Page 113 of Mortis

Arlo moved closer to my side. “Do you think we got the wrong place?”

I was about to answer when a breeze whispered through the cemetery.

I froze.

My nose twitched. Damp earth. Wet stone. The faint decay that lingered wherever the dead gathered in great numbers. And beneath it all, something sweeter. My heart slammed against my ribs. I knew that scent. I would know it anywhere. The Beast surged against my consciousness, releasing a low, possessive growl.

Ours.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, following that thread of sweetness through the night air. “We’re exactly where we should be.”

Arlo’s expression tightened, and neither of us spoke again. We continued deeper into the cemetery, following the scent as it grew stronger. With every step towards the two-tiered pit that housed the catacombs, the tension inside me wound tighter. Still, no one tried to stop us. No one leapt from the shadows. No alarm was raised. It was almost as though they wanted us to reach them.

When we passed the remains of the old chapel, recognition struck.

We had arrived.

A few feet ahead, stone steps descended into the earth. Gravel paths curved around each level in a semicircle, bordered by the now sealed vaults that contained the dead. And at the very bottom, surrounded by weathered tombstones, stood the sacrificial altar still disguised as a chest tomb. I stopped at the top of the steps, and Arlo stopped beside me.

Neither of us moved.

There was someone lying on the altar. A small figure, bound at the wrists and ankles. Brown hair, crumpled blue scrubs, and no glasses.

My heart stopped.

Teddy.

Arlo inhaled sharply and gripped my arm, his nails biting into my skin. Rage ripped through me. Black smoke erupted around my body before I even consciously called upon it. My human disguise melted away as horns burst from my skull and claws replaced my nails. My teeth sharpened, my legs twisted, and hooves struck the earth as I rose to my full height.

A slave of Mammon.

A demon.

A beast.

And they had dared to take what I loved.

Teddy writhed against his bindings. Even from this distance, I could see how deeply they cut into his wrists, the skin beneath rubbed angry and raw. The inflamed red slash on his palm. His head whipped from side to side, eyes wide and unfocused. Without his glasses, surrounded by darkness, he could barely see what was happening around him.

“Teds!”

Arlo lunged for the steps. But I caught the back of his coat and yanked him behind me, because we weren’t alone. Figures stood amongst the tombstones surrounding the altar. Dozens of them. Silent, motionless, and waiting. Approximately fifty mortals, each wrapped in a cloak the colour of blood, their hoods raised.

They hadn’t forgotten to guard the cemetery.

They hadn’t failed to notice our arrival.

They had let us in.

All wore red except one.

Sebastian stood behind the altar, in the same white cloak his father once wore, looming over Teddy’s form. His hood was down and moonlight caught his mismatched eyes, turning one to ice and the other to honey. He was smirking, because of course he was. Slowly, deliberately, he reached down and brushed Teddy’s hair away from his face. A snarl exploded from my throat, and I stepped forward, teeth snapping together.

Sebastian’s smile widened.

“K-Kael?” Teddy’s broken whimper nearly destroyed me. He twisted towards the sound of my growl, fighting harder against his restraints. “Kael!”

I moved towards him, and Sebastian laughed. The sound echoed through the catacombs, and every cloaked head turned towards me as one. When Sebastian extended his arms, welcoming me like a messiah greeting a long-awaited disciple, the resemblance to his father was undeniable.