Page 57 of A Serpent in the Garden

A hellhound. A puppy.

A puppy? It’s massive.

They grow to be the size of horses.

I edged closer, though It tried warning me off. The hound seemed to have resigned itself to my unwelcome but unthreatening presence, its head resting on a root as it panted in awful, quick bursts. It seemed male, the blockish shape of his head. How much did he weigh; a hundred pounds? More? And he was beautiful in the most terrifying way, all heaving limbs and rippling muscle, fur such a glossy black that it looked wet, teeth like the points of daggers. He kept his gaze upon me but made no effort to move, and it had been so long since an animal let me approach it without its eyes rolling in bowel-voiding fear that I drew close enough to touch him.

He’s hurt. An angry red gash spilled open along the length of his haunch, oozing blood, as if he’d been flayed by a whip. He met my eyes brashly, as if to ask me what the hell I was staring at. What’s happened to him?

Disobeyed the wrong demon during training, I guess. Don’t touch him, are you crazy?

I had laid an experimental hand against one of the hound’s massive front paws, and it neither growled nor shook me off, though his narrowed eyes were not terribly encouraging. He had vicious black nails curved like scythes; the pads of his paws caked in mud. I think he thinks I’m a demon because you’re in here.

This is hardly the time to be petting puppies, Des.

I slid my satchel off my back and excavated the shirt soaked in faerie blood. Will this work on him? I tore off a strip with my teeth while the hound watched warily.

I don’t know, I’m not a hound expert, It said, with an exasperated sigh.

I dripped some water from my skin onto the wound. The hound shuddered as if he didn’t like it, but he didn’t put up any fight.

He’s going to tear your fucking face off, It said as I laid the bloody fabric against the wound, and indeed, the hound lifted his blocky head again and glared with the venom of a thousand cobras, though it didn’t seem to have the strength to keep it up. He sagged back to the earth with a defeated sigh that broke my heart a little, jerking when I applied pressure to the material on the wound.

“Shh, shh, shh, baby.” I said it the way I used to soothe the horses, noticing the drizzle of blood upon the earth the hound had left before collapsing at this tree. He’d been dragging the leg; I could tell by the channels carved into the ground.

Baby? He’s a beast.

He’s a baby. Do you know how long it’s been since an animal let me near it? I used to love them. Now they quail in terror when I’m near because of you. This one doesn’t think me a monster, at least.

Maybe this is your sudden death, It said. This moment now, when it lunges over to rip out your throat. Get away from it.

It’s had a lot of time to do so, I said, but I got to my feet just the same. You sound like an old wet nurse. And I knew It was getting stronger when I felt him roll his eyes up at the ceiling of his cell.

I bid the hound farewell and sensed the heat of his scarlet eyes upon my back until I disappeared into the trees.

The gray river of the In Between ran disconcertingly still, a calm, massive channel some ten feet below as I peered over the edge of the cliff bank. Around me swayed high grass above wet packed earth and pebbles. Embankments of pines hemmed in the wood behind me.

I tossed a stone into the water where it gradually sunk, the ripples smoothing eerily fast.

The ferryman is blind, It said. My brothers and I used to wait in the water for him to steer past and pick out the coins that fell through the eyes of the dead. And when my disapproval rang bright and clear in my thoughts: He made up the rumor that it cost coin to reach the afterlife. It was amusing, watching him grope around for his spoils, his little tantrums when he couldn’t find them.

How outrageous, to pay for the pleasure of stumbling through endless gray fog till the end of time. Surely no one destined for Hell or the In Between would foot the bill for that if they knew in which afterlife they were destined to spend their eternity.

You should see the antechamber, It said. Absolutely littered with coins. They carpet the floors. Every once in a while we go through and sweep them up. So much money we don’t know what to do with it all.

That annoyed me to no end. All that money, stuffing Hell’s coffers. What a difference some coin would have made for the villagers in Monde’s End, and an underworld with no use for earthly money was positively swimming in it.

If demons have no need of coin, why would he make up that rumor?

Nobody knows for sure. My guess has always been brothels. He’s ugly as sin. I can’t imagine what demon would let him near them. Feeling a little less sorry for the ferryman, then? Good. I need you to look for something. I buried it in the bank not long before I got cursed.

What is it?

A weapon. I knew they’d be taking all the others soon enough and I was attached to this one. You’ll need something Hell-forged or celestial if you’re going to threaten any demons.

I didn’t want to threaten anybody. I just wanted my body to be my own. Do you know where it is, or will I be here searching for hours? I had already begun walking, scrutinizing the earth, grass clinging like clutching fingers to my pants.

It’s buried beneath a rock I slashed with the blade. It’s in this general area, but the grass may be hiding it.