My sister and I are snakes. When we heard that José Vance, the crown prince of Manhattan’s elite, was a man of formidable vitality, we decided to take turns being his girlfriend. It was a perfect arrangement—siphoning his energy to strengthen our own powers. Then, one day, José asked my sister: “What are snakes most afraid of? Arsenic or sulfur?” Convinced the jig was up, I grabbed my sister, and we staged a dramatic “death” before bolting back to the deep woods under the cover of night. But in the dead of night, the scent of fried chicken lured me out of my own freshly dug grave. As I poked my head out to forage, two cold chuckles echoed from behind me. Two uncannily similar-looking men stood there, their eyes glinting in the moonlight as they watched me. “Bro, which one is this? I can’t really tell them apart.” “She’s mine. Last night, she told me that when she died, I had to place a family-sized bucket of fried chicken on her grave.” 1 My name is Lexi. Six months ago, my sister Lily and I were running low on power, struggling to hold our human forms for long. So we found a high-quality source of vital energy—José Vance, the veritable king of New York’s high society. We’d drain his energy to boost our own. The schedule was simple: I took Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Lily had Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Sundays, we gave José a break, stocking his fridge with steak, oysters, and every superfood known to man to help him… you know, recharge. To avoid slipping up, we even created a shared alias for when we were with him: Bianca. And I have to say, José was a true workhorse. He wasn't like other men who needed a cooldown period. Oh no. I could be with him in the morning, Lily could take over at noon, I could have another go in the afternoon, and Lily could still have him for the evening. The man was a powerhouse. Plus, he was incredibly generous. If Lily or I so much as glanced at something or mentioned it off-handedly, it would materialize, gift-wrapped, by the next day at the latest. In just six short months, our joint bank account had swelled to eight figures. Our apartment was overflowing with luxury goods. Diamond bracelets, gold bangles… there was simply no room to store it all. Sometimes, for fun, I’d shift back into my snake form, slither into the pile of jewelry, and play a little game of ring toss, looping ten bracelets around my body until I was glittering from head to tail. Lily would snap pictures for my private Insta story, and the other snakes in our circle would go wild with envy. “Lexi, girl! Where did you land? You’re living the high life!” Of course, all these posts were hidden from José. 2 Today was Saturday. I’d just bought two-for-one tickets for the all-you-can-eat hot pot downtown and was waiting for Lily to get home so we could go. When she finally walked in, her face was a ghostly white, her eyes wide with terror. “What’s wrong, Lily?” I asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Lily wordlessly stalked to the fridge, grabbed a can of ice-cold coconut water, and chugged it in one go. Only after she’d calmed down did she speak. “Lexi, you will not believe what José and I talked about today.” I thought for a moment. “Did he finally buy us that yacht? The other day I mentioned wanting a private one in Monaco to watch the city lights from the water, and he nodded and said he’d arrange it.” Lily shook her head frantically. “No! I wish… that would have been amazing.” She took a deep breath, still shaken. “He asked me what snakes are most afraid of. Arsenic or sulfur. “Holy crap, Lexi, you have no idea. I was in the middle of unboxing this cute little whip I’d just bought, daydreaming about all the fun I was going to have with him later. His question just… it killed the mood instantly. And then he had the nerve to look all confused and ask me, ‘Hey, why’d you stop?’” I went silent. “He let you… whip him?” Lily looked at me, bewildered. “Lexi, are you seriously focusing on that right now? The point is, I think he knows! Shouldn’t we be packing our bags and running for the hills?” “No, Lily, listen to me,” I said, dead serious. “That one time I playfully tapped him with a charging cable, he…” He’d pinned me down, tied me up, and growled, “Looks like someone needs to be taught a lesson.” That night, he’d pushed me so close to my limits I thought I was going to meet our Great Serpent Matriarch in the afterlife. Now it was Lily’s turn to be dumbfounded. “What? José can be that dominant? I always have to be the one to initiate everything. With me, he’s a total sub. Oh my god, do you think he has some kind of split personality disorder?” I slapped my thigh in frustration. “Can we worry about that later? Let’s just get to the restaurant. The after-work crowd is about to descend, and we’ll be stuck in line forever.” Lily just stared at me. 3 Safely seated at our table in the hot pot restaurant, Lily and I went back to dissecting the José situation. The more we talked, the weirder it got. Her José was a McDonald's—eager to please, always available. My José was a Starbucks—strong, intense, and sometimes a little bitter. What the hell was going on? I decided to post a question on a forum: “What are the main features of a Switch?” A helpful user replied almost instantly: “Which model, OP? The V1 and V2 have different screens, looks, and battery life.” “Are you trying to decide between an Xbox and a Switch? I have both, I’d still recommend the Switch.” Lily typed out a reply: “No, guys, I’m not talking about that Switch. I’m talking about, you know… that kind of Switch.” The replies were confused. “Huh? A Switch is a gaming console. What else would it be?” Useless. We deleted the thread. As I swirled a piece of duck intestine in the bubbling broth, my phone buzzed. It was a message from José. José: Meeting’s over. José: What are you doing? I reluctantly put down the half-eaten crab stick I was nibbling on and snapped a picture of the glorious, bubbling hot pot. The beef balls and fish roe pockets were bobbing happily on the surface of the spicy red oil. On the table, a feast awaited: duck blood curd, potatoes, shrimp paste, fish balls, luncheon meat, garlic spare ribs, fatty beef rolls, napa cabbage… the list went on. Next to my dipping bowl sat a mountain of vanilla-milk shaved ice. José: You ordered the four-person set? José: Eating so little today? Bad mood? I bit my chopsticks, puffing out my cheeks as I typed. Me: Don’t be ridiculous! Me: I’m not a little piggy! I’m a hognose snake, I thought. Totally different. José: [Transfer: $52,000] José: I know, little piggy. Eat up. I have to get back to work. Seeing the golden glow of the transaction notification, I couldn't suppress a grin and sent back a cute, nodding emoji. Lily looked over curiously. “What’s got you smiling like that, Lexi?” I showed her my phone. “José just sent us our allowance! Is this enough, Lily? If not, we can order another round.” Lily froze, the straw halfway to her lips. “Wait. You have José’s number?” I nodded. “Yeah, he gave it to me yesterday.” “But… he asked me for my number today!” she exclaimed, shocked. “He said we’d been seeing each other for so long, and I still hadn’t given him a way to contact me. Here, look.” She handed me her phone. The moment I saw the screen, I paused. “That’s weird, Lily. Your José’s profile picture and screen name are totally different from mine.” Mine used a black-and-white photo of a man in a suit. Hers had an anime character. But the most unbelievable part was how much her José texted. Her José: Baby, baby, whatcha doin? Her José: Miss youuu, let’s cuddle, smooch smooch. Her José: Why aren’t you answering me? Did you find someone else? Her José: What’s wrong? Found a new puppy to play with? Her José: Does he love you more, understand you better, obey you more than me? I don’t believe it. Her José: … Meanwhile, my José’s entire vocabulary consisted of: My José: ? My José: Answer your phone. My José: [Transfer] My José: Mmm. My José: Busy. My José: I miss you too. Lily and I stared at each other, our minds reeling. We couldn’t comprehend how one man could have two completely different personalities when dealing with us. Half an hour later, after I’d scraped the last slice of fatty beef from the pot, I made a solemn declaration. “Lily,” I said, my voice grave. “We need a plan. It’s time to fake our deaths and get the hell out of here.” 4 Lily was all for it. With the money we had, we could build a ridiculously luxurious villa back in the mountains and live like queens. The only problem was, how could we pull off a convincing fake death? If we just disappeared, José would find us. He was so vindictive. I remembered the time I took a tiny sip of his milk, and he insisted on drinking mine to get even. I kept telling him I didn’t have any, but he was adamant. I was terrified he’d get so angry he’d burn down our entire ancestral forest. So, we devised the perfect plan. Tomorrow, José was scheduled for his annual pilgrimage to the mountain temple to pray for good fortune. He’d already promised to take me with him. Lily would play the part of a phony psychic, ambushing us on the path. She’d point at me and declare that my time was up. Once we got home, I’d start the “dying” process. Playing dead was our specialty as hognose snakes. José would totally buy it. After he buried me, I’d just dig my way out and vanish. Hehe. Perfect! 5 We spent the night acquiring a full psychic costume and rehearsing a script to bamboozle José. Everything was in place. We just needed the curtain to rise. What I could never have anticipated, however, was that the temple José was visiting was on Shadowfen Peak—our old stomping grounds. There was indeed a temple on that mountain, dedicated to the Great Serpent Matriarch, my great-great-great-great-grandmother. The thing is, my great-great-great-great-grandmother never granted wishes. She’d told us she only built the temple so her descendants would think she was a total badass. That was it. Maybe it was a guilty conscience, but I was unusually quiet the entire drive up. José, taking a break from his work, glanced over at me. “You’re being strange today.” I stiffened. “What do you mean, strange?” He closed his tablet. “Normally, you can’t go a minute without talking. Today, you’ve been silent for exactly twenty-one minutes and thirty-one seconds. What’s on your mind?” Terrified he’d see the guilt on my face, I quickly buried my head in his lap. “Thinking about you,” I mumbled into the fabric of his pants. José sucked in a sharp breath. His voice was strained, laced with a mix of exasperation and something else entirely. “Could you… perhaps not think about me in that particular position?” Realizing my mistake a moment too late, I shot upright and scooted to the far side of the seat. Ugh. So embarrassing. I huffed against the car window, fogging it up. I hate you, José Vance. I drew a little circle on the glass, cursing him to step in dog poop later. 6 The weather in the mountains was bleak, a steady, misty rain dampening the air. José suggested I wait for him at the base of the mountain. Panicked, I blurted out, “No! I’m coming with you!” He raised an eyebrow, studying me with curiosity. “You’ve never been this eager before.” To hide my nervousness, I jumped out of the car and started marching up the path ahead of him. “I just want to pray to the spirits to protect you, is that a crime?!” Behind me, there was a brief silence, followed by a soft chuckle. “Of course not.” José caught up, taking my hand in his. With every stone step we climbed, he would pause, carefully helping me up. I don’t know how many thousands of steps we climbed, but I was soon bent over, hands on my knees, gasping for air. Great-great-great-great-grandma, I thought, no offense, but this is why I never visit. You built your temple way, way, WAY too high. Just as I felt I didn’t even have the strength left to complain, I finally saw her. Lily. Dressed in mystic robes, wearing a pair of small, round, black sunglasses, and sporting two tufts of a fake mustache, she looked ridiculous. Just as we had rehearsed, she leaped out and blocked my path. “Young friend, halt!” José immediately pulled me behind him, his brow furrowed. He was about to demand what was going on when Lily beat him to it, pointing a dramatic finger at me. “My mystic senses tell me… that tomorrow, she will… she will…” She trailed off, her voice faltering. She turned her back to us, furtively fumbling inside her wide sleeve for something—obviously, the cheat sheet with her lines. Watching her panic, I was terrified José would see through the ruse. My heart hammered against my ribs. I started coughing violently. “Cough, cough, cough…” Thank God, it worked. José’s attention snapped to me, his focus instantly shifting. “Screw it!” Lily must have decided to just go for it, because she threw her hands in the air and yelled, “Whatever! The point is, she’s gonna kick the bucket tomorrow!” Hearing those words, my world went dark. I would later find out that the piece of paper she’d been fumbling for in her sleeve wasn’t our script. It was the receipt from our hot pot dinner last night. In her haste to leave, she’d grabbed the wrong thing. 7 At her words, José’s body went rigid. He turned to confront the psychic, but Lily was already gone, a tiny, sprinting dot vanishing into the mist. She’d made a run for it. José seemed to have lost all interest in the pilgrimage. Without another word, he swept me into his arms and started striding back down the mountain. “Shhh, don’t listen to that lunatic,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against my ear. I nodded obediently, but when I looked up, I saw the hard, tight line of his jaw. Seeing him trying so desperately to stay calm for me, a wave of guilt washed over me. Maybe… maybe I shouldn’t have deceived him like this. No, snap out of it! I told myself. He was asking about arsenic and sulfur! He was planning something! My life and Lily’s are what matter here! Worried I was still upset, José took me on a shopping spree, loading me up with bags and boxes of gifts before we finally went home. That night, after a long bath, I lay in bed, my mind racing with fantasies of my new life. I was about to become a single, wealthy, independent snake! I’d drive luxury cars, live in a mansion, and hire the most handsome men in the world to be my personal models! I was so giddy with the thought that I started rolling around on the bed, stifling little squeals of laughter. Just then, José returned from his study. He leaned against the doorframe, watching me. “Has anyone ever told you,” he began, pausing for effect, “that you look like a complete idiot right now?” My laughter died in my throat. I immediately burrowed under the covers, leaving only my eyes exposed to glare at him. “Hmph!” He sighed, a fond smile playing on his lips as he came over and pulled back the duvet. He gently ruffled my hair. “Not an idiot. Not at all.” “My little treasure is the smartest girl in the world.” Okay. That’s enough. It’s showtime. I clutched my stomach, instantly switching into character. My voice came out as a weak, reedy groan. “It hurts!” I started gasping, making it look like I was about to pass out at any second. José clearly fell for it. He lunged forward, gathering me in his arms, his voice tight with panic. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. We’re going to the hospital, right now!” I grabbed his collar, my voice a frail whisper. “No… there’s no time… José.” I controlled my breathing, making each word sound weaker than the last. “I think… I’m really going to… kick the bucket… Before I go… can you… promise me two things?” The Faked Death spell was about to take effect. Soon, all my vital signs would temporarily cease. Even the most advanced medical equipment wouldn't detect a thing. José’s eyes turned red, and he held me tighter. “Don’t say that!” I ignored him, pushing on. “José… for the sake of our time together… please, just do these two things for me.” “First… bury me on Shadowfen Peak… the feng shui is good there.” “And second…” I paused, as if gathering my last ounce of strength. “Could you… on my grave… leave a family-sized bucket of fried chicken?” As the words left my lips, José’s arms, holding me, went completely still. He just stared, frozen in place.
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