"Let's get to this," Booker said, heading straight to the laboratory as soon as they entered the house. He stopped in the doorway and glanced back at Trinket. "Coming?"

She looked down at her muddy dress. "First I'd like to change into something a little cleaner. And drier. I'll come down right after. But why don't you have Daphne assist you to start out?"

He hesitated as his eyes darted to Daphne.

"She's more than capable," Trinket went on, placing a hand on Daphne's shoulder. "And after all, it wouldn't be very kind to leave her up here by herself with a deadly snake loose in the house, would it?"

Her pointed words were not lost on him. He nodded and motioned for Daphne to follow him. "Hurry down," he said to Trinket as they disappeared into the laboratory.

Lifting her tattered and sullied skirts, Trinket made her way upstairs as quickly as her aching muscles would allow. She longed to crawl under the covers of her bed and sleep the rest of the rainy day away, but she dragged herself over to the wardrobe and took out the blue dress that Booker had given her when she first arrived. She still hadn't ordered more work dresses. Maybe when all the craziness with the vampire was over, she'd get around to it. But once that was done, what new game would Benedict start? And how long would that game last? Was he going to string Booker along for years and years, never revealing himself? Would Booker keep chasing after him?

"Knowing him, he probably would," she muttered to herself as she pulled her damp work dress off and draped it over her standing mirror.

And then she saw it. Just as she was about to slip the blue dress on. In the reflection of the glass. A shadow moving quickly under the bed.

She froze and held her breath as she listened.

Nothing.

Nothing.

And then a bump.

Backing away from her bed, she clutched the clean dress to her chest, waiting for something to come shooting out at her. But nothing did.

Though terrified of what she would find, she stooped down and searched the space beneath the bed frame. There didn't seem to be anything but dust bunnies—

And then another shadow, slithering out the other side.

Slithering.

Slithering.

Rushing out the door, she ran down the stairs and hurried to the laboratory. "It's in my room," she said before even reaching the last step.

Booker glanced up from the workbench where he was standing with Daphne. "The sna—"

His eyes went wide, and he quickly looked away. Trinket furrowed her brow and faced Daphne who was failing to hold back laughter.

"What's so—"

She gasped. Looking down at herself, she let out a high-pitched groan at realizing she was in only her undergarments.

"Blast it all," she hissed as she hunched her shoulders and spun around, clumsily pulling on the dress clutched in her hands.

When she was appropriately covered up, she turned back and found Booker staring at the floor, his ears and neck bright pink. Daphne's eyes darted between the two of them, an infuriating smile on her lips.

Booker cleared his throat, his gaze still on the floor. "The snake?" he repeated, his voice squeaking slightly.

"Yes, of course the snake. What else would I be talking about?" Trinket said, wrapping her arms self-consciously around herself.

Nodding, he hurried up the stairs. Daphne shot Trinket a sly grin and waggled her eyebrows.

"Not helping," Trinket said, pushing past her and following after Booker.

They found Booker waiting for them by Trinket's open bedroom door. Daphne's teasing smile disappeared as they came to a stop and exchanged anxious glances. Booker raised his eyebrows and turned to the doorway. All three of them peered inside but hesitated to enter.

"Where did you see it?" Booker whispered.

"Under the bed," Trinket whispered back.

He stooped down and squinted as he strained to get a good look. "I don't see it."

"Well, maybe it moved."

"The wardrobe is open. Could it have gone in there?"

"How should I know?"

"I guess we should check."

"Booker?"

"Yes?"

"Why are we whispering? Do you think the snake is going to overhear our plan?"

He opened his mouth to reply when something darted under the writing desk. Letting out a gasp, Trinket clutched his arm and pointed to it. Taking a deep breath, he cautiously stepped into the room. Daphne grasped the doorpost as Trinket tried not to imagine Booker bleeding from every opening in his body. But her frantic mind would not stop conjuring up the image.

Dead, dead, dead.

He's gonna be dead.

Stopping only a foot from the desk, he clenched his fists and braced himself. He dropped to his knees and looked underneath. Trinket stood on her toes, trying to see over the bed. Furrowing his brow, he moved closer, but his look of confusion did not fade. After a moment's hesitation, he sat back on his heels and glanced up at her.

"There's nothing there," he said.

Her curiosity getting the better of her fear, she entered the room and joined him by the writing desk. "I know I saw it go—"

She froze as something wound its way up her leg. Booker's brows knitted together, and he stared at her questioningly. Every muscle in her body tensed as she tried not to panic. But when she felt the tickle of what she could only assume was a tongue brush against the back of her knee, she lost control.

Screaming at the top of her lungs, she kicked and clawed at her skirts, trying to find the snake before it bit her. Booker attempted to help, but his words were jumbled and made no sense. Everything around her was fading away. All she could think of was the deadly snake wrapped around her leg, poised to strike and end her life.

This was it.

This was the end.

This was how she died.

About time.

Someone grabbed her shoulders and gave her a firm shake. "Trinket, stop, there's nothing there," Booker said, his voice muffled like he was underwater.

She blinked, and the blackness that had been closing in on her slowly disappeared. Looking around, she found that she was still in her room. On the floor. Daphne was on the bed, her expression filled with concern. And Booker was in front of her, clutching her shoulders as he panted from the exertion it had taken to pull her out of her fit.

When she realized what had happened, her body went limp in his arms. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He loosened his grip. "No need to be sorry. It wasn't your fault."

She gazed up at him, both embarrassed and frustrated by her ridiculous, broken mind. "Of course it's my fault. I'm the crazy girl who can't tell the difference between a real snake and a hallucination."

"You are not crazy," he said firmly.

"Those who aren't crazy generally aren't put in asylums."

He gave a short laugh. "You'd be surprised." He gently brushed her hair back from her face and sighed. "And even if you are crazy, you're in good company. We can all be mad together."

He hesitated as he glanced at Daphne who was still watching anxiously.

Trinket shook her head. "It's fine. She knows."

His eyebrows rose slightly, but he nodded and turned back to Daphne. "Well, I don't know that you exactly qualify as mad, my dear, but we're happy to have you. I mean, you have to be a tad unhinged to choose to live here, I suppose."

Daphne pulled her eyes away from Trinket and smiled at him.

"We should probably get back to building that snake catcher," he continued. "I don't want you to have to worry about every shadow you see."

He rose to his feet and offered his hands to Trinket. "Not really that different from my everyday life," she said as she took them and lifted herself up.

Booker did not release her hands as he gazed at her thoughtfully. There was something like regret in his eyes. "I'd prefer to make your life easier, not harder," he said.

Smiling, she gave his hands a squeeze. "Not harder. Just more interesting. Come on, no time to waste."

~

The hours wore on as Booker threw himself into his work, Trinket and Daphne assisting where they could. Neither of them was willing to stay upstairs while the snake was still on the loose. But even in the safety of the laboratory, Trinket's eyes continued to play tricks on her, turning every shadow into a vicious fiend. She managed to keep from falling apart, but as the night progressed and exhaustion weighed heavy on her eyelids, she worried about what she might do if confronted by a nightmarish creature. Who she might hurt.

Or worse, who she might kill.

Muuuuuurderrreeeerrrr.

She took a deep breath and turned back to Booker. He was completely engrossed in his device. He'd taken apart a lamp and melded metal and cut chicken wire with the same concentration he'd had when performing his surgeries. Whatever he was creating would surely be brilliant.

She just wished he'd speed up his genius so they could be done with this insanity.

"Ah-ha."

She turned to find him standing triumphantly over his workbench, a self-satisfied smile on his lips. "You finished it?" she asked, rising from her chair to join him.

"Yes, I did. Take a look."

It looked like a gas lamp except it had no glass panes. Instead, it was covered in layers of chicken wire. There was a single opening, small but large enough to see into. A wick sat in the center, and the distinct smell of oil filled the interior of the device.

"All you have to do is light the wick and set the device in a secluded area," Booker explained. "When the snake senses the heat, it will crawl into it to keep warm. And with its added weight inside—"

He picked up a heavy metal ball and rolled it towards the opening. As it entered the device, the bottom sank slightly, and there were a series of clicks and clanks. A metal door came down, baring the only means of escape.

He faced her, beaming with pride.

"Impressive," she said.

"Of course, for it to work, the snake will need to be cold. Which means we need to lower the temperature in the house."

"And how are we going to do that?"

"Put out the fireplaces, bring out the icebox. I'd say leave the windows and doors open, but then we'd risk the snake getting outside."

Daphne cleared her throat from the operating table where she had been resting. She used her hands to trace out a rectangle in the air and then rubbed her arms while giving a shudder.

"Oh, ice," Trinket said after a moment.

"Brilliant idea. I'll go fetch some as soon as this is set," Booker said.

"I hope this works. I'm so tired that my entire body feels like it's about to collapse."

"Well, if this doesn't do it, we can always resort to that whole setting fire to house plan. And by that point, we'll probably be so cold it won't take much to persuade us."

She frowned. "I'm not afraid of a little cold."

Daphne nodded and crossed her arms.

Smiling, he picked up the snake-catcher and tucked it under his arm. "Very good then. Time to freeze that bugger out."