Spellbound

PROLOGUE

People from all over the world flocked to the Reynard Hotel for one reason—ghosts. They charged their cameras, packed their families in minivans, and set off for a sleepy coastal town in Connecticut, exchanging the thrill of roller coasters and the excitement of meeting a beloved movie character for the chance to encounter the things that go bump in the night. People sacrificed the luxuries of fine hotels and crammed into small guest rooms with the hopes of catching a glimpse of the Hyde brothers.

The twin boys were rumored to haunt the grounds of the historic Reynard. Disembodied laughter, pounding footsteps, and glowing orbs of blue and purple had all been caught on video and attributed to the brothers. On occasion, keys and sunglasses would inexplicably fly across a room, and tapping would sound from inside the walls as the two souls cursed to live out eternity in the hotel made their presence known to the living.

Hazel Fox lifted a gnarled hand to the ruby pendant around her neck as she made her way through the empty narrow hallway. The light bulbs flickered, casting shadows over the golden outline of peonies etched into the peacock-blue wallpaper. With each step she took toward the staircase, the flowers appeared to sway with an unfelt breeze. Most would be unnerved by the groaning wooden floors and the squeaking of rusted hinges, but she found comfort in the settling of the colonial building. Especially on a night like this.

Winter Spirits was one of her favorite days of the year. For a single night, the brothers were free from the confines of the hotel's property. Legend had it they slaughtered animals and snatched babies from their cribs, but Hazel knew the truth. The twins wreaked havoc the way young men tend to do, but never with malice. So, when Hazel had taken ownership of the Reynard, she had dismantled the terrifying tales and turned the night into a celebration.

"Aunt Hazel! Wait!"

Hazel turned to find a blond, gangly preteen running toward her, buttoning her gray wool coat and skidding to a stop in her patent leather shoes.

"Someone looks ready for a festival." Hazel looked down at her favorite niece, and the brightness in the child's eyes filled her with pride. She hadn't had children of her own, so Gemma was the closest thing to a daughter she'd ever have.

"Yeah, but I was wondering if I could practice my ghost tour on you on the way out. You said I could lead them by myself next summer, remember?" The girl was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Of course. Show me what you've got," Hazel said, then stopped short, looking around the empty hallway. "Wait. Where's your cousin?"

Gemma didn't even bother to hide her eye roll. "Raven already went outside. She said she couldn't stand spending another minute in this creepy hotel, and the festival was the only reason she came." Hazel covered her mouth with her palm to hide her grin; Gemma's impression of her other niece was impeccable.

Where Gemma was free-spirited, Raven thrived on schedules and boundaries. One girl enjoyed her time at the Reynard, while the other saw the days there as nothing more than an obligation to spend time with her eccentric great-aunt. Gemma was open to all possibilities, but Raven was firmly grounded in tangibles. Which is why she would never be the one to cherish the Reynard as Gemma did.

"All right then, her loss." Hazel held out her hand, and Gemma wrapped her fingers around it. "I'm ready for the best ghost tour this hotel has ever seen."

"As the Fox family legend goes, it was the coldest night of 1886, and twin baby boys were left on the steps of the hotel. When they were found by Amity Fox, the hotel's first owner, they were blue, lifeless, dead. Their spirits are here roaming the halls of this hotel. Many see them in the form of the young men they never grew up to be."