Haunted Legacy: The Windhaven Witches Series by Carissa Andrews (story reading .txt) 📗

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