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

There’s still no more movement upstairs, and I pray that Wade’s able to locate my dad…and that he can help.

Without warning, Abigail’s form rushes into my extrasensory view. Her hair is wild and her eyes are wide with fury—but I can’t hear her. She stops mere feet from me, her arms flailing wildly.

“Abigail, I can’t understand you. You’re too quiet. What’s going on? Why are you so angry?” I blurt out in one big blob. I try to keep my voice calm, but I’m not sure I pull it off.

Her face contorts angrily, and her arms only flail harder. Still, I can’t hear a word she says as she opens her mouth wide and silently screams in my face. Every cell in my body crackles with an energy that makes goosebumps flash across my skin.

“You need to stop this—” I demand, taking a step toward her with more courage than I actually feel.

There’s a loud crash right above our heads, making me jump. Then, at the top of the stairs, something heavy slams against the door. I turn my attention toward the sound, unsure if Abigail is trying to cause more destruction or if Wade found my dad. The thud is followed immediately by a strange crackling sound, like flames licking at firewood. Stumbling backward, my heart races, threatening to burst from my chest.

If Wade’s hurt…

I turn my attention back to Abigail, but she’s gone. I can’t see or sense her at all, regardless of which senses I use.

“Dammit,” I curse, racing back to the staircase. “Wade? Is that you?”

The door continues to crackle and groan until the faceplate springs apart. Then the entire latch system bursts, sending pieces of metal flying down the stairs. Wade flings the door open, jamming a foot against the door and thrusting out a hand.

“I couldn’t find your dad, but found this,” he says, holding up a pry bar.

My eyes widen as I race up the stairs and out the door. “Where in the world did you find that?”

“One of the rooms your dad’s been fixing up. Abigail tried to throw it at me,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me from the room. “Come on, we need to get the hell outta here.”

Blood trickles down his face, evidence some of the chaos caught up with him. “You’re hurt,” I say, reaching out and hovering my fingertips above the wound.

“Yeah, picture frame. You wouldn’t think those damn things could hurt so much,” he mutters, rubbing at his head. “Anyway, doesn’t matter. I’ll live.”

Swallowing hard, I drop my hand and exit the stairwell. My bedroom looks like a bomb has exploded. The window is completely gone, and my curtain rail hangs at an odd angle as the remnants of the curtain flutter lazily in the breeze. Glass covers the floor and every footstep I take crunches ominously, like I’m walking on the bones of the dead. My bed is tipped on its side and every single drawer on my dresser is open to some degree. Nothing is where it should be. Books, lampshades, my laptop—everything is scattered across the room like someone picked it up and shook the contents.

“Holy shit,” I mutter, unable to stop looking.

“Yeah, it’s not the worst of it. We need to go—” Wade says, dragging me out of the room.

I follow him out into the hallway on some sort of dazed autopilot, but my awareness catches up with me when I see one of the large family pictures of my dad on the floor. He’s younger, barely sixteen, I’d guess, as he stands beside an older man and woman—my grandparents, I’d gather. Though I’ve never met either of them.

“Oh my god, my dad—” I sputter, suddenly dragging my feet. “We need to find him. He needs to get out of here, too.”

Wade shakes his head, turning around and placing both hands on my shoulder in the middle of the hallway. “I’ve looked everywhere, Autumn. If he’s in this house, he’s doing a helluva job hiding. Maybe he has a panic room or something for situations like this. He’s obviously a grown man who knows to take care of himself during something like this. We need to go…”

The walls begin to rattle, but everywhere I look, things are knocked over or broken. Picture frames, knickknacks, items I haven’t even given a second thought to—like the grandfather clock—are already strewn across the floor.

“Why is she doing this?” I cry out, covering my mouth.

“I don’t know, but we can figure it out later.” Wade takes off down the hallway, carefully jumping over items on the floor.

I follow him, treading gingerly so I don’t do any more damage. So many family heirlooms are shattered into pieces, and I have no idea if they’ll ever be restored. My heart breaks for my dad. This house is everything to him... He’s going to be so upset.

When we reach the main entryway, I pull up short and cover the cry of surprise springing from my lips. The grand staircase dangles from the upper landing as if it was twisted in two different directions.

“How in the hell?” I sputter.

Wade shakes his head. “I don’t know. I was trying to find your dad. When I ran up the stairs, it was like they were trying to buck me off.”

“I should go up there. Maybe my dad’s—”

Wade grabs my hand and pulls me toward the door. “It’s not safe. Not the stairs and definitely not this house. Your dad can handle himself.”

A strange, eerie chuckle echoes through the entryway. Suddenly, the temperature of the space drops by at least twenty degrees.

“We’re leaving, now,” Wade asserts definitively. Without letting me even attempt the hunt for my dad, he practically drags me from the house kicking and screaming.

The door groans, giving him some trouble at first, but he somehow manages to get it open. The second we’re outside, the cool, fall breeze ruffles my hair, lightening the pressure against my chest. I hadn’t noticed just how heavy the energy was