4. Chapter 4
Do you understand my hesitation? It spoke as if I were a foolish child. You would have to make it all the way south through the wood. You will die.
You’ve taught me things, I countered.
Not enough, It said. What’s a blade against an incubus?
What can steel do to a creature made of smoke?
You can’t make it through that place with a plucky, can-do attitude.
By night you would be surrounded, outnumbered, dead, in an instant.
How can you possibly protect yourself, alone, from everything that lives there?
There’s all manner of monsters in that wood, it would take days to make it through, and if by some miracle you did make it, what then?
You think you’ll just swan up to the gates of Hell?
That they’ll answer when you knock? They’ll invite you in and say hey, nice to meet you?
I wouldn’t be alone, I said. I’d have you.
You wouldn’t. I want nothing to do with this.
You would let me die?
And I’d be there for the final I told you so before you breathe your last.
I had no time for feelings anymore; it didn’t even hurt, that It would see me die before getting off its lazy, scaly ass. Then you’re a coward. A miserable, petty coward.
I expected an instantaneous retort but It gave me nothing but silence, a quiet so calm and still I knew It had retreated with a flounce to the farthest corners of my consciousness, where it always skulked in the small hours of the morning to give me a bit of respite.
That it even thought to give me a daily reprieve had to prove It cared about my wellbeing, didn’t it?
My fear of the villagers had summoned It this morning.
Surely my fear in the wood would do the same?
And if so, wouldn’t It be called upon to act, to defend me if I needed it?
It had not even allowed a human to snatch my wrist, repaying the warmth of that gesture with a cleaved face, a throat torn to bits.
It didn’t want to see me harmed. It didn’t want to learn the way around another human’s mind.
Perhaps It was afraid to hope for better than what It currently had.
It would be there when I needed It. And if It wasn’t, then let the wood have me.
When I blinked and looked over at Serich, he wore the expression I had only ever found on Livvy’s face, when I’d been lost inside a conversation she wasn’t privy to.
“I have to make it through the wood,” I said into the silence. “I have to get to Hell.” I closed my eyes for a moment, centering myself. “I have to leave. The villagers will be wondering where you’ve got to. They’ll be looking for me. I need to go before they find me and fit my neck for a noose.”
“You’re going to go through the wood alone?” he asked, as if he now feared me madder than ever.
“I have no choice.” My hair flew back and forth as I took a quick stock of Serich’s childhood home. “Can I borrow clothes, take whatever food is left? Your father kept weapons, right? Is it possible—”
“I can’t let you go alone.”
“This is no time for gallantry,” I said, with a twinge of exasperation.
“Have you any clue what lives there? I’ve read texts on this topic, Desideria, creatures from Hell are not so simple to avoid or kill.
Nymphs that crack open human bones and suck out the marrow to keep themselves young, fanged cats as big as giants that breathe hellfire, satyrs that offer help but lure you into labyrinths you’ll never find your way out of.
You are mad,” he said flatly, slashing his hands through the air.
“Mad to even consider doing this alone. I promised Father Hull I’d do whatever I could to protect his flock. I can’t just send you off to Hell—”
I opened my mouth to answer, but the front door jumped on its hinges, shuddering under a spell of pounding. My eyes skipped toward Serich’s. I felt sure I looked as horrified as he did.
“Hide,” he said, without a moment’s hesitation. “In the cannery. Down the hall, first door on your right.”
I tore off, stumbling over the hem of my dress, and skidded into the cannery.
Backing into the darkest corner, I crouched behind a pallet stacked with jars.
My heart somersaulted as the banging on the door persisted, intensified.
But the feeling was followed very quickly by a flicker of satisfaction, for I had felt It join me in the main chamber of my mind.
I rested my head against humid stone, exhaling a long, slow breath. It had known I was afraid, and It came.
It said nothing through the knocking, through the murmured snatches of conversation which floated through the crack beneath the cannery door.
It was quiet as the sound of multiple pairs of feet shuffled about Serich’s parlor.
It kept its silence through the volley of random heavy thumps, and when the front door opened and closed yet again, It left.
I tried not to feel too smug. I thought it best not to antagonize It further.
The cannery door flew open. A shaft of gray light fell across my face, and Serich stood there in the threshold, his features lost in shadow.
“Let’s go,” he said, holding out his hand.