6. CHAPTER #2
Indy followed, wondering if his face was as flushed as it felt. He swore they’d been about to kiss, but it was more likely Mr. Heiss had timed it to mess with him again.
Stupid handsome asshole.
Indy glanced at Marcus but didn’t linger. He wasn’t human, but that was to be expected.
Werewolf, judging by the glow in Indy’s nails.
“Yes! No!” Marcus cringed. “The twins are late. But, uh, you know they’ll probably be in there, uh, soon. I think. I…” He wrung his hands and stared at Indy.
“Don’t look at me,” Indy drawled. “I will be no help when it comes to this walking bag of dicks. Oh!” He grinned. “Speaking of dicks, did you know that Mr. Heiss has—”
“Quiet.” Mr. Heiss snapped his fingers.
Indy grunted as an invisible grip seized his waist, pulling him along as Mr. Heiss stalked toward the big doors. They opened at his approach, and he went right in, dragging Indy with him into the next room.
It was big, round, and was built from black stone from the ceiling to the floor.
Dominating the space was a large circular table with five fancy high-back chairs around it.
There were dozens of shelves overflowing with books, scrolls, and parchments, which immediately seemed like a fire hazard given the singular source of light came from flaming sconces mounted on the walls.
Its fantastical decor was a stark contrast to the modern waiting room just outside, though the occupants certainly seemed right at home.
After all, they were monsters.
Indy immediately recognized Louis Morénas-Mostro, looking scrumptious and brooding as ever, with his lovely bronze skin perfectly moisturized, thick dark hair tied back in a sleek ponytail, and giant, bulging body crammed into a blue pinstripe suit.
Jesus, he was hot.
And he wasn’t alone.
There was a white woman in a cute rockabilly getup hovering over his shoulder, and a hulking dog monster lay curled up on the floor behind him. The dog must have gotten too close to one of the sconces because part of him seemed to be actively burning.
He didn’t seem to mind though.
So, there was that.
The chair directly facing the door was larger than the rest, and there sat Q. Mostro.
The Q.
The head of the Mostro family.
Indy had certainly heard of him but never had the pleasure of meeting him. Seeing him there and knowing what he was—what he really was—was oddly surreal.
He appeared to be a handsome Black man with short hair and a meticulously trimmed goatee.
His skin was a deep shade of brown, his eyes dark, and there was a red rose pinned to his lapel.
He appeared to be older, maybe in his forties or early fifties, but in reality he was probably thousands of years old.
While ol’ Lou ruled over monsters from the Terrestrial and Mr. Heiss those from the Celestial, Q.’s dominion was the Other.
Lovecraft. Eldritch horror. Tentacles. All that.
Ancient entities whose realms existed within the fabric of space and time, guaranteed to cause madness and give anyone a really, really bad day.
Still a hottie though.
“You. Sit. Silently.” Mr. Heiss pointed at a chaise beside one of the shelves.
Indy didn’t know why Mr. Heiss had bothered since he was the one controlling Indy’s movements right now, and he rolled his eyes as hard as he could as Mr. Heiss’s magic pulled him over to the chaise.
He grunted as he was forced to sit roughly, quick to snap, “Mmm, harder, please. Loving this. Giving Medieval Times realness.”
Mr. Heiss ignored him, addressing Q. as he asked, “Where are the rest of our brothers?”
Q. shook his head. “They’re—”
“Right here!” a smooth, melodic voice declared.
“Where else would we be?” chirped another.
The two empty chairs were now occupied by two of the most beautiful men Indy had ever seen in his entire life.
They’d scooted their chairs closer together so that they were practically sitting in each other’s laps, and they were both dressed in absolutely gorgeous coordinating outfits of black velvet, metallic trims, and real fuschia flowers.
The first was Black with smooth brown skin, pink highlighter gleaming on his cheeks, and his hair was a long mane of tiny silver braids.
The other was white, pale and porcelain, golden blond curls flawlessly framing his face that was also painted with the same highlighter.
They had the same full lips, dazzling smiles, and even the shape of their eyes had a similar sharp edge.
Well, fuck.
Indy wished he had a fresh manicure to ease his nerves, though he knew even the most potent items of his arsenal would do him little good here.
Okay, he might have a sporting chance against the werewolves and maybe that chick in the poofy dress, but the rest?
Ha.
The two men were Absolis and Vilanos.
Gorgeous? Yes.
Safe? Oh, fuck no.
They were fae princes, a very high rank in the twisted land of Faerie. Though they were often referred to as twins and did have a striking physical resemblance in spite of the obvious differences, it had never been clear to Indy if members of the royal family were actually related by blood.
Not very much made sense about that world anyway.
It was absolutely insane, not to mention extremely dangerous.
Fae were powerful creatures who could bind mortals with only a few words if one was unfamiliar with their magic. While such things were meant to be banned from Somerstown, like vampires taking thralls, Indy knew damn well it still happened.
He was not about to become a flower or a fae baby or whatever the hell else.
“See?” Q. gestured to the twins. “And here we all are.”
“And who is this?” Absolis, who had the long silver braids, asked as he turned his eyes on Indy.
“Yes, yes!” Vilanos, the one with the blond hair, chimed in. “Who is this?”
“I thought only Lou liked to bring in mortals for us to play with.”
“Yes! I thought that was only our dear Lou.”
“He is a witness to the murder of Mr. Kalt,” Mr. Heiss drawled as he took his seat. He paused to give the twins a heated glare. “Do not touch the flesh bag.”
“What?” Absolis gasped as if offended “Us?”
“Us?” Vilanos echoed, equally upset. “You think we would do such a thing?”
“Yes,” Mr. Heiss said flatly.
“Let us begin,” Q. said, raising his hand.
A stack of papers, folders, and assorted receipts appeared before him.
“Here we have the last known assets of Mr. Kalt. Cash, stocks, several properties, and—” He paused as if reading something, though he’d made no effort to disassemble the giant pile. “A talking car?”
“Yes, sir! I have the title for it right here!” A large, hulking man bounded over to the table beside Q.
He had on small glasses and a colorful floral sweater, and his skin was gray with an odd greenish tint to it.
There were thick stitches peeking out from his dark bangs and a long stretch of them around his neck.
Ah, one of the Franks.
A Frankenstein.
Which was stupid, really, since Frankenstein was the name of the guy who made the monster and not the monster himself, but whatever. Given that this one was speaking in full sentences, Indy assumed he was the one called Francis.
Francis picked through the stack of paperwork and carefully withdrew a single piece of paper with a surprisingly delicate touch for one whose fingers were the size of sausages. “It is a two thousand and five Honda Civic Si. Her name is Lusthesthesix, but I believe she goes by Leslie.”
“Ah!” Q. smiled as if being reminded of an old friend. “How nice.”
While they continued to chat about paperwork and title transfers and other equally boring crap, Indy became aware the twins were staring at him. He wiggled his fingers in a little greeting.
“Love your hair,” Absolis purred.
“Yes, love it,” Vilanos said. “Such a beautiful color.”
“Yes! It’s so very flattering.”
“So flattering.”
Indy smirked, knowing they were expecting him to say thank you and therefore trap himself in some stupid faerie mess. He gave them a sweet smile as he replied, “I appreciate it.”
Absolis and Vilanos pouted, but there was something dark in their gaze that said they were more than a little displeased about it.
“I said leave him be,” Mr. Heiss warned.
“Just having fun, brother,” Vilanos said innocently.
“Yes,” Absolis agreed. “Just a bit of fun.”
“He must know about fae!” the woman behind Lou whispered loudly. “Good for him.”
“Oh, I know lots of things,” Indy teased. “Did you know werewolves love to get their bellies scratched? True story.”
Both Lou and the woman slowly turned to gawk at Indy as if he’d said he liked to eat babies.
“What?” Indy scoffed. “It’s true.”
Lou and the woman continued to stare, and the burning dog laughed hysterically.
“I told you to be quiet,” Mr. Heiss snapped.
“And I don’t listen very well!” Indy sniped back.
“Oh!” The woman clasped her hands to her mouth. “This certainly got more interesting, now didn’t it?”
The dog laughed harder.
Lou cut his eyes to Mr. Heiss, grinning.
Mr. Heiss chose—no surprise—to scowl.
There was something clearly going on, but Indy had no idea what.
The twins were occupied with playing with each other’s hair, and Q.
and Francis were still digging through the paperwork.
They’d apparently missed whatever importance Indy’s brief exchange held.
It was only then Indy realized that no one else was reacting to the dog cackling or the woman flailing about.
Because no one else can see them.
How interesting.
“This means this young man must have an Artifact!” the woman said excitedly. “How wonderful! Another one has been found!” She paused. “Wait. Does that mean Mr. Heiss…? Oh, let’s test this!” She dropped her voice to a low whisper. “Mr. Heiss is a big meanie head and he smells like a—”
“May we please continue?” Mr. Heiss demanded, cutting her off since he clearly couldn’t hear her. “My time is very valuable.”
The woman squealed.
“As if ours is any less so?” Lou smiled, but it wasn’t kind.
Mr. Heiss glared. “It is, as a matter of fact.”