Limitless Evolution As a Snake

”I never handed it in,” she says. ”Technically I’m still active. Just self-directed.” She looks at me sideways.

”You’re not the first weird thing I’ve followed into a sewer, is what I’m saying.”Well, that bond sometimes carries... side effects; you pick up skills from me, apparently.”

Her brow furrows. ”Okay, so what did I get?”

I take a deep breath. ”Ouroboros Thrall-Bite.”

The blank confusion on her face is so cute.

Clearing my throat, I explain:

”It’s a vampiric bite; when you sink your fangs in, you inject cursed venom. The target turns into a slavering, half-snake hybrid that obeys every command with absolute loyalty. Complete control, for five minutes. After that, the venom cooks their brain and they... end up eating themselves to death, like a twisted pretzel. Totally illegal, horrifyingly effective. Three-minute cooldown.”

Her eyes go wide, then wider, then she practically vibrates with excitement. ”No way! I can do that now?”

I nod, bracing myself.

”Can I try it on you?” she asks, voice all sparkly.

”Do you want to kill me?” I shivered, trying to sound casual instead of terrified.

She pouts. ”Oh, that’s lame. I want to do it now, but I don’t want to kill you.”

She folds her arms, looking almost put out, until she grins wickedly. ”You’d better teach me how to use it properly. Otherwise I might bite the mailman.”

”Alright, I’ll teach you,” I joked.

”Maybe I do want that,” she teases, tilting her head. ”Maybe I want you worshipping me, Matt.”

I went perfectly still. ”For five minutes, and then I die.”

She opens her mouth and then closes it. ”...okay, fair.”

”Just checking we’re on the same page,” I shivered. ”About the dying part.”

She dissolves into laughter, flopping sideways onto the pillow. ”Oh, my god. You’re so—”

”Alive? Yeah, I’m a big fan of that.”

She recovers enough to prop herself up on one elbow. ”So how does it feel, having your big power move stolen by your girlfriend?”

I open my mouth, but she’s already won.

”I’ll live,” I assured. ”That’s literally the whole point.”

”Or cuddle you every night,” she says softly. ”Or never let you go.”

My heart does backflips.

”You’re not getting rid of me,” she murmurs as she gives me a kiss against my cheek. ”Ever.”

I can feel that promise in our bond, a steady thrum against my ribs.

When she finally pulls back, still curled into me, she asks, ”So... what’s next?”

I honestly have no idea. I’m out of plans, out of skills, out of excuses.

”Breakfast?” I suggest.

She giggles, then rolls off the bed and heads for the kitchen, towel barely hanging on, muttering to herself about ”conquering the world’s worst chef.”

I watch her go; she doesn’t look back. Maybe losing the upper hand isn’t so bad after all.

She’s in the kitchen when I catch up, already two steps ahead and three calories deep into a box of imitation Bob-Tarts. The way she’s perched on the counter, bare legs swinging like a clock gone off schedule, it’s so painfully domestic I want to bite my own tail.

”Is this breakfast?” I worried.

[System: BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS, speaking of champions, congrats on doing the double pen HAHAHA you legend.]

Shut up, old mate.

She flashes a mouthful of fake fruit filling. ”Only if you’re into champions’ diets.”

I lean my hood against the doorframe. ”You know that stuff’s just high-fructose corn syrup and blue dye, right?”

She shrugs, unbothered. ”In the Undercity, we call that a food group.”

It’s weird, seeing her like this. She’s got the energy of someone who’s never been let down by life, even though her resume reads like a police guidelines with half the pages ripped out.

She licks the sugar off her finger, then glances over her shoulder at me. ”So, do you want to talk about it?”

[System: can she lick the sugar off my fingers?]

I ignore old mates’ comments.

I don’t really want to talk about it. But I can tell she does, so I give her the nod.

She hops down, dusts off her hands, and walks over with the unhurried confidence of someone who’s already mapped out every escape route in the building.

”I was a cop,” she says. ”city Enforcement Division, five years.”

I try to picture her in tactical gear. My brain does something immediately embarrassing with that.

She reads my face. ”The uniform’s basically a garbage bag with a zipper, they order men’s cuts, you’d hate it.”

”I’d love it,” I respond honestly.

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. ”It wasn’t glamorous. Mostly you’re babysitting the rich guy’s, confiscating contraband, writing up vendors who are selling things with too many legs.” She pauses. ”I was good at it, though. Like, genuinely. Made detective-track in four years.”

She turns the Pop-Tart wrapper over in her hands, folding it into a tiny, sharp-cornered square.

”There was a girl in my precinct. Younger than me, two years on the job. Fen.” She looks past me, her gaze unfocused. ”She was annoying as hell, always asking questions, always pushing, never knew when to leave something alone.” The wrapper crinkles in her fist. ”I used to tell her she was going to get herself killed acting like the rules meant something.”

Her tone is flat, completely devoid of humor.

”She started pulling a thread on a trafficking ring. Girls going into the Undercity and not coming back out.” Her eyes meet mine. ”The paperwork was clean, way too clean. The kind that takes money. She brought it to me because I was senior, because she trusted me.” Her voice doesn’t change, and fuck, that’s almost worse. ”I told her to sit on it. I said we’d go through proper channels. I was trying to be careful.”

She sets the wrapper down flat.

”They took her on a Thursday and by Friday her file was sealed and I was being lateral-transferred to the under city division, which is basically where they put cops they want to forget about.” She exhales. ”I spent eight months in Twawi. Kept working Fen’s case on my own time, off-book, no resources. Found some of the thread she’d been pulling, followed it down here.”

She reaches into a bag beside the discarded towel and pulls out a badge. She sets it on the counter between us. The enamel’s chipped on one corner, and the number is barely legible.

{{PLEASE READ THIS ON NovelPhoenix I WROTE THIS WITH A HEADACHE}}