Page 20 of Bride of Death
The soul nods with a more frantic energy now.
“Because he forced you to watch Serapina?” I add.
But the creature shakes its head now before skipping all around the courtyard. Or rather, floating with a bizarre little hitch to its movements. Almost like the soul is glitching.
When it leaves the in-between to become corporeal once again, I follow suit, curious.
Then I watch as the being arranges a bunch of bones—branches that have fallen off the skeletal trees—on the ground.
“Pip?” I read, not understanding at all.
The soul points to its chest, then to the word.
“Are you trying to tell me your name?”
Pipnods.
Meanwhile, I blink. “Since when do souls have names?”
The creature makes a chattering sound that almost reminds me of a snort before rearranging the bones again to spellSera.
My brow creases. “Serapina named you Pip?”
The soul nods and does a happy little twirl, one that causes its cloak to swirl around it.
“Why?” I ask, utterly lost now.
Pip does nothing for a moment, just scans the ground and taps its chin. I wait, too intrigued to urge the little creature along. When it picks up a bony branch and starts drawing in the black sand-like dirt, I remain quiet.
The letters form and disappear quickly, the obsidian substance clearly not enjoying this writing game. However, it works as I say, “Friend,” once Pip is done drawing the word. “You and Serapina are friends?”
Pip spins in excitement while enthusiastically bobbing its head.
I narrow my gaze. “If that’s true, why did she scream?”
Another sigh escapes the soul as its head droops once more. Then Pip starts writing furiously with the skeletal stick. It takes me a few seconds to realize the being is writing a sentence because the word makes no sense. But as Pip finishes, I understand. “You made her breakfast.”
Soft chattering teeth answer my comment, the bone digging into the sandy ground again.
“The breakfast caught on fire,” I translate after the creature finishes.
Pip continues to write.
“Everything you touch dies,” I tell it, already aware of what the soul is probably going to say. “So when you try to cook, it doesn’t go well.”
I tilt my head, suddenly realizing the importance of the outfit.
“That’s why you’re wearing a cloak—so you don’t accidentally kill Serapina.” A soul’s touch can be deadly, especially to a human, but it requires direct contact. “You’re dressed like that to protect her from your essence.”
Big blue eyes meet mine as the creature nods swiftly, confirming my statement.
“Because Hades asked you to?” I guess.
The soul flinches, then shakes its head and looks around frantically like it did before.
“He’s not here,” I promise the little troublemaker. “And I’m not going to call for him.” Voicing my cousin’s name alouddoesn’t make him appear, something the beings in this kingdom don’t seem to understand. They all refer to Hades asmy lordorour lord. It’s ridiculous.
And it’s just the way Hades likes it.
