The Windhaven Witches Omnibus Edition : Complete Paranormal Suspense Series, Books 1-4 by Carissa Andrews (graded readers txt) 📕

the clouds haven’t quite decided whether or not to truly release their haul. It’s still beautiful, anyway. Standing up, I walk over to the window, wishing I could be as carefree as one of the snowflakes.

Suddenly, a cold shiver courses through me and I pull my arms in tight, unable to get warm. Looking over my shoulder, I search for the source of the draft and there, standing a few feet behind me, is Abigail.

Her face is forlorn, but her lips curve upward when I lock eyes with her.

“I apologize for my intrusion. I did not mean to disturb you,” she says, her voice barely a whisper. “You seemed burdened.”

I attempt a smile. “That’s an understatement.”

Abigail moves toward me, her dress barely touching the ground. At first, she doesn’t say a word, but her forehead wrinkles, betraying her own thoughts.

Nervous energy rolls through my torso and I can’t help but worry about what’s on her mind.

“Autumn, I am quite certain you don’t always understand my delivery of things with utmost importance. I wish I could be more forthright, but certain wisdom requires a more delicate approach,” she says, rubbing the top side of her right hand with her fingertips. “Our family, our legacy…and it is more fickle than it appears to the casual observer. At times, it comes at great cost.”

Shaking my head, I sit down on the window seat. “I’m beginning to understand that.”

“There’s still so much you do not yet know and so much I wish I could tell you…”

I narrow my gaze, confused. “Then what’s stopping you?”

Her lips press into a thin line and her gaze falls to the ground.

“So, you can’t say?”

Narrowing her eyes, she tilts her head toward the doorway to the resurrection chamber. “Follow me, would you?”

Without walking to the door and opening it like a live person would, she fades from the room as she turns to face the door leading down to the resurrection chamber. It’s almost as if her body is sucked through the entryway one particle at a time, floating away like those snowflakes falling from the sky.

Taking a deep breath, I stand up and walk over to the bed to grab my phone so I have a flashlight with me. It’s been months since I last went into the resurrection chamber. In fact, not since the night we brought Cat back. I just haven’t been able to bring myself to go back down there.

I pull the door open and walk down the wooden steps, suddenly consumed by the feelings and sensations I was consumed with that night. The panic and fear…and power. That’s something I haven’t felt since. If anything, I’ve felt pretty powerless lately.

When my feet hit the sandy floor of the resurrection chamber, the room is already lit dimly by the magical torches around the room. I cram my phone into my pocket.

Abigail hovers in the center of the drawn pentacle, still left in the middle of the room. My gaze is drawn to the dark stains in the sand; remnants of the ritual. As I get closer to Abigail, the energy in the room shifts, vibrating at a level that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“Come,” Abigail urges, rolling her fingers and beckoning me forth.

Somewhat reluctantly, I walk forward until I’m standing in the center of the pentagram with her.

“Behold this space. What do your examinations yield?” she asks quietly.

Swallowing hard, I turn around and inspect the room.

“Well, it’s old,” I begin, eyeing the haphazardly built stone walls and dirt floor. “There are no windows other than the ones in the stairwell…”

“Good. What else?” she urges.

I scratch my temple, feeling utterly silly doing this with a ghost. “I see the pentacle of salt, the blood, and other items from the ritual we performed for Cat.”

“Veritably. Go on.”

I straighten my shoulders, shooting her a sideways glance. “There are torches—like the ones that you’d see inside tunnels or outside old buildings. Only they’re not real.”

She chuckles and the smile cracking her face brings a certain beauty to her features. “Be not dissuaded. They are utterly real. Your perception of reality has yet to be adjusted to what truly is,” she says, taking a step outside the circle. “Regard this space with a critical eye. What more do you detect?”

Pressing my lips tightly, I do as she asks. My awareness expands outward, focusing on the sensations of the room, and I involuntarily shudder. “There’s an energy to the room I guess I haven’t really taken notice of before. It’s like walking into a walk-in freezer, only I’m not really cold.”

“Ah, now your senses are beginning to swell,” she grins. “Press onward. What else?”

Shaking my head, I turn to Abigail. “There isn’t a whole lot more in this room. I’m not sure what else you’re—”

“Close your eyes. Forego sight in the typical fashion and tell me what you witness,” Abigail says, her face lighting up from some kind of excitement, or maybe amusement at my attempts.

“I don’t—”

She raises a ghostly hand. “Humor me and do as I request, Autumn. Please.”

Stretching my neck and relaxing my shoulders, I close my eyes. I feel somewhat ridiculous standing in the middle of the room with my eyes shut, but after a moment, the feeling dissipates. Instead, it’s replaced with a strange sense of calm. The anxiety and high-voltage energy washes away, as if I were suddenly plunged into a cool spring. I can’t help but hold my breath, curious to whatever may come next.

“You have been grievously tainted by the sights of your modern era. I have found it to be a most dreadful affliction at times. Instead of residing in your gifts, allowing them to become a part of you, you lose your ability to be drawn into the eternal laws of magic. I suspect this is through much conditioning outside our inner sanctum, but regardless…” Her voice drifts off. When she speaks again, she is closer. “Keeping your eyes closed, cast a wider ken. Tell