Their eyes met, and Boozey smiled, flashing rows and rows of sharp teeth as his eyes melted away.
There was so much fucked up in that brief vision that Seymour couldn’t begin to process it, especially as he found himself in a new location within only a few seconds. He was still in Sariel’s arms, but they were now standing in the hallway of an apartment building.
“The fuck? The fuck!” Seymour whirled all around, his chest heaving.
“You are all right,” Sariel soothed. “You are safe.”
“Are we back in Somerstown?” Seymour grabbed for Sariel’s shoulders to brace himself. “Is this real?”
“Yes, it is very real.” Sariel smiled softly, and he tucked his wings away, his halo vanishing once more. He looked to the door next to them. “I believe this is our destination.”
“The witch’s place?”
“I assume so.”
“I… Okay.” Seymour tried the door. “It’s fuckin’ locked. What do we?—”
The door opened.
Seymour blinked. “Uh, Sariel?”
“Yes, Seymour?”
“Did you do that?”
“No.”
“Great. Peachy keen.” Seymour didn’t want to admit that going first sounded like a terrible idea, what with having a squishy human body and all that, and he sighed in relief as Sariel took the lead.
Seymour followed him inside, shutting the door and locking it behind them. He took a deep breath to prepare, and he tried to mentally ready himself for anything.
Magical carpets, enchanted spears, big goblins, or maybe even big goblins riding on magical carpets with spears—whatever!
Thankfully, the apartment was stunningly bland.
Secondhand furniture, a few framed pictures of waterfalls, and a very dead houseplant. There was an open door by the kitchen offering a glimpse of an equally boring bedroom.
No ghosts, no nothing.
Though that initially put Seymour at ease, he soon realized it was a problem. After all, he was here to speak to a spirit about finding a magical head.
Kinda hard to do that if there was no spirit here to chat with.
“So.” Seymour opened the fridge to peek inside. “What should I be looking for? Because nothing about this place exactly screamswitch.”
“I do not know.” Sariel looked around curiously. “It does seem rather simple. Perhaps too simple.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is supposedly the home of a powerful witch, yes? And yet there is no visible evidence of magical workings anywhere.”
“Other than that door openin’ up by itself,” Seymour pointed out. “Could be there’s some kinda invisible evidence hiding somewhere.”
“It is worth a closer examination.” Sariel nodded. “I’ll start in the living room.”
“I got the kitchen.” Seymour opened a few cabinets, not finding much else except for basic spices and a single coffee mug. “So, I wanted to thank you.”
“You are welcome.” Sariel peeked up from where he’d been checking under the couch. “What for?”
