“And now I can’t leave? But fuckin’ why?”
“My master will explain everything soon.”
“No! Fuck that!” Seymour seethed. “You explain! Right now!”
Sariel huffed and crossed his arms, turning his nose up. “Somebody’s moon is definitely rising in Aries.”
“Come on!” Seymour growled loudly. “What does that even mean?”
“Scorpio, like Aries, is ruled by Mars. This is a planet associated with passion, anger, and?—”
“Shut up, you beautiful fucking feathery fortune cookie! Please!” Seymour held out his hands. “Please help me.”
Sariel looked around and then back at Seymour, frowning.
“What?”
“You told me to shut up. But also help you. I cannot do both.”
Seymour was going to strangle him.
So hard.
“Okay, fine. Tell me what you can.” Seymour grabbed Sariel’s shoulders. “Can we do that? Like, tell me why Somerstown is ate up with monsters?”
“It has been a sanctuary for monstrous beings for many years,” Sariel replied. “We stay hidden to avoid detection, and any nonhuman entity must follow the rules and laws set by the Mostro family.”
“Mostro? Like that Lou guy? Big werewolf?”
Sariel blinked. “Yes. Louis Morénas-Mostro. You know him?”
“I know which way he dresses, all right?” Seymour wheezed out a laugh.
“I do not know what that means.”
“I met him at the flower shop,” Seymour explained. “The one that fuckin’ talks and likes musicals and shit.”
“Ah, yes. That is Izba. He is a very unique creature.”
“You can say that again.”
Sariel tilted his head. “Why would I?”
Seymour snorted. “Uh, so.” He glanced around. “Is this, like, a magical house too?”
“Not like Izba. It is simply warded to prevent escape until you have permission to do so.”
“Mr. Heiss do that? Some kinda magic shit?”
“Yes.” Sariel drifted back to the kitchen.
Following after him, Seymour asked, “Is he part of that Mostro family thing too?”
There was a mixing bowl full of a thick batter, a smaller bowl of what may have been cinnamon and sugar, a cookie sheet linedwith parchment paper, and various other baking implements neatly arranged on the counter.
Apparently, angels liked to bake.
Who knew?
