Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
Let’s go.” Mr. Heiss raised his hand, drawing something in the air. It was some kind of circular symbol, but it was done too quickly for Seymour to make sense of it. Mr. Heiss curled his hand into a fist, squeezed tight, and there was an audible crunch of something shattering like glass.
A giant portal opened up, a tear in the very air around them filled with nothing but darkness, and Mr. Heiss stepped through it.
“Let fuckin’ go of me!” Seymour dug his heels in and pulled as hard as he could. “No, no, no! Not goin’ through the fuckin’ black hole!”
Sariel’s grip was like iron, and he pulled Seymour toward the portal. “It is not a black hole. Please.”
Seymour continued to fight, but there was no way he could break Sariel’s hold. He reached out with his free hand to grab one of the broken display cases, but his hand slipped.
Ugh.
In blood.
He went limp, collapsing to the ground and forcing Sariel to drag him.
“You may cut yourself on the glass.” Sariel frowned. “I do not wish to harm you.”
“Then let me go!” Seymour barked. “Right fuckin’ now! Before I pluck your ass like a damn chicken!”
The other two men laughed.
“Oh, he’s a feisty one,” the curly-haired one teased.
The man with the glasses smiled fondly. “Reminds me of you.”
“Aw, babe.” The curly-haired man grinned.
Right.
Nothing to see here.
Just two bloody guys being adorable and giving each other goo-goo eyes.
Totally fine.
Seymour remained limp and unmoving, and he tried not to look at the corpses. He’d seen a dead body before, but only at a funeral home. Those people always looked nice and peaceful.
These ones—not so much.
His gaze did drift to Talos though, as there was no blood on his body or his head, only a small drip of what may have been oil.
Fuckin’ hellfire.
Sariel sighed and leaned down, plucking Seymour off the ground and heaving him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Let us go.”
Seymour’s stomach flipped, and he refused to acknowledge the blood rushing right to his face.
That was gravity.
Not because it was really hot to be tossed around and manhandled.
Nope, nope, nope.
“Put me down! Right fuckin’ now!” Seymour bucked and threw elbows, but he might as well have been fighting the floor.
Sariel didn’t budge.
Seymour got one last look at the decapitated body of Talos before they stepped through the portal, and he swore…
He thought he saw it sitting up.
Shit.
He was definitely losing his mind.
The office vanished, the portal closed, and Seymour craned his neck around to take in the new surroundings.
It was a chic living room with a vaulted ceiling, multiple skylights, and light brown suede furniture.
The open floor plan allowed for a view of a modern kitchen packed with shiny silver appliances and one of those fancy stovetop islands.
The walls were all white and framed with long wooden beams, and everything had an eerily sterile aura.
It felt staged, as if no one actually lived here but merely pretended to. There were no pictures or decorations to be found, and the one touch of a real human presence was a large stack of books that lined the top shelf of a bookcase.
The rest were empty.
“Where are we? Is this fuckin’ Hell?” Seymour demanded. “Is that where you brought me?”
“It is… a condo?” Sariel replied hesitantly.
Seymour flailed. “A condo in Hell?”
Sariel set Seymour down. “No, we are still in Somerstown.”
“Same fuckin’ thing at this rate.” Seymour ignored how his heart fluttered to be so close to Sariel and stepped away. He whipped his head around, already trying to find a way out. “Hey, what happened to those other guys? Where’d they go?”
“I do not know. The portal brought us here.” Sariel headed to the kitchen. “I imagine this is where Mr. Heiss wants us to wait for him to return.”
“Who is that? Big demon guy, right?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. That’s, uh, very interesting.” Seymour slowly backed toward the front door. He could hear Sariel tinkering around in cabinets and drawers, and he decided this was as good a time as any to make a break for it. “And the other two?”
“Benjamin Underwood and Wilhelm Tanze.”
“Great. Okay.” Seymour paused in his retreat. “Wait, why do I know those names?”
“Mr. Red and the Big Bad Wolf.”
Seymour continued backing toward the door. “Wow, uh, thought they were dead. They’re those serial killers, right?”
Sariel tilted his head at Seymour. There was flour on his cheek. “You will not be able to leave.”
“Leave? What? Never!” Seymour laughed. “Why would I wanna leave when we’re havin’ so much fun? Talkin’ ’bout demons and killers and Hell. Yup! This is a blast.”
“You are being sarcastic.”
“No fuckin’ duh.” Seymour turned and ran to the front door, heaving himself against it as he scrambled to turn the knob.
It was locked.
He pounded on the door.
Kicked it.
Called it some ugly names.
“Please do not harm yourself,” Sariel called out worriedly. “I am quite serious when I say you will not be able to leave.”
Determined still, Seymour headed to the closest window. He could only see trees, which meant probably no neighbors close enough to hear him scream for help. It also confused him since Sariel had said they were still in the city, but this appeared to be a very thick forest.
Whatever.
Maybe Somerstown had one of those tree sanctuaries or this was outside the city limits. Or maybe, just maybe, it didn’t fucking matter because the only thing that was important right now was getting out of here.
Seymour slammed the heel of his boot against the glass with all of his strength.
It didn’t break.
Fuck.
He looked for something—anything—to smash into the window. He went to pick up a chair but found it was somehow attached to the floor. He snarled in frustration, glancing up at the books.
Some of them seemed pretty big.
Big enough to break glass.
Out of ideas and growing more desperate, he grabbed a thick hardcover.
“Wait! Please!” Sariel was suddenly right there, gently taking hold of Seymour’s wrist. “Please do not hurt my books.”
The book was a zodiac one, naturally.
Seymour stared at Sariel’s hand, and his pulse pounded in his head until his eyes burned. He knew this feeling crawling up his spine and stealing his breath away, though it was one he didn’t experience often:
Fear.
Monsters were real, and the city was full of them. He’d been attacked by a werewolf, sassed by a giant dog, nearly ran over some magical men, and now he’d been kidnapped by an angel, a demon, and two supposedly dead but very much alive serial killers.
Seymour swallowed hard, his voice hoarse as he managed to croak, “I just wanna go home.”
Sariel frowned. “I know. I am sorry.” He carefully removed the book from Seymour’s hand to return it to the shelf. “If you cooperate, Mr. Heiss can be quite merciful.”
“Ha! Sure. You work for him, right?” Seymour remembered what Sariel had said at the cemetery. “Is he your boyfriend?”
“No.” Sariel made a face. “He is my master.”
Seymour stared at the collar around Sariel’s neck. “Like, your owner?”
“Yes.” Sariel shrugged, and his wings and halo faded in a glittery golden shimmer. The collar, however, remained visible.
“Are you…” Seymour laughed nervously. “Are you really an angel? Like an honest to God fuckin’ angel?”
Sariel tilted his head. “I am an angel, yes.”
“But are you from Heaven?”
“No. I am from a realm called the Celestial. It is a dimension of stars and light, but also one of darkness.”
Seymour arched his brow. “But it’s not Heaven? There’s no God?”
“I have never met Him.” Sariel shrugged. “I left the light and… I was taken.”
“By Mr. Heiss?”
“Yes.”
“And you can’t go back?”
“No.” Sariel shook his head.
“And now I can’t leave? But fuckin’ why?”
“My master will explain everything soon.”
“No! Fuck that!” Seymour seethed. “You explain! Right now!”
Sariel huffed and crossed his arms, turning his nose up. “Somebody’s moon is definitely rising in Aries.”
“Come on!” Seymour growled loudly. “What does that even mean?”
“Scorpio, like Aries, is ruled by Mars. This is a planet associated with passion, anger, and—”
“Shut up, you beautiful fucking feathery fortune cookie! Please!” Seymour held out his hands. “Please help me.”
Sariel looked around and then back at Seymour, frowning.
“What?”
“You told me to shut up. But also help you. I cannot do both.”
Seymour was going to strangle him.
So hard.
“Okay, fine. Tell me what you can.” Seymour grabbed Sariel’s shoulders. “Can we do that? Like, tell me why Somerstown is ate up with monsters?”
“It has been a sanctuary for monstrous beings for many years,” Sariel replied. “We stay hidden to avoid detection, and any nonhuman entity must follow the rules and laws set by the Mostro family.”
“Mostro? Like that Lou guy? Big werewolf?”
Sariel blinked. “Yes. Louis Morénas-Mostro. You know him?”
“I know which way he dresses, all right?” Seymour wheezed out a laugh.
“I do not know what that means.”
“I met him at the flower shop,” Seymour explained. “The one that fuckin’ talks and likes musicals and shit.”
“Ah, yes. That is Izba. He is a very unique creature.”
“You can say that again.”
Sariel tilted his head. “Why would I?”
Seymour snorted. “Uh, so.” He glanced around. “Is this, like, a magical house too?”
“Not like Izba. It is simply warded to prevent escape until you have permission to do so.”
“Mr. Heiss do that? Some kinda magic shit?”
“Yes.” Sariel drifted back to the kitchen.
Following after him, Seymour asked, “Is he part of that Mostro family thing too?”
There was a mixing bowl full of a thick batter, a smaller bowl of what may have been cinnamon and sugar, a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper, and various other baking implements neatly arranged on the counter.
Apparently, angels liked to bake.
Who knew?
“Yes.” Sariel nodded, heading to the sink to wash his hands. “He is one of the bosses like Mr. Morénas-Mostro.”
“Boss? What, are they like a mafia?”