6. CHAPTER
CHAPTER
SIX
“You’ll have to be more specific,” Indy drawled. “I’ve seen a lot of murders. Most of them in the last five minutes. All those guys Red and Big Bad Wolf killed for one. And you killed Mr. Kalt, Reginald—”
Mr. Heiss arched a brow. “Who is Reginald?”
“Lint bunny golem.”
Mr. Heiss grunted. He cut his eyes to Gammy. “Ingredients. Now.”
“Do you need to write it down?” Gammy asked sweetly. “What? It must be difficult to get everything sorted with the blood of an innocent bunny on your hands!”
Mr. Heiss ignored her anger, asking again, “Ingredients?”
“Fine! Ground pumice, honey, a tiny pinch of salt, and licorice!”
Mr. Heiss paused. “That cannot be for a magical prep spell.”
“No, you’re right! It’s for healing stupid diseases like—”
Indy uttered a croak that sounded like a goose dying.
“—your demonic stank face!”
Indy could breathe again. He felt a little silly for thinking Gammy was going to out his illness, but today had especially sucked so far. His expectations were set pretty low.
Mr. Heiss sighed and glanced at his watch. “We’re going now.”
“Gammy!” Indy hissed. “The real ingredients, please?”
“Right, right.” Gammy cleared her throat. “Turmeric, garlic, salt—”
“Sounds delicious!” King called out.
“—lavender, dragon’s drool, corpse water, and Jubboko sap.”
“Ew. Now it’s rancid.”
Mr. Heiss frowned, but he reached for Indy’s hand. “We’re going now.”
Indy’s traitorous heart fluttered, and he gave Gammy a reassuring smile. “I’ll be okay. I’ll be back before—”
The room vanished and they were standing inside an elevator. Judging by the sheer number of floor buttons, they were in a massive building. Mr. Heiss touched the panel and a new row of buttons materialized. These buttons were fractions, decimals, and one was nothing but a big black dot.
Mr. Heiss pushed a button marked thirty-three point three.
Indy honestly didn’t feel the need to question Mr. Heiss’s lacking manners or the obvious insanity at play here.
He’d been in two places already today that were very much not in this universe or dimension or whatever, so this tracked.
Also, Mr. Heiss was an asshole, so naturally, that meant him poofing away before Indy could actually say goodbye also tracked.
He was more surprised by the fact that Mr. Heiss was still holding his hand.
Indy’s earrings were gone, which meant Mr. Heiss had figured out how Gammy had tagged along before. Dill wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but Indy was comforted knowing how to summon him now at least. Aodnait was certainly not far off either as long as he kept a lighter handy.
As the elevator ascended—or maybe it was going sideways? Diagonally? Hard to be sure—Mr. Heiss finally let go of Indy’s hand and adjusted his suit. He stared straight ahead, apparently intent on not discussing what was happening or where they were.
Obviously, that wasn’t going to work for Indy.
“So!” Indy clapped his hands together. “Is this one of the places where you can get a vajacial?”
Mr. Heiss slowly turned his head to blink down at Indy. “A what?”
“It’s a facial for your vagina. But you look like you could use a regular facial. There’s a lot going on here.” Indy waved his hand around Mr. Heiss’s face. “Or maybe that’s just how you always look. Constipated.”
“You have your grandmother’s delightful sense of humor.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Indy batted his lashes. “So, murder trial? Is that what’s happening?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not… worried about that?”
“No.”
“Okay. Cool. Should I be worried about that?”
Nothing.
The floors dinged by.
The silence grew.
More floors.
Why the fuck did a demon with incredible power not simply poof them to the correct one?
Indy could be very calm under pressure, and he honestly considered it a requirement for his particular line of work.
He could handle Mr. Heiss being a raging dick and not speaking to him because Indy was quick, smart, and confident that he could handle any situation no matter what they were walking into.
But the elevator suddenly pitched backward.
Indy lost his balance, his heart thudded, and his chest grew tight as his stomach flip-flopped like he was going over a big dip on a roller coaster. Mr. Heiss held his shoulder to steady him, but the sensation in Indy’s chest grew.
It was clenching, hot, and…
It hurt.
Oh no.
No, no, no.
Was this it? Was it the cancer?
A wave of piercing pain like a barrage of rusty daggers tore through him, and it was great enough to buckle his knees.
He tightened his grip on Mr. Heiss’s arm, his voice rising in pitch as he snapped, “Hey! Asshole! What the fuck are we doing? Are you even going to take me to get the shit I need or are you just fucking with me? Do you have any idea how important this is? To me? Like, right fucking now?”
This might be it.
Dead in an elevator with this absolute cock tease bastard of a demon.
No, no, fucking no.
Indy’s rage morphed into fear, a twisted weight dragging down his gut like a jagged stone.
The sound of his voice was a distant roar of thunder in his ears no matter how loud he yelled, and he knew he was panicking.
He was panicking, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
He’d been holding himself together fairly well considering he was actively dying, but now he could feel the seams of his confidence unraveling in the wake of his agony.
He was helpless.
Powerless.
His chest constricted further, his blood boiled, and the edges of his vision fuzzed over.
The elevator was suddenly too small, and he looked around wildly for any way to escape.
He needed to get out of here. He had to get back to Gammy.
She had to save him with what they had back at the apartment.
He’d summon another demon, grind up that stupid talking skull, or—
Mr. Heiss grabbed Indy’s throat.
Indy froze.
Mr. Heiss didn’t squeeze. He didn’t press down. He was merely holding Indy, his voice low as he commanded, “Breathe.”
Indy breathed.
A few quick puffs.
Then a few more.
The claws of his anxiety receded.
The pain remained, but he could pant through it. He could handle this as long as he kept breathing. He would survive this like he had everything else, one defiant breath at a time.
Then, like nothing had ever happened, it was gone.
The pain vanished.
What the fuck?
Indy stared up at Mr. Heiss, confused and fighting through the lingering trembles in his limbs. He had no idea what had just happened or why, and he realized he probably needed to explain himself to Mr. Heiss.
“Panic attack,” he mumbled, hoping he sounded shaken enough for that excuse to be believable. “I’m all right now.”
“Keep breathing.”
Indy sighed and took another deep breath. “On it.”
“Good.” Mr Heiss nodded.
Indy was weirdly disappointed in himself for expecting boy to be attached to that bit of praise. He moved his hand from Mr. Heiss’s arm to curl around his wrist with a similar touch, firm but not aggressive. “Do you know what’s really calming? Talking.”
“About what?”
“About anything. Like, how this is the world’s longest elevator ride. And speaking of long, how long did it take your dick to heal from all those piercings? When you’re soft, can you shake your junk and make them jingle? What about—”
“You are a witness to the murder of Mr. Kalt,” Mr. Heiss calmly cut in.
“We are going to meet with the rest of the Mostro family to settle his final affairs. Yes, I am going to take you to get the shit you need. Yes, I understand the state of your caboose is very important.” He tilted his head.
“Anything else? Or would you like to panic again?”
Yes, good that Mr. Heiss believed it was a panic attack.
But also bad because wow, what a fucking dick.
Indy glared. “Any special reason you didn’t just tell me all of that before?”
Mr. Heiss smirked, and his eyes glowed brighter. “Maybe I enjoyed watching you squirm, little flesh bag.”
“Oh, I love it when you talk dirty,” Indy purred as he fearlessly pressed forward, forcing Mr. Heiss to tighten his grip to keep him at bay. “Is that what you like? Want to see me wiggle around for you?”
Mr. Heiss growled.
Indy recognized it as a lustful sound, and he grinned as heat surged through his body right down to his cock.
He let his eyes close halfway, and he gazed up at Mr. Heiss with a soft, seductive sigh.
He groaned when Mr. Heiss squeezed his throat again, and Indy lightly stroked his fingers along the inside of Mr. Heiss’s wrist.
Fuck being scared.
Fuck being helpless.
This he could do no problem.
Sex gave him power and confidence. He wanted to feel in control, and seduction was his true element. It soothed the frayed edges of his nerves and helped navigate through the mental whiplash of thinking he was about to die moments ago.
At least Mr. Heiss was hot.
That helped.
His eyes were bright and captivating, and he was looking at Indy in a new way. It was curious, maybe even hopeful, as if he was searching for something and desperately wanted to find it.
Indy watched him lean in and parted his lips expectantly, pulse thumping wildly. Yes, they were going to kiss. A big hell yes to potential elevator sex. That was what Indy needed, a damn good lay, hot and messy, and then he—
The elevator doors opened.
It was a waiting room.
Simple, plain, boring.
A few depressing paintings of landscapes did little to liven up the place—really quite the opposite—and Indy was sure he’d been in dentists’ offices with more personality than this. The only thing remotely interesting was the giant set of doors beside the receptionist desk.
Sitting at said desk was a cute redheaded man whose jaw was on the floor as he stared at the two of them.
Mr. Heiss released Indy and stood up straight, clearing his throat. “Marcus.”
Marcus, the redhead, bobbled his head. “Mr. Heiss, sir! Hello, sir.”
Mr. Heiss walked out of the elevator. “Is everyone ready?”