Chapter 5 #2
“It’s close.” Seymour frowned, comparing the picture and the box. “The design in that picture is pretty much what that box turned into, so—”
“Meow?”
Seymour turned around. “Oh!”
There was a cat a few feet behind them.
“Fuck! It’s just a cat.” Seymour blinked slowly.
The cat was quite large, stood on two legs, and wore a dress.
Seymour stared. “Well, maybe not.”
The dress was a silk kimono with a vivid purple-and-green print.
While very beautiful, it seemed to be several sizes too large.
The cat was a calico with bright green eyes and a long tail.
About halfway down its length, the tail split into two.
The cat had a very pretty face, sweet and round in a way that made Seymour think of a teddy bear.
There was a definite intelligence to the cat’s gaze, and it meowed again, more desperately, as it waved a paw.
“Uh, hi.” Seymour waved back.
The cat yowled and lunged forward. It ran up Seymour’s legs in a single leap and promptly wrapped itself around his neck.
“Oh, oh! Uh, hey!” Seymour cradled the cat and gave it a gentle pat. “Hey there, kitty kitty.”
“How curious. It appears to be a nekomata.” Sariel looked back at the papers. “Oh! She!”
“She what? Huh?”
“She is a she. I believe she is the spirit we were meant to find.” Sariel pointed back at the picture of the box, gesturing to rows and rows of notes. “There is a great deal of information here.”
“Hit me with the highlights.”
“Her name is Day, she likes fish, she needs to be fed at least six times a day—”
“Six times?” Seymour chuckled. “Big appetite.”
Day purred and nuzzled Seymour’s cheek.
“Yes.” Sariel nodded. “They can eat several times their own body weight.”
“Oh yeah?” Seymour grinned at Day. “Hungry kitty, huh? We gotta get you some fishies! Lots and lots of fishies.”
“I was under the impression their appetite was usually humans. Hmm.”
Seymour scoffed. “What? Come on. There is no way this pretty, perfect kitty eats people.” He scratched under Day’s chin. “You just ignore that silly angel. You’re fuckin’ precious.”
Day meowed, turning her head to hiss at Sariel.
Sariel just smiled and waved.
Day hesitated, but slowly waved back.
“Wait.” Seymour looked between them. “How can you see her? Isn’t that supposed to be my superpower?”
“You gave me the box,” Sariel reminded him. “Perhaps that is her anchor object.”
Seymour groaned. “I wasn’t being serious!”
“Clearly, that does not matter.”
Day giggled.
Which was fucking weird to hear from a cat.
Okay, but also cute.
But then her nose wiggled and she hissed again.
“Whoa, whoa, what’s the matter, lil’ girl?” Seymour frowned, following her bright eyes to the apartment door.
The doorknob jiggled.
Something heavy slammed into the door.
“Oh fuck.” Seymour tensed and hugged Day protectively. “Uh, Sariel? What the fuck is that? And why do I have the fuckin’ feelin’ that callin’ the cops ain’t gonna do shit?”
“Stay back.” Sariel moved in front of Seymour, shoving the box back at him. His wings snapped out and his halo glowed brightly. “Go into the bedroom and—”
“Uh, no.” Seymour stood his ground. “I ain’t runnin’ away!”
Day growled in what may have been agreement.
Sariel whipped his head back to glare at Seymour, his eyes blazing like stars. “Do you have any idea what is on the other side of that door?”
“No, but—”
“Then heed my command and go to the bedroom this instant!”
Seymour’s loins immediately flooded with heat, and he grunted as he took a small step in retreat.
Okay, yes, he was terrified of the unknown whatever about to bust in here.
But also, it was entirely unfair just how hot Sariel was in this very moment.
“Now!” Sariel barked, shouting to be heard over the frantic booming at the door.
Day hissed.
“Fuck! All right! We’re goin’!” Sariel clung to Day as he turned to race into the bedroom, his pulse thundering in his ears.
Day meowed and tugged on Sariel’s shirt. She grabbed the box and tapped something, and it transformed into a small smooth case with the landscape hidden within painted on the exterior.
This was the Hisan Inro, just like the pictures in the notes.
She shoved it at Seymour, pointing her paw emphatically at the front door.
“Lil’ girl, we’re gonna listen to what the nice angel said and shut this here door.” Seymour stuck the Inro in his back pocket and then gave her a soothing pat on the top of her head. “Listen, I’m real sorry, I am, but we gotta—”
The front door flew off the hinges in several pieces, and a giant man covered entirely in black ducked his head to squeeze through. There was not one bit of his skin visible, hidden with gloves, a high neck shirt, and a hood.
Giant wasn’t maybe the right word.
Hugenormous?
Pants-shitting-terrifyingly-large?
Seymour doubted this man was even human given the ridiculous massive stature and the current state of Seymour’s life was to be hounded by monsters.
A regular human actually would have been nice compared to whatever this thing was.
“Stand down,” Sariel warned. “I do not wish to harm you, but you will not—“
The man punched Sariel with enough force to send him flying into the far wall, cracking the drywall. Sariel recovered quickly and then quite literally flew back at the man, his wings flapping furiously.
The man swatted at Sariel as if he were a pesky fly. He landed another good smack, and the blow put Sariel on the ground. The man glared, saying shortly, “Stay.”
Sariel was up again, and he went at the man with a flurry of powerful blows. His fist connecting with the man’s flesh seemed to shake the entire apartment, though it appeared to have little effect on the man himself.
The man sighed, like he was at the end of a long shift and his boss had just dumped a buttload of new paperwork on his desk. He grabbed Sariel’s halo and lifted him into the air. “Stay.”
Sariel growled defiantly. “Never.”
“Okay.” The man proceeded to pummel Sariel’s face repeatedly.
Day cried and buried her face in Seymour’s neck.
Seymour’s blood boiled over, and he hated feeling so damn helpless. The only thing within reach that might possibly work as a weapon was a large ceramic vase on his father’s bedside table.
Fuck it.
“I’ve gotta help him.” Seymour pried Day off his neck so he could settle her on the bed. “Just stay here, lil’ girl! I’ll be right back—”
Day yowled, pointing behind Seymour.
Seymour turned just in time to jerk out of the way from a man’s sword—who the fuck used a sword?—and he promptly tripped. His legs hit the side of the bed and he went down, staring up at his attacker.
Man was too generous for whatever this horrible beast was, an amalgamation of human and lizard who appeared to be the long-lost relative of someone who had a one-night stand with Godzilla.
Seymour drove the heel of his boot into Godzilla’s ankle as hard as he could, hoping to knock him off-balance, but it only seemed to piss Godzilla off.
Godzilla snarled and raised his sword over his head.
Seymour cringed, hoping Day could get away and Sariel would—oh God, Sariel was a bloody heap on the floor with that giant man standing over him.
Fuck this.
Seymour felt under the bed for something, anything, and his fingers curled around a metal rod of some kind.
It was a golf club, a five wood, he saw as he swung it up to block Godzilla’s sword.
He was able to stand again and he put himself firmly between Godzilla and Day. “Fuckin’ fuck off, lizard lips!”
Godzilla snarled and took a few steps back, lifting the sword once more as he prepared to charge.
Seymour swung the golf club back, his eyes narrowed. He wasn’t going to go down without one hell of a fight, and this damn Godzilla lookin’ motherfucker had another damn thing coming if he—oh fuck!
Godzilla threw himself at Seymour before that train of thought could leave the station, and Seymour nearly dropped the club.
Being hit by a car would have hurt less.
The screech of metal on metal was miserable as their weapons collided, and Seymour trembled as he fought to push Godzilla back.
It was like fighting a damn boulder, and he knew he was in danger of being overwhelmed.
Well.
Shit.
The chances of being killed were much higher now than Seymour would have liked, but still!
He wasn’t about to give up.
No, fuck.
Never!
Day yowled loudly, and then something popped.
It was not a very pleasant sound.
Seymour didn’t dare look away to see what was happening, but then there was a blinding flash of golden light. He squinted, saw Godzilla flinch, and pushed with a renewed burst of strength. It didn’t move Godzilla much, but it was enough to create the space necessary to swing the club at his face.
A lot.
Seymour hit Godzilla over and over again with everything he had. Seeing the beast stumble only charged his efforts, and Seymour cheered when Godzilla collapsed to the floor in a heap.
“Yeah! You like that shit! Fuck you! Tiger motherfuckin’ Woods up in this fuckin’ piece! Wait, no.” Seymour paused. “Fuck, I really dunno any other golfers.”
Club still in hand, he quickly redirected his attention to the living room to check on Sariel and whatever happened with that weird flash of light.
The giant man was there, now on his knees and wheezing as Sariel choked him with one hand.
And Sariel…
Wow.
He’d had himself a little wardrobe change.
And body change.
And face.
Oh fucking hell.
Sariel had grown in size to now rival the giant before him. Gone was his suit and in its place was a white loincloth. He still had wings, though they’d also increased in size and were covered in rolling, dancing golden flames.