Spellbound

Original Edition: Eighteen

The next night, it had been hard to tell Archer that I couldn't spend time with him before our scheduled dinner, but the heavy gilded book that supposedly held all the answers I needed was calling my name. Now that I'd figured out how to make the words appear on the pages, I had to find out more. I needed to discover the real reason why Soren hated me and resented his own twin brother so much.

Starting from where I left off, I quickly dived into the text written by my ancestor.

December 24, 1870

It has become abundantly clear that Robert and Gregory are never coming back. These "children" do not age as our own. They appear to grow at a rate much slower than ours. I fear the Kobold were never going to let my sons go in my lifetime or theirs. And if I cannot see my babies again, why should I treat these changeling monsters with any sort of care?

The only reason I have not had William kill them in their sleep is simple—the agreement stated that we must not put them in mortal harm's way, or our babies would die, and they will continue to take the future children of this family. Regardless of if I will ever be able to see them again, I cannot let anything happen to our own. Instead, I have gotten rid of the problem, so to speak.

Archer and Soren are in the nursery, taken care of by a member of the staff who has been sworn to secrecy. They are difficult children who become inconsolable when touched by certain people. I've limited their interactions to feedings only, and demanded they not be shown affection. If I ever hear of anyone giving them the love I was unable to bestow upon my own children, there will be hell to pay.

It is Christmas Eve, and all I can think of is my babies and where they are tonight. I hope whoever has them is less vindictive than I.

Thinking of the twins as babies, locked away in a nursery and only receiving the bare minimum to survive made my heart ache...even for Soren. I begrudgingly turned the page, and my head swam with the misery of it all.

June 2, 1871

I've discovered what makes the "children" so fussy. They have an odd reaction to gold. Just setting my wedding ring on their backs renders them immobile. This is useful when disciplining them. Their screaming gives William the feeling of nails scraping down a chalkboard, but for me, the sound brings an immeasurable joy. I am glad to hear them suffer, pleased at the agony the gold chains across their skin brings. This isn't "mortal danger" as the letter from the Kobold forbids, so I have no worry that any harm is coming to our Robert and Gregory.

"Wow," I said out loud, my voice echoing off the walls of my empty room. The oil lamp next to my bed flickered and added to the creepy and sadistic ambiance set by the story. "This woman is straight up evil," I mumbled, yawning widely and covering my mouth with my palm.

I kept reading, and the details I discovered grew more and more disturbing. I thought my immediate family was full of assholes; my ancestors seriously said, "Hold my beer" while they tortured children. Amity Fox had to be one of the most vile, hateful human beings on the planet. While I understood her pain over losing her babies, I could not condone or excuse what she had done to Archer and Soren. They were innocent pawns in whatever witchcraft Amity had gotten herself wrapped up in, and in no way did they deserve the abuse they suffered at her hands.

With each passing year, it was clear that Amity held more resentment for the twins. She used their aversion to gold by making them sit in chairs, palms face up, gold chains across their hands, watching while her other biological children enjoyed themselves. The bare minimum was given toward their wellbeing—meals of soupy grains and one set of clothes.

My eyes grew heavier and heavier as I continued to read, the words finally blurring on the page. Each word was taking an emotional toll on me, leaving me breathless and dizzy. The book slid from my hands to the floor, my eyelids fluttering shut as I surrendered to sleep.