I sat curled up on the couch with a fire crackling in the fireplace. To some it might look like a lonely Friday night, but this was where I preferred to be. Archer was having dinner with Soren, a meal I'd gladly skipped out on, and I'd been reading the tome for an hour. I was becoming more and more disgusted with Amity Fox, and at the risk of sounding as cruel as her, I was glad to see that she was beginning to grow old.

The woman was pure evil, but in the later entries, it became clear that she also held a bit of a scientific mind when it came to the boys. Once a year in February, she took them into town, bought them the outfit they would wear for the next twelve months, and had their picture taken. Each grainy photograph was set side by side for the next forty years with a side note that reads:

From my calculations, these monsters age one year for every six human years.

It was interesting to see how she came to that conclusion. Although the boys always wore somber expressions in the pictures, I enjoyed looking at them as toddlers. It rattled me a bit to see them remain the same height with faces rounded by baby fat for so long, but it was the last entry from Amity that I found the most disturbing.

August 8, 1922

My days are dwindling to an end. I have held on to life for as long as possible, fearing to hand my daughter the horrid fate imposed upon me. Her life has been blessed and she has raised children of her own without the suffering I have endured. Upon my death, she will inherit the Hotel Reynard and all the problems which come with it. As she has also past the prime of her life, I've made accommodations for the monsters to keep them from under her feet. They behave as five-year-old boys, and that constant energy will be too much for her to bear. Their new home in the woods should serve her well.

Maybell, Amity's daughter was not quite as active as her mother in her journal entries. For the most part, she didn't seem to care much for the boys or even acknowledge their existence. But she did keep to the tradition of taking them into town once a year for their picture. Maybell was only with the twins for five years before her passing.

Maybell's daughter Stella died before she was given the Reynard, so it went to her granddaughter Betty. Betty was three months pregnant when she took ownership of the hotel. And I didn't even need to read her entries to know that she was a terrible person. She despised the existence of her very own daughter, my great-aunt.

I read the first entry by her mother which started with one heartbreaking line. I despise those boys even more than I do my daughter.

My stomach turned, and a wave of nausea swept over me. How horrible; no matter what bitchy things my mother said to me or how apathetic my dad could be, I don't think they'd ever say something so heartless. Compared to my female ancestors, my parents were angels sent down from God Himself. Against my better judgment, I kept reading.

For years, I thought they were the bane of my existence; then Hazel came along and rivaled my disgust for them. She sucks the life from me, pulling my attention from my beloved sons. I never wanted another child, and I certainly did not want a daughter.

I wish she'd never been born.

Unable to stomach another word of Betty's inner monologue, I slammed the book shut and took a ragged breath. The air in the suite was stuffy, and I felt trapped in my own skin. I needed out before the walls closed in on me.

Pulling a sweater over my head, I rushed through the hotel and toward the back porch, pushing down the roiling in my gut. I wasn't sure where I was headed; I just knew I had to get away.

Hazel's childhood must have been terrible. She was the kindest soul I knew, and didn't deserve an ounce of the animosity her mother had for her, and neither did two young boys.

No matter how badly Soren irritated me, thinking of him and Archer living in some little shack in the woods made my stomach turn. It didn't really matter what they were or how they got here; it wasn't right to treat a living being like that.

I felt so disconnected from the women who came before me, yet their actions made an impact on me. They were angry and horrible and vindictive, yet I didn't see how any of that would change my life? Even with a good chunk of the book to go, and unanswered questions, I still wasn't sure how knowing all of this about my ancestors was supposed to affect me. I just knew I couldn't have sat there another minute.

I burst out into the crisp fall evening, the maple leaves on the ground crunching beneath my feet. The air was chilly and my arms, even under the sleeves of my burgundy sweater, broke out into goosebumps. It was too quiet, but at the same time, so alive that I was certain I wasn't alone.

I walked through the wooded area behind the hotel for a few minutes and was about to turn back when I saw a light shining just ahead. I narrowed my eyes and crept toward the yellow orb.

When I reached the clearing, my heart fell to my feet. The dilapidated wooden structure could barely pass for a shed. A lantern rested on the grass, and Soren sat on the steps with his elbows resting on his knees.

"I've been waiting for you."

I was frozen in place, trying to process his words. "Wha-what do you mean?"

"I knew you'd find it eventually. Amity took so much pride in building our lovely cabin in the woods. I've never read it, but I'm sure she described it fantastically," Soren said, his electric gaze locked on mine.

I relaxed and took a step forward, the crunch of the leaves echoing through the air. "Yeah, I started the other night, and while it hasn't been easy, I had to know what all the fuss was about."

"And?" he asked, picking at a dead blade of grass near his foot.

Something about the way he was sitting tugged at my heartstrings; maybe it was because he was on the front step of this abominable place he had called home for decades, but the pity I felt for him in that moment superseded the loathing.

Taking a step closer, I asked, "Do you mind if I sit down?"

He shrugged and gestured to the space next to him. "Be my guest. You own it," he said, glancing up at me with a glint in his eye.

He was making a terribly uncomfortable situation bearable, but the last thing I wanted was to stake claim to this tiny hut.

I dropped to my butt on the narrow wooden step, keeping my distance as much as possible. "How did you know I'd come out here tonight?" I asked after a moment, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. "Are you psychic, too?"

A small smile played at his lips, but the worry line between his brows didn't fade. "Not hardly. I come out here every night," he admitted, looking up through the trees at the moon hanging low in the sky.

"Why?"

He shrugged, continuing to pick at the blade of grass near his foot. "To remind myself what Hazel did for me and Archer. That she got us out of this godforsaken shack. To be grateful for what she left us."

My heart squeezed in my chest and I swallowed over the lump in my throat. That sounded just like Hazel. She had a way of taking the most miserable situation and turning it into something joyful.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, his head snapping toward me in surprise.

"Not for anything I've done," I clarified, holding up my hands. "For the way my ancestors treated you and Archer. There was no excuse for that."

Soren rubbed the side of his face and looked out into the woods. "Pain has a way of making us do unspeakable things. I certainly had my moments with Betty. I tried my damnedest to make her pay, but it did little to heal the damage." He turned to me and asked, "How far did you get?"

"Just to Betty's entries. I read part of the first one, but then I couldn't stomach another syllable. She was not only horrible to you guys, but to Hazel as well. I loved Hazel with every piece of my heart, and the thought of her own mother loathing her very existence makes me physically ill." I clutched my stomach, wrapping my arms around my waist, the roiling in my stomach rising once more. "No wonder Hazel built you your own room, treated you like her own. She knew the hell you've gone through, and she also knew what it was like to have a mother who hates you. She'd never want anyone to feel that pain, and God knows she did her best to shield even me from it." I took a deep breath and shook my head, blinking away the tears that had started forming at the corners of my eyes. "Sorry, I get a little bit passionate when it comes to the people I love."

"I know the feeling. Besides my brother, Hazel was the only other person I deeply cared for. She was the best of us."

Nodding, I felt a traitorous tear fall down my cheek. She was the best of us—the very best. I brushed it away, hoping Soren didn't notice. Whatever moment we were having here, I didn't want him to see me cry. "She really was. And now here I am, on the verge of 'fucking everything up,'" I quoted with a side glance at him. "That's the part I still don't understand. It was disturbing to read about my family's neglectful and abusive nature, but that hardly changes my entire life. I also don't know why I need to stay away from Archer, which, by the way, I still do not plan on doing. If anything, reading those entries only made me care about him more."

"That's not surprising and..." the corner of his mouth quirked up, "very Hazel of you. You have two choices: keep reading or ask Archer. I have a feeling one has more answers than the other."

I opened my mouth to speak, but the edges of my vision went blurry and my neck couldn't hold the weight of my head. My entire body tipped to the side, my head landing on Soren's shoulder.

"Gemma? Are you okay?"

His voice startled me, and I shook my head, the mist clouding my mind dissipating. "Ye—yeah, I'm fine." I sat up and continued talking as if nothing happened. "I've read almost half of the tome, like you've asked me to, and I just want you to tell me one thing. The Kobold, that's what Amity called the people who left you at the Reynard. Is that what you are?"

"That's what we've been told. It has only been under Hazel's watch that we have been allowed to research our people. This," he gestured to his body, "isn't our original form. Hence, why we age differently."

"Why does no one know about the Kobold, then? If that's what you are...I mean, I've heard of elves, goblins, nymphs, fae, werewolves, imps, whatever...but I've never once heard of a Kobold."

"According to legends, we are a type of sprite that was known for switching their young with human children. It's said that their realm is inhabited by creatures that crave the taste of newborn Kobolds, so to protect them, they leave them here. Of course, that is just stories and doesn't explain when our people would have returned for us as it would have been suspicious to see a child aging at such a slow rate. Amity's knowhow in things not of this world and vindictive nature were a volatile combination for us."

I was speechless. To hear the explanation of the Kobold as fact was surreal, especially for me, as I've spent most of my life trying to convince myself that the supernatural didn't exist. "Well, no one in the tome went into that much detail, so thank you for filling in the blanks. One more question...and don't tell me to read the tome, because the answer won't be in there. What is it that you have against Archer?"

"Nothing. I love him with every fiber of my being. I just..." He shook his head. "You need the entire story, Gemma. I don't care how you get it. And just because you know what we are now doesn't mean you have all the information you need."

I ran my hands through my hair and gripped it at the roots. "I don't understand, Soren. Why can't you just tell me if it's so damn important?"

He pursed his lips, causing his jaw to tick. "Because I'm not in a position to share intimate details about my past with you. You and I will forever have a simple arrangement and that's it."

I felt an unexpected jab of hurt at his words. Knowing how much he appreciated Hazel, how much he valued her as a member of his family, then to turn around and want nothing more with me than a "simple arrangement"?

I realized right then just how much I wanted to be like my aunt. I wanted the adoration, her bravery, and self-confidence, but I wasn't even a shadow of the woman she was.

Standing up, I brushed the dirt off my jeans and turned to face him. "Fine. And that simple arrangement would be what? You hate me and I pretend not to care?"

It could have been a play of the lantern light, but I swore he flinched until his words confirmed otherwise. "If that's what it takes, then yes." He jerked his chin toward the forest. "Goodnight, Gemma."

Looking down at my feet, I opened my mouth to respond, but I just bit the inside of my cheek. "Goodnight, Soren," I mumbled, turning to go back the way I came.

I didn't take two steps before the wave of nausea hit me so hard I could no longer ignore it. I doubled over and vomited the contents of my stomach into the grass at my feet.

"Gemma! Are you—"

The darkness closed in on me and everything went silent. My palms and knees sank to the grass and slipped beyond consciousness.