Soul Legacy: A Supernatural Ghost Series (The Windhaven Witches Book 2) by Carissa Andrews (the first e reader .TXT) 📕

Any trace of the odd version of her I talked to in the woods is gone, and I can’t help but be somewhat relieved. The last thing I need right now is to also be sought after because of a resurrection gone wrong.

Wade’s jaw clenches and he steps around me. “Why don’t you just keep moving, Colton? Don’t you get it? She’s already got a boyfriend and I’m not going anywhere.”

Colton holds his chin up, flitting his gaze from Wade to me. His lips curve into a small smirk and he whispers, “We’ll see about that.”

Chapter 16

The Jig Is Up

The next few days fly by as if they’ve been sucked into some sort of fast-forward time warp. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s being under suspicion is not conducive to being in the present moment. I almost wish this renowned psychic would hurry up and make it here. If he’s worth a grain of salt, maybe he can actually prove I had nothing to do with any of this and find the actual asshats who are.

“Did you hear the latest? More of the dead have risen. Still all freshly dead. They’re pretty convinced there’s a spell on the two cemeteries,” Wade says, joining me in the overcrowded hallway.

I hike my backpack higher onto my shoulder. “Wonderful. How’d you hear that?”

“Chelsea,” Wade says, pushing open the door to the cafeteria and holding it wide. “She’s been keeping a pulse on things for us.”

I shoot him a sideways glance, trying to suppress the flush of jealousy. “You mean for you.”

Wade’s dark eyebrows merge. “No…pretty sure I meant us. What’s up with you today?”

“N-nothing. I just want this all to be over. Sorry,” I say, shaking my head and walking through the open doorway.

“I get it,” Wade says, grabbing a tray and making his way through the line. “Let me know if there’s anything you want me to do, okay?”

Shooting him a halfhearted smile, I nod and follow behind him in a daze. Truthfully, I’m not really even sure if I want to eat. My appetite has pretty much gone on hiatus during all of this, replaced instead by an insatiable appetite for worry.

What if they can’t prove me innocent? What if I can’t convince them? Could I end up going to prison?

I can’t go to prison.

We make our way through the line, and I barely manage to go through the motions. Wade and I find an open table by the windows. I shove my backpack to the far side of the bench, and as we settle in, I stare down at my tray. I somehow managed to grab an orange juice, a slice of pizza, and a handful of green peppers. I don’t even like green peppers.

Pushing the tray aside, I stare out the window. Even without looking, I feel the weight of the stares from people all around us.

“Not hungry?” Wade asks, taking a bite of his own slice of pizza.

At least he’s gotten his appetite back.

I shake my head, letting my gaze filter out across the room. The majority of people have the decency to at least divert their eyes when I glance their way. There are, however, the few who lean in, conversing to someone beside them as they point in our direction.

Rather than turning away, I force myself to look each one of them in the eye. I refuse to back down and shrink from their accusatory glares.

A few tables back, near one of the enormous stone pillars holding up the space, a student catches my eye. The bright pink chunk of hair tucked behind her left ear is the first thing to capture my attention, but it’s her discerning blue eyes that send chills straight through me. It’s like they could rip me apart and spit me back out. She sits completely alone, and instead of eating, her large black combat boots are propped up on the edge of the table, crossed at the ankles, as if she’s simply here to make me uncomfortable.

Shuddering at the chill creeping up my spine, I raise an eyebrow and set my jaw. I don’t know who this chick is, but I refuse to be the first to look away.

Oddly enough, the corners of her lips twist upward into a smirk. But she doesn’t turn away. If anything, it’s like she accepts the challenge.

“What are you looking at?” Wade asks, twisting his head around and surveying the sea of people.

Despite myself, I break my concentration and turn to him. “Do you see that chick? Over near the pillar, with the hot-pink hair?”

“Yeah,” he mutters with a nod. “God, she looks like she could rip us to shreds.”

“Right?” I say. “Well, she’s been staring at us for—”

Abruptly, the chick uncrosses her legs and stands up. She pulls her ultra-light-blond hair into a loose ponytail, leaving the pink chunk to stray loose. Adjusting her Pink Floyd t-shirt and the zipper edge of her grey leather jacket, she pushes in her chair as if manners in this place are actually a thing. Without a single air of embarrassment or apprehension, she walks through the cafeteria like she owns the place—and of course, directly toward us.

“Do you know her?” Wade asks in a hushed tone.

I shake my head. “I’ve never even seen her before. Have you?”

There’s an air of power around her that I can’t quite put my finger on. People move out of her way, giving her a wide berth without any verbal request or even really acknowledging they’re doing it. As she reaches our booth, she grabs a chair from the nearest table, spinning it around in her hand and sliding it up to the outward-facing edge of our table.

Straddling the seat, she folds her arms across the back. “Guess the jig is up, huh?”

“Excuse me?” I say, blinking back surprise.

She sighs heavily, rolling her big blue eyes as if my question offends her. “You know, guess I’ve been found out. Exposed.