Chapter 12 #2
“But we just… Right. Faerie timey wimey stuff.” Seymour tried to smile. “So, I’m gonna take that as a yes.”
“I do not keep much in the way of alcohol, but I may have some scotch.”
“Scotch is great. Thank you.”
There was a soft meow, and something rubbed against Seymour’s leg.
Normally, his first instinct would have been to kick wildly and scream, but his nerves were far too fried to react with any urgency.
Besides, it was only Day.
“Hey, kitty girl.” Seymour reached down for her.
Day eagerly climbed into Seymour’s arms and purred. “What did I miss? “
“Oh, you weren’t, like, listenin’ in?”
Day’s ears flattened. “I was worried about where we might be.”
“Totally fair.”
“I was getting anxious, so I took a tiny peek.” Day swished her long tail. “When I saw we were home, I came out!”
Home.
Seymour’s chest bubbled with a surprising warmth, and he kissed the top of her head. “So, guess that means I gotta catch ya’ up on all the excitement?”
“Oh, yes!” Day blinked curiously. “Are we looking for a brain now?”
“Yup. Well, kinda.”
“Mr. Talos provided us with a list of locations all over the city.” Sariel offered out a large glass of a golden liquid. “Here, stella.”
“Ah, thank you.” Seymour tipped the glass back, and he didn’t stop until his throat burned and his eyes watered.
“Some of the addresses are monster establishments, special places hidden from humans,” Sariel continued. “There are thirteen of them.”
“And these are places where we might find the brain?” Day asked.
“They are places where the mostri ribelli we seek might be, will be, or have already been.”
“Huh?”
“It confused the hell outta me too.” Seymour sipped from his glass. “Heckel and Jeckel are gonna check out some of the places on the list too.”
Day narrowed her eyes. “I do not trust them.”
“Hard same, lil’ lady.” Seymour frowned. “You’d think they’d be a bit more worried ’bout the whole bad monsters impersonating people and tryin’ to start a war.”
“While a war would be very bothersome, I do believe the possibility of their king or his consort destroying the city is a bit more pressing,” Sariel said carefully. “Especially considering how agitated they were about the twins’ failure.”
“Hopefully they’re workin’ on fixin’ that with their freaky fuckery so we’ll have time to do whatever the hell it is we’re gonna do.” Seymour groaned when his phone buzzed. “God, what now?”
It was a text from Neil.
hey! hope everything is okay and you’re still alive! Lou is asking if you can meet him over at your dad’s place
says they found something
and I quote “hurry the fuck up”
Sariel frowned. “Is everything all right?”
“It’s Neil,” Seymour said. “Lou wants us to go back to my dad’s place. Says they found something.”
Day peered curiously at the screen. “Well, that’s very vague, isn’t it?”
“A wee fuckin’ bit.” Seymour looked to Sariel. “What do you think, Daddy? Go see Lou and his merry bunch of ghosts or start on the list?”
Sariel had started to tidy up the kitchen, but he paused to consider Seymour’s questions. “I am not sure. Mr. Morénas-Mostro does not seem to like you all that much.”
“Trust me, the feelin’s mutual.”
“I imagine he would only reach out then if it was especially important.” Sariel hummed. “Your father’s apartment is near the coffee shop on our list. It would not be terribly out of the way.”
“So, back to Hallowed Grounds?”
Day lit up immediately. “Is that where the milk was?”
Seymour chuckled. “Yes, kitty girl. We can get ya’ some more.”
“Yay!”
“Are you all right to drive?” Sariel asked.
“Huh? Oh, ’cause of the drink?” Seymour shook his head. “I wouldn’t even think of drivin’ if I had the slightest buzz.”
“I thought a buzz was the point of consuming alcohol.”
“I consumed only one glass. I’m good.”
“Ah. Just as well. You’ll have time to sober up on the ride over there.”
Seymour blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You left your vehicle at the parking deck.”
“Fuck!”
Sariel insisted on calling a taxi service to retrieve Seymour’s truck as he deemed the chances of being spotted by a human in such a public area was too much of a risk. People tended to frown on other people appearing out of thin air, after all. Seymour couldn’t really argue with that logic.
After all, seeing demons and angels and all the other monstrous folk poofing in and out had scared the hell out of him the first few times he’d seen it. He found it didn’t bother him quite as much now.
Maybe he was just getting used to it.
The way his heart danced when Sariel touched his hand, however…
No signs of getting used to that anytime soon.
The mere brush of their shoulders in the back seat of their ride created a wonderful warmth Seymour felt all the way down to his toes.
Right when he thought it couldn’t get any better, Day stretched out across their laps and curled up, purring away.
Of all the things he thought he might find coming back to Somerstown, this was definitely not one of them.
Whatever this was, anyway.
The feeling continued after they retrieved Seymour’s truck. Even the annoyance of having to pay extra for it staying overnight wasn’t enough to dim the wondrous sensation. He suspected he had a concussion from the squeak or squawk whatever it was throwing him around, but still.
This, however mysterious and strange, was definitely special.
Seymour found a place to park on the block where his father’s apartment building was, and they headed upstairs. Luckily, Sariel remembered the number on the door, so they knew where to go. As before, the door opened.
Sariel walked in first with Seymour right behind him, Day perched up on his shoulder.
The apartment had been completely torn apart—the furniture was upended, cushions had been ripped open and burned, the pictures were all off the walls, and every cabinet in the kitchen was open.
Lou was there by the counter, digging through the stack of mail.
Flanders had a throw pillow in his mouth, ripping it to shreds while Myrna was frantically trying to tidy up the mess and shrieking, “You know what this does to me! It’s absolutely unacceptable!”
There was something horribly wrong with Myrna’s left shoulder. It was bulging out like a balloon rapidly inflating beneath her skin, and she trembled all over.
Whatever was happening couldn’t be good.
“Flanders, stop destroying things faster than Myrna can clean, please,” Lou grumbled without even looking up.
Flanders let the pillow drop out of his mouth with a roll of his eyes. “You are zero fun.”
Myrna sighed in relief and got to work cleaning up the destruction at an inhumanly alarming speed.
“Ding dong, Avon calling.” Seymour glanced around and grimaced. “Hey, guys. Wow. Really love what y’all have done with the place.”
Lou continued to read through the mail. “Your father was quite the witch.”
“Hi to you too.”
“Hello, Seymour!” Myrna called out. “Lovely to see you again! Hello to you too, Sariel!”
“Hey, Myrna.” Seymour gave her a little wave.
Sariel simply nodded.
“And of course hello to you, Miss Day,” Myrna cooed sweetly.
Day giggled and wiggled a paw at her.
Flanders flopped on the floor near the window with his back to them, apparently intent on ignoring everyone.
“So, what’s this major important thing we had to hurry the fuck up for?” Seymour asked. “I already know my old man was some kinda witch.”
“Oh, a very talented one!” Myrna replied, frantically trying to shove the stuffing from one of the pillows back inside. “He had a running tab with Anna Graham’s! That’s a top-shelf magic shop if there ever was one. Why, you can still get frog’s breath and—”
“Myrna,” Lou chastised gently.
“Right! Sorry!” Myrna grinned. “I’m a bit of a chatterbox!
I could really go on for days and days, especially when I’m excited!
Having new people who can see us spirits now is always quite the thrill, and…
Oh. I’m doing it again right now.” She bashfully ducked her head and returned to attempting to fix the pillows.
“Architect awaken,” Lou said as he set the mail down. He waved for Seymour to follow him, walking toward the bedroom.
Seymour, however, was stuck dead in his tracks because what the fuck was that thing?
It was a tall, thin creature with white skin like marble, so massive that it had to sit on the floor to avoid hitting its head.
There were tiny archways, stairs, and towers sprouting right out of its skin, and its gaunt face had big black eyes, a small nose, and a long mouth packed with giant teeth.
“Pretty please clean this up,” Lou said firmly before turning to look back at Seymour. “Come on. He’ll take care of this.”
“Right. Heh. I’ll be, uh, I’ll be right there.” Seymour couldn’t stop staring, and he was pretty sure his feet were never going to move again.
The Architect daintily plucked the torn pillow from Myrna’s hands and then shoved it in his mouth.
And the cushions.
And the entire couch.
There was an awful retching and…
Oh God.
The Architect puked up a fantastic geyser of liquid, and it took the shape of the couch and cushions.
There was no sign of the damage from before, everything totally pristine, as if nothing had ever happened.
He reached down to make a minute adjustment to one of the pillows, and then nodded as if approving his work.
Sariel placed his hands on Seymour’s shoulders and pushed him forward.
“Wow!” Day gushed. “He’s incredible!”
“He’s fuckin’ somethin’, all right,” Seymour muttered, unable to look away from the horrifically fascinating sight until they were in the bedroom.
It was equally wrecked here, if not more so considering the giant hole in the wall.
Inside of it was a heavy wooden door stained black, and there was an ornate silver keyhole right in the middle.
While a door being hidden behind a wall was strange, it was the specific wall that made it even stranger.
It was the one separating the bedroom from the living room.
“Uh, okay.” Seymour blinked. “Not gonna ask why you got the notion to tear up the wall, but how ’bout where the hell does that door go? ’Cause I’m guessin’ it’s not back out to the couch.”
“Your father was very fond of pocket dimensions.” Lou crossed his arms. “I assume this is one of them. We found a few others, but we cannot access them.”
“You called us here to show me a door you can’t open?”
“I called you here because I believe you can open it.” Lou nodded toward the living room. “One of the pocket dimensions in the living room was unlocked. Guessing that’s where you found Day?”
“Yeah.”
“How?”
“I used a key.” Seymour reached into his pocket, frowning. “Just some regular ol’ key from my dad.” He pulled out his keys to show Lou. “Here, it’s this one.”
Lou studied it intently. “It must be enchanted somehow.” He gestured at the door. “If you’d be so kind.”
“Sure.” Seymour stepped up to place the key in the hole. A modern key had no right being able to open such an ancient looking door, but he heard a click as he turned it. “Well. Now what?”
“Now we open it.” Lou grabbed the doorknob to do just that.
Seymour tensed, backpedaling and nearly smacking into Sariel. He saw the golf club he’d discarded from the last time they were here, and he quickly snatched it up. He had learned one very important thing since the start of this bizarre adventure, and that was to be ready for anything.
A griffon shitting rainbows.
A horde of elves who spat acid.
Absolutely fucking anything.
The door opened, revealing…
A closet.
A closet that was deceptively normal at first glance, packed to bursting with an assortment of mundane items. There were stacks of boxes, a whole flock of winter jackets, a neon green golf bag, and oh—there was just one teeny tiny thing amiss.
Perched on top of the golf bag was a human skull with a golden crown bolted in right through the bone.
The skull’s empty sockets flickered, glowed with bright red orbs, and stared right at Seymour.
Seymour stared back.
The skull screamed.
Naturally, because he didn’t want the skull to feel left out, Seymour screamed too.