Page 14 of A Summoned Husband

My eyes closed and relief filled me from the top of my head all the way to the tips of my toes.

This was it. This was just what I needed.

My eyes opened and the darkness ripped away.

I fell to my knees, surrounded by nothing but blinding light. My hand rose, shielding my eyes from the sudden change. They stung against the brightness before they adjusted.

The sour taste of old alcohol coated my mouth, assaulting my tastebuds. My throat was too dry, my teeth covered in a film of my pour decisions as I remembered the wine I had lost track of. Wine I would never drink again if it made me dream the way I had last night.

Laughter shook my shoulders.

A dream, that’s all it was. That’s all it could be. Because there was no reality where we had summoned a demon. Demons were the things my grandmother used to try to convince me to go to church. It was a whisper of things hiding in the dark when my fears got the best of me.

A flash of white erupted. I shut my eyes, shielding them from the sight before I opened them and looked around a room fit for my nightmares. Endless black floors stretched out around me in a room that looked so similar to a throneroom in a macabre palace. The dark floors glistened, reflecting the sight of red walls so dark, they looked almost as black as the floors. They dripped from the towering ceilings with black arches, like the ceiling was bleeding into the room. As spacious as the massive room was, the only thing inside it was a single black pillar set in a deep alcove illuminated red. Atop the pillar was a stone black box barely bigger than the book Vi held up with excitement before this whole nightmare began.

Silence filled the room, so thorough it made my ears buzz.

I opened my hands to look down at what I held.

There, settled in my palm, was a key. Not just any key, but the very one from the blasted book.

It was heavy. Heavier than any key I ever held. The intricate top was ever-changing. It was a heart with vines that moved, veins that beat until it wasn’t. Then it was a skull with a flower blooming from its top until the petals fell and it was a skeletal hand.

I watched it, mesmerized. I could have watched it forever if it didn’t fly from my palm. My eyes followed it to a black box. It sunk into its keyhole, waiting.

Fear was rampant in my chest. It told me to stay where I was, to clench my eyes closed and pretend none of this was happening. I felt like a child who heard something go bump in the night who was delusional enough to believe the blankets would be enough to save me.

I stood frozen.

My eyes dropped to the black lace of my gown and the train that went on for an eternity behind me, as endless as the room. The sleeves were long, sheer lace that hooked onto my middle fingers. My hands cupped against my stomach, to the boning of my corset, the same lace as the rest of the gown that felt pulled from a nightmare. The bodice was low, and my bust, not usually overly heavy, hung over the top, pushed up and on display.

It felt as right as it felt wrong.

I let my hands smooth down the skirt before I walked toward the box.

It was small. No larger than a book, but a little deeper. It was black and polished. It looked far away at first like I would need to walk the length of a room to reach it. A mere few steps later I stood looking down at the box suspended in the air with the key ready to be turned.

Don’t do it, Eden. Just leave it alone, close your eyes, and pretend none of this is happening.

Anxiety bloomed in my stomach as I reached out and turned the key.

Click.

The moment was one filled with dread as the stone box was unlocked. The lid lifted slightly, just enough to hint it was open, but not enough for me to see inside. My fingers traced the edge, hot stone against my fingertips, before I slowly lifted it.

A knot creased my brow as I looked down at the box lined in red. I wasn’t sure what I expected from the demonic box. A still beating bloodied heart that pumped and filled me with dread. A horn from a demon. Or something else equally supernatural and terrifying that would wrestle a scream from a throat that felt strangled. My brows dropped as I looked in at nothing but what looked like blackened rose petals covering some sort of ball inside.

My lips pressed thin in confusion as I reached in.

It was soft to the touch. I took my time, lightly dragging my fingers over the delicate petals. There was nothing odd about them. They weren’t slicked with tar-like sin or didn’t move like they were alive, they were just… petals. Who would keep petals in a locked stone box? I had no idea. There must be something about them…

A deep drop of scarlet touched the petals and I lifted my hand to see the pinprick leaking. Just as my blood had eerily dropped on the page, there it was, seeping into the petal.

Boom, boom.

I jumped. It was loud. As loud as a drum held right up to my ears.

Boom, boom.