Page 59 of A Serpent in the Garden

Are you sure you’re strong enough for this plan? I asked It. I couldn’t feel him moving around as much as he usually did. Could that smoke have left you with permanent damage?

I said I’m fine. A touch of irritation; he couldn’t be feeling too badly.

If you’re going to be having me climb like a spider along a damp stone wall above a river that will kill me, I think I have a right to question whether you’re capable.

If I thought I couldn’t do it I wouldn’t risk your life, It said, in a don’t-ask-me-again sort of voice.

Something darted at the fuzzy edge of my vision. I whirled around, Its blade in my hand, heart hammering, and found nothing but a tree branch swaying despite the lack of any breeze. Whatever it had been, it was agile, faster, silent, not a step misplaced. Nature didn’t slow it down. I imagined it flashing through trees behind me, its vision crisp and clear despite the dimness of the wood.

You saw that too, right?

It did not answer, but I felt him go absolutely still, ears pricked just like mine, hardly breathing.

I almost welcomed the prospect of entering Hell just to get out of this damn wood. I was sick of it, sick of the way it made benign shadows into something sinister, the endless trees, the stench of rot and earth.

You don’t think a shifter followed me all the way here, do you? The shadows I kept seeing when we were in the cold wood, that had to be them, right? You couldn’t sense them either.

But he remained silent for another minute while I stood there trying not to quiver, his father’s blade in my hand as the wood breathed around me. I don’t feel anything, It finally said. Keep moving.

So I kept going, though I felt stalked, hunted, as if the breath of some invisible pursuer played across the back of my neck. I ran; the shadow kept pace. I saw it flitting between trees out of the corner of my eye, but the darkness of the wood and the abundance of trees conspired to hide what tracked me.

Would a demon play with me like this? I asked.

My heart plummeted at the swift yes that rolled off Its tongue. Playing with humans wouldn’t be beneath a demon, though I’ve never known a demon of Hell to harm a living human, for what it’s worth. And I’m sure I would have sensed a demon if one were that close.

I grew weary of feeling some creeping presence at my back after another few minutes. Weary and angry. I was not a mouse to be played with. If it were a demon, so much the better. Let them drag me to Hell and throw me at the feet of whoever placed the curse upon It so I might beg my case.

It stilled my tongue when I was about to call into the silence. I felt a cold finger against my lips, an invisible, icy hand snared loosely around my throat, as if It had manifested himself and stood behind me.

Let it show itself if you want to make a fight of it, It said.

I don’t want to make a fight of it, I just want the hunting to end.

If it’s a demon and they hear emotion in your voice, they’ll drag this out even longer for the pleasure of frazzling you.

Still you feel nothing? I asked, a desperate edge in my words.

Sorry.

I turned around, defeated, prepped to obey the nudge of the alcerin, when something cold and wet slid down the back of my hand.

I whirled around, the blade slicing through the air, poised and ready above my head.

Fucking Hell, Des, It said when he saw the hound blinking up at me. You had to stop for it.

The hellhound’s nose had been what I’d felt along my hand, and now I could easily imagine that he would grow to be the size of a horse. On four paws, he already came to my waist.

I wanted to throw my arms around his thick neck in relief. The hound’s demonically scarlet eyes were the brightest thing in this wood, and they seemed curious to me, not evil. I supposed he would grow to be vicious soon enough.

“You scared me.” Blood still crusted his black fur where the injury had been, but I found no gash, and he had to be in working order to keep up with the alcerin and wulfsnare coursing through my body. “You must be feeling better.”

Please stop talking to a fucking hellhound as if it were a toddler, It said, as if I were physically paining him.

Isn’t it a toddler of sorts, if it’s still a puppy?

I suppose It felt that was quite beside the point because he didn’t answer the question. We can’t creep up to the wall with a hound on our flank. He’ll look over the side of it when we’re down there, he’ll draw attention to where we are.

Do demons ride them when they’re grown? I moved further back from the hound to get a better picture of its size, but for every step I took backward, he took a step toward me.