Where A Witch Goeth

Chapter 41: Unexpected Companions

My tears ran dry just before the kerosene lantern—but only just. And when the darkness enveloped me, that's when I began to hear muffled scuttling sounds, and my breaking heart seemed a little less important than what Van would call the "wee beasties" of the night. Apparently, there was a wee beastie somewhere in this building with me...possibly in my cell.

I slowed my breath, slowed my heart, and listened hard. I heard the scuttle once again. A mouse, maybe? Or a mouse's larger, slightly terrifying cousin? I imagined a footlong field rat creeping toward me in the cell. Somewhat illogically, I pictured it shimmying up my body as I hysterically tried to bat it away while it clung like a demon. In my mind's eye, I saw the fucking little monster with beady, blood-red eyes and a mouthful of tiny vampire teeth just before it sunk its filthy fangs right into my neck.

I climbed to my feet and promised the dark, "I hear you, rodent. Be warned. I'm a witch, teetering right on the edge of total darkness myself. Come at me, and I will bite your fucking head off and use your bones to pick this lock."

And then I heard the scuttle again, except this time it didn't sound at all like the patter of ratty paws. It sounded like something sliding through debris.

Not a mouse. Not a rat.

A snake.

A fucking snake was slithering around somewhere near me in the dark, and I was completely tapped out of magic from blasting Nick and saving the life...er, existence, of a goddamn, ungrateful bastard of a vampire who locked me up and didn't even bother to make sure the jail was vermin-free. Nor did he ensure I had enough kerosene with which to eyeball the goddamn snake he shut in with me. It would be helpful to be able to see whether it was venomous or not.

I was going to torture Evander in some truly terrible witchy way, but I'd have to think how later. Right now I had to make sure I didn't die of a snake bite. I listened carefully for a rattle, but couldn't hear one. That was good, at least.

I whimpered a bit as I tried in vain to manifest a glow ball in my hand. It took a lot of energy that I didn't have. Then I tried to call to the fireflies outside, but that didn't work either. It had to be near dawn now. They had gone to ground, and I didn't have enough magical juice to raise them and summon them to me. Eventually, I decided the best thing to do was simply stay put. Snakes were usually shy, right? If I stayed where I was and didn't go stumbling over it, it likely wouldn't strike.

Unless it was really, really big and really, really hungry. I couldn't quell the  image of a Nagini-sized snake rearing up before me and swallowing me whole.

Stupid, I chastised myself. Pythons live in South America, not the Appalachians.

As dawn broke, I clung to the iron bars and studied the shadows. Eventually, I saw the snake—thankfully outside the cell for now. He was thick and varying shades of brown, but it was impossible to tell how big he truly was, the way he was haphazardly piled upon himself.

After studying him for some time, I thought two things: mostly likely he was a very deadly kind of creature. And maybe, just maybe, that copperhead snake was studying me, too—and thinking the very same thing.

"Hey there, big boy. You stay in your corner, okay? I've had enough of fangs for a while."

He lifted his head, and his forked tongue rolled in waves from his mouth and wavered briefly before recoiling.

"I'll be goddamned! I'm a parseltongue!" I whispered with glee. I didn't really think there was any such thing, but jailbirds have to amuse themselves any way they can.

I talked to the snake all morning, as the sun rose into midday. I told him all my problems, all my worries, all my fears, and I swear to the goddess he listened to me, his head lifted, his beady eyes trying to work out my words. When I started to complain sometime in the afternoon that I was hungry and thirsty, and I really didn't want to pee in the bucket, he tucked his head into his coils. I guess he didn't care for the whining.