Page 41 of Souls We Rip

Her eyes tracked the large blade, and I sent it back to the cave.

“Why do I need it? Can’t I,” she took a deep breath in search for words, “take a soul without it?”

I huffed. “The scythe and the Mirror are somewhat linked. If you do not use the blade, then the Mirror does not recognise the souls taken.” My lips pouted, remembering a time when I took the lives of an entire army with my thought alone. “Believe me, I tried that once.”

My master was not happy.

“How did you become the Goat Man?”

Her question felt too personal, too close to my own inquiries.

“I believe that is a story for another time, woman,” I urged, standing on my hooves and sending the settee back to my imagination. Spending too much time in her presence unnerved me.

I strutted to the stairs, and as my hooves touched the first step, she asked something else.

“Will you stand beside me when the baptism comes?”

Turning fully to her, a pair of blue eyes was fixed on me. They were filled with quiet hope – that she wouldn’t be alone in this new and odd situation.

“No, I have to prepare for my new life which awaits,” I said flatly, turning, my coat brushing the stones. I climb the stairs two by two. Why did this human’s existence make me run? And why did she have to ask such questions?

No one was there to hold my hand while I emerged from the deep waters, watched by dozens of skulls from different species, to comfort me while I took the scythe and cut bones with it for the first time. I remembered the blood that dripped from the blade. It stained my clothes, and my then servant couldn’t get it out. And more importantly, to hug me when I saw my siblings covered in blood.

I was not going to support her while all the other members of the Order would stare at her, crying and thrashing.

They would have no mercy either way.

As I stated before, I couldn’t care less about her. I threw her to the wolves. I would be surprised if she turned out not to be a sheep. The Order had immense power, and I was glad that for my plan, the Elk was on my side.

If I were to succeed.

With that thought in mind, I was hit by the fresh night air, the stars keeping the moon company.

The stags surrounded my horse, which lay asleep. Not a care in the world, this one.

The stags’ antlers shone in the moonlight, their bodies hidden by the night’s shadow. Only their gazes were visible, following my steps. Each turned its head as I walked further towards my horse.

I whistled, and the stallion leapt to its feet, the stags glancing my way. I didn’t have to be at the baptism to know what skull she would choose. There was no better option than the stag.

As if I had conjured her, she emerged from the cave, discarding the sheepskin coat at the entrance. I stood still, watching her move as swiftly as a lady of high birth.

Her dark hair was loosened from the braid, and her eyes were set on my horse. My brows knitted as I took in her determined walk. “Where are you going, human?”

She stopped, turning her head slightly. “To pray.”

I laughed so hard that the stags rose and eyed me again. But my laughter died as she climbed onto my stallion. She lifted her chin, but she bristled under the gust of wind I sent her way.

Taking the reins, she turned my horse towards the forest, her shoulders straight. “I believe we must sleep this night and see what tomorrow brings. Don’t you think the same, Goat?” she shouted over the wind. Every stag turned towards her, as though she were a beacon of light.

Earlier, she made me realise that I had a name before I became the Goat Man.

Which was it?

I did not enjoy being called ‘Goat’ by her. The irony didn’t escape, as she surely didn’t appreciate me using the words peasant and human when addressing her.

Casting that aside, I watched as my formerly loyal horse shook its mane.

“Let’s see if the horse doesn't buck you first!” I laughed, the throaty sound making the old church’s walls tremble.