Haunted Legacy: The Windhaven Witches Series Read online

  Haunted Legacy

  Book 3 of the Windhaven Witches

  Carissa Andrews

  Contents

  1. Death is my curse

  2. What’s Fate Got to Do With It?

  3. Open Wounds

  4. Haunting

  5. Messed Up

  6. One Reason

  7. The Thread of Life

  8. Lucky to Have Found You

  9. Seeking Answers

  10. Sacred Spaces

  11. Panic Room

  12. The Space Between Us

  13. Paranormal Activity

  14. Banishment & Protection

  15. Against the Clock

  16. His Time Has Come

  17. To Whom This House Belongs

  18. Stages of Grief

  19. Answers Within

  20. A Cursed Legacy

  21. What Kind of Choices Are These?

  22. Summoning the Forgotten

  23. Into the Vortex

  24. Tick Tock

  25. What Is It Good For?

  26. In His Likeness

  27. Puppet Master

  28. Death Wish

  29. Splintering

  30. Always Be With You

  31. Chin Up

  Fate is Coming for Them…

  Cursed Legacy Sneak Peek

  The Windhaven Witches Series…

  Also by Carissa Andrews

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Death is my curse

  His time has come…

  Abigail’s cryptic words have lingered with me all summer. No matter how hard I’ve tried to shake them, they’ve settled underneath my skin, making a home just beneath the surface.

  As much as I want to forget them, it’s an impossible task.

  To make matters worse, after all the energy Abigail must have expelled fighting Cat’s Fetch, I’ve only managed to catch glimpses of her. They’re fleeting and nowhere near enough time to question her on what those words meant. It’s maddening.

  I shudder, unable to stay warm any longer. The brisk chill of being on the cusp of fall has crept into the evening air. I pull my sweatshirt in tighter, letting the shiver roll through me. Despite the change in temps, I can’t be bothered to go inside just yet.

  My gaze flits from the glittering water to the setting sun hanging low above the pond. Deep-gold tendrils soak in the magenta ribbons of the sky, as if the added color somehow feeds it. Closing my eyes, I breathe in deeply through my nose, wishing the clean air could wash away the worry buried in my soul.

  Even if Abigail’s warning weren’t enough—every time I look at Wade I see something else. Something that wasn’t there before. As much as I love him, as much as I want to be with him… I can’t shake this intense dread that his father was right.

  Death follows me wherever I go.

  It’s like I’m stuck inside an episode of “Buffy.” Only, death isn’t my gift. It’s my curse.

  I don’t want to be the reason Wade loses his one chance at being human. Of experiencing all this one and only life has to offer… I don’t want to be the reason he dies an early death and has to forfeit it all. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.

  My breath hitches in my throat and I blink away the liquid terror escaping from my eyes.

  Wade has tried so hard to keep up the status quo. I know he wants this to work desperately, but…

  My chin quivers. Despite trying to find an answer, I know what has to be done—what I’ve always needed to do. I’ve just been too scared to think it, or say it out loud.

  Not that I’ve had anyone I could say it to other than him.

  I’ve had no one to talk to. Cat and Colton are gone. Evidently, thanks to Colton’s stunt last year, they’ve been transferred to another academy closer to the psychic Diana Hawthorne so she can keep an eye on them. Granted, it was probably a wise move, but still. Without Cat at least, their absence has created a vacuum for all of my thoughts to spiral around inside my head whenever I find myself alone…which seems to be happening more and more.

  Maybe it’s my destiny?

  Look at my mom and dad… Abigail…

  The landscape is changing now with school starting back up, and I can’t help but think now’s the time. Wade could still find someone new. Someone who isn’t bad news for him.

  Someone his Angel of Death father will approve of…

  Someone normal.

  Instantly, my mind conjures up images of Chelsea, Wade’s strawberry-blond, green-eyed landlady. She’s funny, pretty, and…uncomplicated. She’s practically me, but the light version.

  My insides twist and my heart constricts in on itself. The impulse to gag tugs at the back of my throat, but something in the recesses of my mind resonates with the idea.

  He’d be better off with her.

  “Hey there, beautiful. I thought I might find you out here,” Wade says, making my insides try to jump outside. I hadn’t even heard his footsteps coming up behind me.

  Wiping quickly at my face to hide the tears, I shoot him a halfhearted smile and attempt to stand up.

  “No, no… sit,” he says, dropping down beside me on the dock.

  I sit back down, unsure how to handle this moment. I wasn’t expecting it to come so soon. Panic claws at my insides and I blink back the emotions still washing over me.

  Swallowing hard, I turn to him. “So, what brings you here? Everything okay?”

  Glancing at me, his silver eyes sparkle mischievously. There’s an air of anxious energy in the way he holds himself. He doesn’t say anything, so I narrow my gaze, trying to figure out what he’s up to.

  Finally, he chuckles. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Everything’s fine. What about you? You seem a little…”

  “I’m fine,” I say, brushing off his observation by swiping my hand in the air. Guilt instantly jabs me in the ribs, but I ignore it. “Just wanted to sit outside and enjoy the end of summer. It’ll be too cold to sit out here soon.”

  “You’re not kidding. It’s freezing already,” he says, cramming his hands under his armpits and shivering.

  The cool breeze ruffles his dark hair. With the sun’s low light, it highlights the strands of red woven through the black, making it look like flames flickering against the royal blue sky.

  “Did you want to head inside?” I say, pointing back toward the manor.

  “Only if you want to. I don’t want to cut your relaxation short,” he says shaking his head.

  “I haven’t eaten yet. We could head inside to grab a bite,” I offer, trying to buy myself some time.

  “That might be nice, actually,” he says, grinning again. He stands up quickly, practically bouncing off the dock with enthusiasm. Bending back down, he extends a hand to me.

  Taking his offering, I pull myself up to a stand. “Thanks.”

  Wade lifts his arm, twirling me in a circle on the spot. “You are most welcome, Ms. Blackwood.”

  Unable to help myself, a small smile lifts the corner of my lips.

  Wade locks eyes with me long enough to make me squirm under his silver scrutiny.

  Without batting an eye, his features soften and he whispers, “God, you’re so beautiful. I love the way the sunlight ignites your hair. It’s like the sun is setting in those strands.” Grinning broadly, he twirls a finger through one of my unruly auburn curls.

  I run a hand across my collar bone, wishing like hell I could find a way to change what we are. “Wade, I have something—”

  He holds up a finger, pressing it to my lips. “Eh, eh…nope. Me first.” Removing his finger, he shrugs sheepishly. “I mean, I know it should usually be ladi
es first, but you’ll just have to deal this time, Dru.” He winks at me, sending a wave of anguish cascading through my entire being.

  My lips tighten and my mouth goes dry. Nodding, I raise a hand, allowing him to proceed.

  “Actually, you’ll need to come with me,” he says, his eyes once again sparkling. He takes my hand, leading the way off the dock.

  Confusion rolls through me but I can’t seem to muster enough energy to formulate a reason for his near-giddy excitement. Instead, I fight the bile rising in the back of my throat and the unrelenting nervous energy. I know if I don’t act soon, I’ll lose my nerve altogether. Instead, I’ll want to stay in his arms and ignore the pain and suffering being together will inevitably bring.

  As we walk through the courtyard hand-in-hand, he plucks one of the red roses from the garden and hands it to me. “But he, who dares not grasp the thorn, should never crave the rose.”

  Pressing the stem between my fingertips, I tip my head in acknowledgment. “Anne Brontë.”

  “Indeed,” he beams. “One of my favorite poems.”

  “Hmmm,” I say, staring at the shimmering petals, wondering if he can somehow sense what’s on my mind.

  Leaning in, he kisses the side of my cheek. His scent teases my senses, lulling me into a safe space.

  Maybe it’s not as bad as I think… What if I’m wrong about all of this?

  Inhaling deeply, my resolve slips.

  Removing my hand from his, I place it along his jawline, drawing his lips to mine. For the first time in a long time, I close my eyes, letting the feel of his skin guide my reactions, rather than relying on my troubled mind.

  Placing both hands along my neck, he inhales sharply, pulling me in close. His lips bear down on mine, kissing me as if his life depends on this single exchange of passion.

  As he pulls back, my head swirls, but my worries sink into deeper waters.

  “Come on, let’s get that bite to eat. I still have something for you…” he says, grabbing hold of my hand and pulling me toward the kitchen’s entrance.

  When we get inside, the manor is quiet—as it has been all summer. Dad’s been in and out, only here for the briefest of moments before having to flit off again. There’s barely enough time to connect, let alone ask him how he’s been or where he’s been going.

  Most of the time, it’s not so bad, but I can’t help but wonder if I’m driving him away, too.

  “What would you like, my dearest Dru? Pasta? Chicken? Tacos with ice cream?” Wade asks, opening the fridge and freezer at the same time.

  I chuckle. “What would you like?”

  “I’m not fussy. I’ll cook whatever the lady of the house would appreciate.”

  I shoot him an uncertain smile, dropping my gaze to the floor. “Something simple, I guess.”

  Wade’s dark eyebrows rise to the sky, and he closes the fridge door. “Pizza it is.” He reaches in, grabbing a cheese pizza and plunking it on the counter.

  Shaking my head, I turn to the stove and set the preheat temp.

  “Would you like plain and simple? Or a culinary explosion in your mouth?”

  My eyes widen. “A what?”

  Wade laughs. “Cheese pizza or something with a bit more pizazz?”

  I narrow one eye. “What would pizazz consist of?”

  “Whatever you like. Ham and pineapple. Mushrooms and cilantro. Tabasco sauce and nacho chips…” he says with a flourish of his hands.

  “Let’s go with just cheese. Less to go wrong,” I say, grabbing a couple of plates.

  “Ye have little faith in my culinary expertise. But, alas, I will bow to the wishes of my mistress,” he says, folding an arm over his midsection and bowing slightly.

  He dislodges the pizza from its box, placing it on the pizza stone and looking at it longingly.

  “You could always go hog wild on half of it. Then, if it’s horrifying, we still have a few salvageable slices,” I suggest, shrugging.

  He claps like a toddler and spins back to the refrigerator. A moment later, half of the pizza is piled with mushrooms, onions, ham, and something green. I’m not entirely certain it’s edible, but if it makes him happy, so be it.

  “So, I have some news…” Wade says, wiping his hands on his jeans after he places the pizza in the oven.

  “Is this the surprise?” I say, turning to him.

  “Oh, lord, no. That will come soon enough,” he says, waving his hands out in front of him. “No, this is just news-related news. Small talk, if you will.”

  “Ah,” I say, nodding. “Carry on.”

  “Thank you,” he says, tipping his head. “As I was saying… I have some news. You know how I was going to struggle with swinging tuition after this next semester?”

  I narrow my gaze. “Yes?”

  “Well, I’ve just landed a gig,” he says, grinning.

  My eyebrows rise. “You have? That’s great. What is it?”

  “It’s another PCA job. Chelsea introduced me,” he says, leaning against the counter.

  The mention of Chelsea’s name twists the knife still buried inside me. I inhale sharply through my nose. “Oh…yeah?”

  “Yeah, there’s a lady in my building who needs a little help. She’s getting older and doesn’t have any family around here. Chelsea’s been worried she might have to transfer her to a nursing home or contact the county… but when I told her I used to be a PCA, she did a little digging and helped get everything in place,” he says.

  “That’s great—” I say, trying to muster as much excitement about it as I can.

  “It’s not a be-all, end-all or anything. But at least it buys me some time. Especially since my dad isn’t likely to change his mind anytime soon,” Wade says, rolling his eyes.

  “What do you mean?” I say, walking to the oven and clicking on the light. I bend in to take a look at the pizza’s progress. So far, my half looks nearly done, but the other half looks like it needs another twenty minutes to heat through.

  “You know, our assets,” Wade says, shrugging nonchalantly.

  I stand up, unable to disentangle my eyebrows from one another. “Huh?”

  Wade rolls his eyes, as if this is the last thing he wanted to be thinking about. “Just family money and stuff.”

  The timer on the oven beeps and he steps up, ushering me to step aside.

  My mind whirls, taking in this new information. When we were back in the catacombs, I remember the two of them talking about the family assets… but I thought his dad meant their powers.

  Wade slices up the pizza, spreading the pieces out evenly on the plates. “Dinner is served,” he says, with a hand flourish.

  I blink from him to the plates, absently grabbing one for myself. “I thought… I thought you didn’t have any inheritance. I’m confused.”

  Grabbing his own plate, Wade holds out his other arm in an offering for me to grab it.

  I blink hard, but interlock my arm in his.

  “It’s complicated. The inheritance is magically bound. When my grandpa died, as next in line I should have been given access to our assets. But…” his voice trails off as he leads me from the kitchen. We loop through the main entrance and down the hallway to my bedroom.

  “But…he’s denying you,” I say, beginning to understand the full scope of things, “because of me.”

  Wade shrugs as if it doesn’t bother him in the least. “It’s just money.”

  “But—what about your tuition? Your life? You’ve been so worried about finances…why would you turn that away?” I sputter.

  “I can’t believe you’re even asking me that,” he says indignantly.

  I shake my head, trying to understand why he’d turn down an easier life—one without financial struggles—just to be with me. It’s ludicrous.

  He deserves so much more. I can’t let him give up his entire inheritance just to be with me.

  We reach my bedroom door and Wade drops my arm to reach for the handle.

  “Wade,” I whisper, una
ble to look him in the eye. I stare at my plate, tears welling up behind my lids. “I think we should break up.”

  I look up just in time to see his bright face falter. His hand drops from the door handle in slow motion and as it creaks open, I turn to face the room. Red roses or their petals cover every conceivable surface of my bedroom. Red candles flicker romantically, sending a powerful surge of regret through me.

  “Happy”—his voice is barely a whisper as he swallows hard, trying to recover—“one-year anniversary.”

  Chapter 2

  What’s Fate Got to Do With It?

  Everything is upside down.

  I hadn’t anticipated this empty, horrible hole that’s settled inside my torso. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I can’t escape the memory of utter despair on Wade’s face. His sad, silver eyes are burned into my mind, and no matter what I do, I can’t erase his expression. From the moment I broke things off with him, all I wanted was to take it back. To rewind time and erase the whole thing. But I couldn’t make my brain align with my heart. I need to protect him…I need for him to forget about me.

  Hell, I need to find a way to forget about him.

  Yet, everywhere I go… he’s there.

  My eyes flit to the edge of his gorgeous face, just two seats up in the row beside me. The sunlight cascades through the window and highlights the edges of his face. It illuminates the tips of his dark eyelashes, drawing my attention back with every blink.

  If I thought starting the new school year would give us the opportunity for space, I certainly hadn’t considered just how much our paths are intertwined. He’s in every single one of my classes, with the exception of one—Resurrection Theory.