Page 65 of A Serpent in the Garden

My tongue felt cold as it wrapped around a yes.

“And yet you’ve delivered her a death sentence. What shall I do with her? Put her in a Frost cell? She wouldn’t survive an hour.”

“I know of at least one empty room,” It said, our blended voices lilting viciously.

I did not even have time to process being called a shell or sentenced to die before she shook her head as if she’d endured as much as she could stomach. “Bring me my daughter and get them out of my sight.”

Release Jessa, It said. I don’t want her in a fugue for days, say her name again and tell her to come back.

I stooped to do so, and when Jessa blinked the frost from her eyes, she didn’t look afraid or confused. Her face split into a smile. She reached for me with fingers that seemed to be bleeding fog; she was trying to tell me something but then a Frost underling shot forth to disentangle her from my arm. Another appeared, muttering into the ear of the green-eyed guard It hated—

Marcic, It interjected testily.

—and Marcic grabbed me by the elbow and towed me like chattel back through the lane of hardpacked snow and beneath the archway leading to the staircase.

She was lecturing you as if you were a child, I said, almost glad for Marcic’s firm grip so I wouldn’t tumble on the slick steps. Like you—

She’s my mother, he said, as if through gritted teeth. I guess that’s her privilege. I will forever be a child to her.

What the hell did you do if your own mother cursed you? My God, I wasn’t a perfect princess, but the most my mother ever made me do is extra chores—and your little sister—

I felt It pacing back and forth, felt the twist of an annoyed grimace. Can you hold off on the scolding until later?

Where are they taking me? We were headed up at least, the way we’d come, not down the stairs that would likely take us to the bottom level, which I could only assume was Flame.

I guess we’ll find out. There aren’t many options. We don’t have guest rooms in Hell. There are cells in Frost and Flame but both would be the death of you. The cells in the guard’s quarters are only meant for demons. I would guess they’ll stuff you in a spare room and keep you comfortable enough for Jessa’s sake. Even from a distance you could order her to run herself through with a blade if you wanted. But you’re mortal and I’m limited in here. They’ll put a guard at the door and call it a day. My mother will think over what to do with you. I can’t see her actively choosing an option that might potentially limit Jessa’s scope of power, but if she decides she’d like to see you dead she’ll have to convene a council vote. That’s never quick. You might as well get comfortable. You may be here for a while.

How calmly he could discuss the possibility of my death by council vote.

Good Lord, It said. Calm down. She’d like to kill me, if anything. You didn’t choose to be taken over. She’s the one who did all this in the first place. How can you blame someone for wanting to be free of a lurker?

It sounds as if you did plenty to warrant punishment.

And when have I ever claimed to be an angel?

We passed Fury’s landing in silence, though It still turned my head in hopes of seeing his uncle. I had thawed somewhat by the time the howling from Fang filtered down the staircase, and I had learned my lesson from last time: I didn’t look as we passed its archway, but I heard plenty.

Half-dragged through the antechamber, where our presence sent up a wave of disquiet among the demons who milled within it on crowd control, herding the damned like sheep. Not present was Its fanged brother, though It cast my gaze wildly around for him. Demons of all sorts gaped back. Demons who were indistinguishable from humans, demons strapped in blades, demons who had eyes of strange, glowing colors. Skin of all shades, red and black and brown, tan and pale, chalky skin, skin that shimmered as if dusted in gold and powdered ruby. Some looked at me shock-glazed and befuddled; some as though they’d like to flay me living.

You must have made quite an impression last time you were here, I said.

Yes, It said wryly. A blaze of glory, before my mother stuck me in time-out.

A hallway and then doors, an endless stretch of them blurring into silver streaks as Marcic hauled me by the elbow and suddenly screeched us to a stop.

“Enjoy what time you’ve got left,” he said with a nasty little wink before shoving me inside a door like all the others. I huddled deeper into the cloak and turned to face my apparent prison as the door slammed shut behind me.

It’s hardly a prison, It said, loosening in his cell for the first time in a while. It’s where I used to live.

Stone and windowless, with an air of abandonment, the place was so stale and suffocating it made it difficult to breathe. Like the home of a dying person, it had an unnatural stillness, as if the room had closed in on itself a while ago and had given up its will to carry on.

Someone must have beat us here and lit the sconces. A wilderness of dust; it furred everything, lying thick upon furniture and the bed. A chaos of blades and various other weapons were scattered across a desk. If it weren’t for the buildup of dust, it would almost look as though It had just stepped out for a moment. A tumble of clothes kicked carelessly at the foot of a wooden chest; a baldric dangling from the winged back of a chair; the bedding rumpled as if it had been recently slept in. Tankards and glasses strewn about the surfaces, lining the mantel of an ash-choked hearth like some absurd decoration. The dismembered remains of a chair thrown into a corner, as if it had been ripped apart in a fit of temper.

You were a bit of a slob, I eventually offered.

I’m sure if I’d have known I’d be returning with a woman I might have cleaned up.

What am I supposed to do? I felt odd, being in the middle of this stagnant, crowded gloom. As if I had intruded on something private.