Chapter 2 #2
Lou rolled his eyes. “So, who—”
“Great! Mystery solved!” Seymour slapped the counter. “Y’all have been great. Really. I’ve had so much fun, but now it’s gonna be time for me to be headin’ on.”
“Wait—” Neil blinked. “That’s it?”
“Uh, yeah. I reckon maybe you watched a lot of Twilight or whatever and were a lot more into the whole werewolf thing—”
“Hang on now—”
“—but I need to go see a lawyer, plant this here wreath, and take my ass back home away from all of this.” Seymour started toward the door. “If y’all will excuse me.”
Lou advanced. “We need to take some precautions. You have no idea how dangerous this could be.”
“Because I can see a bunch of dead people?” Seymour scoffed. “Yeah, I’ve seen this movie and—”
“If any of my brothers find out, you will be hunted—”
The front door suddenly opened, and an old woman with blue hair walked in. She gasped in surprise as she nearly ran right into Seymour. “Oh! Excuse me!”
“My apologies, ma’am.” Seymour tipped his head politely. “I was just on my way out—”
The old woman screamed.
Right.
Lou was naked.
“I told you to put pants on!” Neil growled.
Lou grabbed the nearest floral arrangement—a vase full of pink tulips—to hold in front of himself. “Ah, my apologies. Miss Loy—”
“What in the world is going on in here?” she demanded, waving a bright yellow umbrella around. “Are you all having one of those pervert sex parties? Right here in the shop? What is your uncle going to say?”
“Please!” Neil pleaded. “We just need a moment to, to, uh—”
Flanders laughed.
A lot.
Seymour decided to make a break for it, and he slipped behind the old woman still frozen in the open doorway and out.
He bolted as soon as his feet hit the sidewalk and raced to his truck.
He jumped behind the wheel, threw the wreath in the passenger seat, and scrambled to get his keys into the ignition.
It was in this moment Seymour regretted not having a newer vehicle with a push to start button.
Would have been very helpful right about now.
“Come on, come on, come the fuck on!” He stabbed the key into place. “There! Let’s fuckin’ go!”
“So, about you leaving—”
Seymour screamed.
It was Flanders, sitting right beside him on top of the flowers.
He was smaller than before, no doubt to fit inside the cab.
Flanders’s ears went back, and he sighed. “Really?”
Seymour pointed at the window. “Get the fuck outta my truck!”
“Well.” Flanders hummed and tilted his head. “I can’t do that.”
“Get out right fuckin’ now!” Seymour swatted at Flanders, but his hand slid right through him as if he was made of smoke. “The fuck?”
“Oh, I’ll get out in a second.” Flanders glanced out the window. “See, I’m just here to provide a distraction.”
“A distraction for what?”
“For Lou to get his pants on.”
“Huh?”
Thwump.
Seymour jerked as Lou tackled the driver’s side of his truck, the entire vehicle shaking. “For fuck’s sake!”
Lou opened the door Seymour had forgotten to lock, and he grabbed Seymour’s arm. “Come on. Now.”
“Fuck off!” Seymour flailed like a fish flopping around out of water and lurched back, trying to feel around for a weapon. This meant reaching through Flanders, which was visually weird, but Seymour was too focused on getting something to fight with to worry about it.
“That just looks wrong,” Flanders noted calmly. “It’s like you’re fisti—”
“Little help?” Lou snapped.
“Why? You’re doing great.”
Seymour’s fingers closed around the wreath, and he let Lou pull him almost out of the truck so he could smash the flowers into Lou’s face.
“Ah! You little—” Lou shook his head, growling and sniffing.
Seymour put the truck in gear and took off, slamming his foot onto the gas. His open door clipped a parked car as he sped into traffic. He cringed, horns honking wildly as he narrowly missed another collision.
He had to go, go, go, fucking go—
The entire truck convulsed as if it had run into a brick wall, but there was nothing in front of it.
Seymour hit the gas, watched the RPMs skyrocket, and yet nothing happened.
Then he saw it.
In the rearview.
Lou was holding the truck, his hands morphed partially into giant claws as he shouted, “Get out! Right now!”
“Fuck you!” Seymour pressed the gas harder, tires squealing as the truck remained trapped. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
“You do know it’s illegal to leave the scene of an accident, right?” Flanders drawled.
“Oh my God, shut up!” Seymour pleaded. “I just wanna fuckin’ go, okay? I wanna go the fuck home to my stupid fuckin’ life away from this stupid fuckin’ city—”
“If I were you, I’d stop this truck and go with Lou. Right now.”
“What?”
Flanders was staring out the windshield, teeth bared.
There were two men—wow, beautiful men—standing in the middle of the road. They were both slender and lithe, one Black and one white, and they were dressed in coordinating purple and green outfits adorned with fresh flowers.
“Who the fuck are they?” Seymour demanded. “More spirits?”
“Your worst nightmare.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Seymour turned to Flanders. “What—”
Flanders was gone.
The truck suddenly zoomed forward, and Seymour scrambled to hit the brakes so he wouldn’t hit the two men.
The men smiled, flashing rows of sharp teeth as their eyes turned solid black and… they vanished.
What in the…?
Fuck it.
Seymour sped forward, praying to every god he knew for the lights to stay green so he could put as much distance between himself and that crazy ass flower shop as he could.
He’d had enough of monsters and ghosts and vanishing people.
He wanted to go home.
The next light turned red and forced him to stop, but by now he was several blocks away. A few more and he could hit the highway, and he never had to see this awful city again.
He still had that appointment with the lawyer.
Shit.
It didn’t seem like Lou or Flanders or anyone else was following him. He could head to the law office, get the will shit out of the way, claim whatever was coming to him, and then book it home.
His heart thumped hard when he realized that would mean missing out on the coffee date with Sariel. A great smile and pretty blue eyes were hardly worth messing with werewolves or giant talking dogs or any of this monster mess, but he did wish he’d at least gotten Sariel’s number.
The level of disappointment surprised him, but he tried not to think about it too hard.
They’d only talked for a few minutes in a damn cemetery.
Even now, however, Seymour couldn’t get Sariel out of his head. His little laugh, his bright smile, how he lit up talking about that damn zodiac crap. Maybe Seymour could stick around for a wee little bit longer–No!
There were literal monsters coming after him now all because he could see some stupid spirits.
Seymour knew he had to move fast.
He used his phone to navigate to the law office, parked as close as he could, and then headed inside.
The building was old, its exterior covered with ornate stone reliefs, and behind its tinted glass revolving doors was a sea of pretentious antique furniture and white marble. It was Lark, Lugosi, and Talos, the city’s oldest law firm according to its website.
And the sign outside.
And the plaque in the lobby.
Seymour didn’t want to touch anything, certain he wouldn’t even be able to afford replacing one of the fancy plastic plants in here if he knocked one over.
A closer look revealed the plants were in fact quite alive.
Of course they were.
Well, he did know a flower shop nearby.
Big bouquets, custom arrangements, and oh yeah, full of monsters.
“Mr. Madison?” the clerk called out to him.
“Yes! Hi.” Seymour hurried over to the desk. “Look, I’m real sorry again for showin’ up so early, but—”
“Mr. Talos will see you. Right now.”
“Oh. Great! Thank you!” Seymour sighed in relief. “I really appreciate it.”
“Please follow me.” The clerk smiled, leading Seymour toward a massive set of elevators. Once inside, she pushed a button simply marked P1.
P for penthouse?
Pineapple?
Pickle?
A panel opened up with a keypad and a large lens that reminded Seymour of the equipment an eye doctor would have. Sure enough, the clerk learned forward to allow the lens to scan her eye.
There was a beep and only then did the elevator ascend.
“Pretty tough security,” Seymour noted.
“Oh, yes.” The clerk nodded. “Mr. Talos insists.”
“Is he the Talos of uh, Lark and whatever and Talos?”
“Yes, sir. Are you—” The clerk narrowed her eyes as if contemplating what to say next and set on choosing her words carefully. “—friends with the Talos family?”
“Not me personally, but maybe my father.” Seymour shrugged. “Can’t say I knew much ’bout him.”
“Well, he must have been an incredible man.” The clerk smiled warmly. “I can’t even remember the last time Mr. Talos saw a client, especially for something as simple as the reading of a will.”
Seymour forced a smile. “Oh, well, that’s real nice.”
Super.
Great.
Wonderful.
How high up was P1? Was it on the moon? This was the longest elevator ride in the history of elevators, and Seymour was ready to chew his way through the doors to get there faster.
Sweat beaded on his brow, his heart still fluttering with the adrenaline lingering from the utter insanity of the last thirty minutes.
The only thing he could think to do to not start screaming hysterically was to focus on his current task—seeing this lawyer so he could get the hell out of Somerstown.
Finally, another ding signaled the elevator’s arrival.
The clerk ushered Seymour to an office that could have had its own swimming pool.
There were giant windows that offered an impressive view of the city, a space for lounging with fancy furniture nestled beside a giant fireplace, and behind a mammoth wooden desk was a floor-to-ceiling display of over a dozen flat screens.