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He turned to the fireplace. But before he could summon any flames, the fireplace roared to life in a flash of familiar blue, so powerful Slate had to jump back to avoid being singed.

Slate turned. Ruby was staring, eyes wide and hands extended, at the flames she had just conjured.

Slate snorted. “Powerful little witch.”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “Did I get you?”

“You would have to work harder to harm me.” Slate brushed down his loincloth, subtly checking it for any signs of charring.

“My magic was getting weaker with Paimon gone. But… it’s so strong here.” Ruby gazed into the blue flames with a strange expression. Worry, to be sure. But also eagerness.

Maybe she does want power, after all, Slate thought. But her eagerness didn’t look like she was thinking about what havoc she could wreak with her newfound strength. It was… oddly wondrous.

No mortal had ever looked at this void with wonder. No mortal hadbeento his void unless they were dead or horrendously lost and in need of a quick exit.

Ruby straightened, her arms coming up to cover her bare chest. “Thank you for bringing me here. Do you, by any chance, have a bath?”

“I have a pond,” Slate said dryly.

“Oh. That will do.”

Slate sighed. The mortal looked so sad, standing there all naked and shivering.

“I also have a bath,” he admitted grudgingly.

He led her to a bathroom that was even more dusty than the bedroom.

Slate examined the silver faucets cautiously. It had been a long time since he had used them. He preferred to bathe in the pond unless there was ice on the ground. Then, he dragged himself into this wretched castle and took advantage of the magic that had been cast on it long before he was born.

He twisted a faucet. Water clattered into the claw-foot tub.

Ruby gasped as steam rose into the air. “It flowshot?”

“It does.”

“That’s incredible.” Ruby reached over the large tub, a shocked laugh spilling out of her mouth as she touched the gushing faucet.

Slate watched her, oddly charmed. Her laugh was so bright he almost expected the shadows clinging to his skull mask to shy away. Then he caught a flash of black out of the corner of his eye and noticed something even more shocking: they were stretching out toward her. A tendril brushed her bare ankle, curling around the knob of bone.

Ruby yelped, jumping high. High for a mortal, anyway.

Get back.Slate tugged his shadows close, annoyed and confused. Since when did his shadows start reaching out to random mortals? Even on the rare occasion that he got to eat one, his shadows barely flickered in their direction.

“I will leave you to your rest,” he said, turning hastily for the door.

“Slate?”

He turned back. Ruby was sitting on the edge of the bath, curled over her bare body as if he had not seen it splayed out over the warding stone. As if he had not held her thighs open while he buried his tongue inside that tight, wet heat.

“Thank you,” Ruby said softly. “You are… not what I expected.”

Slate was annoyed, imagining the tales she must have heard from humans who had not heard his real name in generations. Everything the mortal realm heard from the voids was secondhand information at best, passed down through so many mouths it was close to worthless.

Then again… she was right to be scared. He was a Skullstalker, after all. He guided lost souls in his void, but if he encountered one in another void, they were as good as breakfast.

When he bothered to eat, anyhow. He hadn’t needed to in decades. He had not felt a pang of genuine hunger until Ruby stumbled into his void, flushed and slick with sweat.

“Neither are you, little witch,” he told her.