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She had been so terrified of them the first time she appeared in Slate’s void. But now, nestled against Slate’s cool chest as he sprinted through the forest, she found she kept searching for the shadows dripping off the branches.

There were none. Which was… good. Wasn’t it? Before Ruby stepped into his void, she would have said it meant safety. Now she ached for them. She ached for Slate’s whole realm: the twisty, crumbling castle, the dark forest, and his deceptively soft nest.

It would be an adjustment, to come back. For all she wished the town would warm to her, she had long since accepted it wouldn’t happen. But Slate…

His arm curled protectively over her head as they passed a series of low branches.

Ruby smiled against his chest.Slatewas warming to her. His growls had gotten so much less frequent, and he touched her so softly, even when he was holding her face down on her bed. Even when he was visibly holding himself back from devouring her.

Not that he would want her there all the time. He liked his solitude, as he said. And he seemed genuinely disturbed by her short lifespan. Even if he did want her to stay, she doubted he would allow it for the very same reasons why she had never adopted a pet rat—their lives were too damn short.

“We are coming up to them,” Slate warned. “Their stench is getting closer.”

Ruby nodded, reaching down to touch the dagger hidden under her dress. Back to the issue at hand: the demons they were running toward. She hoped the dog spirit was okay. If he wasn’t, she would join Slate in ripping these demons apart. Her magic was weaker in the mortal realm—she could already feel it fade inside her—but she would burn all the magic she had to make them pay.

She looked up at Slate. “If they hurt that dog, I’m going to fry their skin from their bones.”

Slate’s eyes widened behind his mask. He let out a low, amused rumble.

“Not if I beat you to it,” he promised.

If Ruby wasn’t so worried, she would have smiled. It wasn’t in her nature to harm; she was a helpful witch. But for these demons, she would allow it.

A sharp yip made them both jerk. Ruby struggled against his grip, fighting to get to the ground.

“Stay close,” he growled as he lowered her to the forest floor.

She took the dagger out of her thigh holster and nodded. She stared around the trees, wishing that she had been more serious about hunting. Knowing how to make traps for birds and rabbits didn’t feel worth much with demons waiting to jump on her.

Slate slowed. Ruby looked up to see him stumble to a stop at the mouth of an old, ruined cottage. The straw and wood had rotted away, leaving only a stone archway, a gate, and the impression of a foundation.

Slate grunted.

“What is it?” Ruby asked. Something was itching at the back of her head, her fingers tingling like they did after she cast a spell. She shook her fingers out, suddenly sweating around her dagger. They were itching to touch the archway, she realized.

She stepped up beside him and reached up to touch the stones scored with age and moss.

Slate started, “This was once?—”

Another loud yip rang through the forest. Then an alarmed screech, followed by pattering paws.

The dog spirit burst through the trees, its transparent tongue lolling. It sprinted through the remains of the cottage, and a half-dozen angry yowls went up.

Shade demons appeared in the trees behind him, their ashy skin crackling with rage.

“The dog ruined it,” one of them rasped. “Kill the spirit!”

“We can still do it,” the next one argued, his voice so full of spikes Ruby shuddered. “Set it off! Set it off!”

Before Ruby could ask whatitwas, a giant net fell through the trees. It slammed into the remains of the cottage, taking the stone archway out with it.

Slate’s strong arm wrapped around Ruby, shoving her back just before the net came down over her head. But his own arm got caught, and he slammed into the ground with a roar.

Ruby tumbled to the ground, already confused even as the breath whooshed out of her. It was just a net. What could make Slate roar like that?

The dog spirit ran to her side, barking. It nosed at her side as Ruby stumbled up and gasped.

The net wasn’t made of ropes, like she had assumed. It was knotted together with some strange black vine pricked with white flowers, pinning Slate’s arm to the ground with anunnatural force. His skin blistered under its touch, deep burns scoring into the skin.