Chapter 20
CHAPTER
TWENTY
Seymour woke up in Sariel’s bed with Day snuggled in their arms and Sariel’s wings wrapped around them. Day had demanded every drop of milk in the house last night, followed by every cookie and lots of snuggles.
There were also blankets.
Oh, and multiple pillows.
Day snored softly, her purring underscoring each rumble, and Sariel drifted silently.
Seymour smiled as he watched them, and he wondered if either of them really needed to sleep since they weren’t human. Maybe it was about comfort, feeling normal, or something else like that he couldn’t quite grasp.
And yes, it was very cuddly and nice, but it was also hot as hell.
Seymour slowly and carefully tried to extricate himself from the bed.
The moment he lifted Sariel’s wing, Sariel’s eyes opened.
“Oh. Hey.” Seymour grinned. “Sorry, was tryin’ to let you sleep.”
“I do not actually sleep.” Sariel smiled warmly. “I merely… Hmm. Rest.”
“Well, I was tryin’ to let you do that.” Seymour kissed Sariel’s lips before he peeled himself away, yawning. “Sorry. It’s hot and I gotta piss.”
“Would you like breakfast?”
“Yeah, uh… Anything’s fine. Thank you.” Seymour got to his feet and stretched, his shoulders and neck popping. “Damn.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, just sore. From all the fightin’ and the fuckin’.” Seymour smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine, Daddy.”
“After you have your piss, I will heal you.”
“You don’t really have a piss. You gotta take one. Or I reckon you could have to piss. Anyway. Now I really gotta go!” Seymour laughed, heading into the bathroom.
He used the toilet, washed up, and he heard a ding from the bedroom. He recognized the sound as his text message notification, and he grimaced. He really, really hoped it wasn’t Zolrya wanting a trip to Burger King.
There was another ding.
Huh.
The sound was the standard bell chime that was the default for most phones, but there was something about the tone that was oddly familiar beside the obvious.
Yes, it was the same old ding that it always was, but that wasn’t it.
There was a new element giving him the strangest sensation of deja vu, but he couldn’t figure out why.
It could have been because he was trying to wake up and not yet rotating on all cylinders, but…
Maybe it was nothing.
He looked at himself in the mirror.
Scruffy, tired, definitely needed a shave. He was still wearing the clothes Zolrya had gifted to him, including the sunflower corsage that may or may not have been a person at some point, but he tried not to think about that. He looked damn good.
Ruggedly handsome, charming…
And a killer.
It was only in that moment he realized he had taken a life.
The troll.
Monster or not, he had killed that troll.
They had souls, right? They were a person? Troll-person?
Shit.
That… wasn’t a great feeling.
Life or death, yes, he had needed to defend himself and Day and Sariel but—his hands shook. God, he was shaking all over now. He grabbed the edge of the counter to steady himself, his chest heaving. Every breath burned, the bathroom was too small, his lungs tight, and his ears rang.
Fuck.
Oh fuck.
Was this a panic attack?
Why did it feel like dying?
Isn’t that what everyone said?
Seymour locked eyes with himself in the reflection and tried to remember everything he’d been told about anxiety and breathing.
Inhaling slowly through the nose, some bit about waiting to feel one’s belly expand.
He also did his best to be rational and remind himself that what he’d done was necessary to protect his own life and those of his friends.
Not just friends either.
His new family.
It had been a long time since Seymour had anyone to care about—like, really and truly care for.
He thought about his mother and all that he would have given if it could have saved her life, to see her smile and hear her laugh just a little longer, to spend a single moment more being with her and hugging her tight.
And his father.
The man he had never known but still grieved, who everyone spoke of so highly and yet was a stranger to him.
Seymour still wasn’t sure if he really missed him for any right or sound reason and, fuck, was Seymour supposed to die soon anyway?
Who would miss him? Would he be like his father with no flowers and just be a pile of dirt with nothing to leave behind but lots of questions and, yes, a literal shit ton of money, and a stupid key—
Oh.
The key in his pocket.
The chimes…
Holy shit.
Seymour raced out of the bathroom, breathless and frantic. “Hey! Hey!” He saw Day was still sleeping, so he tried to quietly hurry out to the kitchen to find Sariel. His heart pounded away at light speed, but he kept his voice hushed now as he grabbed Sariel’s arm. “Hey! The jingle jingle!”
Sariel, who had been in the midst of preparing what appeared to be scrambled eggs, blinked owlishly at Seymour. “Pardon?”
“The jingle jingle sound the crystal made.” Seymour bounced. “Zolrya said those were bluebells, right? And those are the flowers that grow whenever faeries come through into this world?”
“Yes.” Sariel frowned. “Why?”
“I heard ’em when that damn squackin’, squawkin’, uh, the badonkadonk whatever ran off and all those other assholes showed up.”
“I do not follow.”
“Hearin’ bluebells mean you’re about to die ’cause the faeries are comin’ to whoop your ass. Like, they came over here, right? I’m pretty sure I heard ’em too when we went to visit that crazy ass circus. So, why did we hear ’em over at the Inferno?”
Sariel blinked slowly but then said, “You are implying that the mostri ribelli are using faerie portals for their travel?”
“Yes! That!” Seymour grinned. “Would sure damn explain why we’ve been having so much trouble findin’ ’em. Can we hitch a ride over there to look? How big is Faerie?”
“Endless, much like our own universe.”
“Great.” Seymour cringed miserably. “Uh, you think Absolis and Vilanos might have any ideas about how to maybe narrow endless down a wee bit?”
“We can certainly ask.” Sariel put the bowl of eggs aside so he could pull out his phone. “I will attempt contacting them immediately.”
The silence was tense.
Sariel hung up and then dialed again.
More tense, awful silence.
“They are not answering.” Sariel frowned deeply. “Their voicemails are also full. I will try sending a text message.”
“Okay.” Seymour scrubbed his hands over his face. “Just in case they decide to be less than fuckin’ helpful and don’t reply, do we know anybody who knows a bunch about magical flowers?”
Sariel actually smiled.
“Yup. Okay. And now I see that was a very silly question.”
After waking Day and having a quick breakfast, they headed to Uranian Flora.
Seymour wore the clothes Zolrya had given him, including the sunflower. Yes, there was still a chance it used to be a person, but he’d rather risk the squick of that than Zolrya’s wrath if he happened to see Seymour not wearing it.
After all, he had a pretty good feeling Zolrya wouldn’t be happy about that.
The front door of the flower shop opened on its own, and old Seymour would have been absolutely freaked out and probably screamed or run away or both. But new Seymour only tipped his head politely as he stepped inside with Day on his shoulder and Sariel by his side.
After all, he didn’t want to be rude to the magical flower shop.
Neil was stocking small potted flowers on a display shelf, and there was an older man behind the counter. He was a stout and graying version of Neil with a big beard, and he wore small round glasses. He seemed to be arguing with Izba via the menu hanging over his head.
“See? It’s like I said.” The man sighed. “That! That right there! You can’t just open doors for people!”
WHY NOT?
“Because people might start to wonder why doors are openin’ up on their own!”
IT IS NOT ON THEIR OWN
I AM DOING IT
I WISH TO BE FRIENDLY
The man groaned loudly, the sound of a frustrated man who had suffered many similar arguments and always been on the losing end.
“Oh hey!” Neil smiled when he saw them and waved a flower pot. “What’s up, guys?” He gave Day a sweet smile. “And Miss Day, of course.”
Day giggled, waving back. “Hello!”
“Howdy, y’all,” Seymour said. “Nice to see everybody is alive and kickin’. Or, uh, hauntin’. Haunted house. Eh, yeah. You. Uh. Whatever. You know what I mean.”
The floorboards rumbled.
I AM NOT HAUNTED
I AM IZBA
“This is Seymour,” Neil explained to the man, gesturing toward Seymour. “The one I was telling you about.”
“Ah, yeah.” The man peered curiously at Seymour. “Clancy’s kid.”
Seymour flinched but he still smiled, offering out his hand. “Yup, that’s me. Seymour Madison.”
The man shook Seymour’s hand. “Shiloh Ricci.”
“He’s the owner and my uncle.” Neil smirked. “So, technically, it’s his fault I got—”
The menu clacked angrily.
NO ONE OWNS ME
I AM MY OWN FLOWER SHOP THANK YOU
“That’s right, Izzy.” Shiloh smiled and gave the counter an affectionate pat.
There was a soft prrrp, and Seymour saw Buffy the eldritch cat slinking toward them.
Seymour smiled as Buffy rubbed up against his leg. “Hey there, kitty cat.”
“She’s a sweetie.” Neil chuckled.
“She really left the Reliquary for you, huh?”
“Yup. Sure did.” Neil wiggled his bracelet.
“She was able to do that? Wow.” Day meowed and hopped down, gazing over Buffy in wonder.
Buffy mewed in reply and stood up on her hinds legs, mimicking Day.
They touched noses and Day laughed while Buffy made a soft, chuffing sound that might have been her own giggle.
There was definitely a collective aw.
And of course, some noisy clacking.
I AM ALSO CUTE
I AM ADORABLE IN FACT
MANY PEOPLE SAY SO
“Yes, you are,” Shiloh said sweetly and only a little patronizing.
“So, hey. Not to be a downer or whatever, but Lou told me what happened.” Neil’s brow wrinkled. “You guys okay? Really?”