Duval stared at the colors flashing above him like a nebula far away in the sky. It made him feel so insignificant, like nothing really mattered.

The colors expanded closer. Duval’s mind bubbled warnings—this wasn’t a nebula in the sky. This was something closer, right above him. The campfire illuminated a smiling face drawing near, the colors glowing in her eyes as pulsing rings.

Even as the colors washed over Duval’s sight and blurred his vision he saw the long body behind the figure, scales patterned in red and blue stripes. This was a lamia—not the first one Duval had encountered, and he knew full well the danger in those stunning eyes. If he looked too long he’d be unable to look anywhere else and think of anything else.

The other half of his body, Debora, dozed, unaware of the danger even now stringing Duval’s mind under her control. He needed to look away before that enchanting gaze drew him too deep into the danger to escape and left them both in peril.

Yet fighting it felt like plodding against a flooding stream. It felt much easier to fall with the flow and forget his worries. The pulsing light swept his thoughts away, and his mouth hung open as his mind sloshed saturated with the hypnotic hues. His body grew slack save for his eye, which stretched open to stare at the colors growing nearer.

Duval forgot what was happening. His sight filled with rippling colors wiping away his world, and the warm campfire fell away as the pulsing light cooled his mind barren. His awareness shrank to the beautiful lady and her hypnotic hues. She hovered over him and held his gaze endlessly up, his neck stretching to tilt his head back. She slunk down until she could have touched him with a hand, a touch his skin itched to feel stroked over him. He was all alone with her, the world nothing but the dazzling rings spiraling through his melting mind.

Memories popped through the saturated coating of colors. He was never alone. He always had someone by his side—who was his side. Someone who would fight, someone who never trusted anyone.

Warning memories of danger drained away as the lamia’s dazzling spell wrapped around Duval’s mind. The longer he stared the more he trusted her over his own mind. Whatever she wanted was good, safe, perfection.

He always trusted Debora over anyone, though.

“Deh . . . D-De . . .” Duval tried to rouse Debora from sleep, but his mouth hung as slack as the rest of his sleeping body. He sighed, his physical and mental strength melting as his mind sank deeper under the lamia’s spell. The endless wave of colors pressured him to give in, to forget everything else. He steeled what control he had left.

“D-Debora . . .” Duval sighed as his mind melted, the exertion of speaking a single name dropping him under the hypnotic pressure. The magnificent lamia smiled wider, pulling Duval towards a smile he had no control over, that held more control over him. He forgot why he spoke that name, that he even had spoken a name.

“Oh, for—” Debora sighed, moving their mouth with all the control Duval had lost. “I told you not to bother me unless it was an emergency. Just keep watch and let me sleep, okay?”

Duval stared as the lamia swirled her tail into a spiral, pulling his spellbound attention to her scales like vivid red and blue fire, while she pulled his long hair aside to whisper into his ear.

“Yes, your other half is right. Just keep watching me, and go to sleep.”

The lamia’s breath quivered over Duval’s ear as her rich voice melted over his mind, coating his thoughts in her hypnotic influence and shaping them into submission.

Just keep watching . . . and go to sleep . . .

The lamia exchanged the swirling tail back to her hypnotic eyes drowning Duval in her control, and she curled her tail around Duval’s body to bind him. The scales stroked him as she squeezed his weary muscles to relax, the cool grip like a safe hug as the massaging squeeze kneaded him into putty. His eye drifted up and down as scaly pleasure dissolved what remained of his mind.

His side of the mouth grinned as he lost himself in the lamia’s spell.

He could trust her.

He could go to sleep, stare at her, and let her keep him safe.

“Debora . . .”

Debora popped awake from her dozing when Duval spoke her name. She groaned. Of course Duval would bother her with some pointless observation or question while on watch.

“Oh, for—” Debora sighed. “I told you not to bother me unless it was an emergency. Just keep watch and let me sleep, okay?”

Duval made no response. Debora wondered if he felt guilty for disturbing her. His side of the body felt slack. She couldn’t sense much from his mind—she could normally sense vague feelings, but it felt empty right now. Maybe he was more tired than he thought and wanted to swap shifts.

Though Debora considered it, she found herself unwilling. She was tired, too. She just wanted to sleep, and to let things not matter while Duval took care of them. It was fine to let things not matter. Duval or someone else could handle everything. She could just sink into the sweet senselessness of sleep.

Debora twitched as Duval’s ear tingled. A sound—words—something about watching and sleeping.

Someone else was there.

Her inkling was confirmed as scales curled around their body, a long and flexible appendage with a possessive grip like staking a claim. Debora realized the silence from Duval’s mind was familiar—they’d tangled with a snake before, and the tendrils from its spell prodding her mind to follow Duval’s into oblivion matched what she felt now.

She never wanted things to not matter. She would always take responsibility. Those intrusive thoughts, a snake’s spell trickling from Duval’s mind into her own—Duval had let himself get caught again, and Debora had been too asleep to notice.

Perhaps to their advantage. The snake may have been unaware of her presence, or unaware she was aware of the situation. She needed to time her action right.

Debora ignored the encroaching, fondling colors splashing from Duval’s entranced mind into her own, sweeping them away like dumping water out of a boat in a storm. She focused on the scaly tail as it slithered around them, wrapped over their shoulders and curled behind Duval’s arm. It moved to Debora’s, tight but not so heavy that she couldn’t—

Whap!

Debora nabbed the tail and shoved her arm forward. She felt the tail slap someone in front of her, confirmed by a cry surprised as if gravity reversed.

Smack!

With a swing of her fist Debora followed the slap with a punch, connecting her blow against warm flesh. A squeaking grunt was followed by a shriek and a flop.

Now Debora felt safe to open her eye. Her thoughts skipped when she saw the expected snake was actually a lamia, face-down on the ground. Her snake body bent into the trees above like a rickety pipe. The lamia groaned, probably dazed but definitely conscious. If she only wanted to cuddle, she’d be angry enough for something worse now.

Cuddle or worse, Debora didn’t care—she was getting out of there. She smacked Duval’s side of their face until she felt the spell’s shroud dissipate from his mind, a wave of confusion tumbling out his mind and mouth. Debora slapped a hand over their mouth to shush him.

“Quiet. We’re going.”

She grabbed the sword within arm’s reach. The rope and shovel could be left behind, but they needed a weapon. Duval wasn’t fully awake, so Debora piloted their body to flee the campsite. She’d back off Duval’s side once he was steady enough to understand what was happening.

Debora was glad he needed time to fully wake from the spell. It gave time for her anger to give way to rational thought.

Duval, as usual, was a fool who couldn’t look after himself, let alone both of them.

Yet Debora had let him get caught without realizing he was trying to warn her or seek help. She had to stay vigilant for them, and that meant not ignoring Duval when he knew who to turn to.

That didn’t mean she didn’t want to chastise him, but they needed sleep, and not a slumber forced upon them under a spell. Once she found a safe and hidden nook she took first watch. Duval could take the safer morning watch.

Mira groaned as she pushed herself off the ashy jungle soil. She wiped her sore, dirty face. When that human shoved her tail against her she didn’t know what was happening. Too late she realized that she hadn’t enthralled them deep enough, and the punch to her cheek threw off all her focus. By the time she had any idea what happened she’d lost her grip on the branches and landed face-first in the dust.

She’d never seen anything like it—anyone she’d ever hypnotized who managed to will one eye shut could barely move from the focus that took, and they eventually opened the eye already full of her hypnotic rings. The eye itself mattered less than sight as the spell soaked through the prey’s mind.

Even as that human had seemed utterly in her thrall, they jumped out as if they’d not so much as glanced in her direction.

Mira slithered her tail down from the trees. Perhaps Maestra was right—this human would be harder to catch with only her eyes.

She smiled and looked at the arrow dipped in venom. She would simply have to do it the way Maestra intended. Fortunately in their haste to escape the human left a trail strong enough for a headless lamia to follow.

Mira tossed dirt to put out the campfire left behind. She would follow and catch them in the morning.

That morning, Duval resumed the apologies he’d started last night. He should have been able to resist and fight that lamia, should have seen the danger coming, and shouldn’t need to rely on Debora to save them.

Debora told him to drop it. She was there to protect him, as he was there to help in his way. Him taking the brunt of the lamia’s attention gave her the opportunity to save them.

Duval didn’t find himself convinced, but he knew Debora was stubborn and further attempts to apologize were pointless. For some hour they traversed the jungle without conversation. They agreed they needed to escape the jungle, expecting the lamia still had their trail.

They stopped at a stream. They couldn’t go forever without water, so they kneeled at the river to sip, watching for any sudden movement.

A pinch jolted Debora’s arm. She winced and yelped. Duval felt it weakly, like from a numb limb.

“Did something just bite us?” Debora placed a hand to her arm. A line of blood clung to her hand, thin as red string.

“That can’t be from a bite,” Duval said. “Are we under attack?”

They stood. Debora lifted the sword she’d held onto but dropped it as if her hand were numb.

“Debora? Are you okay?” Duval picked up the sword. He could use his right hand as dexterously as Debora used their left, but Duval was worried over Debora’s iron-clad grip failing.

“I’m fine,” Debora said. “The cut isn’t that deep, I was just shocked. Do you see anything?”

“Nothing,” said Duval. “Let’s get out of here.” They stepped away but faltered.

“No, I see something,” Debora said. “The air is shimmering, like—like there’s—something, there’s . . .”

“What?” Duval blinked. Debora blinked harder. “I do not see anything, Debora.”

“I can’t . . .” Debora touched her arm, but no new blood appeared. Duval felt them spin off-balance. “Duval, are we bleeding?”

“It’s already sealing,” Duval said. “We aren’t losing any blood.”

“I—” Debora leaned against a tree, her voice spiraling. “I feel like I need to . . .” Debora groaned as if falling under a great weight. “Sleep . . .”

“Something’s wrong, Debora,” Duval said. “Let me take over.”

“‘Kay . . .”

Duval wanted to be strong for Debora, but when he stepped forward he stumbled, their body heavy. His first impulse was to turn to Debora for direction, but he felt a growing emptiness from her mind. When he blinked his vision shimmered, spotty and blurred like in rain. Duval’s blood ran cold—whatever affected Debora was affecting him.

He gasped as a scaly tail curled under their arms and lifted them like a helpless mouse. Debora’s side of the body slumped, but the tail squeezed around to hold them in place, pressing close as if feeling for pressure points. Duval tried to worry, but his thoughts grew spotty, as if his mind were skipping, and each squeeze of the tail expanded those spots.

“You seem a little dazed,” spoke a familiar voice. It cut through Duval’s spiraling thoughts and filled the void with memories of last night. “The heat can be dangerous in the jungle, but it’s cooler in the treetops.”

Duval felt the tail curl under their chin to push their head up. His thoughts swam as the soft scales kneaded their face with a gentle squeeze, like sculpting clay into a submissive smile. He shut his eyes to avoid the lamia’s gaze, but his mind took it as a sign to drift further into a sleeping void. The jungle, and thoughts of the jungle, and thoughts of the world fell away from him. The snaking coils slithered close in a tangled massage, and as he hung in the air Duval felt his mind float away.

“You need to pace yourself, all this walking in the heat,” the lamia said. Her voice sounded far away, but it echoed closer until it surrounded Duval and filled the world with sensual teasing. “You simply must open your eyes and let me help you rest.”

“Okay.”

Duval felt Debora’s eye open. His own eye shot open—he’d never heard Debora so placid and agreeable to orders.

At first his vision seemed blank, the spots dancing before him blurring everything to a dark void, but then the colors—those vibrant, dazzling, glorious colors that had stolen his attention and mind last night. A dark blue that filled the holes in his mind like lakes. A fiery red that seared what few thoughts struggled to hold together. A deep green that gripped his mind and pulled it deeper into the enchanting array of pulsing rings.

“There we go,” the lamia said as if praising a puppy. “It feels good to rest your weary mind and cease all that silly thinking.”

“Yes.”

Duval’s scattered mind questioned if Debora said that, or if he and she both said that. The thought disintegrated as he lost all grip on his mind, the lamia’s colors pulsing through the void-spotted remains and drenching his senses with comfort, bliss, pleasure. If he just sank against the lamia’s coiling tail and let go of himself, everything would be okay, peaceful, wonderful.

He hadn’t felt comfort this deep in ages. His mind swished and swirled under the hypnotic bombardment, and as the colors clung closer and tighter to his mind he felt . . . whole.

His face stretched into a broad, even smile.

There was no need to resist.

This was where he was meant to be.

His mind was at peace.