He thought he saw it sitting up.
Shit.
He was definitely losing his mind.
The office vanished, the portal closed, and Seymour craned his neck around to take in the new surroundings.
It was a chic living room with a vaulted ceiling, multiple skylights, and light brown suede furniture. The open floor plan allowed for a view of a modern kitchen packed with shiny silver appliances and one of those fancy stovetop islands. The walls were all white and framed with long wooden beams, and everything had an eerily sterile aura.
It felt staged, as if no one actually lived here but merely pretended to. There were no pictures or decorations to be found, and the one touch of a real human presence was a large stack of books that lined the top shelf of a bookcase.
The rest were empty.
“Where are we? Is this fuckin’ Hell?” Seymour demanded. “Is that where you brought me?”
“It is… a condo?” Sariel replied hesitantly.
Seymour flailed. “A condo inHell?”
Sariel set Seymour down. “No, we are still in Somerstown.”
“Same fuckin’ thing at this rate.” Seymour ignored how his heart fluttered to be so close to Sariel and stepped away. He whipped his head around, already trying to find a way out. “Hey, what happened to those other guys? Where’d they go?”
“I do not know. The portal brought us here.” Sariel headed to the kitchen. “I imagine this is where Mr. Heiss wants us to wait for him to return.”
“Who is that? Big demon guy, right?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. That’s, uh, very interesting.” Seymour slowly backed toward the front door. He could hear Sariel tinkering around in cabinets and drawers, and he decided this was as good a time as any to make a break for it. “And the other two?”
“Benjamin Underwood and Wilhelm Tanze.”
“Great. Okay.” Seymour paused in his retreat. “Wait, why do I know those names?”
“Mr. Red and the Big Bad Wolf.”
Seymour continued backing toward the door. “Wow, uh, thought they were dead. They’re those serial killers, right?”
Sariel tilted his head at Seymour. There was flour on his cheek. “You will not be able to leave.”
“Leave? What? Never!” Seymour laughed. “Why would I wanna leave when we’re havin’ so much fun? Talkin’ ’bout demons and killers and Hell. Yup! This is a blast.”
“You are being sarcastic.”
“No fuckin’ duh.” Seymour turned and ran to the front door, heaving himself against it as he scrambled to turn the knob.
It was locked.
He pounded on the door.
Kicked it.
Called it some ugly names.
“Please do not harm yourself,” Sariel called out worriedly. “I am quite serious when I say you will not be able to leave.”
Determined still, Seymour headed to the closest window. He could only see trees, which meant probably no neighbors close enough to hear him scream for help. It also confused him since Sariel had said they were still in the city, but this appeared to be a very thick forest.
