“Technically, all words are made up if you think about it.”
A few more doorways and another hallway brought them to another storage room packed full of boxes, statues, and an assortment of fancy paintings. In the middle of the clutter was a large wooden chest.
Day ran up to the chest. “This is it!”
“All right. Awesome!” Seymour patted Sariel. “You can put me down now.”
Sariel frowned, but he gently let go of Seymour. “We should move quickly.”
“Why? The monster police gonna show up?”
“No, but the owner of this establishment may not be pleased with the damage we caused.”
“Technically, it was the rebel assholes who did that.”
“I do not think Mr. Kalt will care.” Sariel picked up the chest and then tucked it under his arm. “We should leave now.”
Seymour reached for Day, herding her up on his shoulder. “Okay, back out the way we came?”
“No.” Sariel gently wrapped his free arm around Seymour, and his eyes glowed brightly. “Hold on, please.”
Seymour was immediately blinded by a bright light, and he squeezed his eyes shut. When the light faded, he slowly peeked to discover they were back at Sariel’s house. “Oh, here again, huh?”
“Yes.” Sariel set the chest on his kitchen counter before turning his attention to Seymour. “You are injured.”
“It’s fine!” Seymour groaned. “Look, we gotta get that thing back to the twins, yeah?”
“After I have seen to your injury.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Day hopped down, peering around the house. “Is this your home?”
“Yes. Please make yourself comfortable while I tend to Seymour.” Sariel nodded as he urged Seymour into a bedroom.
It was furnished much like the rest of the house, with gray linens for the bed, an equally drab rug, and plain curtains. The bathroom was white on white with a big tub, a standing shower, and two sinks. The only hint of personality here was a ceramic toothbrush holder covered in constellations.
There were no toothbrushes though.
Maybe angels didn’t have to brush.
Sariel helped Seymour sit down on the toilet, saying firmly, “I will help you remove your shirt.”
“Tryin’ to get me naked?” Seymour teased, hissing softly as Sariel eased the shirt up and over his head.
“No, I am trying to assess your injury,” Sariel said, setting the shirt aside.
“Assess away.” Seymour looked at his shoulder and grimaced. It was swollen, and a bright purple bruise had already blossomed across it. “Don’t look too bad.”
“Are you in pain?” Sariel frowned as he lightly ran his hands around the bruise.
“I’ve had worse.” Seymour smiled. “Definitely the first time I ever got thrown through a fuckin’ wall though.”
Light glowed beneath Sariel’s fingers, oddly warm and soft, and he continued to gently caress Seymour. “Hold still.”
“Yes,Daddy.”
Sariel’s lips twitched up in a small smile.
