I hurled myself toward the safety of the bedroom. But I was too long and clumsy to get all of me through the door and slam it shut before Frou Frou darted inside. Bristling, with little yips and growls, he backed me into the corner. I pulled myself into a tightly coiled mass, held out my hands.
"Frou Frou," I whispered. "Hush." My colors began to brighten, responding to my fear.
Frou Frou tilted his head at my voice, clearly confused, yipped experimentally.
"Hush." My voice trembled and my speech was slurred; I hadn't yet learned to form my words quite properly with my new mouth.
Frou Frou sniffed at my fingers, then made up his mind. I wasn't his mistress, I was an intruder. He snapped at my outstretched hand and started to bark. Jessica yelled at him from the other room.
I rose up above my coils. Colors blazed on my scales; my cobra's hood spread.
He darted at me, baring his teeth, and his teeth closed on my twitching tail. Pain lanced up my body. With a cry I struck out and bit him on the left flank, behind his foreleg. While he struggled, yelping, glands in my palate emptied themselves, venom pulsed in my gums and through my teeth. Dismayed, I let him go.
He ran in circles, yowling, then staggered under the bed, fell on his side and twitched. I worked my way over to him. His eyes were glazing. I lay down next to him. His heart fluttered against the palm of my hand. Then the heart stopped beating.
Clara stood at the door.
"Clara," I said, propping myself upright with effort. Starvation and exertion made my head spin.
"You hurt Frou Frou."
"He attacked me, honey." I forced the words out. "I had no choice."
"You hurt Frou Frou! Bad snake!"
She came at me with both fists, struck at my face. One blow caught me on my nose, still tender from its transformation. At the pain, anger flooded me. I coiled and reared. My scales blazed blue with red, yellow, and black, and my hood fanned out.
Not Clara; no!
I forced down the urge to strike. The angry, brilliant colors drained from my scales. I caught at Clara's hands and held onto them till her rage passed. Without adrenaline I was so weak that it took all my strength to control a five-year-old.
"It's all right, honey. It'll be all right. It's Maman."
She burst into tears. I put my arms around her and stroked her head. My arms were almost too weak to hold her. "I'm so sorry, honey. I'm sorry about Frou Frou."
Jessica had come into the room to see what the commotion was. She stood at the door, pasty white. She must have seen me about to strike at Clara.
"My God," she said, "oh, my God."
Clara, nestled next to my heart, said, "Jessica, it's Maman."
"Clara, come here." Jessica held out her arms. Her voice was shrill.
I didn't let go of Clara. "It's me, Jessica. It's all right. It's the wild card, that's all."
Jessica squatted. Her voice was tinged with hysteria. "Clara, come here right now."
I released Clara and gave her a gentle push. "We need to talk, honey. Go on out for a minute. Jessica -"
But she snatched Clara up, took her out, and slammed the door. Loud bumps and thumps told me she had blocked the door with the rolltop desk. I crept over and tested it anyway; it was blocked.
I collapsed on the floor and panted. I was ill from hunger, all but unconscious.
I moved back to the bed and flicked my tongue all up and down Frou Frou. He was dead and nothing I could do would bring him back. He smelled like what I needed to eat. Fresh, newly killed meat.
I dragged him out from under the bed, lifted his limp head, removed his collar with trembling hands, and then gave him a last caress. I shuddered. The dog was so big, I wasn't sure I could go through with it.
I forced his head into my mouth. My throat gagged but I kept pushing, salivating heavily, and my jaw unhinged as a snake's does, so he could pass more easily. The skin of my mouth stretched over him. My throat expanded to take him.
He got stuck when his shoulders reached the back of my mouth. No matter how hard I shoved and punched at him he'd go no further. So I propped his hindquarters against the floor, struggled up atop him, and used my own weight to push him all the way in, fur, claws, and all.
It hurt a lot. I swallowed and swallowed. Tears streamed down my face. Eating him was a great labor. I swallowed some more and my powerful throat muscles carried him farther down my gullet, where he pressed hard against my ribcage and made my breathing labored.
The ache of famine was ebbing. The pain of an overlarge object stuck in my gullet remained but my body knew it had the right kind of sustenance.
Exhausted, still swallowing feebly, I lay on my side and looked down at myself. Frou Frou had lodged at about where my diaphragm tapered into the snake's trunk. My stomach - if that's what it was, though I guessed it was just a long tube with digestive juices; there didn't seem room for a set of intestines - growled and burbled. I looked pregnant.
At that thought I started to retch, and then couldn't stop. The same strong muscles that had swallowed him tried to force him back up my throat. But they were weakened now, and by concentrating and taking deep breaths I managed keep him down.
Lethargy settled over me. I stretched out against the wall behind, the bed, folding my tail double, and my scales faded to eggshell white, moonstone, and sand. I slept.
***
"Joan?" It was Brand's voice, and it roused me to semi-wakefulness.
The color and angle of the sunlight told me it was mid-afternoon. essica must have called him home early. I was in the throes of a massive, reptilian-grade digestive stupor, so I have only a vague memory of their voices, and of blurred images moving about the room, though I managed gradually to force myself to complete wakefulness.
Jessica said, "It was in here before. It said 'it's me' in her voice." A moment later, "Where's the dog?"
They looked right at me at least twice. And then past.
"It was here," she repeated in a defensive tone. Brandon gave her one of his patronizing looks. "It killed the dog. It tried to attack Clara, too. I rescued her."
"I've never known you to be this excitable. I pray you'll do it on your on time next time, and not disturb me at work."
They were on their way out when Clara came in. "Maman?"
"Get back!" Jessica snapped, but Brand said, "There's no one here. Don't be a twit."
"Maman." Clara had a child's eyes, not as easily fooled by expectations. She saw me at the wall and came over, knelt beside me and touched my face.
I should have regretted her revealing me. But all I knew was joy at the relief and delight in her eyes and voice. She threw her arms about my neck and I enveloped her with arms and coils.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you about Frou Frou," she said.
"And I'm sorry," I replied. "I'm sorry that I scared you and hurt Frou Frou."
"He's not ever coming back, is he?"
"No, not ever," I said. "He's dead now. Gone. I'm sorry."
She gave it some thought. "You couldn't help it. I saw what happened. He was trying to bite you. You must have been really scared."
"Yes. I was."
"But I wish he wasn't gone."
"Me too, honey."
She pressed her cheek against my scaly breast. She stroked my skin, and as if her fingers were tiny paintbrushes, my scales changed color beneath their touch: silver, rose, amethyst.
She released a contented sigh. "You look pretty, Maman. Prettier than ever."
That brought tears to my eyes.