"Already Saturday, huh…?"
"You don't like Saturdays?"
Ellena's soft voice draws my attention to my left. She's craning her neck to look at my face as I finish fastening the blouse she and her brother have chosen for me today—for the record, yes, my rib cage is currently throbbing in pain from their morning greeting.
"No, it's not that. I was just thinking that time moves fast."
It's not exactly a lie, as I feel like the days since Melissa's death have passed by too quickly. I don't exactly know what I was expecting, but I guess life won't stop just because my friend has died.
Also, and mostly, I can't very well tell Ellena that Saturday has now become synonymous with spending time with her mother, and that I'd rather not spend time with said mother. I'm not dumb enough to say such things to a kid who obviously idolizes her mother, or welcome pandemonium.
In any case, it's a 'me' problem. Eve isn't being nasty, per se, or anything else along these lines, but I still feel very much uncomfortable around her.
She has eight pairs of wings. Eight. That's not something I can easily dismiss.
…Well, it doesn't help that she transforms into a kissing demon whenever she pops up on our doorsteps. Her tendency to plant kisses on my cheek or pull me into a bear hug is putting me, let's say, ill at ease, and I don't believe I'll ever get used to it, either.
"Dad, what kind of games are we going to play today?"
There are sparkles in Elois's eyes as he grabs my hand, and his sister grabs the other. They drag me toward the door of my bedroom in sync. It's a routine that I've grown familiar with over the past two weeks.
"I don't know. We'll need to ask Jordan and Eve what they've planned for this weekend."
That's a white lie.
Lately, we've been playing a "game" that essentially serves as coaching the children about lying in a relatively subtle manner.
It's Jordan who came up with the idea, and we've been roleplaying criminals being interrogated and such. The goal of the game is to make sure the interrogator doesn't figure out what's written on our little card; the little secret we're supposed to keep hidden to the bitter end while still answering the questions.
—It's an easy task for adults. Not so easy for children, I have to say.
Because Elois doesn't know how to read yet, and Ellena isn't that proficient either, I've been de facto added to their team. I read them the card, and then grow quiet as they engage in a fiery battle of wits with their parents.
Spoiler alert: they have yet to outsmart them.
"Do you think we'll play that game again?" Elois purses his lips. "I don't like it much. We never win."
Right. Jordan's not going easy on them. Surprisingly enough, Eve isn't, either. They want the kids to learn how to conceal the truth about me. It's fine if they have a slip of the tongue in the house, as the staff is bound by a blood contract, but that's a whole other story outside of the house.
"Don't worry, I promise you'll get better, and you'll outsmart your parents soon enough."
Sorry, kids, but you'll have to play that game for a bit longer. Their ability to deceive others is directly linked to my safety, and not to sound pessimistic, but, well, I'm not very confident in their lying skills just yet.
***
I wipe out the wetness on my cheek, and Eve responds with a teasing smile. Ah, darn it. I've got a pretty solid hunch I've smeared her lipstick all over my face now… She's done that on purpose, hasn't she?
"Ellena, Elois," Eve's smile grows wider, "do you want to play with Uncle Todd today?"
From the corner of my eye, I catch the demon flinching ever so slightly. Looks like I'm not the only one who thinks playing with these kids is akin to some sort of hellish sport.
What Todd doesn't know, though, is that we're not only dragging him into today's game for the heck of it; no, he's our guinea pig.
The always considerate Jordan asked for my permission yesterday, wanting to see if the kids have learned a thing or two from our little game. He's assured me that Todd is a trustworthy and loyal subject of his, and that there should be no problem—according to him, Todd's an asset that I should have in my pocket, too.
Just in case something were to happen, y'know?
If there's one thing I've learned, it's that Jordan loves to worry, even if he doesn't show it on his face. Heck, the guy's overly concerned about my safety, even though he's a goddamn patriarch.
Still, I've agreed.
Honestly, at this point, I don't really care if one more person learns about my secret or not. As they say, the more, the merrier. Fuck it.
Anyway, the clueless Todd gets dragged to the living room by some very happy children. While he has his back on us, I exchange a glance with Eve and Jordan. Their eyes have lit up with some mischief, like kids about to pull a prank.
…Right, they're demons. No matter how many wings they've got, their fundamental nature hasn't changed.
"Ellena," Eve smiles sweetly as she approaches her daughter. "Have your horns grown bigger lately?"
"Have they?!"
"No, they haven't!" Elois purses his lips. "Mine are bigger!"
"No, they're not!"
Ah, here comes the bickering. These siblings get along well, oddly well even, but they're still siblings. They don't need much to start squabbling—I've seen it happen often enough to know how it'll end.
"Dad!" Here we go. "Who has the bigger horns?!"
"Kids, you're in your human form, I can't tell."
"But it doesn't matter to you! You can see our true forms! Tell uuuuus! Who has the biggest horns?!"
They make an angry pout, and I have to resist laughing. They failed the test spectacularly. So, I kindly smile and point at Todd beside them.
A second pass, then the children seem to realize their blunder at once, and an expression of horror appears on their faces. They turn around and frantically scream at the poor demon, "YOU DIDN'T HEAR ANYTHING, TODD!"
By now, Eve has difficulty refraining from bursting out laughing, her face growing red, while Jordan is hiding his smile behind a fist, also suppressing his laughter.
And honestly, I feel them.
Because, darn, Todd's face is priceless. It's usually stuck in a deadpan expression, so the bulging eyes and agape jaw are just chef's kiss. It's theatrically comical, and it gets even more comical when he lifts his eyes toward me.
Not gonna lie, my previously destroyed ego is getting healed a little. Thanks, Todd.
Feeling revigorated, I can't help but tilt my head toward the two old geezers, gesturing toward Todd with a hand, as if to say, 'See? That's how normal people are supposed to react! You're the oddballs for not even flinching after finding out, duh!'
They both respond with a shrug, and I roll my eyes. Meanwhile, the kids are about to burst out crying.
…Ah, damn it.
Sigh. I guess it falls upon me to comfort them now. They've done good, though. It took a little longer for the blunder to occur this time, and they've realized they've made one without having to be told.
Call me crazy, but there's some improvement here. Right…?