Page 2 of It's In His Hiss

“You’ve got the look of a man cursed,” he says, voice smooth and knowing.

I stiffen. “And you’ve got the look of someone about to buy a book or leave.”

He chuckles, low and amused, before drifting toward the mythology section. I watch him carefully. Most people pretend not to notice my hair. This one? He’stoo aware.

He selects a book—Ancient Curses and Their Undoings—and sets it on the counter, waving a bony finger at my snakes. “Ever consider finding a way back?”

I swallow, fingers tightening on the register. “No refunds on existential crises.”

He merely smirks, hands over the exact change, and disappears as quietly as he arrived. I exhale, only realizing then that my snakes were as still as me, listening intently.

As I rearrange a stack of books, a scrap of parchment flutters to the ground.

Frowning, I pick it up. The ink is jagged,almost frantic:

A storm is coming.

A prickle crawls down my spine. I glance at the door, but the cloaked stranger is long gone.

I chuckle and shake my head, folding the note and slipping it into my pocket. “Welcome to Screaming Woods. Where cryptic warnings come with every book purchase.”

The distant rumble of thunder rolls through the town, a low grumble that seems to shake the dusty tomes on my shelves.

I glance up from my task, acknowledging the storm with a dismissive nod before returning to my work. “Huh. Maybe not so cryptic after all,” I mutter, feeling a kinship with the broody weather but knowing it won’t breach the sanctuary of my bookshop.

I walk over to the thermostat and twist the dial, coaxing the old heater into action. The comforting hum fills the room, and warmth seeps into the cool air. It is a small pleasure, that sound, a reminder of life chugging along, even in the quietude of my self-imposed exile.

Chapter 2

Alice

I step off the bus and spin around, taking in Screaming Woods with a wide-eyed gaze. The town looks like any other with its quaint main street and charming storefronts, but an electric buzz hangs in the air, tickling my senses. It’s not every day you decide to ditch your silver spoon for a taste of the supernatural. Or put yourself at risk over the hope of an answer or two.

“Hello again, Screaming Woods,” I whisper to myself, a grin tugging at my lips.

I tug at the waist of my spring-flower-themed maxi dress, the fabric swishing against my ankles, a splash of vibrant pastel colors in the drabsea of suits and pencil skirts of my past. No more high teas and silent auctions for me. I’m here to explore my art and myself. My fingers itch to capture this moment on canvas. But first, I need to absorb the uniqueness of this place.

As I walk, I sense the undercurrent of magic pulsing through the streets, and it calls to me like a siren song. Maybe here, among whatever or whoever lurks in the shadows, I can find answers to the strange power I’ve kept hidden all these years. The thought alone sends a shiver of excitement down my spine.

“Who knows? Maybe they have a monster mixer instead of those stuffy cocktail parties,” I murmur, chuckling at my joke.

My best friend, Verity, convinced me to move to Fable Forest with her a few years ago. Then she met her soul mate while working on translating some ancient tome, and she and Gideon are now married. The neighboring town of Screaming Woods, with its menagerie of witches and creatures of the night, was a blip on the radar of my curiosity when I first heard about it. But I fellin love with the place the first time Verity and I visited, and moving here seemed like a no-brainer once my bestie fell in love and settled down with her soul mate.

Me? I’ve been looking for love in all the wrong places for most of my life, and I’ve all but given up on it. But perhaps I’ll find what I need in this magical little town. And if not, I’ve still got all my trusty little devices that keep me, ahem,pleasured.After all, I decided a long time ago that I wasn’t sleeping with any guy who wanted to whisper sweet nothings in my ear while he slithered his hands into my pants. I’ve been saving myself, and if that means I’m still a virgin, then so what? I’m still fun to be around.

And now, here I am, ready to dive headfirst into its mysteries. Enough of being the perfect daughter to a lineage as old as time itself. It’s about time I embarked onmystory.

“Let’s see if you live up to the hype,” I say, giving my surroundings one last appraising look before I venture deeper into the heart of Screaming Woods, my heart beating with the promise of adventure.

I stroll down Main Street—technically, it’s called The Crooked Mile, but everyone says Main Street as it’s easier when giving directions to tourists. My gaze roves from place to place, looking for something interesting enough to stop for.

Easing past the oddities that mingle before me, I can’t help but chuckle softly. A werewolf, his fur sleek and groomed, casually discusses the weather with a demon whose horns glint crimson in the light. The demon catches my eye, and I swear he winks. My giggle escapes before I can catch it, the sound floating away on a breeze that stirs the hem of my bright skirt.

“I’m going to like living here,” I whisper, shaking my head in disbelief.

This place is nothing short of a fairytale—or perhaps a comic book—come to life. Monsters and humans living side by side. It’s bizarre, it’s beautiful, and it’s exactly what I’ve been searching for.

I pause at the corner, taking a moment to drink in the surrounding sights. A sense of cautious exhilaration pulses within me as I scan the crowd, my eyes wide with the same curiosity that drives me to search for something more out of life. A part ofme worries about causing unintended chaos. I have this strange knack for stirring up trouble without even trying. It’s like I’m a walking, talking,breathingexample of Murphy’s Law.

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