Summer was supposed to be simple.
School was finally over—the kind of over that leaves you hollow rather than relieved.
No alarms. No corridors that smelled like dust and sweat. No teachers talking at you like you were a half-loaded file that refused to open properly. I'd survived another year of it, and that alone felt like something worth celebrating.
I had plans.
Good ones.
The kind that involved my room, my console, my headset, and long uninterrupted hours where no one expected anything from me.
Games I'd been putting off. Or more precisely, had been kept away from—apparently my grades mattered more. Sleep schedules that didn't make sense.
Existing online where people only knew the parts of me I chose to show them.
There was even the vague outline of a summer romance. Nothing serious. Just someone with a cool username and a profile picture that suggested black eyeliner, bad music taste, and unresolved issues. I'd hoped for a name to match—something gothic, dramatic. Anything other than… this.
Instead, I was here.
In the back of an SUV. Offline. Surrounded by trees and houses so old they probably weren't built in this era.
The thing about plans is that adults treat them like suggestions. Temporary ones. Disposable. Mine evaporated the moment my grandmother got sick—my other grandmother. The one on my mom's side. Suddenly the house was quiet in a way that meant something was wrong. Phones rang more. Doors closed more softly. And at some point—without any of us being asked—the decision was made.
Mom and Dad would go handle that. And what happens to the kids u might ask.
We, of course, would be sent away.
To live with Dad's parents.
Parents of whom, for the most part, we didn't even know existed.
That specifically still sat wrong with me. Not that he hadn't mentioned them—he had, vaguely—but the way mystic falls had always hovered at the edge of conversations. A hometown that was never described. A past that came pre-redacted. Like if we didn't know enough about it, it couldn't reach us. Hell asides aunt Serene his entire family was a mystery.
But apparently, that rule expired the moment it became inconvenient.
The SUV rolled deeper into town. The road dipped, houses appearing more frequently now—old ones, spaced apart, watching us pass like they'd been there long enough to recognize strangers.
"You know," Aunt Serene said, cheerful as ever, "this place is perfect for you kids."
I tuned her out automatically.
I'm sure she was saying something – her mouth moved and Martha had finally left whatever she was watching to hear it – but whatever she was saying likely didn't concern me
"Especially you, Bobby."
That got my attention.
She glanced at me in the rearview mirror, smiling. "Your dad tells me you're into mysteries. Adventure. All that stuff."
I stared back at her, unimpressed.
I liked reading mysteries. Playing games where danger came with checkpoints and pause menus. Where you could explore worlds without worrying about getting dirty, lost, bitten and mauled by insects or stuck somewhere with no signal and people who smiled too much.
That wasn't the same thing.
I opened my mouth to say something—correct her, maybe—but the town unfolded outside the window and stole the words from me. Streets winding too neatly. People moving at an unhurried pace that felt deliberate. Like no one here was ever late for anything.
Serene's hands tightened on the steering wheel.
Just slightly.
Her lips moved again. Not enough to hear. Not enough to understand.
I looked away.
This wasn't adventure. This was exile with better scenery.
I sank back into my seat, jaw tight, the last scraps of my imaginary summer dissolving quietly in my chest.
Whatever this place was, it wasn't part of the plan.
And I had the sinking feeling it didn't care.
=========
The car stopped at the edge of the town, right where the forest thinned and the driveway to the mansion began. I unclipped my seatbelt, already bracing myself for the ritual of carrying everyone's luggage.
Martha popped out first, hair bouncing like she'd practiced this for years. "Bobby," she said, voice dripping with authority, "take my bag."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
Her hand already hovered like she expected obedience. Then, as if rehearsed, she darted straight to Aunt Serene, grasping her hand and beaming like the poor, innocent girl who was clearly being tormented by her elder brother. My brain twitched.
Seriously?
Margaret didn't wait for an invitation. She hopped out like she'd been shot from a cannon, grinning wide, eyes darting to the wildflowers by the driveway.
"Bobby! Grab mine!" she chirped before sprinting off, pointing at some bush. "Look! These are morning glories—oh wait, that's not the one…maybe that one! No, no that's a daisy…"
I groaned. Two bags. Two sisters. And Aunt Serene grinning like she'd just invented the phrase "do your chores, middle child."
"You're the only guy," she said smoothly, giving me that grown-up-aunt smile, the one that implied muscles, manliness, and absolute obedience were my only useful traits here. "Stretch those arms, Bobby."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes so hard I might have seen my own brain. But I did pick up the bags, muttering under my breath about this being the worst day of my summer. My summer. Not anyone else's.
Before I could descend fully into self-pity, the front door opened. Two figures appeared. Warm light spilled across the driveway as an elderly couple made their way to us, grey hair and the signature blue eyes of my father -my grandparents, I was reminded—stepped out.
Margaret ran forward, arms wide. "Grandma! Grandpa!" she shouted, leaping toward them. They laughed, bending low to scoop her up in a hug. I clenched my fists around the handles of the bags.
And then I saw the other two kids.
The girl—Irithiel, apparently—stepped forward with a cautious smile, around my age, all long limbs and quiet calculation. I gave her a passing glance.
Neutral. For now.
Then Daniel. Daniel was older. Twenty-one, I was told later. Broad shoulders, jaw tight, eyes sharp. I had the sudden and very definite feeling that he wanted to beat me into next week just for existing.
Grandparents, of course, radiated warmth. Smiles, soft hands, welcoming words.
Martha ran to them with full dramatic effect, laughing like a cute little firefly, arms flailing in innocence, eyes shining. Aunt Serene, meanwhile, greeted her parents with practiced efficiency and asked them to introduce the foster kids.
"Daniel, Irithiel, these are our grandkids" John, my grandfather said, voice deep but kind.
Martha flung herself at Irithiel. Margaret followed immediately, squealing at the sight of the mansion's gardens. They greeted both with enthusiasm that would make even a stone statue grin.
I stood back. Arms still bent under luggage. Frown firmly in place. Internal monologue running in full. My summer is already ruined. Acting happy won't change a damn thing.
And if Daniel tries to look at me funny… well, I'm already on high alert and I'm confident I can take a good beating.
The mansion loomed behind everyone. The air smelled faintly of pine, flowers, and… something else I couldn't name. Authority, maybe. Or danger. Or both.
I hoisted the last bag and forced myself to move toward the house. Pretending I was excited? Not a chance. This summer had officially started, and it had already gone wrong.