Page 53 of Mortis

“Teds,” he panted, still staring at his phone. “Oh my god.”

Teddy sighed and paused the anime. He’d watched the series several times before, so I suspected he was only stopping it for my benefit.

“Arlo,” he groaned. “I don’t want to see any more dick pics.”

I tilted my head.

A dick pic?

Was that a picture of a human cock?

Why would people want to look at those?

Before I could ask, Arlo answered.

“No cocks, I swear.”

He tapped the screen with his dark-crimson fingernails before turning the phone towards us. It was an article from something called the Blackthorn Bugle, and Teddy frowned as he began reading aloud.

“Hiker claims to spot . . .”

His voice faltered, and the breath seemed to leave him all at once. He glanced sideways at me, but I’d already read the headline. My heartbeat quickened, but I forced myself to remain perfectly still. Teddy cleared his throat and looked back at the screen.

Hiker claims to spot local legend, the “Satyr,” and barely escapes alive.

Beneath the headline sat a blurred photograph. It had clearly been taken at night because the image was little more than darkness and movement. Yet I recognised the silhouette. The curve of my horns, the outline of my digitigrade legs. And at the centre, two crimson eyes burning through the darkness.

“Arlo,” Teddy asked carefully. “What is this?”

Completely oblivious to our sudden discomfort, Arlo launched straight into an explanation.

“Apparently, he’s one of those YouTubers who makes paranormal videos. Ghosts, haunted places, all that stuff. He went into Barrowfell Woods looking for the Satyr.” He pointed excitedly at the article. “He reckons he and his mate actually saw it. They legged it, and that’s when he took the photo.”

Teddy snorted. “So he was running away from a flesh-eating monster, and somehow found time to take a picture?”

Arlo shrugged.

“I’m just telling you what it says.” He scrolled further down. Then his expression changed. “Says here he made it back to town, but his friend didn’t.”

A photograph of a young man filled the screen, and every muscle in my body locked. Without saying a word, Teddy reached across the sofa and grasped a handful of my trouser leg. I wasn’t sure whether he was trying to comfort me or stop me from bolting through the front door. Either way, the warmth of his hand grounded me.

“What happened to his friend?” Teddy asked, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly.

“He’s been missing ever since.”

I tried to swallow. It felt as though a stone had lodged itself in my throat. My chest tightened, and breathing suddenly became far more difficult.

They would never find him. I already knew that.

Because He had torn that man apart.

The Beast.

It had happened only a few days before I left the woods. Despite feeding recently, His hunger had returned with frightening speed. It only ever grew, just like our master’s greed. The two young men had wandered into Barrowfell Woods together, calling out for the monster as they filmed one another.

They thought they were hunting a legend.

They never realised the legend was hunting them in turn.