Page 52 of The Salt-Black Tree
Had Mom hidden this magic, knowing it would cause questions from a little girl the cats talked to, knowing it was proof that the world was not dead, prosaic,normal?
A new idea tiptoed into Nat’s head, shy as the first pussywillows daring to breach winter’s wall. Maybe, just possibly, there was something her mother couldn’t do.
Until she eats me,she thought, and braced herself for a shudder that never happened. It was weird, of course—how could you get used to the idea that your own mother wanted to consume you, maybe even sucking the marrow from your bones just like from a roasted chicken?
Both Leo and Mom did that, claiming it was the best part.
“Well.” Marie Laveaux stepped close, gazing at the result. Leaves quivered at her nearness, the flowers keeping themselves tightly furled. “Not bad.”
I don’t need your approval,Mom would snap. Nat, however, simply rubbed her fingertips against her jeans and rose. It felt good to have done something right for a change. The darkness didn’t press quite so closely now, and she met Marie’s gaze squarely.
“Consider your passage paid.” Laveaux turned again, setting off over shifting, clicking stones. “Let’s get you on your way.”
HE’S CARRIED MOUNTAINS
Tiny waves lapped at a curve of grassy lakeshore while the house rollicked with jazz behind them, everyone still apparently having a good time. A chorus of shouts rose with a particularly hot drumroll under a horn solo, melding with the hum of something that had to be cicadas despite the season. Lake Pontchartrain was a black mirror, breathing faint white mist upwards; Marie halted on the slope and whistled a long, crystal-piercing note.
It was nice to not be freezing at the end of December. Still, Nat wasn’t too crazy about the humidity. It was like breathing through a tepid-soaked washcloth, even if the grass and scrub at the lake’s rim were suddenly aware of her presence and rustling with anticipation.
A faint splash in the distance gave birth to more ripples. “Rules,” Marie said, brisk and businesslike. “Be respectful. Keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times. If you misbehave, the ride reserves the right to swallow you whole. Last but not least, no refunds.”
That covers everything, I’m sure.Nat nodded, then cleared her throat when the tall woman glanced at her. “Yes, ma’am.”
The mist moved uneasily. A long trailing vee pointed shoreward, moving steadily closer. A shadow reared, and Nat didn’t move only because her feet flat-out refused.
Holy hell, it’s the Loch Ness Monster?
But it wasn’t. The vast, gleaming-wet wedge-shaped head was a few shades away from black, like Marie’s indigo suit but in another direction—probably green, Nat guessed.Swallow you wholewasn’t a euphemism—the serpent looked like it could probably unhinge its jaw and fit Baby, not to mention Nat herself, in its gullet before slinking deep in impassable bayou to digest the whole cargo.
The head lifted on a scaled, dripping, muscular column. Its tongue flicked, and the sheer size of the thing, or even its utter unreality, couldn’t take away from how beautiful it was. The beast lookedright,in the deep-burning way of other divinities. More foxfire glimmers gathered in its eyes, moving in slow, hypnotic swirls answered by a wave of twinkles passing through Marie’s necklaces, echoed by her fingernails.
“State your destination.” Laveaux was businesslike and crisp, but she gazed fondly at the serpent, and it dipped its head slightly, a graceful approximation of a bow. “Speak clearly.”
Oh, my…Nat couldn’t even finish the thought. “The, uh.”Wow. “The salt-black tree, please.”
The massive head lowered further, approached. A ropy, muscular, forked tongue flickered silent-swift, tasting the air; its gaze was unnervingly steady. No gleam of fangs showed, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. The thing’s eye was a huge glassy orb, pearly nictating membrane flicking as well. Finally, the serpent nodded again, and the soft slippage of lake against shore took on a deeper echo as more of a vast, shining length pressed against sodden grass and thick scrub, scales retaining their gleam as thorns broke useless against their armor. The head lowered yet more, flattening on thick clipped lawn between her and Laveaux until it was only knee-high; Nat realized what the creature intended and a deep atavistic shiver slid from her scalp to her toes.
No. No thank you.But this was what she had to do.
“Climb aboard,” the woman said. “And remember,be respectful. The bayou can hold any number of bodies, Drozdova.”
So can the East River.It took all Nat’s courage to raise her foot, setting it gingerly on the giant snake’s head. Its chin pressed deep into soft soaked earth; could smaller ones flatten themselves like this? “I hope I’m not too heavy.” The words held a definite squeak.
This time, Laveaux’s laugh was warm caramel. Underlit by gleaming necklace beads, her eyes were dark hollows and her high cheekbones knife-sharp. “He’s carried mountains, little girl. I don’t say this often, but good luck.”
“Thank you.” Nat shifted her weight, and in a few moments was balanced precariously on a giant snake’s head. It rose, the motion smooth as silk; at least it didn’t sway or rock like the carriages. It wasn’t even like surfing, or so Nat imagined.
Instead, the head remained curiously still, the world sliding around them like the revolving rooftop restaurant they talked about in Midtown. Marie’s white-columned house retreated, music Doppler-vanishing into the distance. A soft satiny sound was lake-water against undulating, scaled sides, but again, the snake’s head was the stationary point and all else simply slithered away on every side.
The thought—that this beast was long enough to circle the entire globe and just had to shift a bit to take a rider from one point to the next on that circuit—rested somewhere between exhilarating and creepifying, fine hairs raising all over Nat’s body and deep wonder alloyed with dread pouring cold water through every vein. The snake’s tongue flicked as it moved, the lake twisting a few degrees off-center and realigning. Citylight receded under a misty chill, a membrane matching the beast’s inner lid drawn across the horizon.
Dark shoreline loomed, cypress, tupelo, swamp oak, and other trees swelling under long gray-moss capes. A breeze ruffled thecloaks, and the movement—very much likethose who eat—was only half as scary as the head underneath her trembling boots. She didn’t even dare to glance over her shoulder, simply froze, quivering like a hypnotized bird, as the serpent plunged into the bayous.
All sense of speed or direction vanished. Water silk-lapped scaled sides; branches crackled as a long fluid weight crept over bars of drier land. Tiny plops and rasps surrounded them—many things here hunted at night. Alligators, probably, and cottonmouths. She didn’t know what else lurked in this part of the country, except for catfish and very large rats, and while she was as familiar with rodents and their high piping voices as any New York girl could be, snakes were an entirely different proposition.
As for the gators, all she knew was that they drowned you before they ate. Was it, she wondered, better or worse than the flint knife?
Maybe that’s how Mom would do it. The Knife, and then…
