Page 13 of Be the Serpent

Well, I’d told Tybalt I wouldn’t go into the house. I hadn’t said anything about going into the castle. I moved toward it, slow and easy, one hand going to the silver knife at my hip. Drawing the knife I’d received from Oberon felt like an escalation in a way I still couldn’t quite put a name to.

“Hello?” I called, once I was close enough to see if anything moved in the shadowy inside. The smell of blood got stronger the closer I drew. I could distinguish two sources now: the peppermint primary, and a secondary ribbon of fresh warm milk. Most people’s magical scents will have two primary components, but this wasn’t that. Two people had been injured, both fae enough to have magic of their own.

“Little fish, what are you doing?”

The voice was pitched low and came from directly to my left. I stiffened, then forced myself to relax. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to sneak up on the woman with the knives? You don’t recover from being stabbed the way I do.”

“Perhaps not, but I move faster than you do, and you’ve yet to successfully stab me.” Tybalt moved forward, into view, his eyes fixed on the castle. “I remember someone promising me she wouldn’t go into the house.”

“This isn’t the house, and I’m not inside it.”

He gave me a look that promised future retribution for that attempt to skirt the rules, then turned his attention back to the castle. “Then we’re on this side of the yard because . . . ?”

“I smell blood. Fresh. I think whoever’s bleeding is inside the castle.” Raising my voice a little, I called, “Hello? This is October. Whoever’s inside the . . . playhouse, I need you to come out. Right now.”

There was a scuffling sound, followed by a wavering near-teenage voice calling, “Aunt Birdie? You promise?”

“What is it with people trying to make me promise things today? Yes, Andrew, it’s me. Tybalt is with me. Are you hurt? I smell blood.”

The Brown kids understand the way my magic works better than most people do, at least in part because their mother has been my best friend since we were children. To Andrew, the fact that I was easily ten feet away and claiming to smell blood wouldn’t be anything unusual. If anything, it might be reassuring. See? Aunt Birdie is playing bloodhound again. Everything’s normal.

There was a long pause before he said, voice gone very small, “Not as hurt as Tony is. He won’t wake up, Aunt Birdie. He got us both outside, but now he won’t wake up.”

I gasped a little, looking to Tybalt. “Can you lift him?”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Well, I don’t think I can fit inside the playhouse, especially not if you’re already there. Can you lift him enough to get him out?”

“We’re not coming out until you can say for sure that she’s gone!” His voice rose throughout the protest, until it became a wavering screech that faded into sobbing.

Oh, this was bad. “She?”

“The bad woman. She’s inside the house. She—I wasn’t—I tried, but I wasn’t fast enough, I’m so sorry, I should have been faster. I tried. I tried.” The sobbing got louder, making it almost impossible to understand what he was saying.

“Okay, Drew, I just need you to tell me one thing, okay?”

A sniffle. “What?”

“Is Tony breathing?”

The pause that followed went on for long enough that my stomach clenched painfully. Finally, voice small, Andrew said, “Y-yes. He’s breathing.”

“Okay. Then I need you to stay right where you are, hold on to your brother, and wait. Tybalt and I are going to go inside the house, and if there’s a bad woman there, we’ll make her go away. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Will you stay?”

“Yes. I’ll stay here.” He sounded younger and younger the longer our conversation went on, less the ten-year-old boy he’d grown into and more the child he’d been during the years I missed, when I was living a drowned life and he was growing up without me.

“Okay, buddy. We’ll be back as soon as we can. Tybalt?” I turned to face the house. “We can’t wait for the others to get here. Not when we don’t know how hurt Tony is.” Sending Tybalt in in his cat form wouldn’t help. He couldn’t give medical aid when he didn’t have thumbs, and we hadn’t gone to Court with a full first aid kit.

“I understand.” His tone was flat, but he didn’t object when I started moving, only paced me step for step, clearly intent on following me inside. Our relationship had begun with him following me into danger because it amused him, grown into him trying to keep me out of danger because it distressed him, and finally matured into him following me into danger because if I was going to insist on doing it anyway, he might as well be there to back me up. It was a progression I genuinely didn’t mind. Oh, I might say I’d have been happier if I’d never needed to go into danger in the first place, but that never works. Better to go in with support.

Nothing moved as we approached the house. When we reached the door I paused, glancing to Tybalt. “I sent you to check for cars.”

“I did.”