Page 275 of The Spider Queen

That itchy feeling under my skin was back, but I ignored it. “Text when you land.”

“I will.”

I hung up with Herron and set my phone aside. I wasn’t ready to think about the masquerade. My costume was upstairs—a beautiful confection that any woman would’ve been lucky to wear. But my focus was entirely on the Garden of Eden music box. With ruthless determination, I got back to fiddling with it.

“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t work.” I spoke to the inanimate object like it could be rationalized with. “Everything works individually, and yet when it’s all put together? Nothing.”

I traced the glass with my fingers. It was warm to the touch. Suddenly, it was as though my fingertips were fused to the glass, like they’d been coated in superglue.

They wouldn’t budge.

“Let me go,” I whispered.

My fingers felt like they were vibrating, pulsating to the beat of a tune I couldn’t hear.

I gulped in fear when I felt something twist around my wrists, like two invisible hands holding me in place. My chest expanded, feeling like a balloon was under my skin and rapidly filling with air.

My hairline dripped with sweat, and the pressure on my wrists increased. I began to pant in full-on panic mode and then—

The dome exploded, shards of glass whipping past my hair and face. None of them cut me, but warm, clear liquid and golden flakes dewed my hair. The tightness in my chest began to ease, but a great sadness overcame me when I realized I had broken the dome.

And then I heard singing.

An eerie chant that made goose bumps rise along my flesh. It was as if the song floated around me, and then covered me in a musical blanket.

I felt nothing inside me—not the pull to help others, not even my own feelings. There was no sense of self, either. It was an entirely unfamiliar feeling of becoming an empty vessel waiting to be filled.

The song grew louder in a sharp, dramatic crescendo. My eardrums throbbed with the intensity of it.

My gaze was riveted on the remains of the shattered snow globe. The scene depicting Adam and Eve appeared different. The two figurines were no longer lying among the painted grass. They were now standing behind the tree, their expressions depicting their fright.

The snake figurine tucked away amongst the leaves gently slithered out of its hiding spot. Its tiny red forked tongue tasted the air, and it looked in the direction of Eve, who shrank in terror. But the snake wasn’t at all interested in her. It wriggled down the tree and coiled around the trunk.

Round and round it went. With each completed circle, the snake grew larger, blocking out the entire garden scene, overtaking the globe itself. Its eyes were indigo blue, flashing, twinkling like gemstones.

I couldn’t look away.

Its tongue flicked again.

The air around me turned cold and my breath froze in my lungs. I should’ve felt fear. But all I felt was curiosity.

The snake figurine was no longer a figurine, but a real flesh and blood animal, a serpent that looked like a cross between a copperhead and a rattlesnake.

It continued to grow in size and rose up from the globe, its flat head nearly touching the ceiling. Its tail waved back and forth like a flag in the breeze.

“You won’t hurt me,” I murmured.

And then the snake opened its mouth and swallowed me whole.

My eyes opened to see the cracked plastered ceiling of my bedroom. I lay on the bed, numb.

The dream had felt all too real.

I slowly sat up, my heart finally kicking into gear and pumping blood and adrenaline through my veins. Looking out the window, I saw it was dark outside, but I had no idea the time or how long I’d spent passed out.

Feeling returned to my limbs and face. I began to shake, like I was thawing from the inside out. I pulled my knees up to my chest. The alarm on my cell phone blared, reminding me I had some place to be.

I turned on the shower to the hottest setting and didn’t even flinch when I stood under the spray. I was frozen and I felt like I’d never be warm again.