Page 26 of It's In His Hiss

And at that moment, I realize what real fear is.

Not the curse. Not the transformation. Not even death.

It’s love.

Love that burns too bright. Love that makes monsters out of men.

And I would give anything—anything—to undo this.

To hear her laugh.

To love her without breaking her.

I’m on my feet in a flash, the warmth of our earlier intimacies replaced by an icy dread that seizes my heart. The sight of Alice, still and silent in her stony prison, is like a knife to my gut. Panic claws at me, but I push it down. There has to be a cure, a reversal spell, anything.

“Stay with me, Al,” I whisper, even though the words can’t reach her now. “I’ll fix this.”

I burst through the doors of my private library, a sanctuary crammed with ancient scrolls and dusty tomes. I scan the spines, looking for titles thatpromise hope. Books on alchemy, enchantments, and forbidden magic. I yank them from the shelves, the pages fluttering wildly as I search for something, anything, to undo what my cursed blood has wrought.

“Come on, there has to be something,” I mutter to myself, my voice laced with the gravity of the situation. Fuck, I feel so hollow and useless.

The room fills with the scent of burning sage and juniper as I try every ritual I know. I chant incantations until my voice grows hoarse, but the only answer I receive is the echo of my desperation. Not a single leaf or twig catalyzes the miracle I need.

“Damn it!” I slam a heavy grimoire shut, its dust puffing into the air like a mockery of my efforts. This can’t be happening. Not when I’ve just found someone who makes me feel… human.

Turning back to Alice, my heart clenches at the sight of her frozen figure. She’s a picture of eternal grace, yet so utterly untouchable. I kneel beside her, tracing the outline of her stone cheek with a trembling hand.

“Al, I am so sorry,” I say, my voice cracking.

The silence that follows is deafening. Her presence, once vibrant and warm, is now nothing more than a memory carved in rock.

“Please,” I plead to the universe, to any deity that might be listening, “give her back to me.”

But the room remains still, save for the soft hiss of my serpentine hair echoing my despair. And as the hours drag on, the weight of my newfound loneliness settles heavily upon my shoulders. Alice, my curious, chestnut-haired enigma, might be gone forever, an endless void where her laughter used to be.

I pace the room, my snakes writhing in agitation. Who can I call? Her parents are out of the question. They’d probably stake me on the spot for sleeping with their daughter and turning her into a lawn ornament.

“Think, Gordy, think,” I mutter to myself. Alice lies there, silent and still, her hair now a cascade of tiger’s eye stone. How did a night that started with so much promise end up like this?

“Al,” I say, though I know she can’t answer, “if you can hear me, I swear I’m trying to fixthis.”

My hands clench into fists, nails digging into my palms. Can she see me losing it? Is she in there, mentally rolling those dark blue eyes at my pathetic attempts to save her? Or worse, is she scared? Alone? Locked in an internal scream no one can hear?

“Come on, Gordon,” I chide, attempting some of that humor she usually appreciates. “Turning your date into a statue? That’s one way to make sure she sticks around, right?”

The joke falls flat in the empty room. No witty retort from Alice, only silence.

“Damn it!” I kick at the leg of the desk, the sting of pain shooting through my toe a welcome distraction from the helplessness threatening to consume me. I need to do something, anything.

“Okay, okay. What are our options? You’re a gorgon, not an idiot. Think!” I run a hand through my hair, or rather, over the heads of my snakes, careful not to tangle them. “Magic has rules. And exceptions. There’s always a loophole.”

But what is it? What am I missing? I scan the room, my gaze landing once more on Alice’s petrifiedform. “You might be stuck like this because of me, but I’ll move heaven and earth to bring you back. That’s a promise.”

I lean in close, as if proximity can somehow bridge the gap between us. “Hang in there, Al,” I whisper against her cold, stone ear. “I’ll figure this out.”

Chapter 10

Alice

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