Page 106 of Mortis

“What’s wrong?” Arlo asked, nudging my side.

My gaze remained fixed on the embalming room door. “Did Teddy say he was leaving early?”

He hadn’t mentioned anything to me, but I knew he often communicated with Arlo and Maurice by phone. Perhaps he’d finished preparing Mr Simpson sooner than expected. Perhaps he’d decided to go home and rest rather than wait for us to return. Perhaps he’d already told Arlo all of this, and I was worrying over nothing.

“No. Why?”

I was moving before I could answer. I stormed down the hallway and wrapped my hand around the metal handle of the embalming room door. It crumpled beneath my grip, but I didn’t care.

“Kael,” Arlo called as he hurried after me. “What’s wrong?”

I forced myself to take a breath, then I opened the door. The lights were still on. Mr Simpson remained on the table. Teddy’s used instruments sat on the metal tray beside him. But Teddy was nowhere to be seen.

“Okay, seriously. What the fuck is—” Arlo stopped beside me and stared around the empty room. “Where’s Teds?”

I didn’t answer. My jaw clenched, and my hands curled into fists. Then my nose twitched. Something metallic lingered in the air. Coppery, like blood. I crossed the room in three long strides, following the scent to the refrigeration units, and wrenched open the door. The drawers were empty, and relief loosened something in my chest.

For barely a second.

Then I saw the inside of the door.

A circle. Within it, a set of scales. A single coin rested on one side, while three drops of blood hung from the other, perfectly balanced.

Their mark.

The image was crude, smeared rather than drawn, and I didn’t need to touch it to know what they’d used.

Blood.

But whose?

I leaned closer and inhaled. The scent filled my lungs, thick and cloying. Metallic with iron and copper, as blood always was. But beneath it was something else. Something sweeter. Familiar. A scent that made saliva flood my mouth even as dread hollowed out my chest.

Honey.

A growl tore from my throat, echoing through the embalming room. Black smoke swarmed around me, beginning at my feet and curling up my frame until it engulfed me entirely. My human disguise melted away. Horns erupted from my skull and curled around my head. My nails lengthened into claws. My teeth sharpened into fangs. My legs twisted back into their natural shape, feet becoming hooves as thick black fur spread across my skin. My eyes flared crimson.

They have taken what is ours, the Beast growled inside my head. And now, they will pay.

“Christ on a bike!”

A clatter sounded behind me. I spun around to find Arlo staring up at me with wide blue eyes. He stood frozen, mouth hanging open in shock. An understandable reaction, really. He was in the presence of a monster. One he’d welcomed into his family. One he’d trusted and worked alongside for weeks. One he’d allowed beneath his roof, never realising what had been hiding in plain sight.

I waited for the scream. For terror and tears. Begging. For the sound of my future with Teddy crumbling before it had truly begun. Because if Arlo rejected me, Teddy would have no choice but to send me away. And I wouldn’t fault him for it. Arlo was his family. His best friend. His brother in everything but blood. Teddy would protect him.

He showed it in the way he watched Arlo without hovering, always making sure he was safe and happy. In the way he held him on the nights when the darkness pressed too close and Arlo was too afraid to close his eyes. In the casual affection Teddy gave him freely, reminding Arlo that he could be loved without anything being expected in return.

Arlo, my kindred spirit.

And I feared all of that had gone up in flames the moment my disguise disappeared.

Except the scream never came. Neither did the tears or the begging. Instead, Arlo seemed to shake himself from his stupor. After a harsh blink and a quick shake of his head, he raised a hand and slapped himself across the cheek.

“Ow, fuck,” he hissed, rubbing the reddened skin.

I cleared my throat, preparing to ask if he was all right. But before I could, Arlo straightened and planted his dainty hands on his hips.

“Right, beastie boy,” he said, looking me up and down. “You’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on.”