Page 50 of A Serpent in the Garden

He didn’t move, pointing behind me, suddenly thunderstruck. “Des, what on earth is that?”

I turned and found one shifter hadn’t abandoned me. Based on sheer proximity, I suspected it was the one who had pressed its palm to mine. “It’s a shifter. They’re not dangerous, apparently. They were curious, It said.” And when Serich continued looking unnerved: “I’m lucky they were here. They helped shield me from that incubus. Let’s go.”

The light was a pale gray now, as bright as it would get here in this wood. As I pressed forward, the shifter showed no signs of wanting to float off, moving at my side much more fluidly than I ever could.

It appears you have an admirer. It sounded not entirely amused. I hope it doesn’t plan to follow you all over the wood.

Well what shall I do about that? I asked, annoyed yet almost giddy at such a narrow escape. What would you do, tell it to fuck off? It wouldn’t even know what I was saying if I told it to leave.

Oh, okay then. Just let it trail you to the gates of Hell. I’m sure it won’t be a pain in the ass. Let it gawp at you for days; how fun. Maybe you can teach it how to speak. It’s not like you have anything better to be getting on with, right?

I paused a few feet before the grotto, Serich right beside me. The shifter paused too, unblinking eyes boring into mine. I offered it a nervous smile and it offered me one of its own, though its version was horrifying, a twisted leer of sharp, chaotic teeth that slowly straightened and blunted as it took in the shape of my own. But I didn’t have to work out how to ask it to go. Serich’s petrified, echoing gasp made it disappear into a puff of shadow.

Good Lord, It said. Grab your oaf and your things and leave before it decides to come back.

Alcerin poured through my veins, excitable and anxious. I forced down a hunk of jerky as we walked, though the herb sapped my appetite. The fogs swarmed me, as was their custom, but they had grown noticeably thinner the deeper we plunged through Hell’s wood.

Though it didn’t look like it belonged to Hell any longer.

Muted grays and greens gradually shimmered into silver; the silver, as though touched by Midas, soon blasted into gold. Shoots of grass shone like bullion despite the absence of the sun. Gold leaves gowned white trees, bunches of coppery flowers growing against the trunks. The plants we passed did not snap at our ankles but swayed attractively, as though caught underwater. Birdsong grew jubilant, victorious, though I saw no birds it could belong to. It glowed without sunlight, every particle of warm, raw air promising better days ahead.

I didn’t trust this new friendliness. I knew it would turn over and show me its rotting underbelly soon enough.

“Bit of a departure from tradition,” Serich said, one eyebrow high on his forehead as he gazed around at all that golden, poisonous beauty.

You might see odd things in these parts, It said. The water isn’t safe to drink. Don’t touch any fruit you might find. It isn’t so much physical injury you should be concerned about anymore. You might see something your priest doesn’t; he might see things you can’t. Sneaking inside the mind and moving the furniture around can be just as dangerous as bodily harm. Best to avoid eye contact with anything you might notice.

Even as he said it, a tousled blonde head emerged from around the nearest tree, hair falling in a rakish angle over one golden eye. I couldn’t look away quickly enough. A child, a girl with gilt lashes who lifted a finger to her lips and laughed before dashing back behind the tree, though the edges of her fingers lingered upon the trunk.

Ignore her, It said as I walked on, the echo of her mad giggle ringing in my ears. She wants to play with you. You wouldn’t like her games.

Serich did not even acknowledge her presence, blinking around at a world that looked sprayed with gold.

“It says not to trust what you see here,” I said as we passed covens of gold roses with a blush of copper at the ridges. “Don’t make eye contact. You may see things I don’t, and the same goes for me.”

He reached out for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “I’ll just have to look at you, then.”

“You’ll find yourself flat on your face if you don’t watch where you’re going.”

The alcerin did not like our clasped hands; it slowed us down. Out of the corner of my eye, a pack of children in a meadow flocked like golden birds, their voices tangling together, their laughter musical.

Is it just children here?

All sorts. It needs to get to know you better. You’re a young woman so I’m sure this place assumes you’d feel soft toward children. You might see anybody. You might see Livvy. She might tell you she’s come to help. Or it might not be able to mine you at all because I’m here.

I hoped I wouldn’t find Livvy. I couldn’t predict how I would react if I did. How could I not look at her when it had been so long since I’d seen her? But if I did, would I ever be able to summon the strength to look away?

I would force you on. And their only power is in their illusion. I’ve already given up its secret. If you know it isn’t real you can’t be swayed.

It did not take long for a familiar face to show itself, though I couldn’t see it.

Serich stopped short in the glimmering center of a clearing, dropping my hand.

“What is it?” I was slightly relieved to have my hand back to myself.

“It’s my father,” Serich said, low and tortured, his eyes squeezed shut. “It’s his voice, his face. He says it’s Heaven, this place.”

“He’s lying.” I tried to say it softly since Serich’s father’s death was so raw and recent. “He isn’t your father. He’s something that wants to hurt us. We have to keep going.”