Page 67 of A Serpent in the Garden

Different mothers. His is a succubus. My father had incubus blood as well. I only share one parent with all my siblings. Marriage and monogamy aren’t really things demons go in for. There are some long-term demon couplings so it isn’t completely unheard of, but it isn’t the norm.

I felt my eyebrows knit as I rubbed circles into the blade with the rag. ‘All’ your siblings?

Five brothers. Jessa is my only sister. She and I are my mother’s only children.

And you love them very much, I said, holding the blade out, watching the sconce light bleed down the metal.

That surprises you?

No. I laid the clean blade on the desk, reached for another. Brushed the dust off the open pages of a bound journal, its spine cracked and twisted. His handwriting was long and spiky, an irritated, quick scrawl I had to squint to decipher. You were keeping track of something? I wasn’t the best reader but I knew it was some sort of log, dates followed by two sets of numbers separated by long dashes.

Why do you ask?

You said I could poke around.

I meant more in the way of looking through my underwear drawer. I wouldn’t mind that.

I rolled my eyes. I spend very little time thinking about what sort of underwear you wore.

No? I give yours a lot of thought. You’re always so careful about where you look when you’re getting dressed, but you’re not wearing any now, I can tell.

Because they were filthy.

Of course they were, but now you’re in my clothes without even the thinnest barrier between them, which is slightly preoccupying—

Don’t you have better things to be thinking of?

I have nothing better to be thinking of, stuck in here while we wait for my mother to make up her mind.

I said nothing, shaking my head as I returned to the dusty blade.

Your lofty silences are very telling. You think you’re saying nothing but you’re not. I can feel when your cheeks get hot, you know. I can feel every pressure point in your body.

You’re very tiresome when you’re bored.

You’re very cute when you’re trying to pretend you’re not embarrassed, It said, and I heard the rich, honied undertow in his voice, the way he was trying to drag me into his current.

Keep it up. I imagined ice pressed upon my cheeks, recalling the bone-chilling cold of Frost. Keep talking. I’ll add it to the list of things to tell your mother about. I don’t think she’d be pleased if she knew some of the lewd things I’ve heard from you. She seems the cold and formal type if you ask me and I’m sure she didn’t raise you like that.

Well that’s a little uncalled for, It said, as surprised as if I’d slapped him across the face. I guess that’s one way to put a damper on things. Mention my mother when I’m trying to picture you in my bed. I felt him fit his hands behind his head, settle back in his cell. I bet the mere thought of her could wilt the most determined of erections. I don’t know how the fuck my father managed. I guess he always did like a challenge.

She’s very beautiful, I offered, watching my eyes refract over the steel of the blade. She looks like a painting.

Can we go back to the part where you’re not wearing underwear?

You’re very single-minded.

No, I’m very—

He broke off. I was on my feet immediately, his father’s weapon in my hand, because I’d heard it too. A thud at the door as if a body had been thrown against it, the unmistakable sounds of a brawl. Blows landing, the metallic clang of steel, fingers scrabbling, a choked-off grunt.

I didn’t even have time to ask It what he thought it was before the door burst open, framing a demon with knives strapped to his bare chest and around his waist. A blade dripping blackish blood was in his hand and there was fury in his eyes, an anger that was directed, full-bore, on me.

I caught a flash of boots disappearing. Probably the body of the guard at the door being yanked down the hallway.

The demon’s head nearly scraped the threshold as he kicked the door shut behind him. Misty gray eyes, light brown skin, a face that was all angles. Naked lean muscles and full lips quivering as he stared at me, knife in hand. The rage in his eyes evaporated like a dream.

He’s one of my brothers, It said. Guess he’s heard I’m home.