Page 21 of A Serpent in the Garden

It sat back from the window behind my eyes, propping his feet upon the sill. Not all hells are hot. The one my mother comes from is all frost and midnight.

I wondered if that had something to do with the chills I sometimes got when It stepped down from my mind and into my body. That sounds sort of pretty.

In a painful, brutal way.

I took a sip from my skin. Watery daylight trickled over the treetops and low fogs curled about my ankles as I crouched there with my teeth on the verge of chattering. Will I see it, if I make it through the gates?

I’m almost certain of it. Though he tried to hide it, I heard something not unlike dread in the oil slick of his voice.

I rolled my head upon my shoulders, grimacing at the ghastly sound it made. Every ache and pain I had collected overnight had made their complaints known. Now it was a veritable orchestra of screeching. I could only hope the day’s long hike would help to loosen my muscles.

Serich glanced my way at the gruesome cracks and pops my body had made, chewing on a strip of salted beef. “Do you have a crick?” He slipped a hand around the back of my neck, heat bleeding from his skin and into mine. “I can rub the knot out.”

Is that supposed to be some kind of innuendo? It asked.

He’s trying to be kind. It’s in his nature. You’d know little about that.

I think his nature can be summed up in a long and tired sigh.

“Thank you,” I said, just to bother It.

Serich gathered up my dark braid, twisting it into a knot atop my head. “Can you hold this up for me?” His breath warmed my nape and somehow sent a shudder up my spine.

I did, bowing my head to bare my neck. I made sure It heard my appreciative groan as Serich worked at the knot, wondering if It could feel the way my skin melded beneath Serich’s eager fingers. I hoped so.

And you call me petty, It said.

The massage hurt, in the most blissful way. A lot of pressure, too much almost, steadily building until I had to bite down on my bottom lip and squinch my eyes shut, but I didn’t want him to stop.

“Are you okay?” Serich asked, amused, his mouth a breath from my earlobe.

I nodded into my knees, afraid of what sort of noise might come out of me if I dared use my voice. And it occurred to me, as Serich dug into all my hollow aches, that I had never let a man so close to me before. I hadn’t even been able to accept William’s kiss all those years ago, knowing It would have been there to witness. I had little to lose now, if my bloodrose could be believed.

Serich got to his knees behind me, working me like clay between his hands. “That rose really upset you, didn’t it?” he asked, as if he too could read my thoughts.

“I can’t pretend it didn’t startle me.”

“Startled would be a good word for how I felt about my own.”

At least you’re not going to die in this wood, I almost told him. At least you’ll have children, a family of your own, not one your best friend has been forced to share with you.

I thought we’d decided it didn’t necessarily mean that, It interjected.

Serich’s hands moved down, his thumb digging into the groove beneath my shoulder blade in a way that made my back arch like a bowstring. “We’re not controlled by fate, Des. We have free will. Even if that destiny was handed down by God, that wouldn’t mean you’d have to go along with it.”

I feel very uncomfortable when I agree with him, It said. Tell him to stop being so familiar and finish eating. You’ll have to get a move on if you want to make it across the plains.

We moved through the noiseless wood. The fogs hadn’t burned off yet and hung thickly in the air, dense as blankets with fewer trees to navigate around. Still they reached out for me as we moved through it, clinging to my shirt like thorns, running luxurious fingers through my hair, tracing the curves of my ear.

It plays with me, I said as a tendril twisted about my wrist. It only moves around Serich like he’s an obstacle. Do you know why?

Maybe it tastes your curse, It offered after a stilted pause. Maybe it knows where you’re headed.

It almost feels friendly.

Little in this wood is. There are things here that even I can’t save you from.

We walked for hours without a break, drinking from our waterskins and taking bites of jerky as we moved, passing fewer and fewer trees along the way. The bulk of the fogs eventually wore off, sucking back into the earth. I could have sworn they’d waved their wraithlike fingers at me in farewell.