“Why’d you give up your bulawani so easily?” Kolupati asked, brown eyes locked on the soul, looking at them almost hungrily. “They almost killed you.” 

“You’re going to partner them up with me no matter what I say to you. I just thought if I gave up my coin for them, maybe they wouldn’t have that blind devotion towards you. I’m not going to fault them for something they can’t remember.”

“It wasn’t fixed in particular,” she said, insistently. He knew too well that with a contract, souls were often unable to speak a bad word against her.  “I know how much a soul is worth to you, Libum. You usually only give up your coin for those children. Have you finally taken my words to heart?” Before he could answer, she continued, “A fitting Title for such a person, don’t you think? Time will only tell if their loyalty is of any worth.” The God stroked her long fingers through the thick black mane on their head. “Regardless, it’s easy to remember.” 

Kolupati removed her mask, exposing her plain face. Her lips were chapped, brown eyes hidden under a mess of wavy black hair that looked greasy from where he was standing. Libum led Tikba to a new hammock and dropped them there with a loud thunk. 

He wouldn’t have bothered to do so with any other souls, but Libum had to get equal with Tikba for the incident earlier. 

The Death God had a fondness for not thinking too hard behind Titles she gave the souls passing through. Even Libum’s name—a Title given to him at the age of seven or eight—had been the result of Kolupati eating a mouthful of a foreign flat honey cake and her eyes falling on the wrapper. The soul who fell in Libum’s arms had hair as thick and as wild as a horse’s mane. It left a wet sensation on Libum’s skin when the hair touched it. He tried to hold in his disgust.

"I won't fault you for leaving," Kolupati said suddenly. "With that look on your face, you might as well summon the Moon here and be done with it."

“That isn't what I'm thinking about. I don’t want a partner. Especially someone like this.”

“You should have won our fight if you wanted me to agree. Don’t think of Tikba as an Anito, then.”

“What should I think of them then, another babysitting opportunity?” Libum snapped. “Or is this my way of being fired, and you plan on getting rid of me because you want me to go?”

“No! You could see them as a temporary bodyguard.”

“For you?” Libum asked, incredulous. The soul now branded Tikba only interacted with Kolupati for a mere five minutes, and they already had a high rank as a member of the Tagkawal.

“For you. This is an opportunity, Libum. Souls don’t pass here like the way Tikba did, it’s best that we keep a close eye on them for now. As you already know, they’ll be your responsibility. Keep one another in check. Please don’t disappoint me or cause trouble.” Kolupati examined her empty hand, and motioned with her fingers, one that the man immediately caught onto.

“Does this have anything to do with your council of Gods summoning you? They called just to scold you, didn’t they?” Libum grabbed an open bottle of Spirit Wine, their fingers burning from the frost, and poured two shots for Kolupati. “Drink some, it’ll put you in a better mood.” The God swiped the bottle from Libum and attempted chugging the rest of it, but Libum warned, “If you drink all of it, you won’t be conscious for your meeting. Doesn’t the Celestial Court get angry with you if you skip these things?”

“You could take my place and report back to me,” she suggested. "That's what a leader does." She shot both of the Spirit Wine cups back and let out a satisfied hiss. Her eyes lit up like a child’s, as if she never had this delicacy before. She slammed the cup down to the table and poured herself another, even though Libum tried to deter her. The power of fermented wine on a divine’s taste buds made the God tip the bottle back and swallow the rest.

“I won’t do that,” he said. "Anuk Buwan is a relentless God, no wonder he's known as the God of grudges. He'll follow me around, or have one of his devotees tag me until I'm alone. Thinking about spending overnight in that place is enough to give me heartburn."

“That's my own personal nickname, don't go calling him that in the presence of Celestial Court, ever." Kolupati finished off the bottle with a satisfied sigh. "What goes on between you and I is confidential. All I'm saying is that you could.”

“Batala would strike me where I stand. You’re the one always complaining that he isn’t easy with you.”

"Ai! Call him Lord Maker, unless you want him to come here?!"

Libum ignored her and walked to the kitchen. He pulled some ingredients for lunch out and began searing meat for Kolupati to eat, so that she wouldn't be drinking on an empty stomach. He rubbed the marks around his neck, a heat, borderline excitement there that he couldn’t place. While she was buzzed, and Libum was no longer in her line of sight, he changed the subject. The smell of seasoned poultry floated from the kitchen to Kolupati, and she stood up and began sitting at the table, dish in hand.

“Tikba can’t work with me,” Libum said, chopping ginger and green vegetables. “You’ve always left me with the strangest bunch, and I’m tired, Kolupati. I need to work. Alone.”

“I’ll give you an easy assignment tomorrow.” The clatter of plates on the table meant the conversation was over, but Libum pushed. “I can’t allow Tikba to work under anyone else. Try to be friends with them, alright?” Her words fell as if she planned on saying more, but she stayed silent.

“Friends? That’s exactly why I can’t work with them. They’ll just be a nuisance, I have to train them like they won't leave in a few days, after all. You know, everyone talks about me. They think of me as a rookie killer. It prohibits me from getting good work, the souls don't take me seriously. You already claim half my salary, anyway. I give fifty, and you steal twenty-five. I’m doing most of the work for you, but you take the credit. With the last one, it took me four days to collect what I can normally make in a day!” 

Libum poured hard rice, soy sauce, and eggs into the pot with the meat and began violently mashing the concoction together.

“It is a blessing,” Kolupati said, her voice sharp as Libum’s emotions made themselves known. “Lucky for you, human child, who still has a thread to the other realm. Souls never run out in this place. Lives never stop ending, and grief never stops circulating. You will never run out of assignments. Anyway, my gut instinct is telling me to keep Tikba around, and you are the only man I trust. I’m eager to send them out into the field. What does it matter to you? Worst-case scenario the soul turns into multo, best-case they move on and you can get a new partner!”

I don’t want your trust, and I don’t want to be stuck with another amateur, he thought bitterly. What is your trust worth to me? Unable to win, especially when Kolupati acted this way, he slammed the lid down onto the counter. The noise rang throughout the quiet kitchen.

“Serve yourself,” Libum said flatly, grabbing a handful of his own meal straight from the pot. The hot food burned his skin, he could tell by the angry red blotches on his palms, but he hardly felt a thing. He gobbled it up and licked the grease from his lips. “Since Tikba doesn’t have a designated Spirit House to occupy, does that mean I get a roommate, too?”

“It’d be good to make some friends. You’re going to need each other while I deal with the repercussions of this useless meeting. I’m still cleaning up a mess I didn’t participate in,” Kolupati groaned and looked at the sleeping body in her space. “Go, take them. If you aren’t going to the salukolu for me, then leave me be. Thinking about how much of a hassle the Moon will be is already causing illness, and I’m nursing a migraine. Thank you, dear.”

Libum resisted the urge to vomit into the pot.

The soul known as Tikba was Libum’s new coworker, for better or for worse. He dragged the body to the infirmary, where one of the Tagkawal, an apothecary known as Mutya, would wake Tikba and examine their body for any marks on how they died. Today, she wore one of her usual outfits: layers upon layers of red, black, and dark blue. Her eyes, the color of the leaves in the Village, covered themselves in homemade kohl, and bled a little underneath. She moved as silently as the trees as she dragged the soul into the back by their legs.

“Get out of the room.” Mutya shoved the man and pulled the curtain closed, her scowl a thin flat line, and the only thing Libum could see even through the sheet. 

He examined the surrounding area, Mutya’s house as cluttered as she always seemed to be. Animals tied up to half-dead trees bleated and barked from outside. A giant stone pot sat in the middle of the room, bubbling, red flames wrapping underneath it like hands reaching towards the light. It gave off a sweet smell, but hid something rotten underneath. Like it was simmering the leftover ingredients stuck to the bottom that hadn’t been washed. 

She uttered a few swears, the clinking of glass muffled as she carried vials of homemade concoctions in her dress.

Her voice only grew louder as she announced, “The soul showed signs of dark indentations on the ribs, neck, skull, and spine. This is likely where trauma was inflicted before death. It should fade in a couple weeks, if they last that long. The only thing of note is that they have a birthmark across their back.” Mutya opened the curtain, her eyes now flickered with awe and a smoking tobacco leaf between her lips. The vials jingled as she moved, each a different colored liquid attached to the belt wrapped around her waist. The curtain behind her glowed gold. 

“New partner for you?” she asked, sucking in the smoke.

“Special orders.”

“I hope you like being choked out,” she laughed, and her laugh had a breathy, whispery appeal. “Kolupati is too easy on you. You get all the fun ones.” She used the tip of her finger to stop the smoldering ember and immediately replaced it with a cabo tab. The only sound between them was her hard teeth against an even harder object.

Libum covered his mouth, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Haven’t they been through enough? They don’t need your flirting.” If the last twenty years were classified as easy, Libum didn’t care to find out what it meant when Kolupati was hard on him. “Besides, they don’t look like…uh, your type.”

“What do you know about my type? Are you going to tell Kolupati?” She raised her eyebrows, and pulled out a glass jar of pressed white oil. Scooping some into her hands, she returned to the body on the table and began massaging the oil deep into the muscles. Her arms moved and tensed with the motion, the wrinkles on her hands firmed.

“No,” he replied. “I don’t care what you do. Just make sure they’re awake before long.”

“That’s up to the soul.” Libum shot another look towards the sleeping Tikba, and Mutya was the one to roll her eyes. “There’s no need to act subtle about it, little boy. Are you going to ask me if this one is mine? We were all talking about it during the purification.”

“Well.” Libum looked to Mutya for any sign of giving in. “Do they look familiar?” Even though Tikba was an adult, it was not taken off the table of whether or not they were a Inapo of one of the Tagkawal.

“Not my Inapo,” she promised, twirling her hair in her fingers. “I’ve never seen this before. Although, Kolupati already questioned each of us. You’d have known that if you talked to her.” Her attitude was not lost on him. 

“If I discover that you’re lying, Kolupati will have your skin. Have them come to the Spirit House when they’re ready for work.” Libum grabbed some coconut that’d been left to dry from Mutya’s bench, along with an untouched mango, throwing both into his own bag before leaving Mutya’s house. A blue vial stared back at him. What Mutya didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt her.