Page 44 of Angels Adore Astrology

Seymour cringed, hoping Day could get away and Sariel would—oh God, Sariel was a bloody heap on the floor with that giant man standing over him.

Fuck this.

Seymour felt under the bed for something, anything, and his fingers curled around a metal rod of some kind. It was a golf club, a five wood, he saw as he swung it up to block Godzilla’s sword. He was able to stand again and he put himself firmly between Godzilla and Day. “Fuckin’ fuck off, lizard lips!”

Godzilla snarled and took a few steps back, lifting the sword once more as he prepared to charge.

Seymour swung the golf club back, his eyes narrowed. He wasn’t going to go down without one hell of a fight, and this damn Godzilla lookin’ motherfucker had another damn thing coming if he—oh fuck!

Godzilla threw himself at Seymour before that train of thought could leave the station, and Seymour nearly dropped the club. Being hit by a car would have hurt less. The screech of metal on metal was miserable as their weapons collided, and Seymour trembled as he fought to push Godzilla back. It was like fighting a damn boulder, and he knew he was in danger of being overwhelmed.

Well.

Shit.

The chances of being killed were much higher now than Seymour would have liked, but still!

He wasn’t about to give up.

No, fuck.

Never!

Day yowled loudly, and then somethingpopped.

It was not a very pleasant sound.

Seymour didn’t dare look away to see what was happening, but then there was a blinding flash of golden light. He squinted, saw Godzilla flinch, and pushed with a renewed burst of strength. It didn’t move Godzilla much, but it was enough to create the space necessary to swing the club at his face.

A lot.

Seymour hit Godzilla over and over again with everything he had. Seeing the beast stumble only charged his efforts, and Seymour cheered when Godzilla collapsed to the floor in a heap.

“Yeah! You like that shit! Fuck you! Tiger motherfuckin’ Woods up in this fuckin’ piece! Wait, no.” Seymour paused. “Fuck, I really dunno any other golfers.”

Club still in hand, he quickly redirected his attention to the living room to check on Sariel and whatever happened with that weird flash of light.

The giant man was there, now on his knees and wheezing as Sariel choked him with one hand.

And Sariel…

Wow.

He’d had himself a little wardrobe change.

And body change.

Andface.

Oh fucking hell.

Sariel had grown in size to now rival the giant before him. Gone was his suit and in its place was a white loincloth. He still had wings, though they’d also increased in size and were covered in rolling, dancing golden flames.

His head was a massive sphere formed from countless golden rings, each turning and twisting around each other like the most demented armillary sphere ever seen by human eyes. And fuck, theeyes. Each ring was covered in them, as were Sariel’s wings, and there were even a few peeking out from his shoulders and sides. They were wide, unblinking, and glimmering like molten gold.

In the core of the sphere was a brilliant ball of light. It was too bright to look at for longer than a few moments, but it was an absolutely breathtaking meld of prismatic colors. It was every hue and also somehow none, ever changing and warping away as it continued to glow.

Every few seconds, the outermost ring slothed off and vanished only to be replaced by another in the neverending process of whatever the fuck was going on with Sariel’s head. As if that wasn’t disturbing enough, he noticed there were also tiny ripples in Sariel’s skin, as if there were dozens of angry worms writhing just below the surface.