Page 30 of Mortis

Every lesson I’d ever received as a mortuary technician flashed through my mind.

Respect the dead.

Treat every person with dignity.

Prepare them carefully for their final journey.

None of my tutors had covered harvesting a man’s arse meat for a starving demon.

But I’d promised Kael I’d try.

And considering Mr Cartwright was already dead, both Kael and I were currently at risk of becoming considerably deader, so my priorities felt justified.

Mostly.

I sank the blade into the skin and made the first incision. Carefully, I peeled the tissue back, exposing the muscle beneath. Then I severed fat and separated connective tissue, before removing a sizeable section of flesh.

Beside me, Kael’s breathing grew heavier. Faster. When I glanced up, he was staring at the meat with undisguised hunger. The sight sparked a strange sense of satisfaction inside me. One I tried very hard not to examine too closely.

Ignoring the little voice in my head questioning every life choice I’d ever made, I finished my work and roughly sutured the skin back into place.

“Okay.” I peeled off my gloves. “Stick Mr Cartwright back in the fridge and I’ll bag up your dinner.”

Once again, Kael did exactly as instructed. While he returned the body to refrigeration, I grabbed a yellow clinical waste bag from a nearby cupboard. I carefully placed the flesh inside and tied it shut.

A takeaway bag for a demon.

Apparently, that was something I did now.

A glance at the clock revealed it was just past four. I pulled my phone from my jeans pocket and looked at Kael. He was waiting patiently, eyes fixed on the bag hanging from my left hand.

“I just need to make a few calls, then we can go.”

Those red eyes lifted to mine. “Go where?”

“To my flat,” I said, as though it were obvious.

Judging by his expression, it wasn’t.

“Wait there.”

Twenty minutes later, I’d filed reports with both the alarm company and the police. I informed PS Dickinson, the duty sergeant, that we’d suffered a break-in but that nothing appeared to have been stolen. Most likely drifters or local teenagers. He readily agreed to take my statement in the morning, which I suspected was less about professionalism and more about not wanting to leave his warm desk. I also left a voicemail for my grandad, so the state of the place wouldn’t surprise him when he turned up in a few hours.

Once that was dealt with, I turned back to Kael. He was standing exactly where I’d left him. Completely motionless and watching me. For something so enormous, he was remarkably quiet. Despite the horns, hooves, and somewhat terrifying appearance, it would’ve been easy to forget he was there if he wasn’t taking up half the room.

Speaking of which . . .

“I’m not entirely sure I can take you home looking like—” I gestured vaguely towards him. “That.”

Kael looked down at himself. He lifted one furry leg, then the other. Then reached up and touched one of his horns. The gesture was strangely self-conscious.

I hated that I found it adorable.

“How do I even make you look human?” I muttered, mostly to myself.

Apparently, Kael heard me anyway, because he straightened and began to change. Not like before, though. This wasn’t the Beast.

This was something else entirely.