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

to see much the last time I was here,” I say, casting my gaze around the space with curious eyes. Despite being here not long ago, it still looks vastly different from what I remember as a kid.

“Well, all right then. Let’s do the tour,” he beams.

I nod, waving my hand out in front of me.

Dad takes the lead, speaking over his shoulder like a proper tour guide. “So, I don’t know how much about this house you remember…but the manor, it’s been in our family for generations.”

“I remember being here as a kid, but it definitely looks different.”

“Yeah, when your mom and I had moved in, it had fallen into some disrepair over the years. I felt like it was my purpose, my mission, to restore it to the type of glory it deserved,” he continues, as we make our way up the massive front staircase.

“You’ve done a lot from what I can tell,” I say, unable to pick a single place to look. Everywhere is something to see—beautiful sconces, decorative woodworking, old pictures, and knickknacks. Each item looks like it was plucked out of another era, but still somehow manage to look like they belong.

“The original structure’s still in here—it’s just received a much-needed facelift.”

“You’ve done a really beautiful job, Dad,” I say, and I truly mean it. I can only imagine the kind of work this places has needed to look so good.

As we reach the second level, Dad turns left and follows the corridor around the corner, as the house curves into its U-shape. Ornate glass and bronze sconces hang from the walls in intermittent intervals, glowing dimly like candlelight. I can’t help but feel like I’ve either walked into a fairy tale or some sort of horror movie.

“We’ll start on this wing and work our way backward to your bedroom. Sound good?” Dad says, shooting me a grin from over his shoulder.

“Works for me,” I nod.

“Well, up here is a lot of the miscellaneous rooms. Some are bedrooms, but others are just useful for the view,” he begins. “The interior rooms, these ones to the right, overlook the pond and courtyard, so they’re nice for reading, relaxing, and whatnot. Since it’s pretty much pitch-black outside, it’ll probably be better to take another look in the morning.”

I nod in agreement.

The house is laid out more like a hotel than a home, with a good ten or so doors along both sides of the massive hallway. Most of the doors are closed, so we keep walking to the end and an enormous bay window with two massive chairs that face it.

“This faces the pond, right?” I say, pointing out the window.

Dad nods. “Indeed. The middle and both ends of the house face out toward the pond. Everything else faces the interior of the courtyard or out into the woods. So, the other wing looks almost exactly like this one. It’s where my bedroom is and at the top of the stairs was my study. So, let me show you those quick before we head downstairs,” he says, turning around and going back the way we came.

Old paintings and mirrors adorn the walls, like remnants of the past. None of it looks like something a modern day dad would buy, so I’m pretty sure they came with the house. As we pass the main stairwell, I stop to look out over the entryway. From the landing, the large chandelier somehow looks even bigger at this angle. Its light ricochets off in all sorts of directions and is absolutely stunning. Holding onto the railing, I lean forward, looking at the space from this near-bird’s-eye view.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Dad says, walking back to me.

I nod. “It really is.”

“You know, I wish… I never wanted you and your mother to leave. It’s been hard living here all alone.” His words are barely a whisper.

I turn to look at him over my shoulder.

“Dad, you don’t need to—” I begin. “I mean, it’s not that I’m not curious.”

“You must have a lot of questions about what happened,” he says, the middle of his light eyebrows tipping up. His blue eyes sparkle with emotion.

“I guess I do,” I say, grabbing hold of the railing for support. I wasn’t expecting to get into a heavy conversation so early, but since it’s presented itself…

A strange chill rushes past me, making my neck hairs stand on end. I raise my hand to my neck, surprised by the sudden goose bumps flashing across my skin.

Dad’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back.

“Um, you know, you must be hungry. Did you have supper?” he says, changing the subject and going down the stairway a few steps.

“I, uh,” I begin, surprised by the shift in conversation.

“Come on, let’s get a snack.” Dad turns on his heel and practically bolts down the stairs.

Looking over my shoulder, I drop my hand and shake my head.

“Sure, but can I drop my backpack off in my bedroom first?” I call out.

“Oh, yeah, you bet. It’s this way,” he says, taking off in the lower level.

I race after him, trying to keep up as he turns right at the bottom of the stairs and takes a quick turn down the left corridor.

“Dad, is something wrong?” I ask, trying to keep up. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, not at all. I just realized how late it is. I don’t always keep track of time very well. Hazard of living alone, I guess.”

We reach a bedroom door on the right and he stands off to the side, waiting for me to open it. As I walk up, memories start rushing at me. They are a strange mixture of mystery, happiness, and unpleasantness.

“Is this the same bedroom I had as a kid?” I ask as I open the door.

“Yes, I hope you don’t mind. I thought maybe you’d be the most comfortable here,” he says, standing by the opening.

I tip my head in acknowledgement as I walk inside.

The space is lit with small lamps all around the