Page 29 of It's In His Hiss

Even though laughter is trapped within, anxiety coils in my gut like one of his serpents, squeezing tight with the possibility that this might be forever.

Please,I plead silently,let there be a way through this. For both our sakes.

The door creaks open. Footsteps echo. A warm, familiar voice slices through the haze of my static thoughts.

“Where is she?” Verity asks sharply, no preamble. Her voice is tight, anxious.I’d know that tone anywhere—it’s her “you-better-not-be-dead” voice.

“In there,” Gordy says, his voice cracking slightly.

Verity rushes in and stops cold.“Oh, my gods.”

I’m not sure if she’s commenting on my stony form or the weeks-long post-sex position I’m still locked into where I’m propped against the wall. I wish I could tell her I’m okay. That she doesn’t need to look so stricken. But then again… maybe I’m not okay.

She moves slowly toward me, eyes searching mine like she’s hoping for a flicker of recognition. Her fingers hover shy of my arm. “Howlong?”

“A couple of weeks,” Gordy says hoarsely.

Verity curses under her breath, something uncharacteristically sharp. “What a time to go off-grid,” she says, glaring at Gideon like it’s all his fault. “She’s been like this forweeks,” she snaps, then softens instantly. “I’m sorry. It’s—she’s my best friend.”

Gideon nods. “She’s not just frozen. Her magical essence—it’s flickering.”

Flickering? I don’t like the sound of that. But the word settles into my mind like static. Distant. Fuzzy. Like a dream I’m forgetting while I’m still dreaming it.

“We need to work fast,” Gideon continues, brushing his fingers through the air above my cheek. “I can feel her fading. Not physically, but… mentally. Emotionally. She’s drifting.”

Drifting. Yes. That’s the word I couldn’t find earlier. I want to tell him he’s right. That I feel like fog in the shape of a person. Like I’m slipping through myself.

“Can you reverse it?” Gordy asks, voice strained.

Gideon regards him seriously, his mouth grim. “We’ll fix this,” he says confidently, his voice reassuringly deep. “There’s a spell. I can teach it to you. But we can’t make any mistakes. The longer she stays like this, the more permanent the separation between body and soul becomes.”

Cool. Great. No pressure.

Chapter 11

Gordy

I hear the crunch of gravel before I see them, and my gut clenches with a mix of embarrassment and hope. Verity’s voice wafts through the air before she steps into view, followed by Gideon, who looks like he could benchpress a library.

Alice introduced us all at a burger joint in town. Not my usual kind of place, but then Alice told me the story about how Gideon and Verity met, how he’d turned her to stone, and how he’d attempted to win her over by singing to her at the place. It was a sweet story, and they were a genuine couple.

And Alice finally confessed her concerns about her “witchy” abilities to her best friend, although Isuspected Verity already knew and was waiting for Alice to broach the subject.

Regardless, Gideon and Verity are a couple who can understand my dilemma, which is the most important part. And they’re finally here.

“Gordy,” Verity greets me with a beautiful smile that somehow doesn’t feel out of place, even in this dire situation. Her eyes flick past me to Alice, and the smile falters. “Oh… oh, no.” Her voice goes soft. “She’s been like this the whole time?”

I nod tightly. “It’s been weeks. Can’t say I’ve ever been happier to see two people,” I admit, my voice rough with swallowed pride. I gesture toward the statue that used to be Alice. “I messed up. Big time.”

Verity presses her lips together like she’s holding back a flood of emotion.

Gideon looks at her and something unspoken passes between them—the same kind of something I feel for Alice. “She’s fading. I can feel it. We have to work fast.” His gaze moves to Alice. “We’ll fix this,” he says confidently, his voice reassuringly deep. “There’s a spell. I can teach it toyou. But we can’t make any mistakes. The longer she stays like this, the more permanent the separation between body and soul becomes.”

“Really?” My heart somersaults. “That would be great.”

I pause, realizing how impressive Gideon is right now. His snakes are perfectly still on his head, coiled like living crowns. Mine? They’re practically doing the conga in comparison. And, unlike me, Gideon skipped the whole “green-skinned” thing—another questionable “perk” of the Frankenpunch, no doubt.

“Focus, Gordon.” Gideon’s tone snaps my attention back to the matter at hand. He approaches Alice’s stone figure, his expression unreadable as he circles her.

---