Limitless Evolution As a Snake

”Sorry, I got distracted by the closet,” she says, ”but, um” she points vaguely between Lyra and Lyra, ”what actually happened? Why does Lyra look like that?”

”We will explain very soon, my beautiful, alright? Just know i love you, and I’ll always protect you.”

Cherry tilts her head like a confused puppy but accepts it with a pout ”As long as you tell me I’m happy” ”Hmpf”

Two people step in when I nudge the door open with my tail, both dressed sharp in black and white like they walked straight out of some hotel training video. The first one’s an older guy, silver at the temples, hands folded in front of him like he’s about to conduct an orchestra. The second is a woman, younger, hair pulled back tight, eyes doing a quick scan of the room before landing on me.

Both of them bow. Not a little nod, not a polite dip of the head. A full, proper bow. Good. They’re learning. It’s about time people started showing the proper respect.

”Mr Vane,” the older guy says, voice smooth as butter. ”I’m Desmond, head chef for the Presidential Suite. It’s an honour to be serving you and your guests tonight.”

”Vane??” Both of my girls say at the same time, interrupting the servants.

”Ah, yes, that’s my last name, by the way.”

”Omg, omg, can I be Cherry Vane?”

”Anything you want, my sweetness”, as I kiss the top of her head.

”Ah-ahem, I’m Priya, lead housekeeping,” the woman says, already moving toward our bags without waiting for permission. ”I’ll have everything settled in the bedrooms within the hour.”

Cherry’s frozen halfway down the hallway, staring at Priya like she just watched a magic trick. ”Wait, she’s just gonna- she doesn’t have to do that. I can carry my own!”

”Miss, please.” Priya’s already got the bags slung over her shoulder like they weigh nothing. ”This is my job, let me do it.”

Cherry looks at me, asking permission to be taken care of. A low rumble starts in my coils. The urge to hoard something so precious is a physical ache.

”Let her,” I say. ”That’s what she’s here for.”

Desmond clears his throat, polite as anything. ”Whenever you’re ready, sir, I can prepare something for you all tonight. Anything you’d like, made fresh, no menu restrictions. Late supper, early breakfast, doesn’t matter the hour.”

My brain cycles through the possibilities. Real food. Cooked by a professional. This is the baseline now. No more sewer trash. ”Whatever you think two exhausted women and one giant snake might want,” I say. ”Surprise us.”

He bows again and disappears toward the kitchen without another word.

I turn back to the couch, this massive white thing that could probably fit six people and still have room for a small parade, and I let my scales shimmer and blur at the edges. Smoke curls off my body, thick and dark, until my usual coiled bulk thins out. I reach out and pull Cherry in with one arm I made with my smoke and Lyra with the other, tugging them both down into the couch cushions before either of them can protest.

”Matt, I’m still wet, I’ll ruin the-”

”Don’t care,” I say, voice quiet, and I mean it.

Lyra melts into my side without a fight, head resting against the firm pillar of smoke I’d formed, which still somehow holds her weight. Cherry takes longer, stiff for a second, horn stumps twitching, but then she sags too, tension leaking out of her like a popped balloon.

Nobody has to cook tonight. Nobody has to scrub grime out of grout lines or check the locks four times before bed. Somewhere down the hall, Priya’s folding shirts that used to live in a duffel bag stuffed under a mattress, and in the kitchen, Desmond’s already got something sizzling that smells like it costs more than my old rent.

”We don’t have to do anything,” Lyra murmurs, like she’s still convincing herself it’s true.

”Nothing,” I agree, and for the first time in longer than I can remember, I actually believe it.

Cherry shifts against my side, picking at the duct tape on her sleeve, and I can feel her working up to it before she even opens her mouth.

”Okay, but for real,” she says, voice small, ”somebody has to tell me what happened. Lyra’s eyes look weird, and you look way more snake-like and menacing than before. I don’t, I don’t like not knowing things; it makes my brain do the bad spiral thing.”

Lyra huffs something that’s almost a laugh, tired and worn thin. ”Might as well tell her, Matt. She’s not gonna let it go.”

I tighten my smoke-coils around them. ”Okay. I wasn’t keeping secrets; I was handling a situation. You were my priority.” And I handle my business. ”Remember the party? At my dad’s?”

Cherry nods, horn stumps twitching. ”The harpy, Channel. She poisoned Lyra’s drink.”

Cherry’s whole body goes rigid against me. ”Wait—my new pet tried to kill Lyra?”

”Yeah.” No point softening it. Pest control is pest control. ”She drank it before I caught the harpy’s pathetic little smirk. It acted fast.” I stop to think, remembering the moment not with panic, but with cold clarity. ”So I acted faster. Smashed a window, got us out, and pulled the poison straight through the bond. Took it into myself. It was nothing.”

”You can just do that?” Cherry’s staring up at me now, eyes wide.

Old Mate sounds off, finally.

[System: Blood Oath that sounds crazy, when was that? How’d I miss that, the fuck, cunt? Keeping me out of all the good stuff.]

Wait, what the fuck, you were there?

[System: what do u mean i was there, u weirdo, i would’ve remembered that, pretty sure]

You literally just said ”the fuck, cunt” like you saw something happen and got left out of it.

[System: Yeah, ’ cause I blacked out after drinking too much; that doesn’t count as being there. That’s called a wild friday.]