Page 54 of A Serpent in the Garden

I don’t care if you’re not hungry. You’ve had too much alcerin lately. You haven’t been eating enough. You’re going to get weak. You’re young and strong so you’ve borne up well enough using it to excess, but you don’t need it anymore. Serich isn’t here so you don’t need to match his pace. I can make you fast. We’re nearly there already. And he made me fumble for the clasp of my bag and root through it until I unwrapped a strip of salted beef.

What’s the creature? I snapped off a piece of jerky with my teeth and gave it a few listless chews.

Hmm?

The creature you don’t want to encounter.

It doesn’t have a name.

I don’t care what it’s called. I rolled my eyes as I crammed the rest of the jerky in my mouth. What does it do?

Nothing good. We’re outside of its realm right now. It’s not able to wander.

But why are you so afraid of it?

I never said I was afraid of it, I said I didn’t want to encounter it.

I pillowed my forehead against my crossed forearms. You’re afraid of it.

And after a beat of precarious silence: Every demon is, even the incubi and succubi. It’s why we don’t often leave by way of the wood. Demon parents cite it to scare their children into behaving.

What is it? I asked, with a dash of impatience at his reluctance.

They say it’s the first child the Mother of Demons had. It came out…wrong. Like how when you make those oatcakes the first is always fucked. She was so disgusted with it that she didn’t give it a name but neither could she kill her own child. She confined it to its lands and warned the children who came after, but it was jealous of the others, angry at being abandoned. It lurks at night, waiting for whatever demon it can find passing through.

I felt my eyebrow arch doubtfully as I lifted my head and propped my chin up on my arms. That sounds like a tall tale meant to frighten the gullible.

I saw it once, It offered, after a heavy pause. The last time I was in the wood. I watched it swallow a friend of mine. We were out here later than we should have been. We were running, knowing our parents would kill us if we weren’t back soon. I made it out of its lands in time, but my friend didn’t. I watched it happen through the tunnel. It came down on him like a…like a fucking tidal wave. Just out of nowhere. They had to wait until morning to fetch his body. He was perfect when they brought him back. Not a mark on him. Nothing but a hideous smile on his face. They all smile when they’re found. Like they’re in the middle of a really good dream. It trailed off for a moment and cleared his throat in a resolute sort of way. You should sleep. We’ll be there tomorrow.

What does it look like? This thing had to be horrendous if its own mother didn’t want it. I pictured something naked and twisted. Something that spat and snarled and had pallid, half-furled wings. My mind summoned an image of the scene so easily. I didn’t know what It or his friend looked like so they came to me as terrified boys, one running for his life, one calling, calling, before a beast swooped down and nabbed the other.

I half-expected It to correct the image as he’d done when I’d tried picturing his mother, but he didn’t. It’s like smoke, but it moves much faster. An ugly, throbbing cloud of smoke. No hell-forged weapon can harm it.

I’m sorry about your friend.

It was a long time ago, It said, as if that had any bearing at all. My mother died seven years ago but time hadn’t stopped the hurt. Even thinking about her still stung, so I tried not to. Happy memories had a way of turning dead over time.

It woke me when dawn was still a few minutes off; I could tell from the hue of the javelins of light streaming around the edges of my bag blocking the opening’s entrance. I stuffed a stale hunk of bread in my mouth in the darkness and wondered where Serich was.

You’re not waiting for him, It said as soon as the thought flitted across my mind. We need to get going.

I sighed heavily. It’s not quite dawn yet.

Demons can walk in daylight, too. If you meet anything here, it’ll be one of Hell’s demons. Or a hound.

I thought Hell ran on a nocturnal schedule.

Hell never stops running.

And the wood will be nice and bright for them to spot me instantly.

You don’t think they’d be able to spot you instantly at night, too? We’ll try for stealth. If you’re found I can only hope it’ll be by a demon who doesn’t hate me.

Is that a common problem for you, I asked loftily, being hated?

You’ve gotten a pretty smart mouth lately, It said, though he didn’t sound entirely unamused.

Knocking my bag away from the opening of the recess, I struggled out with my elbows and stood. I felt exposed in the dark wood beneath a fading moon, trying to get my bearings in this new stretch. What fresh hell awaited me here?