Betrayed by My Wife, I Became the Serpent Lord

Chapter 003

Alison turned her face away. Her swollen lips barely moved as she muttered, "I don't have any money. You can kill me if you want."

"Your life isn't worth a cent to me," Nick replied in disgust. "Get out."

She hadn't expected him to let her go so easily. After a stunned moment, she reached for her clothes, only to remember that most of them had burned on the heater. She'd freeze if she went outside dressed like this.

Nick wouldn't even look at her. Finally, Alison climbed off the bed and held out a hand.

"Give me your coat."

"I can change my mind about letting you leave."

The coldness in his voice stopped her. Before she could reach him, the copperhead on his shoulder flicked its tongue in warning. One bite from a snake like that could be fatal.

For the first time, Alison was genuinely afraid of her husband. But the fear did nothing to soften her resentment.

"You want the truth, Nick? Joseph's just one of the men I've been seeing. There are others, and they'd scare you half to death. If you know what's good for you, you'll keep your mouth shut. For old times' sake, I won't even hold this against you if..."

"You won't hold it against me?" Nick gave a humorless laugh. "Listen carefully, Alison. I'm letting you leave today no matter what you say. Next time, you won't be so lucky. Now get out."

Alison could hardly believe this was the same meek man she'd spent years ordering around. She still looked down on him, but with those snakes nearby, she had no choice. She stamped her foot and fled.

Watching her disappear, Nick spoke softly to the copperhead on his shoulder.

"Send one of yours after her. You know what to do."

The snake dipped its head and hissed. A smaller snake immediately slipped through the gap beneath the door.

Nick turned to the snakes scattered across the floor and gave them a respectful nod. "Sorry to disturb your rest."

The copperhead opened its jaws at him. Nick frowned, then understood the warning. These snakes were under his command. Treating them like honored guests would only weaken his authority over them.

He straightened and spoke firmly. "All right. Back to your hiding places. I'll call you when I need you."

They obeyed at once. The copperhead studied him for a moment before slithering away with the others.

Nick let out a long breath, stepped into the main chamber, and knelt before the red-covered memorial urn.

"I, Nick Pugh, an unworthy descendant, offer my thanks to the Guardian Spirits of my family."

The Pugh family had preserved one unusual tradition for generations. According to his grandfather, an ancestor had encountered something extraordinary, and as long as the family kept the red memorial urn in its care, the Guardian Spirits would protect them.

Nick had never believed a word of it. His own father had been a schoolteacher who dismissed such superstitions, and Nick had felt the same way. Only his grandfather's repeated insistence had persuaded him to keep the urn at home.

Now, through the knowledge that had awakened inside him, he finally understood what the urn represented.

Centuries ago, a Pugh ancestor had been gathering medicinal herbs when he came across a giant snake fighting a porcupine. Badly injured and desperate, the snake had swallowed the porcupine whole, only for the creature's quills to pierce its body from within.

The ancestor had brought the dying snake home with the help of his family and treated its wounds. After recovering, it had settled in the Pughs' backyard. When the ancestor eventually died, the snake vanished too, but before his death the man had told his descendants that the creature had become the family's Guardian Spirit and would watch over them.

The Pugh bloodline had survived for centuries, but the knowledge of the spirit arts had been lost. If not for what happened tonight, Nick would never have discovered how extraordinary his ancestors had been.

Now that he'd inherited those arts, he wasn't about to waste them. Everyone who had mocked, cheated, or humiliated him would learn what it meant to cross Nick Pugh.

He spent the rest of the night sitting cross-legged on the bed, meditating and exploring the knowledge in his mind. By morning, he felt more refreshed than he ever had after a full night's sleep.

At the heart of the spirit arts was the ability to influence living creatures through sheer force of will. But that was only the beginning. The techniques also promised the ability to sense danger, treat illnesses, glimpse possible futures, and much more.

When Nick rose and stretched, even his body felt stronger.

He had barely stepped outside the shrine when he spotted two people approaching. The man in front was Alison's younger brother, Tom Chandler. Behind him shuffled Granny Whitmore, a hunched, sharp-faced old woman whose narrow eyes made her look remarkably like a rat.

A faint, unfriendly smile crossed Nick's face. He clasped his hands behind his back and waited.

With the old woman backing him up, Tom strode forward and jabbed a finger toward Nick.

"You worthless bastard! My sister must've been blind to marry you. What's wrong with her taking a little money from you?"

"A little money?" Nick replied evenly. "What's your sister supposed to be, a paid companion? Even if she were selling herself, you think she's worth that much?"

Tom flushed. "That's not what I meant! No wonder your parents both died with a heartless son like you around. You're a curse to everyone!"

That struck the one nerve Nick couldn't tolerate anyone touching.

His gaze turned icy. With a silent command, he summoned a small snake into his sleeve and flicked his arm toward Tom. The snake shot out, landed on Tom's shoulder, and sank its fangs into his ear.

"Enough!" Granny Whitmore barked, swinging the bowl of her old tobacco pipe at the snake.

Nick felt a sudden warning prickle through him. Whatever the old woman had done, there was something dangerous about it. He recalled the snake at once.

"Well, if it isn't Granny Whitmore," he said coldly. "Still hanging around causing trouble at your age? You really want to defend a piece of trash like him?"

"Godmother, help me!" Tom wailed, clutching the side of his head.

Granny Whitmore gave a nasty little smile. She scraped a bit of oily residue from her pipe and pressed it onto the bite wound.

"My goddaughter tells me her good-for-nothing husband has learned to summon snakes," she said. "I came to see the trick for myself. Looks like there may be something to it after all."

"Why waste your breath on him?" Tom demanded, feeling the pain ease. "Look what he did to Alison! Everybody around here knows you're the most powerful woman for miles. You can call upon the Gray Spirit! Show this fraud what real power looks like!"

Granny Whitmore shot him a warning glance. He lowered his voice, though not enough to stop himself.

"He knew you were our godmother and still attacked my sister. That's an insult to you. How will anybody respect you if you let him get away with it?"

"I don't need you to tell me that." The old woman glared at him before returning her attention to Nick.

"I had no intention of interfering in your marriage. A couple's private affairs are their own business. But you laid hands on Alison, and that crosses a line."

She didn't attack immediately. Instead, her narrowed eyes studied Nick from head to toe. He was nothing like the timid young man she remembered. There was a confidence about him now that made her suspect he possessed real power.

"That's what Alison told you?" Nick laughed coldly. "She stole my savings to give to that useless brother of hers, sold my home, then cheated on me in my own family shrine. Tell me what man would be happy about that."

"See?" Tom blurted. "He admits there was a fight! He beat Alison, and that's as good as slapping you in the face!"

One glance from Nick sent him scurrying back behind Granny Whitmore.

"Alison betrayed me," Nick said, "but I wouldn't waste my hands hitting her. She's not worth getting them dirty."

"Then how do you explain all her bruises?" Tom shouted from behind the old woman.

Nick gave him a contemptuous look. "Your sister has even less shame than you do. She picked the wrong lover and got beaten for it, so now she's blaming me?"

"Watch your mouth, Nick Pugh!" Granny Whitmore snapped. "You don't get to behave however you please while I'm standing here!"

With that, she abruptly raised her hand toward him.