Its massive front door is crafted from heavy oak beams and full of stained-glass figures and geometric shapes that are hard to distinguish from this side. Taking hold of the large cast iron knocker, I tap it against the doorframe three times.
Taking a step back, I clasp my hands behind my back and wait. After a minute or two, Dad still hasn’t come to answer the door, but I swear I can hear movement just inside.
I reach out and knock again, this time louder.
“Come on in,” a voice answers from the other side.
My eyes widen, but I pull my shoulders back and push open the door.
“Hello?” I call out, a strange seed of excitement blossoming inside me as I enter the entrance hall.
In a weird, alternate universe kinda way, it’s like stepping into a movie version of my life. Even at seven years old, all I wanted to do was explore this house and the mysterious grounds. It seemed like a big, glorious adventure, only to be squashed by my dad’s overprotectiveness. Now that I’m older and it’s even more massive, the pull is definitely real. The house and this entire location has a strange, magical energy all its own and it resonates with the reason I’m here in the first place.
The main entry is an enormous, open space—the kind you see in movies. An expansive chandelier hangs above the entryway, illuminating a small, round table in the middle of the space. Beyond that is an impressive staircase with a bottom that flares outward, inviting you to continue your journey up to the second story, and the landing that wraps around the upper level.
“Whoa,” I whisper, taking it all in.
“Do you like it?” Dad asks, joining me in the entryway from the sitting room on the left.
I let out a yip and nearly jump out of my skin.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, sweetie,” he says, chuckling. His blue eyes look tired, with far more wrinkles than I remember.
“No, it’s okay. I just—this entry is…wow. I mean, it’s just you in here, right? Why do I not remember it being so big?” I ask, unable to help myself.
His shoulders inch toward his ears and he says, “I’ve been restoring much of the house, adding my own touches to it. It is bigger. Something to do in my spare time, I guess. I’m a homebody, when time allows. Plus, I’ve always loved this era of old, historic homes. They have more character than the matchstick boxes of late. I suppose you could call it my legacy.”
“I can definitely agree with you about the house design,” I say, stepping beyond the entrance table and letting my hand rest on the wooden banister leading upstairs. “It certainly is beautiful.”
“Thank you. You know, this home has been in our family for generations,” he says, taking a seat on the steps.
I glance down at him and hold my breath as an awkward silence fills the space between us. I’m not sure how to start this bizarre conversation. I don’t know how he’ll respond to any of it. In fact, for all I know, he’s as hellbent against Windhaven as Mom is.
Dad narrows his gaze. “Not that I wouldn’t love to talk your ear off about the house, but why are you here, Autumn? Did something happen? Is your mom—?” he asks, shifting his eyebrows up.
“Oh no—she’s fine. Everything’s, fine,” I say, shaking my head.
Letting go of the railing, I walk away from him a few feet and begin to pace. I can feel his eyes on me, and it makes it hard to find the right words.
“Dad, here’s the thing… I was sorta, well, I’m thinking I…” I begin, unable to get the words to come out in actual sentences.
His eyes narrow and he runs his hand through his strawberry-blond hair as he waits.
I clear my throat.
“What I’m trying to say is, I’ve been accepted to the Windhaven Academy and I want to go. I know it’s strange and makes no sense because I’m a complete mundane human, but…”
“But you need a place to stay,” Dad says, a hint of a smile lighting up his eyes.
I exhale with a bit of relief. At least he’s not as supernatural-opposed as Mom.
“Yeah.”
“You are always welcome here,” he says, standing back up. “In fact, I insist.”
“I can?” I say, picking at the edges of my fingernails. “Are you sure?”
“This is your home, too,” he nods. “There’s so much I’ve been waiting to show you…”
Chapter 6
I don't wanna go...
The next couple of weeks fly by like they’ve been sucked into the Hellmouth. Between stolen moments with Wade and packing up my life’s existence, I oscillate back and forth between utter bliss and total panic. There is no way to explain the sick perversion I feel knowing regardless of how much pain I’m going to be in when I leave him behind—it’s all worth it right now.
“You’re going to forget me as soon as I’m gone,” I mutter, entangling my fingers in Wade’s dark strands as he rests his head in my lap.
He glances up at me, twisting around on my bed. His penetrating eyes lock with mine and instantly my worries are suspended.
“That will never happen,” he whispers. “If anything, you’ll get to Windhaven, become the talk of the town, and lose touch with the strange guy you used to know back home. I mean, how can I compete with the supernatural guys you’re about to meet?”
I shake my head, snickering to myself. “First of all, you give me far too much credit for being the talk of anything. Second, you’re a supernatural guy I’ve already met.”
“Yeah, but my powers are latent and the ones I do have barely work. It’s not like I can fly or phase through walls or anything,” he says, frowning. “I’m just straight up strange.”
“Wade, you’re about as far away from strange, at least the bizarre-o kinda strange, as you can manage. You’re strange in all the right ways. Seriously,” I say, trying to stress the point by holding our gaze. “Besides, you’re going to be visiting me so often, it’ll seem like you’re already there. Right?”
I search his light gray, damn near silver, eyes. His pupils widen as he leans up on his left arm.
“I will be there every possible moment. I’ve already made arrangements to have a substitute personal care assistant come in to look after my grandfather on Saturdays and Sunday mornings. So, as long as you don’t get sick of me—I’ll be there every weekend. Think your dad will let me spend the nights on Saturdays? He’s not one of those uber-overprotective types now that you’re an adult, is he?”
“Not as far as I know…and that sounds like heaven,” I say, reaching out to run my index finger over his eyebrow. “I’m sure Dad’ll be fine. There are like a billion rooms in the manor. Even if you pick one and we tell him that’s where you’re going to sleep, he should be fine.”
I give him a slow, sexy smile.
“Well then, wild horses couldn’t keep me away, Dru,” he says, shifting all the way to a seated position.
My heart flutters at his nickname for me—the one he still uses when he wants me to remember where we began.
Wade leans forward, his scent of sandalwood and hand soap wafting between us. I suck in a quick breath as his face inches toward mine and his lips lightly press against my skin. His tongue skates across my bottom lip in a silent request and my pulse quickens. He knows me so well, it’s like he can read my mind.