Haunted Legacy: The Windhaven Witches Series, Carissa Andrews [classic english novels .TXT] 📗

the stairwell for more stability, I lift my left leg and aim it at the door’s lock. With as much leverage and might as I can muster, I land my kick squarely on the weakest point, but it doesn’t even budge. I try again, with the same result.

“Dammit,” I curse. “It won’t budge. I don’t think I have enough leverage from the stairs.”

“There has to be something…” Wade begins.

Something crashes in my bedroom and the pieces tinkle like wind chimes as they hit the floor. Suddenly, the sound of furniture twisting on the hardwood floor makes me freeze.

“Wade, what’s happening? Are you okay?” I call out. My upper body begins to tremble in the silence that greets me. “Wade—”

“I’m okay,” he says, breathlessly. “Shit, she’s seriously pissed. She’s tipping the room upside down. How do we get you out? Is there any other way?”

“No, this is the only door in or out,” I mutter, sliding down the door and taking a seat on the first step. I bury my face in my hands, trying to block out the terror rising up inside me.

What do I do? What do we do? Why in the hell is any of this happening?

“Abigail,” I yell. “Abigail, stop this right now. I get it. You want help and I haven’t been listening. But I’m listening now. What can I do to help?”

Maniacal laughter echoes up from the resurrection chamber, making the hairs all over my body stand on end. It doesn’t even sound like a person, let alone Abigail.

There’s a loud thump on the other side of the door and Wade screams out in pain. A muffled scraping sound follows.

Springing to my feet, I scream, “Wade? Are you okay?” I bang on the door with the side of my fist, trying to beat it into submission.

From farther away, Wade calls out, “She’s getting stronger. She dragged me clear across the room. Autumn, we need to get out of this house. Now.”

“I don’t know how,“ I say, casting my gaze around the stairway. What little light I had from the glass-block window has faded and it’s gotten darker. My gaze lingers on the blocks, but even if we managed to find a way to bust eight inches of glass block, I don’t know if I’d be able to fit through the small opening. “Wade, you need to find my dad. Run and get help.”

“On it,” Wade calls out.

My heartbeat thrums loudly in my ears, making it impossible to hear anything but my own panicked state. How did things get this messed up?

I rub at my forehead, trying to calm my thoughts so I can think clearly.

I gotta do something…gotta help somehow. How do I make things right when Abigail won’t even talk to me?

What on earth have I done to warrant this?

“God, I hope Dad can help,” I whisper to myself.

With shaky legs, I walk down the stairs. I feel completely helpless.

So much for this gift of being a postmortem medium. I can’t even seem to control the ghosts in my own damn house. What good is this stupid ability if I can’t even keep myself or the ones I love safe?

If there’s nothing else I can do, I’m damn well going to at least retrieve Wade’s phone. Each step I take is deliberate and slow, just in case Abigail decides to throw anything else at us. Upstairs, everything seems quiet, but the oppressive energy is still lingering in the air. There’s no way I’m going to be lulled into a false sense of security. Not here—not in this house.

When I reach the final stair, I take a deep, cleansing breath and close my eyes. It may be pitch black, but I’m lucky enough to have other senses I can tap into that make moving around in the darkness much easier.

I let the panic and fear wash away as I tap into something deeper and more powerful. Behind my lids, the room takes shape in bright florescent outlines as the corners and edges of the room become evident. This extrasensory ability doesn’t bring back any alarming entities, so I take another breath and walk out into the resurrection chamber and around to the back of the stairs.

With my second sight, the phone comes into view, and I bend down to pick it up. Keeping my eyes closed, I cram it into my pocket rather than mess with the flashlight. It will only destroy my night vision, and who knows how much battery power is left? I need to conserve it, just in case.

There’s still no more movement upstairs, and I pray that Wade’s able to locate my dad…and that he can help.

Without warning, Abigail’s form rushes into my extrasensory view. Her hair is wild and her eyes are wide with fury—but I can’t hear her. She stops mere feet from me, her arms flailing wildly.

“Abigail, I can’t understand you. You’re too quiet. What’s going on? Why are you so angry?” I blurt out in one big blob. I try to keep my voice calm, but I’m not sure I pull it off.

Her face contorts angrily, and her arms only flail harder. Still, I can’t hear a word she says as she opens her mouth wide and silently screams in my face. Every cell in my body crackles with an energy that makes goosebumps flash across my skin.

“You need to stop this—” I demand, taking a step toward her with more courage than I actually feel.

There’s a loud crash right above our heads, making me jump. Then, at the top of the stairs, something heavy slams against the door. I turn my attention toward the sound, unsure if Abigail is trying to cause more destruction or if Wade found my dad. The thud is followed immediately by a strange crackling sound, like flames licking at firewood. Stumbling backward, my heart races, threatening to burst from my chest.

If Wade’s hurt…

I turn my attention back to Abigail, but she’s gone. I can’t see or sense her at all, regardless