Slither Spooktober

She slithered and coiled on the sidewalk, a bundle of potential energy as the flagrant hiss burbled from exposed belly button to rag-covered full chest. Two large snaps stole down Caleb’s spine, as the Lamia dislocated her jaw to display another secondary row of ragged teeth.
His chattered in a wet, cold mouth. The venom’s last dregs dampened the divinity in his blood, made magic or spellcraft something as nebulous as the idea of being dry in the rain. Old fashioned way, then.
Hand in his pocket, Caleb wrapped his grip around a flip knife. Thumb on the mechanism to flick the knife’s blade in place, he waited the inevitable surge. The whip-crack of the lamia’s serpentine body shocked the damp October air like a poisonous lightning strike. Caleb jerked his hand out of his pocket and flipped the blade in place.
The Lamia’s breath wafted through Caleb’s open mouth and choked him.

— The Lamia