Page 56 of A Serpent in the Garden

But I felt nothing in that cell in my mind, and the silence was as terrifying as the first time I had ever heard It speak. This was not the silence of his sulking. It was silent as a crypt.

Dawn slowly diluted the darkness. The landscape took shape through the fogs, ragged treetops scraping a dull sky. The air was alive with the scent of sweet rot, the bouquet of snapping flowers, grass and tree bark. I had no idea where I was going. All I could do was follow the water as It had told me, and hope eventually I’d fall into a river.

Don’t do that, It said dryly, and if I didn’t know that voice so well, I doubt I’d have noticed the slight tremor in it. The water ages mortals.

I thought relief might cave in my throat. Are you okay?

It didn’t answer, which I supposed meant he didn’t want to admit he wasn’t. You could have let it have me, you know. It didn’t seem to have any hold on you. It would have killed me and you could have turned around the way you’d come and gone back home.

To let it kill him hadn’t even occurred to me. I wanted my mind to be my own, but I didn’t wish him dead. Well, I wouldn’t want a demon decomposing in my head.

If demons experienced headaches, it sounded as though It had one. You’ve taken too much alcerin. You’re going to have to try to slow down.

But my legs pounded on, earth flying in every direction each time my feet hit the ground. Can’t you force me?

No. I’ve already tried.

I felt so dizzy with relief, exhilarated from the alcerin fizzing in my veins, deranged by the multiple paths the wulfsnare illuminated, that I feared I might vomit. Who were those people? The ones the creature showed you?

My siblings, It said, sounding pale and bloodless. My father. I suppose that’s who it thought I’d most like to see.

The man with the red eyes, that’s your father?

He’s dead now. He probably died around the same time as your mother.

What could possibly kill a demon? Could they sicken and waste away, the way my mother had? What killed him?

His own fucking honor. Slow down. You’re not even trying.

I bit back an annoyed response out of respect for his weakness and tried to slow into a stilted jog. My legs didn’t want to cooperate. My arms kept pumping as if trying to propel me forward. It cost more effort to try to slow than it did to keep running.

Your heart is going to burst. I can hear it pumping like a rabbit’s. Slow down. Try harder.

My breath came in ragged gouts; my lungs filled with flame. My pulse hammered. My blood beat painfully in my temples like I wore a crown of thorns.

Slow, It said, and repeated it like a mantra. Just slow down.

And it took a while, but I did. I pretended I was walking through the sea, fighting resistant water. I visualized my heart rate slow as the drip of molasses. I contradicted what my own eyes showed me, lied to myself that it was a beautiful day and I ought to slow down to enjoy it. To listen to the quiet wood around me, to watch the near-imperceptible movement of all that silent water feeding off into the river I had yet to find. My limbs complained and the alcerin objected, but I mastered myself after a few minutes.

Drink some water, It said.

I bit the cork out of the waterskin and spat it into my hand. Will you stop bossing me around? The water glugged down my throat. I swallowed slowly, corked the skin slowly, trying my very best to keep every minute movement sedate.

I sat on a boulder before It could demand I rest. Apart from the stream growing ever wider, this wood was indistinguishable from the others. A palette of grubby gray and green and black, primordial trees with brawny, contorted roots.

I thought that creature couldn’t leave its lands. I laid a hand upon my heart as if hoping to calm it. Taking another slow drink of water, I focused on the feel of it running down my throat.

It can’t. I guess the tunnel is part of its lands. Maybe it sensed me last night and was just waiting for its opportunity.

How many demons has it killed?

I don’t know. Many. I never ran these woods again after it took my friend.

My blood had cooled slightly in the time since I’d sat. This wood was silent as the others except for a thready, suspicious whine I was rapidly becoming aware of. The sound was faint, drifting through the trees, but it was definitely nearby and certainly an animal of some description. I was on my feet and weaving through the wood before It could tell me not to, searching out the noise. Whatever it was meant no harm. That had been a whimper of pain.

I found it soon enough. A massive, matted black shape, curled at the base of a tree. A flash of scarlet as its eyes found mine. A strangled snarl collapsed into another whimper, though not before I caught a glint of teeth.

My hand flew to my throat. What is that?