Page 19 of A Serpent in the Garden

Serich tipped his head back to the agitated sky, which was curdling into a slightly deeper shade of gray. “We need to get inside. Did you want to take a turn?”

My pulse quickened. I felt my heartbeat in my throat as I stared at the bloodroses. They stared back, beckoning. Did I want to know? I did and I did not. I was far too scared to learn the truth yet too afraid of being left in the dark.

I held out a hand, debating. Yes, no? Stay, go? Quickly now. Night was spilling over the wood, the beginnings of the fogs seeping up from the pores of the earth.

I pressed my thumb against a particularly wicked-looking thorn before I lost my nerve.

The rose drank in my blood, considering.

And then as one, all the petals fell off.

I did warn you, It said as the sound of a sleeping Serich’s breathing filled the cramped interior of the cave.

I said nothing. It didn’t either, for a moment, tapping its claws monotonously. Like it was plumbing the shallow depths of its sympathy to find something comforting to say.

It’s not a spectacular result but it might not mean what you think it means. It spoke as if it were choosing its words carefully. Maybe it means you evict me. Maybe it means some kind of transformation. Maybe you’ll have a breakdown and change your name, join the players.

I tried to shift into a less taxing position, but there was scarcely room to move. Serich’s tall frame was curled into a tight, uncomfortable ball beneath a threadbare blanket, his head pillowed on his arm a hair’s breadth from my thigh. He’d fallen into a twitchy doze almost as soon as he’d laid down, leaving me alone in the cold company of my demon. Outside, birds screamed. Other things screamed back, but it seemed nothing knew we were here. For now.

I could never join the players, I said. I would be a miserable actress.

You act all the time. You act like you care when the children tell you their silly stories.

Because I do care.

Oh, It said, stymied. And then: Futures can be changed, Des.

That was the first time It had called me that. I suppose I should make my peace with God, I said in a falsely light tone. So I don’t wind up someplace less than desirable.

There is no Heaven anymore. There are only Hells.

I sat there huddled in the dark, momentarily lost for words, thoughts. I felt as if someone had told me there was no such thing as demons, that It had been a figment of my imagination all this time and that actually, I was mad. How can that be?

Angels fall. God gets bored. It’s not there anymore. That’s as much as I know.

That can’t be true. I shook my head as if to shake some sense into its occupant. There can’t be one without the other.

It shrugged in graceful boredom, like It didn’t wish to spend its time convincing me of anything.

What happens, then, I said, to the souls that should have gone there? To the ones who were already there?

They drift, I guess.

I felt a chill that had little to do with the weather. How many lost souls wafted through this plane, alone, aimless? All those times I’d thought I’d noticed something moving in the shadows of my bedroom out of the corner of my eye, was that them? When I kneaded bread dough in Lord Fletcher’s empty kitchen and could swear I felt something shift behind me, had that been one?

Serich’s head found my thigh as he gave a sleepy snuffle. I lifted a hand to stroke his hair. How would he feel, knowing nothing waited beyond the veil? He’d told me he’d always drawn comfort from the fact that even if his earthly body died, it wouldn’t be the end. That maybe he could finally meet his mother, who had died in childbirth twenty-two years earlier.

I felt I’d burst with sympathy for him as I traced the shell of his ear.

You have a kind heart, It said, as though it were more warning than compliment. Don’t let it get you killed.

I could dream up little to say in response. A picture of my bloodrose trembled across my mind’s eye, naked, petals strewn about the earth. And then a firm, shadowy hand wiped away the image.

I sighed. Tried to get comfortable, my spine melding viciously to the jagged rock. Through the gap where the boulder did not quite meet the rim of the cave’s mouth, a slightly closer shriek rent the air. I jolted upright. Serich twitched but didn’t wake. I couldn’t help leaning forward to take a look.

The wood was lit by night as if by a layer of effervescent dust, like the stars from the sky had been scattered around the forest. It was beautiful but terrible too, a place of shadows and whispers and mischievous winking lights.

I laid my palm upon Serich’s exposed ear. He hadn’t wanted to stuff them with linen so he’d be alerted if we had to run, but those whispers had the hazy suggestion of words. I didn’t like to think what it would mean if they took shape. They couldn’t sway me, not with It at the helm of my mind, but Serich would be at their mercy.