Page 80 of Mortis

A lightbulb flicked on in my head. An excuse to leave early had just landed in my lap, and I had to fight the urge to fist pump.

“Not feeling great,” I admitted, almost glad that my voice still sounded rough.

And it wasn’t exactly a lie, because I definitely wasn’t feeling the positive vibes today.

“Kael looked a bit peaky too, so I sent him home earlier.”

Grandad’s expression immediately softened. He rose from his seat and rounded the desk, wrapping me in one of his trademark tight hugs.

“You poor things.” He stepped back to grip my shoulders. “Go home and get some rest. You and Kael have been working yourselves too hard.”

Arlo appeared beside me and slung an arm around my waist, resting his head on my shoulder. “Want me to grab dinner? Chinese food from Wok ’n’ Roll?”

My smile came much easier this time, and I kissed his temple. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

“Go home, get cosy with Kael, and put your jammies on,” Grandad added, speaking like I was still ten years old and needed a day off school. “And if you’re still sick tomorrow, just say the word. Lo and I can keep things ticking over.”

I started to shake my head, immediately regretting it when the lump on the back of my skull protested. Honestly, going home, climbing into bed, and curling up beside Kael sounded perfect. It had been a bloody awful day.

But before we could do any of that, we needed to talk. Really talk. And something deep in my gut told me I wasn’t going to like what I was about to hear.

After saying goodbye to Grandad and Arlo, I stepped out onto the street and followed the same route Kael had taken earlier that day. Back home to our little flat, where a horned demon was waiting to tell me a story.

One that somehow, I already knew wasn’t going to have a happy ending.

12

THE BEAST

Mid 1800s – The Summoning

I was born on a Sunday.

An utter farce that I, a demon—nay, a beast—should come into being on the very day mortals believed themselves closest to their so-called God.

I awakened the instant my vessel was dragged from the depths of Hell and cast so carelessly into the mortal realm. My consciousness bound itself to his before the flames of the summoning circle had faded to ash and glowing embers.

That was why I existed.

Why we existed.

Cracked flagstones stretched beneath our hooves, encircled by hooded beings whose faces were swallowed by darkness. The only illumination came from dozens of candles scattered throughout the chamber. Some stood tall and proud. Others had melted into pathetic pools of wax. Their flames cast restless shadows across the low, vaulted ceiling, while dust drifted lazily through the air like dying sparks.

My vessel’s eyes swept over the herd surrounding us.

Mortals.

Their scent betrayed them before their appearance ever could. Soft. Fragile. Pathetically small. We could have torn through them with little effort.

Had we been allowed.

Our body shuffled towards the edge of the circle, where invisible force met flesh.

A wall.

A prison.

The barrier had been sealed with the blood of an unwitting sacrifice, now baked into the stone by ritual and prayer. But this prison had never been intended for us. No, it had been built for our master.