What He Was Protecting Her From

Jake pulled the stool over and climbed up. The scratching was louder now, coming from the vent just above the nursery door. He unscrewed the cover and aimed the flashlight inside. “Something’s been in here,” he said. Mia didn’t move. She kept her eyes on the monitor.

Nimbus was still at the top rail, head raised, staring straight at the door. Jake leaned closer to the duct, flashlight steady. Then something moved. The light caught its scales—darker, glossier, thinner than Nimbus. Then he froze. “It’s a snake,” he said. “A different one.” It was a venomous copperhead snake, coiled in the vent’s curve like it had been waiting for a chance.