Page 136 of Mortis

Teddy’s head snapped towards him. “We can’t drive home naked.”

“Do you want to scrub blood and bits of cultist out of the hearse when we get back at the crack of dawn?”

Teddy opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked down at his own ruined clothing, his shirt ripped straight down the middle. “Okay, fine. Good point.”

Arlo sighed happily and started walking. “Come on. I want a shower, twelve hours of sleep, and enough takeaway to kill me.”

Teddy glanced at him and smirked.

“Apparently that last one’s only a concern for you now.” Arlo stopped. Slowly, he turned, and when their eyes met, Teddy’s widened in faux innocence. “Too soon?”

“Way too soon, Teddy Adler.”

Despite his words, Arlo was fighting a smile. Teddy reached for his hand, then he reached for mine. Together, we began walking towards the cemetery gates. Behind us lay the remains of the people who had once chained me. Who had tried to own me, and believed I belonged to them.

But ahead of us was Blackthorn.

Adler & Sons.

Maurice.

The little flat the three of us shared.

A future with Teddy.

Home.

For so long, I had believed eternity was a punishment.

Now, walking away with Teddy’s hand in mine, it could only feel like a gift.

Epilogue

TEDDY

Six months later

Barrowfell Woods felt different these days. Less ominous. Blackthorn locals still told stories about the monster lurking between the trees. And after the YouTube video went viral, we still had the occasional visit from ghost hunters and paranormal enthusiasts hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

But the number of people who went missing had dropped to zero. It had stayed that way for the last six months, ever since the monster left the woods in favour of a quaint little flat with two roommates.

Barrowfell Woods didn’t intimidate me anymore. Which, I suppose, was a given when I knew what the supposedly terrifying monster sounded like when he came.

Or that he had a Frappuccino addiction and wore Crocs whenever he could.

Kael.

My monster and his inner beastie.

Half a year had passed since I found him on the floor of the embalming room with chunks of Dorothy Robinson hanging out of his mouth.

Since I’d started looking at corpses like a butcher, wondering which cuts would make the tastiest meal for my demon boyfriend.

Since I’d been kidnapped by a cult, almost sacrificed, and experienced the hellish equivalent of meeting the parents.

A lot had happened since then.

Kael had celebrated his first Christmas, and as predicted, he’d eaten a bigger dinner than Arlo, Grandad, and I combined. I’d bought him a new pair of Crocs, blue this time, and a secondhand smartphone. Arlo had spent ages showing him how to send texts and download apps, and Kael had spent the rest of the evening playing Cut the Rope and sending me different coloured heart emojis from the other side of the room.