Tic, toc.
Time seems to pass awfully slowly, and I can't tell whether it's been a mere few minutes or a dozen since I woke up.
Anyhow, I can't stay cooped up in Jordan's bedroom forever, so I eventually get up and leave the room to go downstairs.
It's not like staying by his side will hasten his recovery, anyway.
For now, let's check on James and the children.
Eve should be arriving soon, too. She's been popping up around dinner every day since Jordan fell asleep. She doesn't stay for long, but she makes an act of presence regardless of how busy her schedule is—it's apparently even more packed than Jordan's, from what I've gathered.
Well, to be fair, a prosecutor in charge of special cases couldn't have it any easier than a special investigator, could they now? Not to mention that said prosecutor sometimes gives a helping hand to the investigator in question, and vice versa.
If there's one thing I've learned about these two, it's that they're workaholics through and through. No wonder they get along so well.
"Oh, dear, you look about to drop dead."
The snarky comment draws my attention to my left, where James is sprawled on the couch, dark circles etched deep under his eye sockets. I know he's a vampire, but his skin is definitely too pale to be of a healthy color, even for his kin.
…Buddy, look in a mirror first before speaking, will you?
"Where are the kids?"
"In the kitchen, preparing a cup of tea for me 'cause, apparently, others aren't allowed to."
Wait, what…?
"Without supervision?"
"Scott, chill. It's cheap tea, so they're just boiling water in a self-heating kettle. Don't worry, they're not using the stove!"
I can't help the long, resigned sigh that escapes my mouth, and the clueless vampire throws me a questioning gaze. Shit, and they've just finished renovating the kitchen, too. Maybe if I hurry—
A loud bang resounds, and the walls tremble.
Dang it, too late.
"Holy cow, what was that?!"
The noise has startled James into sitting straight, his pupils elongating into vertical slits, almost like a cat. Someone's on high alert, now. Don't worry, pal, we're not under attack.
"Nothing." Oh, crap, my voice is icy-cold, isn't it? Well, whatever. "It was just the sound of your tea getting obliterated."
"Huh?"
Oh my, what a beautiful, dumbfounded face.
Thankfully, the kids have tried to make tea this time, and not a pie. So, there shouldn't be flour everywhere, right…? No, seriously, please, tell me they haven't touched flour today! Getting that shit out of their hair took forever last time!
***
You know what? I'm going to say it; I'm pretty proud of myself. I don't panic anymore when the kids cry themselves to sleep after making a blunder, just like today. I'm still not used to my shirt being covered in snot and tears, though.
But at least, the kitchen is salvageable this time. It's only the kettle that exploded, somehow. I've got no clue how the fuck they managed to do that, and maybe it's better that way.
I'm just glad they didn't burn themselves.
"These kids are a handful."
No, you don't say!
But despite the annoyance, I keep the sarcasm to a minimum. No, scrap that. Demons or not, they could have gotten hurt!
"That's why someone has to supervise them at all times. I think Eve told you, didn't she?"
"Well, sorry! I thought Eve was exaggerating!"
"Surprise, surprise, she wasn't!"
Guilt flashes across the vampire's face, and he scratches his neck, visibly unsure what to say next.
Alright, fine. I'll drop the matter. It's not like I was any better when I came to this house, to start with. Not like he needs to know that, of course.
Most importantly, I'm pretty sure he knows why they decided to prepare his tea themselves, even though the kitchen is supposed to be off limits to them—yes, that's one rule I took upon myself to add in this house; I'd like it if they didn't burn the kitchen down a second time, thank you. I like having a functional fridge that isn't the size of a garbage bin, y'know?
Ahem. That aside, it's just that neither of us has said aloud the reason behind the kids' odd behavior, nor do we plan to speak about it.
James is not dumb. He's flirtatious at times, and a little annoying at others, but he has a brain.
Telling him to refuse the tea offered by the staff members is tantamount to screaming in his ears that one or several dimwits in the lot are out to get him.
It's well-known in our society that vampires love their tea, as it's one of the few things they can sit back and savor without having to taste it through their food's blood. It doesn't do anything for their hunger or thirst, but I've heard the taste does wonders to put them in the mood to talk.
Tea is like candy to them, I guess.
That said, the easiest and safest way to take James out would be to poison him with a potent toxin, possibly one that mimics the symptoms caused by the blood of the dead.
It could have misled us—after all, that poison is not all out of his system, or so we have let people believe. Lucy has, of course, cleansed every fiber of his being, and no trace of the blood of the dead remains in his body.
How? I don't know, and I don't care to know.
Angels' secrets are better left untouched. The myth of Pandora's box hasn't come out of nowhere, and I'm not stupid enough not to heed the story's warnings.
In any case, weakened or not, James is still the vampire heir. The culprit, or culprits, have to be cautious lest they want to lose their heads, and poison is the best way to go. Who would suspect a mere cup of tea offered by one of the host's staff members? In one possible future, James hadn't for sure, and the end result wasn't pretty.
These damn weasels…. Biting the hand that feeds them, eh? How cliché.
Now that I think about it, I wonder how Todd's investigation is going. Hopefully, he'll get his hands on them before long.
But for the time being, let's change the topic of conversation.
"So, any news from your home?"
"As far as I know, the situation hasn't changed since yesterday," James winks, a cold smile dancing on his lips. "The elders are, let's say, debating with the youngest generations, and it's utter chaos. I wouldn't be surprised if the brat party riots soon."
"…Aren't you worried?"
"Worried about what? The elders are elders for a reason, and if these idiots can't comprehend it, it's not my problem. They'll have to pay the price for their foolishness at some point; those who reject history are bound to repeat their predecessors' mistakes."
I can't deny that.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, we've been living in a relatively peaceful era, and people have grown too comfortable, forgetting the horrors of the past and glorifying things that shouldn't be.
The youngsters in the vampire clan are only one example; every youngling seems to have grown restless in pretty much all clans. It's a worrisome trend we've been observing for the past few years.
"Won't your clan head do something about it before the situation gets out of hand?" It's kind of his job, after all.
"Maybe at the last minute." James shrugs, appearing utterly unbothered. Dude, we're talking about your clan and your position.
"It seems a little irresponsible to me, though."
"Is it?"
The vampire quirks an eyebrow, and I raise mine in response. Go ahead, explain yourself.
"In my opinion, Sir Akerley is probably waiting to see how I'll handle the situation and Oliver; I wouldn't be surprised if he knew what was going on and turned a blind eye, just to test me. The geezer has a twisted mind, and it wouldn't be the first time he's done something like that. As long as he's the head, he'll keep watching my every move to judge whether or not I'm a good fit to lead the clan after he puts himself into eternal slumber."
"…Ah."
I guess I should have expected it.
"I can already tell he'll have a word or two about how demons saved my ass in the dungeon."
A scoff, and James shakes his head.
"What do you mean?"
"You know vampires aren't all that friendly with demons, right?" I nod. "It's because of some beef Sir Akerley has with them. We've been drilled with the mentality that demons are pieces of shit since a young age and aren't allowed to question it."
Well, that explains a lot.
"Although I'm questioning these teachings now."
James offers me a teasing smile, and I can only answer with a shrug. What can I say? My husband, his ex-bed partner, and their kids aren't your everyday demons. Of course, they would grow on you at some point, pal, and make you question the stereotype associated with demons. Even I am questioning it lately.