Page 125 of Mortis

Something was wrong.

The Beast fell silent inside my mind. Still and watchful. Not frightened, exactly. But He knew as well as I did what was coming. The air changed. Heat crept across my skin and the unmistakable scent of brimstone filled my nose. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the ground, bending towards the altar as a thick fog rolled through the cemetery. Then the stone altar began to tremble. Black smoke poured from the sigil, twisting upwards, growing thicker until it formed a writhing mass above the altar.

My stomach dropped.

Oh no.

Sebastian released an ecstatic cackle and gripped his hair. “At last! He’s finally come, and we didn’t even need the sacrifice!”

I wanted to tell him his excitement was severely misplaced, because my master was lazy. Spectacularly so. Mammon despised doing anything himself when there was a perfectly good subordinate available to do it for him. He delegated everything he possibly could, preferably while reclining somewhere comfortable and enjoying the fruits of everyone else’s labour.

The fact that Mammon had come personally?

A very, very bad sign.

The smoke suddenly collapsed, and a figure stood in its place.

A man.

No.

A demon.

He stood more than seven feet tall, his frame long and lean. Two ebony horns twisted from his skull towards the night sky. Snow white hair was pulled into a loose braid that fell over one shoulder, stark against pearlescent skin that seemed to glow beneath the moonlight. A long, narrow tail that ended in a sharp point snapped irritably behind him.

Sebastian immediately dropped to his knees, and the congregation followed.

“My Lord.”

My master said nothing.

His molten-gold eyes travelled slowly across the cemetery. The kneeling congregation, Sebastian, the bloody altar beneath his feet. They lingered on Arlo before drifting towards Teddy, and finally, they found me.

His expression soured with every passing second. His upper lip curled. And when the great Prince of Greed finally spoke, he sounded profoundly bored.

“Oh. You people again.”

20

KAEL

Sebastian stared up at the demon looming over him. Dressed in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, Mammon was surrounded by an aura of dread that seemed to weigh upon the very air. Teddy inched closer to me, and I wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tucking him against my side. Arlo leaned into Teddy, and the three of us held a collective breath as Mammon gracefully stepped down from the altar.

“Is that . . .” Teddy trailed off.

I nodded. “My master.”

Sebastian clasped his hands together in a mockery of prayer. “My Lord, thank you for gracing us with your presence.”

Mammon huffed and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.

“After the destruction of your congregation, I dedicated my life to restoring what was taken from you. To rebuilding your church and ensuring our family’s devotion to you would not die with my father.”

Sebastian began listing all his supposed accomplishments. Rebuilding the congregation. Recovering sacred artefacts. Preparing sacrifices. Hunting down his Lord’s “precious beast.” His chest puffed up further with each achievement, and he gazed at Mammon with wide-eyed reverence, as though expecting praise after every sentence.

Except Mammon barely seemed to be listening.

Instead, his eyes roamed the cemetery with disdain. He inspected his perfectly manicured nails. His gaze wandered briefly to Teddy, lingering on the torn shirt barely hanging from his shoulders.