Page 38 of Mortis

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “It’s not a gift. It’s—” I shook my head. “You know what? Never mind.”

Deciding my bladder could wait a little longer for relief, I abandoned the bathroom and headed straight for the kitchen.

Coffee came first. Survival instincts came second.

With a huff, I grabbed a mug from the cupboard, still mildly bereaved that my favourite one had perished the night before, and slid it beneath the coffee machine’s spout.

It wasn’t one of those pod machines. This one had proper buttons, settings I’d never touched, and demanded actual coffee beans like some sort of caffeinated aristocrat. It had cost Grandad a small fortune, and he’d given it to Arlo and me for our first Christmas after we moved out of my childhood home.

We’d both protested. Yet he’d insisted he’d already thrown away the receipt and, rather conveniently, developed sudden memory loss about where he’d bought it.

Nowadays, the machine was the pride of the flat.

Honestly, we probably treated it with more care than we did each other.

Cup filled, the bitter aroma of my triple espresso drifted through the kitchen. I plucked it from the machine and turned to find Kael standing right behind me.

Again.

He looked down at the mug of dark liquid, his nose wrinkling as his thick eyebrows drew together above those strange crimson eyes.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the cup.

“They don’t have coffee in Hell?”

Kael shook his head. “No. Demons mostly survive on brimstone wine and the tears of sinners they’ve tortured.”

Now it was my turn to frown. “Sounds delightful.”

I lifted the mug and took a generous sip. It was still a touch too hot, burning my tongue and throat on the way down, but I didn’t care. Closing my eyes, I felt marginally more human as the caffeine began flowing through my veins.

Kael’s nostrils flared. “It smells . . . bitter.”

When I opened my eyes again, I looked between him and the mug in my hand.

A thought occurred to me.

In Tokyo Ghoul Yoshimura had given Ken Kaneki coffee when he refused to eat human flesh. Maybe the same logic applied to a seven-foot demon with horns and hooves.

Deciding to trust anime over common sense, I held the mug out. “Wanna try some?”

Kael tilted his head and his pupils narrowed. His lip curled into a sneer. The crimson in his irises brightened.

The Beast was back.

Great.

“Is it poison?”

I sighed, tightening my grip on the mug.

“So rude,” I grumbled. “You literally just watched me drink it.” To prove my point, I took another sip. “Besides, if I’d wanted to poison you, assuming that’s even possible, I could’ve done it when I cooked you a steak from a dead man’s arse.”

“It could be holy water,” He rumbled, folding His arms across His wide chest.

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw my own brain. “Why would there be holy water in my coffee machine?”

Apparently out of arguments, the Beast snatched the mug from my hand. He lifted it to His face, stuck out His dark tongue, and cautiously licked the surface. His nose wrinkled. I expected Him to hand it back with an expression of absolute disgust. Instead, He tipped the mug back and emptied the entire thing into His mouth.