Page 11 of Entranced By the Basilisks

The temptation.

It would be logical to check on the book now before I start my other tasks for the day. It would be a quick thing… I wouldn’t even have to take it down to the lab. The book inside could be just the pick-me-up I need.

The hour is early, barely dawn, but I needed to be busy and have after-hour access to the building.

I’m getting sick of the nightmares.

They’re always different, a Russian roulette that surprises me with abang!Sometimes they feature the night I was abducted, and my mind tortures me with what would have happened if Grace hadn’t shown up to save me or if Grace had shown up without her gargoyle mates. Something about the possibility of having to watch my friend be “bonded” against her will to her stalker sticks with me.

The one that woke me this morning started as a normal dream about going to the grocery store, but all the people around me started to shift into things with giant teeth and dripping blood, reaching out to snatch me.

It’s a miracle I can catch a few hours of sleep here and there.

It doesn’t escape me that the moment I’m finally finding my footing in the life I’d made away from my extended family, being brave in this world, it all falls apart. My difficulty interacting with people I don’t know and the never-ending buzzing of my own thoughts are enough to worry about without the nightmares about magic.

I was even going to talk to Ma about her moving back to the neighborhood to be closer to her sisters. She’d moved out here with me because she’d known I was too much of a scaredy-cat to move across the country alone even with how much I wanted this position. She’d saved my pride by flurrying her hands and saying she’d never have any rest unless she knew I was set up for success here.

It's a lie. She’s the strongest person I know, she’d be fine no matter what.

Now, if I didn’t have her presence in our apartment, I don’t know what I’d do. Cry probably. Hiding under the bed is also likely. Not that it would help the dreams.

I’m sure if I asked Grace, there would be people I could talk to. People privy to magic. Therapists can’t just be a human phenomenon. Ma would make me go to someone if she knew that I’m still having nightmares about what happened. Luckily, I’ve been able to stop myself from waking up screaming.

I’m not ready to talk about it.

That’s why I’m at work, staring at a crate that’s begging to be pried open.

The books have been the only redeeming thing about this whole mess.

My palms itch as I wonder what’s in the box. Another ancient spell book thick with ink and history? A book of potions only used by a certain type of supernatural? Or maybe an illustrated catalog of some sort.

The possibilities are endless and always succeed in taking my mind off the negatives of this strange new world.

And I really need some positives. I need something to remind me that there are fascinating things that don’t want to eat or sell me.

I grab a crowbar I keep on hand for my nonmagical deliveries and rummage through Grace’s drawers until I find the spare crystal that is supposed to deactivate wards. When I stroke the rock over the crate, there’s no static in the air that I associate with the rock working. No wards? That’s strange, right?

Maybe it’s more mundane in nature?

I still get excited. Even the driest history books about the magical world have the prettiest illustrations.

The crate cracks open with ease, the sound echoing in our office. I push the packing material to the side and gasp. An intricately designed golden box stares back at me. I blink at the gleam of the lid from the overhead light.

Flourishes stretch across the lid of the box, intertwining and spiraling around inlaid gems.

A laugh bubbles out of my chest. What was Director Adder thinking, sending this to our office? This is a museum-grade artifact.

My eyes follow the design until they reach an identifiable shape. Two snakes intertwined with green gems for eyes. The shine of those jewels almost makes it look like they’ve moved, and I shiver as if anticipating the snakes striking.

The snakes remain still, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. I haven’t witnessed magical moving objects yet, but I don’t think they are out of the realm of possibility. This box isn’t that.

It’s an optical illusion.

Still, unnerved, I pick up the counter-ward gem and slide it over the box the same way I did with the crate. There’s a little pop of static and I nod. This is what happened all the times I’d done this with Grace.

My fingers itch to lift the box out, but I return to my desk to slather my hands in cleaning solution and clear off a portion of my desk first. When I return, I lift the box from the packing material and gently set it on my desk. The sides of the box have just as much ornate decoration as the lid.

The clasp keeping the lid closed flips easily and I hold my breath, savoring the moment of discovery, of something good. I lift the lid and moan at the gorgeous leather-bound book within. Glints of gold cover the dark-brown leather similar to the design of the box.

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