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

“Is this enough?” Colton’s face is pale with worry as he hands them to me.

“Yeah, this should work. Take a deep breath. Can you do that for me?” I ask, keeping my eyes trained on him.

He attempts an inhalation, but it’s jagged and labored.

“She needs you to stay grounded. You’re her tether—” I say, tapping into knowledge beyond my expertise. “In order for this to work, you need to remain calm and centered.”

Abigail remains by my side, a silent support. I know somehow, perhaps through our genetic link, perhaps through our shared magical connection, she’s giving me knowledge I wouldn’t have had otherwise.

“I can’t lose her, Autumn,” Colt says, tears brimming in his eyes and his lower lip quivering. “She’s my twin.”

“We’re not losing anyone,” I tell him, eyeing the fading orange orb with uncertainty.

Turning to Dominic, I whisper, “Fill the container with Cat’s blood. Hurry.”

Turning back to the pentacle I’d drawn in the sandy floor, I begin to outline it again, but this time in a thin layer of salt. Once the pentagram portion is finished, I walk the outside of the circle and enclose it with the salt. As the circle is completed, the room quakes, sending out a signal to us all—this is no joke. We are in a sacred space now.

Dominic rushes back, thrusting a shaking hand out to me. The sides of the jewelry bowl are now soaked in Cat’s blood, but it holds a small pool. Taking it from him, I inhale sharply, and try to center myself. Staying calm needs to take precedence right now.

Abigail raises a finger, pointing to the center of the pentacle. “It is paramount you begin with her offering. It opens the gateway between what is, what was, and what will be,” she whispers.

Nodding to myself, I pour the deep burgundy liquid from its container onto the floor below. It pools in the center pentagon portion, spreading out to its borders.

Abigail reaches for my shoulder and as her hand comes into contact with me, she begins her incantation. It’s quiet at first, but her words start to grow with each repetition until I can hear them all and follow along.

“Death, taker of life, power of gods and givers, accept my offering. Bone, blood, breath, flesh. Recover Caitlyn’s soul—her remnants—and return her to me,” I begin to chant.

I start to walk the circle, counterclockwise, just as I witnessed Abigail do in the vision.

“Now you must deliver your offering, that of your own blood,” she says.

Wide eyed, I look up at her. I’d forgotten this part.

Glancing around the room, I practically screech, “A knife. I need a knife.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Dominic reaches into his jeans and garnishes a small pocket knife.

“Will this work?” he asks, throwing it to me.

I nod. “It will have to.”

Switching it open, I run the blade through one of the fires along the stone wall, cleansing it. I don’t know if it’s the years watching Buffy, or my own innate guidance telling me to do so, but every fiber of my being hums in anticipation of what comes next. My body knows, my blood knows.

Taking a deep breath, I close the palm of my hand around the knife and run the blade across my skin. The sharp pain and tug of skin makes my breath hitch, but I hold my hand out, allowing my blood to drip into the center of the pentacle, mixing with Cat’s.

As it makes contact, the mixture begins to slosh and swirl, lighting it with an eerie whitish glow. I take a step back, tossing the knife to the ground. I expect the blood to rise in a vortex in the same way it had for Abigail. Instead, it continues to encircle itself, as if in some sort of a holding pattern.

“This one is different. You need more energy,” Abigail offers, splaying her hands out wide to suggest all of us.

“I need everyone. Quick, hold hands,” I command.

We each take a place along the outer edge of the pentacle and one by one, reach out to clasp hands. As we close the small triadic loop, the room again pulsates in a wave of energy, and I start the chant again. Eventually, the rest of them follow suit.

“Death, taker of life, power of gods and givers, accept my offering. Bone, blood, breath, flesh. Recover Caitlyn’s soul—her remnants—and return her to us…” we say in unison over and over again. The energy rises and vibrates at a higher pitch, but still nothing happens to the blood in the center—nor to Cat’s body.

Looking over my shoulder at Abigail, I cry out, “Why isn’t it working?”

Chapter 28

Gemini Blood

“Of that, I am not certain. This should have been more than ample energy for her resurrection,” Abigail whispers, backing away from me.

Turning from her, I look into everyone’s eyes, trying to think of what else could be needed. When my gaze rests on Colt’s frightened features, it suddenly dawns on me—he’s her tether. I even said it in the beginning. But more than that, the Vodník said something about them being twins…

Gemini twins?

That has to mean something. She’s bound to him by blood.

“Colton, we need your blood, too,” I declare, reaching for the knife and tossing it over to him. “Being twins makes you special. She needs your offering to make this work.”

Without hesitation, he flicks open the knife and holds out his left palm. My blood still clings to the blade, but he doesn’t stop to try to cleanse it. Instead, he positions the sharp edge into the center of his palm.

He digs the edge of the blade into his skin. Pulling it through the center of his hand, the blood pools crimson in the middle. With a deep breath, he tips his hand over to allow the blood to flow into the spiraling mixture below. The second it comes into contact with the rest, the vortex begins to rise.