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

“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