the Angel of Death to stay away from him. So, to keep Wade safe, there’s only one thing to do: end it.
Soul Legacy: A Supernatural Ghost Series (The Windhaven Witches Book 2) Page 20
