Spellbound

Original Edition: Four

"Psst."

"Shh!"

My eyes snapped open, goosebumps covering every inch of my body. Without moving, I cut my eyes up and to the side, toward the whispers.

There, at the foot of the bed, barely visible in the strip of light bleeding underneath the bathroom door, were two dark shadows, staring down at me, heads bowed like they were trying to figure out if I was awake.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I pulled the blankets over my head and tried to control my breathing, my chest heaving up and down. A quiet thump came from the wall opposite the door, and when I peeked out over the top of the cover, the shadows were gone.

"What the fuck?" I whispered, sitting up and flipping on the stained-glass lamp on the bedside table.

I flopped back into the mattress and stared at the shadow of the antique light fixture hanging from the center of the ceiling. This was not a good start to my new life, giving into the stories about the hotel and believing that creepy figures stared in the middle of the night. After my breathing slowed and I stopped shaking from fear, my brain began sorting through the problems Hunter found with the hotel and what needed to be fixed first. Anything to focus my wayward thoughts.

The long list of things I needed to have repaired gradually morphed into thinking about my family. They weren't being totally unfair with their concerns about me taking over the Reynard. I had a history of starting things and not finishing them as my mother so kindly pointed out at the will reading.

My teachers in middle school said I had ADHD, that I couldn't focus for longer than a few minutes, definitely couldn't multitask, and had trouble following multistep directions. But my mother and father hadn't taken me to the doctor; I can remember little snippets of conversations between them, claiming the disorder wasn't real, condemning the idea of medication, saying that a diagnosis of ADHD would just be an excuse for me to be flaky and irresponsible.

Luckily, I'd had a teacher in high school who saw my struggle and taught me ways to cope when it came to my schoolwork. I'd managed to graduate with a 3.0 and get into college, but the fact remained that emotionally, I was still impulsive, and no matter how many years passed, commitment seemed to be an issue for me.

But this time would be different. People were depending on me for their livelihood...this town was depending on me. And I loved the hotel and would do whatever it took to keep it successful. I'd do it for my Aunt Hazel.

With a sigh, I punched my pillow a couple of times, flopped to my side, and closed my eyes, hoping I'd not hear any more bumps in the night. The heaviness of sleep drew me in, and my body relaxed into the mattress.

The brass doorknob to my room rattled, and I bolted upright, glaring at the door and holding my breath. Slowly, the knob turned to the right and then the left.

I jumped from the bed, flung the chain from the door, and unlocked it. The heavy wooden door creaked as I whipped it open.

No one was there.

Peeking out into the hallway, I looked both ways to find the corridor empty, not even the rustle of a leaf from one of the potted plants. "Damn Larry and his stories about this place," I said, stepping back into my room. I stopped short of clicking the door into place when a dark shadow accompanied by footsteps flashed in my peripheral vision.

I eased back into the hallway. "Hello?" I whispered, not wanting to wake the sleeping guests.

Mumbled voices came from around the corner, and I tiptoed toward them. It dawned on me that maybe I was walking into something questionable, and if so, how would I defend myself? I scanned the passage for a weapon. I considered the candleholder on the accent table beside me, but it would be too hard to hide. A tray with used dishes sat outside of a door, and I snatched a fork from it. Holding it next to my ear with the prongs out, I started forward again.