He had better things to do than venture into the mortal realm, anyway. He had his forest. His nest. Once his deal with Ruby was complete, he would go back to that simple life. Slumbering peacefully, talking to no one, ignoring his brothers’ occasional attempts at socializing.
Existence would return to normal. And Ruby would wither and die in the mortal realm, as she should.
Something snapped in his hand.
He opened his fingers. The chocolate was in two pieces. He hadn’t noticed he was holding it so tightly.
Ruby was not in the bedroom where he had left her. Nor was she waiting in the anointing room or wandering the long, crumbling hallways.
He closed his eyes and concentrated. He could feel Ruby’s presence in his void—partly because she was not meant to be here, partly because of the binding she had placed on him. Shewas a spot of light in the dark, easily visible from anywhere in his void.
He walked outside to the forest.
Ruby was just beyond the tree line. The dog spirit sat at her side, tail wagging as it watched the mortal step deeper into the forest.
“You must be confused,” she was saying to… a lost soul?
Slate blinked. He hadn’t felt a soul enter his void. Why hadn’t he sensed it?
The lost soul was slumped, filled with murky grey. Its face was flickering, and Slate fought down an uncharacteristic stab of guilt. The soul had clearly been lost for a long time.
The soul lifted its head with a mournful groan.
“…don’t know… got here,” it croaked.
“Of course,” said Ruby soothingly. “What was the last thing you remember?”
The soul moaned. It was a dead human, like many lost souls who stumbled into his void.
“Deidre,” it whispered. “I… want… Deidre.”
“I’m going to help you find her,” Ruby promised.
Her tone made Slate pause. She sounded like she truly meant it. She had already pledged herself to a Skullstalker to help her town, and now she was pledging to help this soul she had never met.
Slate hummed to make himself known. It was a soft burr, meant to alert without panic.
It didn’t work. Ruby shrieked, spinning around. Her hand touched where her knife had lived in her old clothes.
“Oh,” she said once she spotted him. Her hand moved against the slick dress fabric, which had no pockets. “Hello. Are you… here to help?”
“It is my job,” Slate said. “Step aside.”
The dog spirit barked excitedly.
“You too,” Slate said.
The dog spirit bumped disobediently into his leg. Slate pushed down a wave of unwanted fondness and allowed the dog spirit just one scratch behind the ears before turning to the lost soul.
It was beginning to have facial features again. Talking often helped them remember who they were before they came here.
“Soul,” Slate greeted. “You had unfinished business before you died.”
“Deidre,” it croaked. “My… love…”
Slate’s eyes glowed behind his skull mask as he looked inside the soul’s heart. It was connected to Deidre, who was easy enough to find. But the connection was thick and thorny and broke when he attempted to reach into Deidre’s dead heart. He caught glimpses of fire and blood and mortals screaming.
“I know where your love is,” Slate said. “But you are not going there.”