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

Guilt rushes through me and I suddenly feel so stupid for even thinking my dad was hiding things, like the Vodník or the little door.

“It’s been a long time since someone in our family could see the dead. But you, you’ve always been…”

“Does Mom know? About you and the Blackwood family? Is this why she hates all things to do with supernatural beings?” I ask, unable to help myself.

Dad scratches at the sides of his forehead. “No, your mom’s distain stems from other places. She wasn’t always that way.”

I snicker. “You’re kidding me. For as long as I can remember, she’s hated anything and everything to do with powers and the people who have them. She practically flipped her lid when I first got my acceptance letter to the Windhaven Academy.”

“I can imagine,” he chuckles.

“You don’t…do you know how I got the acceptance letter? Because I never applied,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad. But it was surprising, to say the least.”

Dad clears his throat. “There has always been a fund here for you when you went to college. Whether or not you attended Windhaven Academy. But I may have…set a few things into motion.”

I look up into his sheepish gaze.

“Dad, it was you? You sent them my application?” I gape.

“Something like that,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s just—”

“No, it’s fine. I just wish I would have known about all of this family stuff earlier. I feel like I’m at a total loss about everything. Hell, Cat and Colt know more about my family than I do. It feels weird.”

“I can imagine. But there was good reason to keep you sheltered, Autumn. You must always remember that your mother and I did what we thought was best for you,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

“How? By separating and leaving me completely in the dark? Do you know how many times I wished I had supernatural abilities and Mom made me feel like a complete freak for even wishing it?”

Dad’s face drains of color. “That was never… I’m sure your mother was doing what she thought was best for you.”

I snicker, balling my hands into fists. It seems like everyone around me keeps doing what’s best for me, but not a single one of them wants to do the one thing that really matters.

Dad stares at me with wide eyes but doesn’t say anything.

“Tell the truth, Dad. Why is it so damn hard to just be honest with me?” I say, walking out the door and into the hallway. I don’t know where I’m going or why, and at this point, I kind of hope Dad sees the hidden door. Maybe then we’ll have an honest conversation about that, too.

My anger isn’t really for Dad. It’s aimed at no one in particular and everyone at the same time. It’s like every single person in my life has an agenda, and I can’t fully trust a single one of them.

I guess I’ll just have to take matters into my own hands.

Chapter 21

Remnants

It’s taken three days of diligently watching and waiting for Dad to be out of the house. As it turns out, it’s harder to keep track of him than I’d expected.

Standing outside his bedroom door, I take a deep breath and reach for the handle. Without hesitation, I push it open. I know exactly where I need to go and what I need. The sooner I get it, the sooner I can get out of his room and back to my own.

I walk to the small desk and reach for the drawer handle to pull it open. But to my horror, the handle isn’t there.

My heart leaps into my throat, and I stare at the empty space, completely dumbfounded.

What do I do now?

Stumbling backward, I make for the doorway. I’ll need to regroup or…

Suddenly, there’s movement to my left and Abigail has returned. Her white-laced arm points to a nightstand on the far side of the room. Without hesitation, I leap the bed and pull open the drawer. Shuffling papers and trinkets out of the way, I find the handle has been shoved to the back.

“Thanks,” I say, looking over my shoulder, but Abigail is gone.

I shove the drawer closed and race out of the room, closing the door behind me. Just in case, I shove the handle under my shirt and beeline toward my bedroom. Luckily, getting to my bedroom is far less exciting. When I’m safely inside, I close my bedroom door and lock it.

My eyes flit to the dresser. My apprehension about going beyond the doorway alone has all but vanished. It’s been replaced by a determination to take control of something that’s all my own.

“Now or never,” I whisper under my breath.

Walking to the dresser, I place the handle on top and give the whole thing a shove to the right. Adrenaline rushes through my veins, but I grab the handle and place it in the small hole until it clicks into place.

I take a step back, viewing the doorway in its entirety for the first time. There is something so familiar about it, but I can’t figure out why.

Trembling, I reach for the door handle, knowing without a doubt this act could change things. I’ve always been one to love a good mystery, but this is different. The air is charged with energy and anticipation and I don’t know if that’s a good thing.

As my hand touches the cold metal, I bite my lip.

Should I really be doing this alone? Probably not.

Despite myself, I twist hard and pull the door open before I can talk myself out of it.

Frigid air rushes up at me, encircling me in its chilling embrace. I shudder away the imagery of cold, bony fingers and suck in a deep, cleansing breath. Grabbing my cell phone out of my pocket, I flip on the flashlight and exhale.

“All right, Autumn, time to see what you’re made of,”