Page 109 of A Serpent in the Garden

I tapped against her window, hoping I wouldn’t scare the daylights out of her.

No response. I didn’t dare knock any louder for fear of alerting the rest of the family or the neighbors. It had just occurred to me that I had no protection, now that Remy had gone, from the demonic suggestion that might soon be rolling off the edge of the wood. I had no wax to fill my ears with, no scraps of linen. Would Riquin’s blood shield me, or should I carry on down the lane, as far from the wood as I could get?

A few more desperate taps. I’d half-turned away from the window when the blanket lifted at the corner, candlelight pouring out into the alley, and there she was, a sliver of her face, anyway. Livvy had one hand funneled near her temple and her eyes slitted as though prepared to squeeze them shut should she find a demon salivating out there in the alley—

And then her eyes went wide. Livvy stripped the blanket off the glass and gaped through it. Her lips framed my name as she unfastened the latches and threw open the window.

“Get in, get in,” she hissed, grabbing me by the shoulders and dragging me inside.

I landed with a louder thud than I would have liked and scuttled back against the bed nearest the window—my old bed, lumpy and uncomfortable, but oh how I’d missed it when I was out there sleeping in caves and on tree branches—as she threw the blanket back up against the glass.

Livvy hit the floor in front of me, made to throw her arms around me and clutch me to her chest, but her expression went from total shock to frightened in a heartbeat. She fell back against the wall instead, her hand flying to her throat.

“Des?” She said it experimentally, as if she were unsure it was what I was really called, suddenly looking as joyless as a corpse.

A ragged gust of wind blew past, rattling the window. The candleflame flickered. “What? What’s the matter?”

“Are you—is that you?”

“Of course it’s me!” Almost insulted, as if she’d forgotten what I looked like.

She inched closer. A length of scratchy old silk covered her tight curls, her eyes veiled with a mist of suspicion. “Your eyes—what’s wrong with them?”

“What do you mean?”

She groped for a foggy old looking glass on my bedside table, keeping her gaze on mine all the while, as if she couldn’t afford to lose sight of me for a second. I saw why when she showed me my reflection.

It was as if my pupils had expanded, eclipsing my irises, two dark holes consuming the blue so only a thin ring surrounded the black. They looked demonic. They looked like Riquin’s, and they consumed all candlelight playing across them. My cheeks were hollower than they used to be. A stuttering scratch that looked like dainty coagulated rubies swept the length of one cheekbone. My dark hair was a wild mess, like ruffled raven feathers.

“It’s nothing.” I set the looking glass aside. “I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with me. It should go away soon.” Just as soon as I’d worked Riquin’s blood out of my system. However long that would be.

“But—” Still flat against the wall, still with eyes like saucers, like she was perhaps hoping this would all turn out to be a fever dream— “why has it happened?”

“I had to take something to help me get through the wood quickly.” I couldn’t bring myself to tell her it was demon blood. Not yet. Not when she was looking at me that way. “This must be some side effect.”

Still she seemed uncertain, her spine stiff and straight. I leaned forward to touch the hands she’d clasped in her lap but thought better of it.

“It’s done.” I sank back against my bed. “Its gone. Its not with me anymore.”

“Truly?” Like she half-wondered if it was a joke.

“Yes, it’s just me now.” And I would be glad of that soon enough, wouldn’t I?

“I was so worried when you left without a word.” Livvy was visibly warming now, a bit of color tiptoeing into her dark cheeks. “The town’s been in an uproar, Serich disappeared at the same time you did—”

My heart gave an unpleasant little lurch. “He came with me. Has he not returned yet? We were separated—”

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him or heard any news, but John Dale—” Creeping closer, eyelashes fluttering rapidly, as if I’d flicked water in her face— “they went through his belongings, his bakery and his quarters. They found things that belonged to the dead girls everyone thought were killed by the incubi, cross necklaces and woven bracelets and undergarments—”

“So they know he killed them?”

“Well, it doesn’t look good. There’s no reason he should have had any of it in his possession.” She slid her palm upon the toe of my filthy boot, dipping her head to meet my eyes. The candlelight ignited the fan of bronze around her pupils. “You were gone so long I thought you must have died.”

I maintained a respectful distance. Didn’t reach out, too afraid of spooking her. “I came close, a few times.”

Livvy wrapped her arms around me, pulling me close. “Tell me everything,” she said, her hand stroking the wild hair streaming down my back in a way that made my eyes gloss with tears.

In the morning, I found myself pillowed on both sides by Livvy’s parents, the twins attached to my legs, their voices crowding all around me in the tiny parlor. It made me start crying all over again. I’d thought surely they must have believed what the rest of the town thought, that I was evil, a murderer—