Page 11 of Pets in Space 10

Landry gripped the steering wheel of the skiff tighter as the boat skimmed across the darkening water. The motor hummed beneath him, its vibrations syncing with the tight coil in his gut. He hadn’t said much in the last half hour. He couldn’t. Not after what they’d seen.

The swamp had always thrummed with life — buzzing bugs, croaking frogs, the flap of unseen wings — but today it felt… wrong. Hollow. Dead.

A graveyard.

Even now, the images haunted him. A heron, its wings spread mid-flight, frozen like a statue in the reeds. A snake coiled around a tree limb, mouth agape, eyes sunken, as if it had been flash-mummified. But it was the gator that haunted him the most.

Eighteen feet long.

Hung in the low branches like some cruel warning. Desiccated. Twisted in agony.

His shotgun and rifle suddenly felt like toys.

Beside him, Harmonia sat motionless, her gaze distant, lips moving in a whisper too soft to catch. Her hands traced the air in fluid arcs, fingers glowing faintly with a silvery light. Wind teased her braid as the sky deepened into indigo.

Landry opened his mouth to say something — anything — but the crackle of the radio beat him to it.

“Landry, you there?”

Hog’s voice.

He grabbed the mic. “I’m here.”

“We… we got a problem. It’s Jack. Jack Parsons. He’s gone.”

Landry’s heart dropped. “Gone? What do you mean gone?”

There was a pause — too long. Then Hog’s voice returned, low and raw.

“Something… took him. Boys said it came out of the water. Big. Real big. Coiled. Dragged him under. He never came back up.”

Harmonia’s hand paused mid-air. Her breath caught audibly. She turned, eyes wide with dawning grief. A sheen of tears caught the last slant of sunlight.

“They saw it rise up after,” Hog continued. “Betty collapsed. Everyone’s out here now, tryin’ to find him. But… I don’t think we will.”

Landry swallowed hard. “We’re heading in. We’ll hole up there tonight.”

He didn’t say what he was thinking — I don’t want to be on this water when the sun goes down. He didn’t need to. The tension in his shoulders said it for him.

Beside him, Harmonia whispered a few more words in her strange tongue and cupped her hands to her chest. A shimmer of light pulsed around her fingers, then vanished.

“What are you doing?” he asked softly.

“Warding,” she replied, her voice hoarse. “I don’t want it catching us off guard. The wards will warn me if dark magic touches it and protect those inside the barriers I’ve erected.”

He pressed the throttle a little harder, skimming over the water’s surface. The swamp thickened around them — trees leaning close, shadows falling fast. Then, just ahead, the first signs of life flickered through the gloom.

Lanterns. Torches. Spotlights.

Dozens of boats were out — some tied to the docks, some drifting along the water’s edge — loaded with armed men and women shouting across the darkening bayou.

The search for Jack had drawn community members from across the parish.

Landry eased back on the throttle and coasted toward the nearest cluster of boats. Harmonia sat up straighter, scanning the area.

“It’s not here,” she said suddenly.

Landry turned to her. “How do you know?”

“I can feel it,” she whispered. “The magic — whatever’s twisting that creature — it’s not here. Not anymore.”

Before he could reply, two ripples disturbed the water beside their boat as Lilypad and Pug dove over the side. They surfaced like sleek, glimmering shadows, their scales catching the fading light, then without a sound, they vanished beneath the surface again.

“They’re going to help search,” Harmonia murmured. “They’ll find him, if he can be found.”

Landry nodded and turned toward a familiar vessel drifting nearby.

“Hog!” he called out, steering close.

The other man turned, his lantern cutting a golden arc across the water. His face was pale beneath his ball cap, his expression strained.

“Landry,” he greeted in a voice tight with suppressed emotion. “Hell of a night.”

“Yeah,” Landry said, pulling alongside and cutting the motor. “We came as fast as we could.”

Hog nodded grimly. “Jack was a good man. Blue won’t leave Betty’s side. Kids are shook bad.”

There was a long pause, heavy with grief.

“I saw it,” Hog added quietly, eyes dark. “Just for a second. Big as a damn pontoon boat. Coiled like a python. I think someone let one loose and it’s grown wild.”

“No,” Harmonia said softly.

Hog blinked and looked at her.

“That creature isn’t from Earth,” she continued. “It’s from another world. A serpent twisted by a dark realm that feeds on life energy. It’s hunting. And it won’t stop.”

Hog stared at her. “What?”

“It’s magic,” she said simply.

Silence.

Landry winced. Here we go.

Hog squinted. “What the hell is she talkin’ about, Landry?”

He opened his mouth to respond — She’s an alien mage with two little dragons as her sarcastic familiars — but the words didn’t quite form.

Then, with a splash, Pug launched himself over the side of Hog’s boat and landed with a wet thump near the bow.

Water streamed off his scales. He shook like a dog, spraying droplets everywhere. Hog recoiled, hands flying up.

“What the — ?!”

Pug looked up at them, chest heaving.

“Lilypad is following the serpent,” he announced. “It still has the human. I told her not to get eaten, but you know how she is.”

Hog stared.

Mouth open.

Completely silent.

Landry pinched the bridge of his nose. “Pug,” he muttered, “we talked about this. The whole telling humans about dragons and interdimensional monster snakes thing? Remember? The don’t do it part?”

Pug blinked. “Oh. Right.”

Hog sat down heavily on the bench seat, still staring at Pug. “It… talked.”

Landry sighed. “Yeah.”

“Like… English.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a dragon.”

“A water dragon, yes.”

“And she,” Hog said, jerking his head toward Harmonia, “is not… not from anywhere near here, is she?”

“Nope,” Landry said, popping the ‘p.’

Hog looked at him, eyes wide. “You kissed her, huh?”

Landry blinked. “What?! No — I mean — maybe. That’s beside the point! What does that have to do with anything?”

Harmonia’s cheeks flushed, but her mouth twitched.

Pug just sighed. “Humans are a very confusing species.”

***

Lilypad darted through the dark water, her fins trembling with exhaustion and fear.

The swamp pressed in around her — thick, dark, and full of danger.

Tangled roots twisted like skeletal fingers beneath the surface.

Above, the last blush of sunlight bled into night, the cypress trees casting long shadows that flickered like phantoms across the water.

The surface was alive with sound: frogs croaked in discordant rhythm, owls hooted from the mossy branches, and insects hummed a rising symphony of dusk. Below, it was quieter — more menacing. The kind of silence that made prey tremble.

The silence that heralded a hunter.

Pug, she whispered through the link between them, I’ve got a trail. The serpent still has the human. I saw the boot. It’s dragging him like a sack of moss.

Be careful, Pug’s voice came back, taut with worry. Don’t get too close to it. You hear me? You are not a fighter, Lil.

I’m not trying to fight it, she snapped. I just want to see where it’s going.

A pause. Then quieter: I don’t like this.

Neither did she.

She glided low, hugging the murky bottom of the bayou where eelgrass and silt clung to her belly. Her bioluminescent scales dimmed to almost nothing, just enough to avoid obstacles. The water reeked of rot, sulfur… and something else. Something deeply, viscerally wrong.

She passed beneath a sunken log, careful not to disturb the snapping turtle wedged between two knotted roots. Fish scattered ahead of her. A school of minnows darted away in a silver streak. Frogs stopped croaking when she passed.

Everything was hiding.

Too quiet, she thought.

She followed the faint magical residue — the oily tendrils that leaked from the serpent’s wake like smoke. It clung to the water like sickness. Her fins shuddered just brushing through it.

Harmonia was right. This thing… it’s not just a serpent anymore, Pug. I don’t know what it is.

You should turn back.

Not yet. Her eyes narrowed. I’m close.

She broke the surface for a heartbeat, just enough to see.

The moon had risen — fat and low, glowing like a golden eye through the mist. The village was far behind her now.

These back channels twisted like veins, leading deeper into the heart of the swamp.

Abandoned hunting blinds rotted in the trees.

One tilted precariously over the water, vines swallowing its frame.

Ahead, something moved.

She dropped low — fins tight against her body — and watched through the reeds.

The serpent was massive.

A dark shape, gliding just beneath the surface, coiling and uncoiling like a ribbon of shadow. Jack’s body dragged behind it, limp and swaying, caught in a thick loop of scale and muscle.

She froze.

Her tiny heart thumped hard in her chest.

I see it, she whispered. Oh dragon god… Pug, it’s huge.

Come back, Lily. Right now. Come back.

She hesitated — then the serpent stopped.

Its head turned slowly. The surface rippled as it lifted just enough to scent the air. It hovered. Waiting.

Then it looked — straight at her.

It sees me!

Lilypad dove hard, streaking through the water with a burst of terrified speed. Behind her, a hiss split the air, and a second later, a heavy splash thundered through the channel.

The chase was on.

Pug! Pug it’s coming!

Turn invisible, Lil! Find a place to hide!

She veered sharply and shot through a tunnel of fallen roots. Behind her, the water exploded. Something massive thrashed after her, tearing through the reeds like paper. She dove again, twisting, ducking under a submerged branch. Her lungs burned. Her magic flared in warning.

A searing pain lanced through her back.

It hit me!

Where are you? Pug’s voice was a whip of panic.

Still running! It grazed me — it threw the body at me! I think — she whimpered, I think it was a distraction!

She saw it then — Jack’s body, drifting slowly downward. His eyes stared blankly through the water, mouth slack with silent terror. The serpent’s coil marks were burned deep into his skin.

Tears burned Lilypad’s eyes as she shot past him.

It’s trying to cut me off! I need to hide!

Lily — get out of there now!

She swam hard, ignoring the stabbing pain along her ribs. Her fin trailed blood — just a little — but enough. It would smell it. Hunt her.

Her chest ached. Her breath came in short, ragged puffs. She ducked low, spotted a sunken boat, turned upside down and half buried in the muck, and darted under it.

It was just wide enough for her to fit. She wedged herself in tight, holding perfectly still. Her scales pulsed once, then dimmed completely.

Outside, the water churned.

The serpent slithered past — slow, deliberate. She could feel it. Not just the movement, but the cold wrongness of its presence. Like poison seeping through the air.

It paused.

Lilypad didn’t breathe.

She didn’t blink.

A long, forked tongue flicked under the rim of the boat.

The muck covered the smell of her blood. It hissed once, a sound like boiling oil — and then it moved on.

Minutes passed.

She didn’t move.

Lilypad, Pug’s voice finally came through, softer now. Lily… answer me. Please.

She exhaled a shaky breath. I’m here.

You’re hurt.

It’s not bad. I’ll… I’ll stay here until it’s safe. It’s heading east. Tell Harmonia. Tell Landry. It’s not finished.

Neither are we, Pug said fiercely.

Lilypad curled tighter inside the boat, wedged in the small storage area that had once been used for an anchor. The surrounding water was quiet now — but far from calm. Her body trembled with exhaustion and fear, but her eyes burned with determination.

It thinks it can hunt us. It thinks we’re prey.

She curled tighter in the darkness, trying not to think of the pain running along her back.

We have to stop it, Pug. It is evil.

We will, Lil. We’ll come for you. Stay there. I’ll bring Harmonia and Landry to you.