“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. Theribellihave 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 goodhungaround 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 evenmoreworseseemed 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.”
