Page 38 of A Serpent in the Garden

“Take this.” I pressed a bit of the wispy gray herb into Serich’s hand and popped a chunk into my own mouth, chewing furiously. “I don’t like how close the ponds are getting. Blathilde said this can help with agility.”

I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel when wulfsnare delved into my veins. All I felt was the funeral drum of my heart, beat-beat-beating in my throat, my temples, the pressure points at my wrists. The alcerin was howling like a wolf for me to move but my brain was cautioning me to stay, and all around us, impassable water smirked from every direction.

Am I feeling as I should? I asked It. Has the wulfsnare taken?

I’ve never had it. I don’t know anything about it. I’m not human, I’ve never needed an herb for agility. You’ll have to take it on faith that the hag knew what she was talking about. Do you trust her?

Yes.

Then go.

I did, moving on tiptoe, mouth still gritty with wulfsnare, tongue veiled with the tang of incense. My eyes skipped around the puddles like a stone, mapping the course that looked friendliest. There were areas of land no wider than my thumb that I would have no choice but to take at a leap.

Jump.

I didn’t know if It or the wulfsnare had said it, but I listened. Acted. I landed on the ball of my right foot, my left following suit a moment later, every cord and scrap of sinew in my limbs primed and tightly coiled.

“It worked?” Serich called from behind me, marooned on the island of moss I’d just left.

I didn’t twist around to look at him as I called, “Just let it guide you; it must know what it’s doing.”

Like a dragonfly, I buzzed from pond to pond, nimble on my toes, my muscles oiled and steady. It didn’t seem scary anymore but positively easy. Serich flitted around behind me, the gentle thumps of his feet alerting me of his progress. The ponds swelled ever larger, bleeding into one another as the earth sloped to the right. A part of me wondered if they might soon form a lake. But the alcerin didn’t care to dally over the thought and the wulfsnare had hijacked my eyes to chart the best route, so I didn’t bother checking.

I might not have looked at all had it not been for It tensing in his cell, his claws clenched around the bars.

Don’t, It said, when he felt my neck crane to find what he’d sensed. Just go.

I looked anyway.

In the center of a great lake, upon the bed of still water, a man sat watching us, his chin in his palm. His other hand traced nonsense patterns into the surface with a fingertip and he wore robes of what looked impossibly like liquid, gushing and refracting all around his body. The twist of his small, knowing smile sent a thrill of dread up my spine, but it was his eyes that frightened me most, for they were but gouged-out sockets filled with livid flame.

Like everything else in this godforsaken place, he was silent as a tomb. I doubted Serich even knew the demon sat there watching, not if the wulfsnare was busy mapping out his course.

He’s blind, It said. Keep silent and out of the water. You’ll be fine.

Maybe he can’t see but I’m sure he speaks. Will Serich need to plug his ears?

Serich should keep his eyes on his path. If he doesn’t look at him, doesn’t touch the water, he’ll be fine. You will both be fine. Just move.

I wished I could speak to Serich the way I spoke to It, through a private channel in my mind. I could whisper as faintly as a breeze, and the demon might still hear. And from his terrible little smile I had the horrible suspicion he already knew exactly where we were.

I shot another glance at Serich. I have to warn him, at least.

What you have to do is keep going. If his wulfsnare is doing its job he won’t even notice you’re not alone.

But I was so afraid it froze me where I stood. Those flames looked like they were alive, undulating in those gaping sockets; that smile he wore looked meant for me.

You are not afraid, It said, and I was but I wasn’t as his compulsion collided with my fear. He can’t take you. You’re mine, remember. Nothing he says can sway you. His gaze won’t capture you. Your priest, on the other hand…it might not take more than a glance. The more you stare off in his direction, the more attention you call to him, the more likely it is for your priest to take a look. Stop staring. Start moving. You are not afraid of some blind pathetic prick who can’t even leave the water.

But he’ll be able to hear us. We can’t move silently—

So a better option is to keep still and wait for him to cotton on? Move.

Serich landed lightly beside me on the little island between puddles. I twisted my slick fingers around his and pulled him toward me so he bent double, his ear against my lips. “We’re not alone,” I breathed. “Don’t look and you’ll be fine. Don’t look and don’t touch the water.”

A chuckle rolled across the still lake, and I couldn’t help dashing a glance toward it. Sinuously, the demon stood in a waterfall of swirling robes, a head of dark hair ticked to one side, the guttering flames of his eyes trained on us.

“Such quiet little mice,” he said, sounding at once melodious and malevolent, young and old, sweet yet vile, his voice tap-tap-tapping up the back of my neck. “Two, I think. One male, one female.”