Spellbound

Original Edition: Nineteen

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on the front step of this abominable place he had called home for decades, but the pity I felt for him in that moment superseded the loathing.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."