Sariel ignored him and the door he guarded, opting for one markedPRIVATEin big gold letters. He touched the doorknob, waited, and Seymour thought he heard a click.
Hard to be sure over the music thudding through the walls.
The door opened then, revealing a pitch-black hallway.
Great.
Wonderful.
Nothing fucking creepy at all.
Sariel brought Seymour’s hand to his lips, pressing a firm kiss to it. “Fear not.”
“That obvious, huh?” Seymour grimaced.
“I can hear you clenching your teeth,” Day whispered. “It’s squeaky.”
Seymour sighed.
Sariel ushered them inside the hall so he could shut the door behind them.
Seymour didn’t have to suffer the darkness for long because Sariel’s halo appeared, casting a warm, golden glow around them. At the end of the hallway was another door, and this oneopened into a smoky club, the thick haze cut only by red neons and the piercing spotlight beaming down on the main stage.
The light followed a tall, lithe young man with pale white skin and a shock of neon blue hair as he climbed the pole at the end of the catwalk. He was wearing nothing but glitter and a sly smile, contorting himself into positions that made Seymour’s back ache just thinking about it.
Thick green tentacles descended from the ceiling, curling around his body and spreading him like an offering. The young man’s expression softened blissfully, his moans audible over the music, and oh—the tentacles were moving between his legs and…
Yup.
That was a thing that was happening.
Sariel didn’t seem to notice or care about the young man’s nudity or the live tentacle sex, as he was focused on getting Seymour over to the bar. The light of his halo had faded but not vanished, and Seymour noticed then that their entrance had already gathered a lot of attention.
Probably because Seymour and the blue-haired man on stage were the only humans here.
Seymour couldn’t begin to name the monsters that filled nearly every seat in the house. There was some sort of green half-human and half-kangaroo man, Bigfoot’s cousin, a lizard with six arms, and more. It was impossible not to stare, and he was sure he looked ridiculous right now—stumbling over his feet as Sariel dragged him along, like a kid getting pulled through the candy aisle by an impatient parent.
Not that anyone or anything here looked particularly tasty.
Well, other than the beautiful angel still practically carrying him to the end of the bar.
And yes, the whole place smelled of spicy chicken wings, sickly sweet perfume, and the distinct yet oddly inviting aroma of fried pickles.
Sariel sat, urging Seymour next to him. “You really should stop staring.”
Seymour grimaced. “Sorry.”
“The large furry one didn’t seem to be a fan.” Day hopped down to perch on the bar in front of him. “He was—No! Don’t look!” She waved her paws. “I just told you he didn’t seem to like it.”
Seymour kept his eyes trained forward. “Yup. Got it. Yeah. So, let’s get to work on that plan of mine. How about?—”
“Whatcha havin’, gents?” a booming voice asked.
Seymour looked up.
And then up.
At an anthropomorphic grizzly bear with small deer antlers wearing a pair of tight jeans.
