Chapter 1

Six months. That' s how long Mark and I had dated. Six months of rebuilding, of finding a fragile hope in the wreckage of our pasts. We met at a support group for single parents, two ships lost in the same fog of grief. I was a librarian, my life quiet and ordered around my seven-year-old son, Leo. My husband, a firefighter, had died a hero, leaving a void I never thought could be filled.

Mark was a contractor, successful and steady. He understood. His first wife' s death was a tragic accident, he' d said, a shadow that still hung over him and his twelve-year-old daughter, Lily.

Tonight, at a rustic inn with a crackling fireplace, he was on one knee.

"Sarah," he said, his voice earnest, the diamond in the box catching the firelight. "Be my wife. Let's be a family."

My heart, a muscle I thought had atrophied, beat with a warmth that felt foreign and wonderful. Leo, my energetic son, was practically vibrating with excitement beside me, his eyes wide.

Then Lily, his daughter, stepped forward. She was beautiful, with large, soulful eyes that seemed too old for her face. Tears welled up in them as she knelt beside her father.

"Please, Sarah," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I've wanted a mom for so long."

Leo, seeing her cry, chimed in, "Yeah, Mom! Say yes! I want a big sister!"

Looking at their hopeful faces, at Mark' s steady gaze, I felt the last of my defenses crumble. This was it. A new beginning.

"Yes," I said, a smile spreading across my face. "Yes, I'll marry you."

The wedding was small and perfect. Three days later, Mark had to leave for a business trip.

"Let's go camping!" Lily suggested, her eyes sparkling. "Just the three of us. We can be a real family. We can hike in the Green Mountains and explore old cabins."

The idea was charming. Leo was ecstatic. I packed our bags, filled with a sense of domestic bliss I hadn't felt in years.

The mountains were beautiful, but an unease settled over me as we hiked. Lily led us to an abandoned hunter's cabin, its door hanging off a single hinge.

"Let's look inside!" she urged Leo.

He ran in ahead of me. A moment later, he screamed. I rushed in to find him staring at a pile of small animal skeletons, picked clean. He was terrified.

That night, Leo was feverish. I tucked him into our tent, trying to soothe his shivers. As I held him, I heard a faint, strange humming from outside. It was Lily.

Then came the skittering.

Dozens of them. Black Widows, their red hourglasses stark against their black bodies. Brown Recluses, their violin markings a harbinger of necrosis. They poured into the tent, a silent, venomous tide.

I screamed and threw my body over Leo, shielding him. The bites were sharp, hot pricks of agony, one after another. My limbs grew heavy, my vision blurring.

Through the mesh of the tent, my last sight was Lily. She stood in the moonlight, humming that eerie tune.

She leaned close, her sweet voice a whisper of pure poison. "No one gets to be Daddy's favorite but me and my real mom."

My world went black.