“No, I believe him to be an eldritch being.”
“The fuck is that?”
“Interdimensional cosmic horror.”
Seymour made a face. “Wow, he sounds fun.”
“I do not understand why that sounds fun.” Sariel seemed alarmed. “That should be the exact opposite of fun.”
“It’s just… Never mind.” Seymour scratched Day’s ear. “So, you think we’ll be safe here?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay—”
“Well, perhaps.”
“Can you just lie and say yes?”
Day meowed in what may have been agreement.
Hallowed Grounds had once been a large church with elaborate clerestories, tall arched arcades, and a fantastic upper gallery. The floor was a rich dark wood, and all the religious imagery had been removed except for the stained glass in the clerestory above. The pews had been removed to create space for tables and chairs, and the pulpit was gutted to create a stage.
It was empty at the moment, but a chalkboard sign promised future poetry readings. A cluster of overstuffed sofas and chairs created a welcoming and warm entrance, and the mammoth counter had an equally impressive glass display case packed full of tasty looking baked goods.
Sariel led the way up the stairs into the gallery, finding an unoccupied table in the very back. It was quiet, as more of the customers seemed to be down on the first floor enjoying the sofas, and Seymour was glad for the isolation.
There wasn’t anyone here to stare at him petting his invisible cat.
He set Day down on the table. “Okay, lil’ girl. Can you, uh, stay here?”
Day tilted her head. “Meow?”
“Stay here.” Seymour looked around anxiously. “Maybe we can find a pen and paper? Somethin’ for you to write with? Can you do that?”
Day wiggled her front paws. “Meow.”
“Okay. I am taking that meow as a yes or at least a strong maybe.”
Sariel tilted his head. “It did sound rather confident.”
“So, uh. I gotta get some coffee or a bottle of vodka or fuckin’ somethin’ right fast. I’ll see if I can get some paper down there.” Seymour frowned. “Do you guys want anything?”
“I am fine, but thank you.”
“Day, uh, you want some milk?”
Day’s eyes widened. “Meow.”
“Is that not actually bad for cats?” Sariel asked. “As they mature, I believe they stop producing the enzyme needed to break down lactose products.”
Day scowled at him, her ears flattening as she let out a tiny hiss.
“Okay. That’s definitely kitty cat forI can have whatever the hell I want ’cause I ate a monster earlier.” Seymour scratched the top of Day’s head. “Oh, yes, you did, pretty girl. Yes, you did!”
Day immediately perked up. She purred and smiled sweetly, headbutting Seymour’s hand.
“You are spoiling her,” Sariel accused.
