Air gets knocked out of my lungs, and I wake up in pain, blots of black filling my vision. Still, I don't panic. I've gotten used to this by now.
The damn kids are weirdly adamant about waking me up by pouncing on me like I'm some sort of pillow. I've tried to talk them out of this habit, but to no avail.
I'm going to end up with broken ribs one day.
"Good morning!"
"Good morning!"
The children laugh, perched on my chest and stomach. Guys, you're heavy.
"…Good morning."
They giggle and get off me, running to my closet. Another thing they love to do: choose what I wear. I let them be. My clothes are mostly white, gray, and black in color, so it's hard to come up with a mismatched outfit, unless they really try.
Once they're done picking up something, they scramble back to my bed and happily show off their findings. Today, it's black denim pants and a white shirt. Perfect.
It also matches their clothes, as they're wearing a black denim dungaree over a white blouse, but I don't comment.
I don't remember when exactly they started assorting our outfits, but I don't really care. If wearing similar clothes to theirs makes them happy, so be it.
Yeah, I must prefer handling shit-grinning smiles than crying fits.
Thus, I change into today's outfit, and we go downstairs to the kitchen. There, the TV is playing the news in the background, while Jordan's waiting for us at the kitchen island like usual.
Eating breakfast together is the custom; no matter how busy the man is, he'll make time for us in the morning.
He doesn't have to, really.
We sit in the usual sitting arrangement, with me taking place between the kids.
It has become a silent agreement, which I'm definitely not going to break. It has taken me everything to convince them to eat in front of me again, so I'm not gonna do anything that could make them feel ostracized a second time.
Anyway, the chef has managed the amazing feat of making their meals look slightly more normal in appearance. So, it's not as bad as before.
"How was your sleep?"
The usual question. Like always, I grunt a "Good, thanks for asking" before shutting the conversation between us. And like always, Jordan doesn't insist.
As for the kids, they eagerly recount what they've dreamed of. It's like listening to someone high on LSD talking about their trips.
It's always, let's say, interesting to hear.
From what I've gathered, because of their lineage, they've been traveling back and forth between the human realm and the demon realm, and things are quite different between the two. Yet, somehow, they merge both worlds in their sleep. It gives birth to some unusual landscapes with some unusual animals roaming the places.
"And then, the unicorn skewered the bad giant catfish with its horn! It went poof into a bunch of worms!"
Guess I'll be having nightmares tonight. Whatever. It wouldn't be the first time.
"Oh? Worms? What did—"
Jordan gets interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Oh, looks like someone's going to start working early today.
"Sorry, I need to answer that."
He gives us an apologetic smile as he puts down his fork and gets up. I wave him away. No need to excuse yourself. I feel better when you're not in the room, anyway.
I watch him from the corner of my eye disappear next door, going upstairs to his office. Bye-bye.
But on the downside, Jordan's absence means it has now fallen upon me to entertain the kids.
"So, those worms?"
The words reluctantly leave my mouth as I listen to one ear to the kids, and another to the news on the TV.
While Ellena describes in great detail the worms' appearance, I listen to the commentator talking about an ongoing case. Man, seems like a serial killer is on the loose again. That, or a supernatural being has broken the rule.
"The latest victim, Melissa Leroux, was found in the back alley behind the Central Mall last night. We would like to remind you to be careful and—"
My ears have started buzzing.
I hear my fork fall on the plate as I slowly turn my head toward the TV behind me. There, I see the picture of a familiar face, one I've seen just yesterday.
No way, that can't be.
My stomach churns.
That has to be a lie. A bad prank.
But the puffy ginger hair is unmistakable, just as is the bright smile.
My body moves on its own, and I get up, bolting toward the washroom. I barely manage to reach the toilet before emptying my stomach.
"Dad?!"
The kids cry out. I can feel the panic in their voices, but I'm too busy puking my guts out to think about it.
Melissa is dead.
My friend is gone.
I feel small hands on my back, and I hear the sobbing voice of Elois. Why is he crying now?
"Dad, dad, what's wrong?"
What's wrong? Nothing.
Where's his sister, though? I don't feel Ellena near, but I think I heard footsteps getting further away earlier.
Has she gone somewhere?
There's another violent movement in my bowels, and I throw up once more. There's a burning sensation in my throat. I've already emptied my stomach, and only bile is left now. It hurts.
It hurts so much.
"Dad, dad!"
Elois is sobbing louder now.
Oh, shut it. You're bursting my eardrums.
"Scott, what's wrong?"
Oh, Jordan's there. I guess Ellena went to fetch him. But what about his work? Wasn't he in the middle of a phone call?
Whatever.
Large hands wrap my shoulders, and a head falls into my vision, auburn strands of hair brushing against my cheek. The guy is crouching beside me, bending over to look at my face. Worry makes him frown.
Elois is still beside me, and Ellena has joined him in tugging on my shirt and crying with him.
Seriously, they're crybabies.
But I admit, I'm feeling a little lightheaded. I allow myself to slump against Jordan. He feels warm. Unlike the toilet bowl.
"Are you alright?"
That's a stupid question.
"…Yeah, I'm fine."
Hunters die all the time, after all.
So, why wouldn't I be fine?