Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
Wait, wait.” Seymour tried to think. “Lou is supposed to be at Clancy’s apartment. What the fuck are the chances he already finished that shit?”
“Unlikely.” Sariel grabbed Seymour’s arm. “We need to move. Now.”
“Hey, hold on!” Seymour grunted as Sariel pulled him away from the bar. “Who is that then? Like a pod person? Pod Lou?”
“It could be the man who killed Clancy!” Day seethed, her claws pricking Seymour’s shirt. “We should go kill him back!”
“While I agree that avenging Seymour’s father’s death is important, freeing Seymour from the demands of the family must remain our priority.” Sariel pulled Seymour through a doorway marked STAFF ONLY, ignoring the annoyed glare of a big bouncer shaped like a bull. “That means retrieving the head.”
“Okay, but hey!” Seymour protested as they stepped into a long, twisting hallway. “Don’t you think the twins would also appreciate us grabbin’ the guys who stole the head in the first place?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Day pouted.
“They did not ask us to.” Sariel briskly pulled Seymour around the corner and then another. He seemed to know where he was going and was intent on getting there in the next two seconds.
Seymour groaned loudly and dug in his heels, trying to slow Sariel down. “Can we talk about this, please? We already know where the head is and it’s not going anywhere—”
“You do not know that,” Sariel argued, though he did pause at the next corner.
“No, I don’t. You’re right.” Seymour grabbed Sariel’s shoulder. “But I do know we got a chance to maybe get some answers if we can grab that Pod Lou. Maybe we get him away from his fake ass entourage, create some sort of distraction, and then we—”
“Down!” Sariel screamed, flinging Seymour into the next section of the hallway as something exploded over their heads.
The ceiling.
A light.
Fragment of drywall.
Burning—fuck, what was burning?
Ears ringing, Seymour found himself face down on the floor. His vision blurred, his body ached, and he struggled to push himself up. “Wh-what…?” He touched his shoulder. “Day…? Where is…?”
“Seymour!” Day cried.
She sounded so far away.
Where was she?
Sariel…
Where was Sariel at?
Where…
Fuck.
Fuck, he had to move. Had to get going. Had to move right now.
Seymour managed to get up on his knees, and he saw the lower half of what may have been some sort of snake monster.
Blood, scales—oh, Christ, it was still twitching.
Seymour scrambled back until he hit the wall, reeling as he fought to stand.
There was another explosion, a burst of power that resembled one of those lightning ball things Seymour had only ever seen in that one viral video online. This one was huge, pulsating and bright, and it was a stunning shade of neon blue.
It was coming right at Seymour.
“Fuck—”
Golden light burst forth, blocking out the ball of energy.
It was Sariel, transformed into his epic angel self once more, and he howled furiously as he staggered back a step from the new implosion of magic or whatever the fuck that lightning shit was. He stood firm, his wings flapping, and his voice filled the narrow space as he snarled, “Stand down. Now.”
The monsters attacking cared not for the warning, and they pushed forward.
Seymour saw them in fragmented glimpses as he finally got back on his feet, though he had to teeter against the wall to keep himself upright.
He saw fur and claws and teeth, and fuck, another one of those big lightning balls.
As Sariel seemed all right for the moment, though clearly under duress, he tried to focus on finding his other companion. “Day…?”
“Here!” Day bounded toward him. Her eyes widened. “Seymour, behind—”
Boom.
Seymour came off the ground, aware he was flying somewhere with no way to stop it. A bloom of pain erupted as his left arm slammed into something solid, and then his entire body lit up in brilliant agony as he made contact with a horizontal surface.
Every muscle twisted in pain, he was frozen but trembling, and he couldn’t even draw a breath to power the howls trapped in the back of his throat.
Ow.
Which was really the understatement of the century as Seymour’s senses returned to him and helped him deduce he’d been exploded through a wall.
Someone screamed.
Another person sighed, a rather frustrated sound.
Seymour was on the floor of a swanky bedroom with shag carpets, red neons, and a bed shaped like a heart with mirrors hanging on the ceiling above.
In the middle of the bed was the blue-haired dancer he’d seen earlier, but he was now on all fours with what appeared to be a Minotaur behind him frozen mid-thrust.
It was the dancer who had sighed, and he stared at Seymour with a bored frown. He was somehow completely unbothered by a stranger bursting quite literally through the wall while in the middle of being pounded by a giant mythological creature.
The Minotaur beast, however, screamed again.
The blue-haired man rolled his eyes.
Seymour pulled himself into a sitting position, finally able to breathe out a miserable groan. He was confident being in a car accident would have hurt less than this, and he tried to get his bearings.
Through the Seymour-sized hole in the wall, he saw flashes of golden light and blood splattering. He also heard horrible wailing and the dull thud of bones crunching.
So, Day and Sariel were probably all right.
The Minotaur left the blue-haired man, sobbing now as he scrambled to gather his clothes and flee.
The blue-haired man shouted after him, “You’re not getting a refund!”
“Uh.” Seymour stumbled to his feet. “Sorry ’bout the trouble, sir.”
The blue-haired man looked Seymour up and down. He grinned coyly. “Oh, no trouble at all, baby.”
“If you’ll, uh, excuse me.” Seymour staggered toward the hole to get back to the fight. His left arm didn’t want to obey his commands, so he let it hang by his side.
Just as Seymour was about to figure out the logistics of crawling through said hole, Pod Lou himself came barreling through it, snarling angrily and swinging wide.
“Fuck!” Seymour escaped a big swipe that would have almost certainly taken his head off. He continued to retreat, looking around desperately for a weapon to defend himself with. He grabbed the first solid object his hand made contact with, and then he swung with all his might at Pod Lou.
Pod Lou let out a confused whine, blinking owlishly at the object Seymour wielded.
Seymour stared too.
It was a neon pink dildo.
Of course.
Why not?
Really wished he’d kept the damn golf club now.
Undeterred by his new weapon of choice, Seymour pushed forward and swung frantically to keep Pod Lou at bay. “Hey, hey! You want some of this, huh? Come on, fucker!”
Pod Lou clocked Seymour right in the side of the head.
Seymour’s vision sparked with stars, and he went careening into the bedside table. It tipped over as he hit the floor, and an assortment of sex toys, lubes, and condoms came flying out of the table’s top drawer.
Pod Lou stalked toward him, snarling.
Seymour grabbed a bottle of lube and hurled it at Pod Lou. Then a dildo. And then a vibrator. More dildos. Any and everything he could reach became a projectile weapon, even the drawer itself when he ran out of sex toys to throw.
Pod Lou swatted most of the items away, though a lucky shot with a full bottle of lube right in the muzzle seemed to rattle him. He blinked a few times and shook his head.
Seymour scrambled for a new weapon.
“Here!” The blue-haired man threw something at Seymour.
Seymour didn’t stop to look at what it was. All he could think about was getting a strong grip, hitting Pod Lou as hard as he could, and…
Oh.
Oh.
It was a two-foot-long double-headed glittery purple dildo.
Wonderful.
Pod Lou grimaced, backpedaling quickly. “What in the actual fuck?”
His voice was oddly high-pitched and very feminine. Definitely not what Seymour was expecting to hear and definitely not Lou.
“Yeah! You want some of this, motherfucker?” Seymour continued to swing with all his might, snarling as the dildo flopped around and whipped through the air. “Come on!”
Pod Lou yelled and then…
Melted.
Full on Wicked Witch style.
One moment he was standing there trying to dodge wild dildo smacks and then sploosh—he was a massive puddle of black goo.
The puddle took off through the hole, leaving a slick trail behind it.
“What the fucking fuck is this T one thousand bullshit?” Seymour blinked.
“Iron.” The blue-haired man calmly lit a cigarette.
“Huh?”
The blue-haired man nodded at the dildo. “The glitter? Little tiny pieces of iron. Trust me. You fuck monsters for a living, you learn some stuff.” He smirked. “You must be new.”
“Uh. Yeah. So.” Seymour cringed as another explosion shook the entire room. “I’m gonna go now.”
“Toodles, baby. Good luck out there.” The blue-haired man winked. “Try not to die.”
“Thanks!” Seymour crawled through the hole, though it wasn’t easy with only one arm. From his left shoulder to the bicep was nothing but fiery pain, but he didn’t stop to examine what the damage was.
He needed to find Sariel and Day.
So, he followed the trail of bodies and listened for any crunching.
Ugh.
There it was.
Around the next corner of the apparently endless hallway was Day. Judging by her burping, she’d finished a meal only a few moments ago.
“Day!” Seymour hurried toward her.
“Seymour!” Day meowed and started to rush into his arms, but she stopped when she saw the dildo. “What is that…?”
“Let’s not worry ’bout that. Where’s Sariel?”
Day pointed at a door beside the next turn. “There!”
“Let’s get to gettin’.” Seymour hurried to the door with Day right on his heels.
It was a large room for storage, stuffed with packed racks and towers of boxes, and it smelled musty and old. The plain gray space was a big departure from the colorful club, though Seymour could still distantly hear bass thumping.
Oh, and more screaming.