Spellbound

Original Edition: Fifteen

After returning from Wanda's, I sat on the sofa cross-legged, the fireplace roaring and warming the drafty suite. The tome lay against my crossed ankles, and I took a deep breath and held it before sliding the key out of my pocket and opening the latch.

This time, instead of flipping to the back in my usual manner, I lifted the front cover.

A shocked gasp escaped my lips when I saw the black ink appear on the page before my eyes.

The True History of the Reynard Hotel.

I slammed the book closed and opened it to the back pages—they were blank. The paper fanned through my fingertip, and I took special care to look at the second page of the book as hit flipped by. There was nothing written on it.

I read the title again and flipped the page. Swirling, beautiful letters that looked as though they were written hundreds of years ago graced the yellowing paper.

April 7, 1868

If you did not desire to lose what you hold so dear, you should not have meddled in the affairs of the beyond. The elders have spoken, and these shall be your consequences. Try not to trick your way out of them, for that is impossible.

We have taken what you consider precious and replaced them with what is the most valuable to us. Care for ours as if they were your own and when it is safe for them to return, we will give you back what is yours. Consider this curse a compromise, as we could just as easily keep what is yours forever and bequeath the same punishment to all of your descendants. We recognize our part in this too, and as a just society, we are aware we must pay our share.

Again, do not place ours in mortal harm's way—for the prosperity of our people lies with them and you will not damn yours.

I slammed the cover over the letter and rubbed my temples. This was just as confusing as the existence of Archer and Soren. What was exchanged and with who?

Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I opened the book again and turned to the second page. The handwriting was different this time—still beautiful cursive, but not nearly as mystical.

April 22, 1868

After days of weeping for my beloved baby boys, I've come to accept that it is a lost cause. My family has meddled in dark powers and learned things beyond our basic comprehension, and for that I have been cursed. Even if the Kobold returned my sons, it will be well into the future. Perhaps after I have left this God forsaken earth. Therefore, I will find a way to bind their precious princes to this realm forever.

Amity Fox

I gingerly pushed the book off my lap and ran my hands over my face. Swapped babies and spells and dark powers—it was all too much. How could I believe that someone in my family could go to different realms, or that a strange people took my ancestors sons and left theirs her to be babysat by humans? I didn't even know this shit really existed until days ago, and as for me, I could barely program a TV remote, let alone do some crazy Hocus Pocus spells.

"I really got dealt a heap of shit if my family was a bunch of wizards or whatever." I got to my feet and stared at the book. Wanda had implied that all the women in my family had some sort of connection with the paranormal, and I scoffed at the idea that I had any sort of magic in my blood. Raising my voice as if Soren might be listening, I said, "Do you want me to believe I have magical powers? I don't. The only spells I know are from Harry Potter, and trust me; they don't work. I've tried."

I needed a reprieve from the madness before it got to me. Wanda was right about one thing; a good glass of wine was in order. I made my way downstairs and into the bar. Saddling up to a barstool, I met Lloyd's wise gaze.

"Tough night?" he asked, placing a cocktail napkin in front of me.

"You could say that," I sighed, leaning on the bar-top with my elbows and propping my chin in my hands. "Tell me; does working at this place ever get to you, Lloyd?"

He gave me a hearty laugh as he pulled a glass out. "Like any job, it has its moments. But overall, I enjoy being here. The people are nice, and the stories are enough to keep me entertained. Why, is this all feeling a bit overwhelming?"

"I know you don't know me really well yet, but I am not exactly the 'business owner/star entrepreneur' type. I can hardly commit to a new shade of lipstick. To say I am overwhelmed is an understatement." I tore the corners off the cocktail napkin and looked back up at his placid face. Lloyd was another employee who'd been at the Reynard for years; maybe he could give me something to work with. "Speaking of stories...what can you tell me about the boys?"

He finished pouring me a drink in a tall glass and sat it in front of me with a nod. I took a sip and about choked. Lloyd clearly thought it was the kind of night where I could use a strong drink, and he was right.

"The boys are harmless. They mostly pull pranks on the guests, but it is all in good spirits. Forgive my pun. Unlike the stories around the rest of Spelling, nothing malicious has happened in the Reynard in almost a hundred years." He pointed to my glass. "Keep drinking and I promise you will sleep like a baby tonight."

The in almost a hundred years part didn't escape my notice, but that was a topic to tackle on another night. Right now, I needed basic details about Archer and Soren.

I held my breath and gulped down a mouthful of the amber liquid. It burned my throat and made my eyes water. When I caught my breath, I asked, "What's the back story on them? When I led ghost tours here as a teen, I was told to say they were just abandoned children who froze to death on the front steps."

Lloyd chuckled. "Your aunt always thought the real story was too dark to share with tourists. If they knew the kind of ritual that went in to bringing the boys to us, no one would ever want to stay here."

The alcohol I'd just taken a sip of soured in my throat. "What do you mean? What ritual?"

"Hazel was reluctant to give too many details. She was scared that the truth would spread and kill business. All she ever said to me was that a curse binds them to the property, and their only saving grace was once a year when they could roam through the entire town. She was the one who made the Winter Spirits festival so popular. Before her, the town was quiet that night and everyone locked their doors to keep the boys from entering their homes. Some of the older folks are still not fond of the celebration, but I for one enjoy it."

I shook my head and slung back the rest of the drink. None of this made any real sense, and if anything, it pointed more toward the information in the book Soren had given me. That wasn't what I had hoped to gain from this conversation. I wanted Lloyd to tell me that it was just a silly ghost story and that the boys were just, I don't know, shadows or some trick of the light or rigged sounds in the walls.

The last thing I wanted was evidence that all of it—the tome and all it held inside—was real.