Mr. Heiss did not let go of Sariel. “And this list was supplied by?”
“Talos.”
“Any idea where our fae brethren are now?”
“No. They’re not answering me.”
Mr. Heiss scoffed. “All right. What about Q.?”
Lou paused, as if listening for something. “He’s around.”
The groundrumbled.
It passed almost as quickly as Seymour felt it, so perhaps he imagined it.
“Then we need to find our wayward brothers so we may proceed as a united front.” Mr. Heiss scowled. “And if Talos or King Zolrya know more than they’re letting on?—”
“You’re more than welcome to ask them, brother.” Lou bowed. “You are so very brave and bold. By all means.”
“He wouldn’t!” Myrna gasped. “That would be a very silly thing to do.”
“That’s the point,” Flanders griped from his sunshine spot. “Heiss sucks.”
Seymour couldn’t believe it, but he and Flanders actually agreed on something for once.
Mr. Heiss had been quiet, no doubt thinking over Lou’s sarcastic reply. He apparently chose to ignore it and finally let go of Sariel, saying instead, “What happened to the troll here? Who did this?”
“I did,” Seymour replied, rising to his feet and scooping Day up on his shoulder. “You got a problem with that?”
Mr. Heiss looked over Seymour with the same regard that someone would have for a cockroach. “And still alive.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed.”
Mr. Heiss smiled. “If I wanted you dead, you would be. For now, you’re still useful.”
“Oh, thanks. Love you too.” Seymour rolled his eyes hard. “I’m fine, by the way. Almost died. No biggy. Just trying to do your fuckin’ dirty work so you can get your whatever it?—”
Mr. Heiss was on top of Seymour within the space of a breath, his hand on Seymour’s throat and squeezing tight. His eyes blazed flaming red, and he growled, flashing sharp fangs. “Silence that tongue before I rip it out.”
“Seymour!” Day cried, yowling frantically. “I will eat him! I will eat him rightnow.”
Sariel’s halo glowed, his wings fluttering in obvious agitation. The collar around his neck seemed to throb, and he winced, as if it was causing him physical distress.
Seymour wondered crazily if it felt anything like being choked by a demon—which, by the way, was awful. Definitely not recommended for any sane person. He couldn’t gather enough oxygen to get his voice to work and tell Mr. Heiss what a fantastically ginormous piece of shit he was.
He settled for flipping him off.
Mr. Heiss squeezed tighter.
“Oh, I am definitely eating him!” Day snarled, and her jaw popped as it opened up wide.
Seymour waved at her to stop.
Mr. Heiss blinked, his brow wrinkling.
Seymour was aware he looked like a one-winged chicken trying to dance, but he hoped Mr. Heiss might one day appreciate that he was trying to save him from being eaten alive by an adorable but slightly terrifying kitty girl.
Sariel appeared ready to burst apart at the seams and take a jab at Mr. Heiss too, but he remained where he was, looking on helplessly.
