Chapter 23
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Does he like flowers?” Day asked.
“I don’t actually know,” Seymour replied with a frown. He glanced at the sunflower on his lapel and made a face. “Probably not any made from fuckin’ people. But I know he really likes baking. And cleaning tombstones at the cemetery. What ’bout somethin’ to do with that?”
“What about a new bucket? And oh! A recipe book? He does not have many books.”
“Hey, now we’re talkin’.”
The drive to the bakery started out tense. Seymour was lost in his self-loathing and trying to figure out how to fix the hurt he’d left Sariel with, and he didn’t know what to do. It was Day who’d broken the silence by coughing—loudly, often, and repeatedly—until Seymour agreed to talk.
Two things were quickly decided.
One, Seymour was an asshole.
Two, Seymour needed to fix it as soon as possible.
Day’s thoughts on repair involved a lot of apologies, some ass kissing, and gifts.
Lots of them.
“A recipe book and a new bucket.” Day meowed firmly. “Then you must take him to a restaurant. A nice one. Not the kind with plastic trays.”
“Nope. No plastic trays. Promise.” Seymour reached for her paw. “Trust me. I wanna make this right, kitty girl. I really fuckin’ do.”
“Then why don’t we go back, hmm?” Day ignored Seymour’s hand and chose instead to snuggle against his side. “We can drive a little more so you have time to practice your apology.”
“I want to finish this,” Seymour said firmly, wrapping his arm around her. “Gettin’ that brain back is the most important thing right now, okay? It’s gonna clear my slate with Mr. Heiss, save the city and all the monsters, and—”
“This is the part where you’re an asshole.”
“Yes, because I do think Sariel is worryin’ too much,” Seymour grumbled. “I know it’s gonna be dangerous, but if it gets too nasty, I can call back the lantern guys and you can have yourself a nice buffet. Like, we can handle this. I’ve done pretty damn all right, all things considered.”
“He is worried because he cares,” Day said softly.
“And I’ve gotta do this because I care too.” Seymour sighed.
“But you are squishy and made of soft meat.”
“Okay, yes, but any hope of a future with Sariel means makin’ Mr. Heiss happy and just maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe he’d be willing to trade Sariel’s freedom for the brain.” Seymour tapped the steering wheel anxiously. “Okay, and now that I say that out loud, I realize it sounds real dumb. Since he could just pop my heart like a grape or whatever and take it.”
“This may not even have anything to do with Sariel,” Day soothed. “It could be the need to prove something to yourself.”
“Oh? Is that an Aries thing?”
Day sighed sadly. “I know it is a me thing. I felt like a failure for a long time because I could not help my family. I was too small, too weak… And I would get angry. I felt like I had no power.”
“I definitely don’t have any power,” Seymour muttered. “I can’t leave the city, I can’t tell Mr. Heiss to fuck off, and I can’t figure out a damn way to help Sariel.”
“See? Finding the brain is the one thing you might be able to control. You do have the power right now to go after it.”
Seymour managed a tiny smile. “For a little kitty girl, did you know you sure are wise?”
“I am also surely old.” Day chuckled. “Oh, and you are very stubborn. That is definitely an Aries thing.”
Seymour laughed wryly. “Yeah, it is.”
“Give Sariel lots of gifts and explain this to him. He will understand once you tell him.” Day nodded as if she was very certain. “If anyone could empathize with feeling powerless, it would be him. But having the freedom to make asshole choices is a privilege he does not have.”
“Yeah, and—”
“Which still makes you an asshole.”
“Roger that. And thank you. For carin’ enough ’bout me to help set me straight. I’m gonna make it right.” Seymour took a deep breath, more determined now. “Sariel deserves that. He deserves so much.”
“He deserves to be happy. We will find a way.”
“So, about eating Mr. Heiss…”
“We shall come up with a code phrase. A way to signal me that will not draw suspicion. Yes, and when you say it, I shall eat him.”
The discussion of a potential code phrase paused once they arrived at the bakery, and Seymour parked directly across the street to survey the area.
Looked like a city late at night.
Great.
Day took her perch on Seymour’s shoulder as they headed to the back of the building, weaving around stacks of pallets and a row of dumpsters.
There was no immediate sign of activity, untoward or otherwise, and Seymour wondered if this was going to be another dead end like so many of the others before.
A door slammed, something growled, and Seymour ducked behind one of the dumpsters.
“Oh! Wait here!” Day hopped down. “I will go investigate!”
Seymour nodded, mouthing silently, “Be careful.”
“What?”
Seymour tried again.
Day cocked her head. “What?”
Seymour swallowed back a sigh, whispering as quietly as possible, “Be care—”
“Shhh!” Day hissed. “Some monsters have great hearing! Stay here and be quiet! I’ll be right back.”
Seymour stared.
Day shook her head and then took off, her long tail waving behind her.
Seymour waited for what seemed like forever, his stomach tight, until finally he heard a distant shriek, gunshots, and then silence.
He knew Day couldn’t be hurt, but he wanted to throw up anyway.
“Hey!” Day trotted back up, licking her lips.
“Did you eat someone?” Seymour asked.
“Yes?”
“Okay, just checking.”
“There were two monsters guarding a door! I think it’s a portal like inside the Crossroads.” Day waved for him to follow as she turned, taking off toward the rear of the restaurant again. “I peeked and there’s definitely something going on!”
Seymour hurried after her. “What did you see?”
“Bunch of wires all over the floor! Weird lights? Connected to something that looked like the beacon, but mmm, bigger.”
Seymour’s heart dropped. “Yeah, that can’t be good.”
The back door of the bakery was open, and Day led Seymour through a bright shiny kitchen to a doorway standing in the middle of the floor next to several large racks.
The doorway was simply that—a door and frame.
Seymour didn’t even bother questioning it. He patted his shoulder. “Let’s get goin’, kitty girl.”
Day nodded to a large long-handled paddle next to the racks. “Maybe grab that?”
“That works.”
Paddle in hand, Seymour opened the door and stepped through.
They were still inside the bakery, but…
Everything was wrong.
The space was infinitely bigger, as if entire sections of the room had been snatched up, turned into taffy, and then stretched out into obscene proportions by some Salvador Dali inspired entity.
The racks were now several yards behind them, yet the ovens glinted right above their heads, and the empty space between the broken sections went as far as Seymour could see.
Far off in the distance was the giant crystal structure Day had described, and there were indeed dozens of thick cords running across the floor toward it.
It was impossible to deduce what the other ends of the cords were anchored toor what purpose they served, as they also went on seemingly forever to the edge of the horizon.
The giant crystal was Seymour’s focus—especially the glittering crystal brain hovering over the top.
“Holy shit,” Seymour breathed out in an urgent whisper. “It’s right fuckin’ there!”
Day clapped. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”
Seymour jogged toward it, glancing around warily. They seemed to be alone, but he had the distinct feeling that it wouldn’t be for very long.
The crystal was a giant raw hunk of what appeared to be quartz and had to be at least ten feet tall. The cords were wound around its thick base, though it wasn’t clear how they were attached. Seymour grabbed one and pulled, asking, “Reckon I can use this to climb up there?”
“I reckon you might break your neck,” Day drawled, imitating Seymour’s accent. “How about I jump up there and—”
A door opened where one hadn’t been before, and Seymour whirled around to find Jerry the squonk standing there now.
Jerry squeaked in terror, scrambling back to the door. It vanished before he could reach it, and he tumbled to the floor. “Oh, no, no, no! Not you again!”
“Yes, me again! Jerry!” Seymour raised the paddle over his head. “How’s it goin’? Miss me? Wanna tell me how to get that fuckin’ brain down, huh?”
“I can’t tell you that!” Jerry shouted, crawling backward frantically and looking very much like a flailing crab. “We’re so close! They’ll kill me if I don’t—”
“What the fuck do you think I’m gonna do? Huh?” Seymour waved the paddle. “I know you can’t see her, but I got me a kitty girl here who will snatch you up like the last damn potato chip—”
“I don’t want to eat him,” Day whispered loudly.
“What?”
“He looks icky.”
Seymour scoffed. “And all the other monsters you ate haven’t been?”
“Well… he’s extra icky.”
“Kitty girl, this is a bad time to get picky ’bout your diet. I’m sure he won’t taste that bad.” Seymour paused. “Okay, maybe he will. But—”
“How about I bite him? I could bite his head off and spit it right out—”
“Hey! You!” Jerry snapped. “I can hear you!”
“Wait, me or her?” Seymour blinked in surprise.
“You! You asshole! You’re so mean!” Jerry plucked his left eyeball out of his head.
“Fuckin’ ew!” Seymour balked. “Stop bein’ gross and I’ll stop bein’ mean!”
“Fuck you!”
“Fuck you, man!”
“Here! Enjoy!” Jerry snarled as he hurled his eyeball at Seymour.
“See! Nasty! Fuckin’ just nasty!” Seymour gagged as the eyeball hit his shirt and stuck there thanks to a thick coating of slime.
It had come cleanly out of Jerry’s skull, like popping the yolk from the white of an egg.
He jumped up and down trying to shake it off, not sure if he should actually touch it or not.
Day pounced, smacking it off and away with a fierce swing of her paw.
The eyeball bounced off and came to a sudden stop a few yards away.