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

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