“Yes and no,” I said. “You’ll be tending to another human.”
She scoffed, an odd noise for a skeleton to make, and if she’d had any eyes, I imagined she’d roll them toward the ceiling. “You brought me back to babysit, Belial?”
“Not babysit, but tend to, yes. To help keep her alive, tend to her basic needs, but you won’t have to coddle her,” I explained. “I don’t plan to keep this one safe from me.”
“I won’t do it. I won’t stand by and watch as you destroy yet another poor girl. Not for a second time.”
“Disobeying the Lord?” Cecil hissed from behind a shelf somewhere behind me. “She’s got a lot of balls…”
“Everyone has more balls than you, Soul Keeper,” Holga raised her voice, acid dripping from every syllable. Nearly three hundred years and these two still hated one another.
“Enough, witch.” I growled, making her fall silent. “You will do as I say. Or I’ll send you back to my brother. From the look of you, he was far less kind to you than I. Serve me well, and I’ll free your soul.”
At that, the witch’s demeanor shifted in an instant. “You mean… No, you couldn’t possibly be suggesting…”
“You will finally find eternal peace. It’s not a gift I offer many souls.”
There was a pause before Holga dipped into a low curtsey, her skeleton fingers clutching at her tattered skirts. “As you wish, Lord Belial. Where can I find her?”
“Upstairs. At the far end of the east wing. You’ll find her chained to a bed,” I said, amused. “She must not leave that room, do you understand?”
Holga nodded obediently.
“Perfect. There’s just one more thing,” I said, reaching into the inside pocket of my cloak and retrieving a cool, round sphere from within. I showed her a plum, large and ripe, before handing it to her. “She’s probably starving. Give her this to eat.”
The skeletal woman stared at the fruit, suspicion oozing from her. “What did you do to it?”
“That is not your concern. Give it to her.”
She hesitated, debating her fate. After a beat, she took the fruit from me. As I expected. As much as her kind nature had stuck with her after death, she wouldn’t want to return to my brother’s charge.
She’d value her peace over everything else.
“Of course. Yes, sir.” With a slight bow, she swept away down the hall, the fabric of her dress sweeping along on the stone behind her.
Chapter8
RAYVEN
I expendedthe rest of my energy screaming and fighting against my new restraints, tugging until my wrists were bruised by the shackles. My throat grew sore, my voice cracked, and I eventually slipped into unconsciousness from sheer exhaustion, unable to keep my eyes open any longer.
When I came to–it could have been minutes or hours later–the sound of footsteps made my breath hitch. Was the Lord of Bones back to punish me? Hot tears stung my eyes.
Did I really deserve this kind of treatment? I’d stolen a stupid amulet, one that was now fused to the metal collar around my throat. Taking her head off in the process had been an accident.
When the doorknob twisted and the door swung open slowly, the blood froze in my veins, and time stood still as I waited for my visitor to reveal themself. Thankfully, it wasn’t the skull-faced monster who stepped into the room.
It was a woman, a skeleton of a statuesque figure, with ripped Victorian clothes and flowing silver hair. She carried a covered silver tray in her boney hands. Her empty eye sockets were similar to those of the Lord of Bones, but where he had pale skin covering the rest of his body, she had none.
Closing the door behind her, she walked silently to the edge of the bed before letting her gaze lower to meet mine. I wasn’t sure how I could tell, but this woman didn’t radiate the same cruel energy my captor did, despite her terrifying appearance.
She was softer. Gentler.
“Who are you?” My throat ached as the words clawed their way out. I’d probably overdone it screaming earlier, but I’d been so angry I couldn’t help it. Now I was too tired to put up a fight.
“My name is Holga,” she answered, her voice tender. “I’m your attendant.”
My brows lowered over my eyes as I struggled to understand what she meant. “Attendant? You mean, like, my servant? Prisoners normally don’t get servants.”
