Last night's conversation with Soren replayed in my head as I filed old invoices with Larry, handing the older man paper after paper as he placed them in their respective folders. I had to admit that while Soren and Archer appeared to be human, there was absolutely something otherworldly about them, and I wanted to know what it was. There had to be something in that book. But how would I figure it out if Soren didn't even know? And he thinks he knows everything, I thought with a scowl.
Watching Larry's gnarled hands organize the papers gave me an idea: what if he had some answers regarding the twins or the tome? There was no way I could just come out and ask him, but maybe I could hint at it.
"Larry?" I asked as I handed him the last paper and he closed the filing cabinet.
He looked at me before standing up off the stool and stretching his arms in front of him. "Yes, Miss Fox." I glared at him and he said sheepishly, "Gemma."
"I have a question...about the boys."
He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his stomach. "Soren and Archer."
I raised a brow. "You know their names?"
The old man laughed and cleared his throat before saying, "Of course I know their names. They've been here since I started this job. I watched them go from teenagers to adults."
This I did not expect. I thought the twins had only made themselves known to Hazel, leaving everyone else to think they were just spirits that went bump in the night. "What—what are they?"
Cocking his head to the side, Larry regarded me with curiosity. "Why? Have you seen them?"
My face reddened and I chewed the inside of my cheek before saying, "You could say that. I just—I'm just curious, that's all. I mean, they live in my hotel; I feel like I should at least know a little bit about them."
Larry pushed off the counter and pulled on his jacket before taking off his nametag and putting it in the drawer of the front desk. "I'd tell you if I knew, dear. But I don't. Hazel never told me, and while I've known about the boys all along, watched them run around the hotel and then saunter about like they owned the place," a warm, nostalgic smile spread over his face at that, "I've never had a conversation with them. I'm sorry, Gemma, that I can't tell you what you want to know."
My heart sank, but I just gave Larry a smile. "That's okay. Have a good night, Larry, and be careful. It's foggy out there tonight."
He grinned as he stepped toward the front door. "Just the kind of night Hazel would've loved. She'd probably end up over at her spiritual advisor's house before the end of it," he said, and with a tip of his hat, he stepped into the cool autumn night.
I narrowed my eyes as I watched him go, and an idea began to take shape. Spiritual advisor. That sounds like the kind of person that would have some information about enchanted books, or at least what my Aunt Hazel may have written in the pages before the ink somehow disappeared.
I closed out the cash register, propped the "Open again at 8:00 AM" sign on the desk, and bolted to my room. When I burst through the door, I headed straight for the secretary's desk in the corner. There was an old Rolodex inside; I remembered seeing it and having to Google what the hell it was even supposed to be.
I shoved open the desk and pulled the ancient phone number organizer toward me, spinning it around and around, searching for anything that pointed to a spiritual advisor, or psychic, or town witch...anything that might be useful.
I stopped when I saw the name Wanda Willow on a black business card.
"Wanda Willow...that has to be it. What kind of name is that anyway?" I mumbled under my breath as I plucked the card from the Rolodex, noted the address, and shoved it in my pocket.
I hoped Wanda Willow would even know who I was talking about when I mentioned Hazel, and it occurred to me that she might need a refresher. Pulling open the drawer of the nightstand, I took the tome out and tucked it under my arm. I tugged on a jacket, bolted from the room and down the spiral staircase. When I reached the front doors of the lobby, I pushed open the door, letting in the cool night air. I put one foot in front of the other to leave, and it felt like I walked into an invisible wall. My nose cracked with the impact and my eyes watered.
I stumbled back, rubbing the center of my forehead where a bump was forming. "What the fuck?" I mumbled under my breath, stepping aside to allow a customer to pass through, barely acknowledging them as I gaped at their ability to just walk straight through the door.
My eyes narrowed, and I stepped to the doorway again. This time I used some caution, placing my hand in front of me. I couldn't move past the threshold.
Staring down at the tome, I whispered, "No way." I set the book down at the front desk before once again opening the front door and stepping out onto the veranda with no issue whatsoever.
Looking over my shoulder, I raised an eyebrow. This was bizarre; the type of shit I'd seen in movies. There was no way that the tome couldn't be removed from the building.
Questioning my sanity, I returned to the tome and stood just before the doorway. My hands shook as I gingerly tossed the book forward. Like it had hit a wall, the heavy, leather-bound tome dropped straight to the floor inside.
"Well, shit. That's kind of freaky, but isn't everything that goes on around here?" Jogging back to my room, I put the book back in the nightstand and hoped that Wanda Willow wouldn't need to see it in order to tell me what to do next.
The spiritual advisor had lived just a block from the Reynard, and when I stepped in front of 1500 Olive Branch Circle, I knew she must still reside there.
The house was small but almost...magical looking, with night-blooming jasmine snaking up the brick, purple shutters, and smoke puffing from the chimney.
This Wanda person was home, and I could only pray she had the answers I was looking for. Jogging up the creaky wooden steps, I took a deep breath before knocking gently on the door.
The hinges of the door whined and a cluster of metal chains swung back and forth as two withered brown eyes framed in purple and green eyeshadow scanned me up and down through the crack.
"I'm not too sure about you," said Wanda, her voice shaky but stern. "Your aura is putting off some bad vibes—worry, disbelief...are you confused? Damn tourists." She shut the door and the chains slid free one by one. When Wanda reappeared, she was dressed in a leopard print silk robe with fur trimming and fuzzy house slippers her curly box-dyed orange hair standing on end. "You're looking for the Reynard hotel. It's around the corner," she said, speaking loudly and pointing down the street.
I almost laughed out loud before answering, "No, I—I know where the Reynard is. I'm looking for you." I realized that this might be a painful conversation if she and my aunt were indeed close. With a deep breath, I added, "I own the Reynard now; I'm Gemma, Hazel's great-niece."
She wrapped her arm around my waist and pushed me inside by the small of my back. "Why didn't you say so when I opened the door? You just let me go on like a crazy old bat."
I shook my head and folded my hands politely in front of me. "You're fine, it's no big deal. But," I grinned at her, my most charming smile I reserved for when I needed something to go my way, "you could make it up to me by helping me with something really important."
Wanda walked across the green shag carpet and the multi-colored fabrics hanging on the walls billowed as she breezed past. She lowered her small frame into a velvet high-back chair behind a round table. "Hazel said my bar tab was a company write-off," she said, lifting a full glass of red wine to her hot-pink lips.
I opened and closed my mouth twice before answering. "Bar tab? No, no, it's nothing like that. You don't have any debts to the Reynard. I wanted to ask you about Hazel and if she knew any..." I cleared my throat, knowing the next part was going to sound ridiculous. But as I gazed around the room, I realized it would probably just be a boring, everyday conversation to Wanda. "If she knew any magic." Wanda raised an eyebrow, but I just barreled on through. "And if she were to put a spell on something, how she would've done it. What would her rules have been?" I knew I was just rambling, but I didn't know how else to ask the question without telling her about the tome. And if she found this line of questioning bizarre, she would really think I wasn't stable if I told her about it.
"Spells and magic are not about the rules we put on them. They are their own entity that most of us struggle to understand. Hazel had an innate knowledge of the paranormal; every woman who owned the Reynard did. So to answer your question, the rules are found in the natural order of things."
The natural order of things. The phrase hung between us, and something about the way she said it told me it was the answer I was seeking. I could also tell from her tone and posture that she wasn't going to be willing to share much more with me. "I understand." I stood to go, but before I got too far, I turned around and added, "If there's anything you think I need to know about the Reynard or any advice to give as its new owner...I'd be eternally grateful."
"Don't buy cheap wine," she said, lifting her glass.
I sighed and opened the door.
"And Gemma," I turned around again, "you're the right person for the hotel. Hazel had good reason to pick you as the one to inherit it."
"Thank you," I replied and walked out.
Everything Wanda said was a jumbled mess, fueled by the alcohol coursing through her veins, but it also strangely made sense. Things did have an order, and I loved to disrupt its flow. I even did things backward when I tried to read the tome.
I stopped walking and said to the night sky, "I tried to read the tome backward."
It was an asinine thought that the results would be different, that the tome would magically have words written in it if I read it from the beginning. But I was willing to give it a try.