Chapter Five #2
“I think you’re right.” Brady doesn’t bother to hide his surprise. “I’d have to flip it and count the subcaudal scales, but based on tail girth alone, I’d bet female.”
“The only part of that sentence I understood was girth,” I admit. “And flip. And female.”
Margot’s soft huff of a laugh makes me peek at her. She’s pressing her lips together, cheek dented like she’s trying not to smile.
Chuckling as he puts the lid back on the tote, Brady explains, “Easiest way to sex a rattlesnake is to count how many subcaudal scales it has—those are the ones on the underside of its belly, right before the rattle.”
I nod, trying to act like I’m absorbing this useful fact and sex a rattlesnake isn’t the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.
Fantastic band name.
“You’re into snakes?” His attention has turned to Margot, and he’s suddenly less amusing. “I’ve got the prettiest ball python. Pulled him out of a heating vent last winter; whoever had him must have let him go. I’d love to show him to you.”
Hah. No. Margot isn’t getting within a county mile of Brady’s python or balls or whatever else he found in a heating vent.
I’m opening my mouth to redirect this conversation when she says, “I’m actually not much of a snake person.
” Her smile is sad. “I just know this specific one. She belonged to my ex-husband; I think he left her as a little prank.”
Brady’s nonplussed, but Margot’s still focused on the snake.
She mutters almost absentmindedly, “Her name’s War.”
“War?” Brady and I say in unison. “You’re sure it’s the same snake?” he adds, scratching his jaw thoughtfully.
Margot shrugs. “Sure enough. Her markings are pretty distinct, and the dent.” She points midway up the snake’s right side. I can barely make out a small dent in the snake’s musculature. “She’s had it as long as I’ve known her. Something must have bitten her when she was younger.”
“Wait.” A horrifying thought hits me. “Earlier you said there might be more snakes.”
“He had at least a dozen. Only four rattlers, though.” Margot’s eyes are on the bin.
“Conquest, War, Famine, and Death. A friend took them when he went to…” Her eyes flick to mine, and I catch a glimpse of fear before her mask slides back into place.
Suddenly, my earlier sweep of the place looking for humans doesn’t seem nearly thorough enough.
Brady’s thoughts run the same track, but he looks delighted about the possibility of more snakes. “Any chance there are others in here?” He scans the living room as if waiting for a king cobra to rise up out of the love seat.
“Maybe.” Margot’s too calm, that ultra-even voice from earlier back. “We’ll keep an eye out. Do you have a card, so I can call you directly if we find another?”
We’re both gaping at her. Brady fumbles his wallet open, producing a battered business card. Flipping it over, he pulls a pen from the pocket of his shirt and scribbles a number. “That’s my personal phone. Just in case.”
I side-eye him, wondering if this is another ploy to show Margot his python—that must be a euphemism. She takes the card with a “Thank you.”
“Would you like me to take a look around?” he offers.
I’m ready to say Hell yes, it’s that or burn this place down, but Margot shakes her head.
“No. Thank you, though.” Sighing, she brushes a loose tendril of hair away from her face, scanning the living room as if she’s thinking what a pain in the ass it’s going to be to paint it, not as if we’re about to go full snake hunter mode.
Brady nods politely, and before long, he’s out the door, toting the rattlesnake in the Rubbermaid along with him. I turn to Margot.
“Two thoughts.”
She arches an eyebrow.
“First: Rattlesnake in a Rubbermaid sounds like a great title for a kids’ book. Second: Are you sure you want us to do this?” I gesture vaguely. “Because I’m with you, but I feel like this may be a job for professionals.”
She scowls. “I can’t let strangers poke around Claire and Shane’s house; that’s an invasion of privacy.”
“I’m pretty sure they’d prefer it over having a rattlesnake as a roommate—that would also be a great book title.”
“I really think it was just War.”
This feels dangerously optimistic. “How come?”
“Because in Texas, Nicholas left Conquest in my dresser drawer to scare me.” She pairs the fact with a pointed look.
I’ve got nothing.
“This time he—or somebody helping him—left War. They’re in order.”
Still nothing.
“Like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?” she presses.
The light bulb turns on, gears whirring and flipping as I finally get the significance of the snakes’ names. “Ah, gotcha. It’s biblical.”
“Yep. And you know what that means.” She says it so convincingly that I nod along until I catch myself.
“No.”
“They need to be released one at a time or it doesn’t make sense.” Margot rubs her temples. “I should read the book of Revelation again; maybe there’s a clue.”
There hasn’t been a single element of this ordeal that makes sense to me, but I trust her thought process, even if I don’t understand it. That said, the possibility of another snake has me ready to put her on the couch and insist we play The Floor Is Lava to get out of here.
“While I have complete faith in your understanding of his logic, I won’t be able to relax until I look again.”
She nods. “No, I agree, we need to look to be safe. I’m just saying I feel pretty good that there won’t be any more.”
“Your lips to g…” I start and trail off. Margot’s moving toward the stairs, Gremlin tucked under her arm. “Shouldn’t we have some sort of plan for this?”
When I’m asking for a plan, the situation is beyond dire.
“I have one.” She glances back at me from the second step. “Come on, we’re suiting up.”
I follow without question.