The Windhaven Witches Omnibus Edition : Complete Paranormal Suspense Series, Books 1-4 Carissa Andrews (the beginning after the end read novel txt) 📖

from fiction is certainly difficult, to say the least. For some reason, none of the documentation at Windhaven Academy seems to separate out where the stories began or if there have ever been any true sightings.

On the upside, the discussion in class should be entertaining, if nothing else. Especially if Wade has anything to do with it. I can already see him opening up a discussion on how the Hellmouth is more plausible.

Wade leans forward, thumping his head onto the table beside me. “I tap out. I can’t research this anymore.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, me either. I think we have enough to at least sound like we know what we’re talking about. Don’t you?”

“God, let’s hope so,” he says, his voice muffled by the tabletop.

Reaching down, I grab my backpack. “All right then, it looks like we can head out.”

Still leaning forward, Wade tips his head up, leaving his chin on the table. “Wanna get a bite to eat? I mean, it’s almost 7:00 p.m. and I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“Wade… I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” I warn.

“Come on, Autumn. It’s just food. Please?” he asks, sitting all the way up and pressing his hands together in prayer position. “Don’t make me eat alone.”

I stare at him for a moment, then exhale in defeat. “Fine.”

“Excellent,” he says, suddenly hopping off of his chair and reaching for the back of mine.

“I got it,” I say, shooting him a sideways glance.

“As you wish,” he says, backing away genially.

“Where would you like to go?”

“The usual, of course. It’s not like there are many options in this teeny tiny town,” he says, grabbing his backpack off the floor.

I snicker under my breath. He’s certainly not wrong.

“Okay, so I’ll meet you at the Bourbon Room?” I say, shoving my laptop in my backpack.

“How about we ride together? It’s just down the road. I’ll drive,” Wade offers.

I hesitate, wondering if I should insist we drive separately. Against my better judgment I say, “Yeah, okay.”

Ten minutes later, we’re sliding into a booth on the far end of the restaurant. It overlooks a small lake, which glitters in the setting sun.

“So, I’ve been thinking…” Wade says, scrunching his face as he sets his hands down on the table between us.

“Okay?” I say, narrowing my eyes.

“Have you ever seen other ghosts in your house?” he asks.

I give it a moment’s thought and shake my head. “No, I don’t think so. Just Abigail.”

“Does your house have any wards or anything that would have kept them out? Or only let the nice ones in?”

My eyebrows rise, but I shake my head. “I honestly have no idea. I’m hoping to track down my dad. If I get the chance, I’ll ask him.”

Wade nods, but doesn’t say anything at first. His expression twists into one of contemplation. Then, after a moment, he says, “Why do you think it’s been so hard to contact Abigail?”

I shrug. “I don’t know? I guess I sorta just thought it was because of what happened back at the catacombs. Dealing with the Fetch and then inhabiting my body—it took a lot out of her.”

“Yeah, but it’s been almost five months. How long does it take a ghost to recharge?”

I snicker. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

The server walks up, her tablet computer in her hand. “The usual?”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Wade says, nodding.

She starts to spin away, clearly believing Wade spoke for both of us.

Instead, I raise a hand and say, “Actually, I think I’d like something different.”

Wade quirks an eyebrow and leans back.

“Okay, honey. What will it be?” she asks, eyeing me with curiosity.

“Can I look at a menu?”

“A menu?” She says, almost incredulously. “The two of you have been in here at least a dozen times a month for the past year.”

“Please?” I say, smiling serenely.

She rolls her eyes, grabbing a tattered copy from her apron and handing it to me.

I splay it on the table and take a good look. Nothing sounds as good as the usual mushroom and Swiss burger, but I’ll be damned if I eat the same thing as always.

“I think I’ll go with the fish tacos,” I finally reply, closing the menu and handing it back to her.

“Mkay,” she says, snatching it back and whirling around.

When I face Wade again, his eyebrow is arched high and a smirk graces his lips.

“What?” I retort.

“Nothing. That was just…” he says, shrugging. “I think you hurt her feelings.”

“Oh, shut up,” I say, swatting at his hand. “I just felt like something different.”

“Interesting.”

I scrunch my face. “There’s no hidden meaning in there.”

“If you say so,” he laughs, raising his hands like he’s about to be arrested.

“Anyway…” I say, watching him from the side of my eye.

“Anyway,” he repeats.

We both sit there in a moment of awkward silence and I clear my throat. “Where were we?”

“Oh, yeah…” Wade says, dropping his chin and nodding to himself. “Uh—I was thinking about Abigail. Do you think she knows the house is being haunted?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, is she being suppressed by the other energy? Or”—he eyes me intensely and raises a hand to the ceiling—“is she allowing it to happen?”

My eyebrows tug in and I sit back. Surely she wouldn’t allow a malevolent energy to invade the home. She’s never seemed like that kind of ghost.

Granted, my experience with them has still been limited, but it feels right.

But the question does pique my curiosity.

With the new entity in the house, why hasn’t she been around? Could she be in trouble? Or worse…even if she’s not the one haunting the house in a creepy way, could Abigail be letting it happen? And if so, to what end?

Chapter 8

Lucky to Have Found You

As I park Blue in the circular drive, my thoughts are a swarm of frustration, worry, and suspicion. But as I walk up to the front door, the darkness ignites a new concern—one that says I still haven’t pinpointed the source of the new hauntings and I’m not entirely certain