Page 11

Nine

R uby cried out a warning as Slate caught the shade demon by its throat.

“Watch out,” she yelled, heart pounding painfully in her chest.

But the demon’s claws had already struck true. Black shadows dripped from the cut on Slate’s exposed chin. But he didn’t make any sound of pain. He only held the shade demon further away, head twisted to avoid its slashing claws.

The dog spirit barked, ready to spring.

“Stay back,” Slate commanded.

Ruby caught the dog spirit by its scruff. It squirmed, whining worriedly as Slate held the demon back.

The shade was bigger up close. Ruby had only seen flashes when the last witch of Sweetsguard took her to see the ward borders: the hint of a forked tail, the sparkle of hollow eyes.

This thing was even bigger than her. It looked like a man stretched to unnatural lengths, his joints twisting and gnarled. Its skin stretched horribly over its bones and its eyes were sunken and black.

The shade demon roared, swiping again at the blood on Slate’s face.

Slate’s grip tightened.

At first, Ruby thought it wouldn’t do anything. Demons didn’t need to breathe, after all. But Slade’s huge hand got tighter and tighter, the shade’s growls quietening until they were nothing more than short, choked noises.

Then the snapping started. First the demon’s neck, its head bending at an unnatural angle. Black goo poured out over Slate’s hand, thick and oily.

Slate squeezed harder. The cracks spread over the shade demon’s body, climbing its face and limbs until it was more cracks than skin.

“Off with you,” Slate growled.

He gave one last squeeze. The shade demon splintered into dust, drifting away on the breeze.

Slate shook his hand free of oil.

“Did…” Ruby swallowed. “Where did you send him?”

“Nowhere,” Slate replied darkly. “I destroyed him.”

Ruby shivered. She had never seen him so imposing. It should have horrified her. But it was hard to be too scared of a monster who just saved her life.

“You’re hurt,” she whispered.

He let out a low, annoyed growl. “I am fine.”

He smoothed a thumb over his bloody chin. The cut kept bleeding.

“See?” he said uselessly. “Fine.”

Ruby winced. She didn’t know if Skullstalkers needed the same wound care as mortals, but she couldn’t leave it without checking it over first.

“Bend down,” she told him.

Slate blinked. Ruby panicked and tried to remember if she’d ever given him an instruction before.

“I just want to check it,” she tried.

“You needn’t,” Slate said. And yet he was already kneeling, eyeing her warily as if she could do anything to him with her mortal hands.

Ruby took his chin and turned it carefully. She grabbed her dress hem and dabbed at the wound until she could see into the cut.

She sighed with relief. “Not as deep as I feared. You’ll live.”

It was what she always said when people came to her Sweetsguard cottage with medical problems, but it made Slate laugh.

“It will take more than a shade demon to destroy me,” he said, mouth twisting like she had insulted him. “I have killed thousands with little effort.”

The dog spirit barked and trotted up to him, curling around his leg.

Slate growled. But for the first time, Ruby spotted a hint of genuine fondness in his black eyes toward the spirit.

“Do not try to get involved again,” he told the dog spirit. “You are small and puny. I will take care of anything that tries to hurt us.”

The dog barked and licked his chin.

“Cease,” Slate muttered. But he was smiling. Just a little, enough to pull the skin under Ruby’s hand.

Only then did Ruby realize she was still touching him. She dropped her dress hastily, letting the bloody material fall around her feet.

Slate straightened and watched the shadows settle. “Now you have blood on your dress.”

“I’ve had worse,” Ruby tried. She started to say she would clean it in one of the many bathrooms she had found after she awoke, but Slate was already raising his hand.

He curled a claw. The bloodstain lifted into the air and dissipated.

Ruby rubbed the material in wonder. He could clear his come and his blood with a gesture. Was it bad she was disappointed? She liked being marked by him. In some strange, primal way, it made her feel wanted.

“There,” Slate said roughly. “Better.”

He twisted to survey the forest. Ruby did the same, wishing that she had been able to find the anointing room where she had left her old clothes. Her dagger was with them.

“Was that a lost soul who turned?” she asked, stroking the dog spirit as it trotted back to her. “Like you talked about?”

“Yes. Most of them sneak in from nearby realms, but…” Slate looked through the endless trees, shadows trailing off the leaves. He looked like he was going to say more, but then his jaw clicked shut beneath his skull mask.

“Never you mind,” he said.

He looked troubled. Ruby had a useless urge to touch his arm in comfort. As if she could comfort a Skullskalker, a being who had been alive before her ancestors came to Sweetsguard. She was a speck to him.

She tugged nervously at her dress. “Thank you for protecting me. I don’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if you weren’t there.”

Slate made a noise in the back of his throat, low and guttural. Then he coughed.

“Well, I was. So… let’s not imagine.”

Ruby hesitated. “I want my dagger back. In case something like this happens again.”

Slate curled his fingers. A dagger appeared in his hand, curved and gleaming black. He held it out.

“Here,” he said. “Take it.”

She took it, marveling at the sleek blade. It looked obsidian, though she supposed it was just a shadow. The same as her dress and his loincloth.

She bit her lip. “It’s beautiful. But I don’t have anywhere to put it.”

Something clenched around her thigh, and Ruby gasped.

She pulled the dress open at the leg slit. There was a holster band around her inner thigh, just the right size for the newly conjured dagger to fit into.

“Thank you,” she said. She stroked the dagger wondrously, marveling at the smooth texture.

She reached to place it into her holster band. Then she paused, heart racing.

She held the dagger out, proud to see her hands were steady. “Would you put it on for me?”

She waited for him to repeat that he needed to sleep, to go scouting through his void; he didn’t have time to perform useless tasks for some puny human.

Then he sank to his knees on the forest floor. He did it so slowly, so intently that Ruby’s throat went dry.

He plucked the knife out of her hand. “Your leg.”

She extended it out of the slit in her dress. She was sure he could feel her trembling as he took her thigh in one huge hand and slid the black dagger into it. The metal was cool against her skin, just like everything else about him.

Ruby looked at his mouth, half-hidden at the spot where the mask ended. They were almost the same height when he kneeled. Close enough to lean in for a kiss.

The dog spirit whined loudly next to them.

Ruby startled. She had forgotten it was there. “Gods. You scared me.”

The dog spirit licked her hand apologetically.

Ruby pulled her leg back under her dress, trying to ignore the feel of the dagger against her thigh as she shifted. “You—you were saying something. Before it attacked us.”

Slate paused. He was still kneeling, his gaze stuck on her leg as it slipped back under her dress.

“Yes,” he said, standing so fast Ruby’s head swooped as if she was falling.

He reached for his sleeve. “I?—”

“Why didn’t it attack me?” Ruby wondered aloud, unable to stop it. “I’m obviously weaker. Why go for a Skullstalker instead? Gods, sorry, I cut you off again.”

Slate’s hand dropped from his sleeve. “I don’t know. Perhaps he only showed up once I arrived.”

Something wasn’t right. Ruby looked over at the nightstand the dog spirit had led her to. That sketch of Slate and Paimon covered in blood holding a demon’s head aloft would still be there, waiting.

“Have you killed a lot of demons?” Ruby asked cautiously.

“I have.”

“With… Paimon?”

Slate hesitated. “There were more, once. When things were less settled. Everyone and everything was vying for more territory. Paimon was a shield brother. It was how we met.”

Ruby’s mind raced with questions. Sweetsguard suddenly felt laughably small and quaint, full of people stumbling around in the dark.

She thought she knew Paimon’s story, she thought she knew what the Bygone was, and she thought she knew what demons were.

She thought she knew her own damn magic.

And she was wrong about all of it. It was time to start uncovering the truth.

“Do you think one of them might have done something to Paimon?” she asked.

Slate let out another gruff laugh. “No demon has the power to hurt him. Paimon is not a powerful god, but he is still a god.”

“Tell me more about him.”

“Paimon is…” Slate looked away, and Ruby tried to imagine how long he had been alive. How many years he had known Paimon. How much he had seen and done and experienced, generations before Ruby was even an idea in her parents’ eyes.

“He is kind,” he said slowly. “And cocky. He was always exploring the realms. He tried to get me to join him. He stopped trying, some time ago. He also stopped exploring.”

He paused. “He was one of the only non-mortals I ever met who enjoyed the mortal realm.”

“He did?”

Slate inclined his head. “He was human, once. A long time ago. He said he enjoyed watching your realm because it reminded him what it was like.”

Ruby wanted to cry. She knew none of this. How did she know so little of her own god? She had prayed to him her whole life. She thought she heard him answer, sometimes. Nothing direct—a glow of pride when she cast a successful spell or comfort when she asked for it.

She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “Did he ever watch his followers? Did he come to Sweetsguard?”

“He was devoted to his followers. I’m sure he did watch you.”

Ruby laughed wetly. She wiped a tear away, embarrassed.

“Oh,” said Slate stiffly. “You are weeping again.”

“It’s not bad!” Ruby swiped her cheeks, fighting back a sob. “I’m just—I’m so relieved. He gives me magic, but I always hoped he—I don’t know—that he cared. About me.”

She rubbed her chest, trying to soothe the ache in her ribcage.

There were times after the last witch of Sweetsguard died when Paimon was the only person she spoke to all day.

Knowing he not only heard her but might have really sent some of that comfort she thought she felt, it was like balm on an old wound.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For telling me.”

Slate nodded. His hands clenched and loosened at his sides, his tail swishing.

Nervous , Ruby realized, astounded. I think he’s nervous.

“I will continue my search to discover what has become of him,” Slate said. “Until then… do you wish to practice again?”

Ruby giggled, smearing tears off her cheeks. The request made her clit throb painfully. She had stuffed herself with her fingers before she slept last night, or whatever passed for night in this unchanging place, and she had winced the whole way through.

“I would,” she said. “But I’m… I’m quite sore.”

Slate frowned.

“No, it’s fine! I’m just not used to it.” Ruby bit her lip, rubbing her thighs together carefully to feel the flat of the dagger he had strapped to her thigh. A dress made of shadows and now a dagger, it made her think of being covered in his come. Marked by him, in whatever manner he saw fit.

“Tomorrow,” she said. “We can try again tomorrow.”

Slate nodded. “Then I will take my leave. My nest is calling.”

Ruby jumped in front of him before he could vanish through the trees.

“Wait,” she pleaded. “I’m… I’m always lost. Could you show me around? I never know where I’m going.”

“You needn’t know,” he said. “We are bound. I will take you wherever you need.”

He started to step around her. She leaped in front again, heart racing with her audacity.

“But when you go away,” she tried. “When you sleep, I still want to know. Just while I’m here. Please?”

She gave him her best smile. Then—with a wild hope that bordered on insanity—she toyed with her neckline, pressing a finger under the shadowy fabric.

Slate’s eyes did not drop to follow it. But he did sound unnecessarily distracted when he said, “Follow me.”