“Yes.” Sariel nodded, heading to the sink to wash his hands. “He is one of the bosses like Mr. Morénas-Mostro.”
“Boss? What, are they like a mafia?”
“Theyarea mafia,” Sariel replied firmly. “A mafia is an organized body of criminals, yes? Many of their endeavors to maintain peace and cultivate power are very illegal.”
“Yeah, guess I shoulda figured since they were really okay with murder and kidnapping.”
“Mr. Heiss is a demon. There is very little he is not okay with.” Sariel scooped out a small blob of dough, rolling it around in his hands to make a ball. He then rolled the ball in the bowl of sugar and cinnamon before setting it on the tray.
“The serial killer guys are demons too?”
“Yes. After their deaths, Mr. Heiss resurrected them as demons to work for him.”
“So, a human can become a demon?”
“Yes.”
“Can a human become an angel?”
Sariel wrinkled his nose. “No. That is silly.”
“Right. Of course it is.” Seymour watched Sariel roll more little balls of dough. “What are you making?”
“Cookies.” Sariel offered a small smile. “I thought perhaps you would enjoy them.”
“Yes, baked goods are absolutely what I need right now to forget about watching Mr. Talos get his head ripped off,” Seymour drawled. “Feeling better already.”
“You are being sarcastic again.”
“No shit.” Seymour laughed weakly. “But, uh, thank you. For tryin’ to do somethin’ nice for me.”
“I am very sorry,” Sariel said, his voice soft. “Please understand that I had no choice.”
“It’s okay.” Seymour gave Sariel’s shoulder a squeeze. “I mean, it fuckin’ sucks nuts, you know? Can’t complain about the scenery at least.”
Sariel looked around. “The kitchen?”
Seymour laughed, reaching up to brush the flour off Sariel’s cheek. “Sure. Yeah, that.”
Sariel smiled, and his eyes seemed brighter.
Seymour hadn’t realized just how close they were until that moment, and Sariel smelled as sweet as the cookies he was making. It probablywasthe cookies, but Seymour enjoyed breathing it in all the same.
“So, uh…” Seymour cleared his throat. “You never did tell me what your sign is.”
“Oh!” Sariel’s smile grew. “Well, I think of myself as a Cancer. They are very attuned to the emotions of others and said to be nurturing. I do enjoy cooking as a way to comfort people. Though I also enjoy experimenting with new flavors, which would be a very Scorpio trait?—”
“Wait, wait, wait. You don’t know what sign you are?”
“No.”
“You don’t know your birthday?”
“No. Time is not measured in the Celestial as it is in other realms. I am sure I have one, but I would have no way of knowing it.” Sariel rolled a final cookie ball and then started carrying the dishes over to the sink.
Seymour grabbed a few to help him, asking, “Why don’t you just pick one? You know, make it up.”
Sariel looked aghast. “That would be lying.”
