Page 126 of Mortis

Before Sebastian could finish recounting his achievements, Mammon cut him off.

“And?”

Sebastian faltered. He blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, and tugged nervously at his collar. “I . . . Everything my father promised you, I’ve restored.”

Mammon sighed. “I can see that. How exhausting.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows twitched into a frown. The movement was minuscule, but I caught it before he smoothed his expression. “My Lord, I have upheld my family’s side of the bargain.”

I heard the words he didn’t say.

Now it’s time you upheld yours.

Mammon perched on the edge of the altar and crossed his legs at the ankles. “What, you want a reward?”

Teddy lifted his head and whispered, “He’s a bit of a dick, isn’t he?”

I dipped my chin in a tiny nod as Sebastian released a shocked squawk. His confident mask was beginning to crack, and I expected it wouldn’t be long before it shattered completely.

Mammon was good at doing that.

“I have—we—” Sebastian flapped his hands. “I have devoted my entire life to you.”

My master shrugged. “A lot of people do.”

He toyed with the end of his braid before plucking a piece of non-existent lint from his waistcoat.

“Once upon a time, an insufferable arsehole named Lucifer decided to brag about how many souls he’d acquired. Naturally, being Greed incarnate, I couldn’t tolerate someone possessing more of something than I did. So we entered into a bit of a competition. A game, really. Whoever acquires the most souls wins.” Mammon reclined further against the altar, propping himself up on his hands. “Your ancestors offered me souls. I wanted souls. It was an extremely uncomplicated arrangement.”

Beside me, Arlo slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a sudden burst of laughter. Even Teddy’s eyes widened behind his glasses, his lips trembling as he fought to keep them closed.

“Oh my god,” Arlo wheezed. “This is better than any season of Real Housewives.”

Teddy nodded. “I kinda wish we had popcorn.”

Meanwhile, Sebastian’s face grew redder and redder. He lurched to his feet and slammed a palm against his chest. “No! My family was chosen.”

“Chosen?” My master’s golden eyes narrowed. “You were available.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. A vein began to pulse in his temple. “My father said our bloodline was sacred.”

Mammon rolled his eyes. “Your father said many things. Most of them while begging me for money.”

While Sebastian suffered through a miserable epiphany, I was having a realisation of my own. The people who had tortured me, sacrificed innocents and enslaved me for more than a century, had built their entire existence around the belief that they were special. That Mammon had chosen them above all others.

But he barely remembered them.

They weren’t prophets. They weren’t sacred. They weren’t part of some grand infernal design.

They had simply possessed something Mammon wanted.

Souls.

And I had suffered all that time because my master wanted to win a fucking game.

Sebastian stumbled backwards and gripped his hair. Around him, members of the cult slowly began rising to their feet. Some took tentative steps backwards as whispers spread through the congregation. Eyes darted towards their leader as they witnessed his dismissal by the very demon they worshipped.

Sebastian noticed the growing unease. Rather than cutting his losses, he doubled down.