Chapter 13 #2
“Yes, Lou?” Myrna frowned and straightened out her apron. “Do you want some tea?”
“No, but thank you. I need you to tell me what those music sheets can do.” Lou replied. “There’s huge chunks missing, like someone was trying to pull them out from under the door—”
“Oh! Someone was for sure!” King said cheerfully through the door. “I did hear lots of ripping paper!”
“Shut up.”
“Sure, I can’t though.”
Lou’s eye twitched. “What contacts do we have who can read ancient whatever the fuck this might be? Norse? Icelandic? It might be something completely different like Elvish or fucking Klingon for all we know. We need to find someone and we need—”
“Hey.” Seymour stepped away from Sariel, clearing his throat.
“What?” Lou glared.
“Was there anything else or what? I came, I saw, I opened a door, and now I’d like to fuckin’ jet. ’Cause I still have some crazy faerie dudes to make happy or else my ass is grass. Literally.”
Lou’s eyes narrowed to thin slits. “What is it now?”
“We located the head of Talos as directed by Absolis and Vilanos, but the brain, the inner workings and the source of Talos’s power, is gone,” Sariel replied.
“We have been given direct orders from Talos and the Fae King to locate it and were supplied with a list of locations to track down the mostri ribelli perpetrators. The nature of the timing of this information’s usefulness is, however, quite questionable. ”
“Fucking fae shit. Typical.”
“Exactly so.”
“Right, and that fae shit is exactly why I gotta go find this brain now. So, we gotta go ’cause I don’t wanna end up as a bunch of petunias or whatever.” Seymour gave Day a small pet and then smirked at Lou. “Unless you wanna come help us—”
“No.”
“Figured.”
“But stay close.”
Sariel gave Lou’s scowl a run for its money as he stared back. “Why?”
“The theft of Talos’s head and the music sheets are probably related.
The ribelli have always worked as a united front, given their small numbers.
We know they murdered your father, stole the head, now we know they took the brain, and yes, while we may not know yet what this music does…
” Lou took a deep breath. “When we do? There is only one thing I can promise you.”
“What?”
“It’s nothing good.”
Nothing good hung around in the bottom of Seymour’s guts like a can of raw biscuit dough ready to pop in the back seat of a car in the highs of summer.
Bubbling, angry, heavy.
Sariel and Day were both good company, especially heading into some potentially violent situations with the monstri rebelli whatever, and yet, Seymour didn’t feel much better.
It could have been the grossly visceral images of a guy exploding into flowers rolling around his head, the stark memory of Heiss having his hand around Seymour’s heart, or any of the other countless terrors he’d encountered, but yeah, Seymour was not vibing with this latest development in their adventure.
Especially with one of his father’s apparently old haunts on the list of locations, he felt as if he was chasing a ghost.
He wondered if that was the true source of his discomfort—he’d learned more about his father in the last twenty-four hours than he had his entire life.
He had so many questions and he knew he’d never get the answers.
To be sure, there was no way his mother had known about this monster magic business.
Or if she had, she hadn’t told him.
Had she lied?
He’d never know now, and again, his stomach grumbled.
The first addresses were a complete bust, with the possible exception of heading back by Hallowed Grounds since Day was able to get more milk.
There was no sign of any monsters, the bad kind or otherwise, and Seymour wasn’t sure how much more of this nonsense he could take.
They were searching for someone who would either be there, had already been there, or wouldn’t be there until later. It was stupid.
So fucking stupid.
It was either this or end up as a bouquet for all eternity though.
Seymour didn’t dare consider that it could be worse because worse and even more worse seemed to keep coming their way.
Talking skulls and music that could boss people around?
Yeah, definitely not good.
As they pulled up to the next address, Seymour paused to check out the sign.
It was simple, wooden, and gold block letters spelled out the name:
Anna Graham’s Magic Shop
“Huh.” Seymour frowned. “Isn’t this the place Myrna was talkin ’bout?”
“Yes.” Sariel nodded. “She said your father was a frequent customer here. Perhaps we will be able to gather more information.”
“Maybe. Or it’s another fuckin’ dead end.”
“Stay positive!” Day chirped cheerfully, though she paused to yawn. “Maybe they’ll have more milk.”
“Kinda doubt it.” Seymour glanced over her sleepy face and smiled. “Looks like you’re about to pass out, lil’ girl.”
“What? No.” Day blinked several times. “I am alert and ready.”
“Yeah, ready for a nap.”
Day hissed.
“Very ready,” Sariel agreed. “We can handle the magic shop if you need to rest.”
“But I’m not—” Day slapped her paw over her mouth to stifle another yawn.
“Look, go get some good kitty sleep, and I promise I’ll stop somewhere for more milk, okay?” Seymour smiled warmly.
“I don’t want to go back inside the Inro.” Day pouted.
“Well, uh…” Seymour paused to think. “Guessin’ you’d be okay to sleep here in the truck if we crack the windows?”
“Why would you need to crack a window?” Sariel frowned.
“I don’t mean breakin’ the damn thing. Just leavin’ one rolled down.”
“But she is dead.”
“So? Maybe kitty ghosts appreciate a breeze!”
Day snorted.
No, she snored.
She was already fast asleep between them.
“Let’s go,” Seymour whispered. “Just let her snooze.”
“But what if she needs us?” Sariel asked.
“Then we’ll be right there in that store, okay? And I’m pretty sure anybody stupid enough to bother her would end up as a brand-new flavor of Kibbles ’n Bits.”
“That is dog food. Not cat food.”
“Whatever.”
Seymour rolled his window down, and they crept as quietly as possible out of the truck. He followed Sariel to the magic shop, taking in the plain exterior.
Other than the front door being painted a bright shade of red, everything else was drab brown and faded black.
It may as well have been a real estate office instead of some kind of magical Walmart.
Dark curtains over the windows hid the store’s interior, though it mattered little since they were about to walk in.
The first thing Seymour noticed was the smell.
It was a thick, pungent fog of a million different scents that hit him in a wave, reminiscent of one of those fancy candle stores, and he already knew he was going to get a horrible headache.
The store’s interior looked exactly like any magical shop Seymour could have ever imagined.
It had big wooden shelves crammed with plants, crystals, and candles. A bulletin board near the door had flyers for tarot reading classes and broom making workshops. There was a rainbow of colorful orbs, multiple racks of incense, and enough books to start a college for witches and warlocks.
Or maybe it was just witches.
Was witches considered a unisex term?
Everyone did refer to his father as a witch, after all.
Huh.
Whatever.
Seymour was expecting to find more of the same thing they’d found at all the other locations—a whole heaping bunch of nothing.
Plus the added bonus of a splitting migraine.
Yay.
“Hello!” the young woman at the counter called out cheerfully. “Welcome to Anna Graham’s!”
She was short, petite, and wearing a black ruffled dress with a poofy layered skirt and a high waist. Her lips, eyes, and nails were all painted black. Her hair was blonde but hot pink at the ends, pulled up into high pigtails beneath a black jeweled crown.
A Disney princess dipped in Tim Burton.
“Hey there.” Seymour tilted his head politely. “How ya’ doin’?”
“Just peachy keen!” she replied. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can help you find!”
“Thanks.” Seymour sighed, dropping his voice to mumble, “If only we knew what the hell we were lookin’ for.”
“It is all right,” Sariel soothed. “I am sure we will know it when we see it.”
“But we have to see it first,” Seymour grumbled. He sighed and took Sariel’s hand, trying to smile. “Hey, at least the scenery is nice.”
Sariel stared around them with a grimace before the compliment registered and he smiled. “Yes. That it is.”
They wandered from aisle to aisle, taking in the many odd baubles and wares, and they even took a peek in a small back room where the tarot reading classes and other witchy type events were held.
There were no other customers, zero sign of monster shenanigans, and Seymour was ready to grab a wand and beat himself unconscious with it.
God, the smell.
“So, we need any, uh—” He paused to read one of the bottles beside them. “Frog’s breath? Or can we move on to the next exciting and useless ass location?”
“Do you not wish to ask the employee about your father?” Sariel asked.
“Uh…” Seymour glanced at the young woman, catching her staring right at him.
She smiled and did not look away.
Right, because that wasn’t creepy at all.
“Yeah, no, I’m good.” Seymour nudged Sariel. “Let’s go.”
“But this is an excellent opportunity,” Sariel pointed out. “Why not take it?”
“I just wanna go.”
“Are you afraid of her?”
“What? No!” Seymour dropped his voice to an angry hiss.
“You are certainly acting as if you are afraid of her.”
“Will you stop? She can probably hear you.” Seymour groaned. “Okay, look, fine. I will go fuckin’ ask her. Here we go. This is me askin’ her.”
“But you are not moving—”
“I’m goin’, I’m goin’!” Seymour forced on a polite smile as he approached the counter. “Hello, ma’am! I was—”
“Marsha!” she exclaimed brightly. “Marsha Snart.”