It's been ages since I last had the bed all for myself—well, almost all to myself. Jordan is, like always, sitting on his side of the bed. He's got a report on his thighs. It's a sight I've grown used to these past few months. Granted, he's never asked for permission to sleep in my bed, but I've never told him off, either, so I guess I've silently given my agreement at some point or something.
It's not like he's taking much space, anyway.
"Is something the matter?" He asks, glancing at me with a gentle smile on his lips. "You've been staring at my face for quite a while."
"Am I not allowed to stare at my husband?"
I roll my eyes before snuggling against my pillow. It's a little strange to be able to spread my limbs like a starfish. Usually, the kids' bodies get in the way. It's pretty quiet, too. Ellena tends to smack her lips in her sleep, and Elois often mumbles gibberish. The silence now feels heavy, but I refuse to think about it too much. I'm just not used to it anymore, and that's all.
"…Of course, you're allowed to." Jordan's smile deepens, and I arch an eyebrow. My question was rhetorical, pal. "But you usually don't. Is there something on your mind?"
Yes, a lot of things. Like the kids' advice to my brother, or Jonathan's scary sleeping habits. The vampire patriarch slept all day despite the bone-chilling cold, and by midday, he was so unresponsive that it gave me a scare.
For a second there, I thought he'd died.
There's also how the kids tried to rope in the heir of the lycan clan into the family. They crossed paths with him and decided they wanted the guy to be their uncle. We will need to talk about that bad habit of theirs one of these days.
Hm, I can't help but wonder if Jordan would mind adding a dog to the family tree—well, he might not, but James certainly would. I mean, after Brayn left, he complained about Lyon for a good part of the afternoon.
But all in all, these aren't the main things on my mind. No, there's something else I'm dying to ask and is keeping me awake despite the exhaustion. I'm just not sure I have the right to ask it. If Jordan had been a human investigator, the answer would have been a clear no, but he's not, so…
"Are you curious about my current case?"
Ah, is it obvious? I scratch my cheek, trying to hide my embarrassment. I know you're not supposed to ask about a case if you're not involved. That's basic common sense.
It's just that the victims this time are kids.
Young innocent lives that were extinguished in the most gruesome way imaginable, something that should never have happened. I can stay apathetic when we're talking about adults, but it's a whole other story when the crimes involve children, especially now that I have two kids to care about.
Whenever I close my eyes, Ellena's and Elois's faces overlap with the missing kids' faces I've seen on the news. There's a gnawing voice in my mind that keeps telling me it could have been them, even though I know that's impossible.
Ellena and Elois are demons; cultists are more often than not crazy humans. They're weak dipshits who worship the wicked powerful. They can't put their hands on strong beings like my husband's children.
They really can't.
And yet… The thought doesn't leave me.
"If there's something you want to know, just ask, and I'll answer to the best of my capabilities." Jordan's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. A chuckle, and he adds, "Don't worry, I don't have restrictions. I can talk to other people about the case at my own discretion; asking for permission every time I want to interrogate someone would delay things, and I rarely can afford those delays. I also trust that you won't divulge the details of the case."
"I'd need friends to talk about it first," I scoff, propping myself up to sit. I might as well make myself comfortable if we're to talk throughout the night. I can't fall asleep, anyway. "So, what did you learn today?"
"Nothing very useful, sadly." Jordan sighs and leans against the bed headboard. "It's definitely the work of cultists, but they didn't leave many clues. The victim's mangled bodies didn't tell us much about the cult's practices and rituals, and we couldn't figure out who they're worshipping. Knowing would have narrowed our options and oriented our investigation…"
Oh, come on! Couldn't these cultists be as careless as Oliver? It'd have made things easier on Jordan's side. I hate smart assholes who know how to hide their trails. They're a pain to catch, and I sure as hell want these monsters behind bars as soon as possible. I hate the idea of these freaks roaming the streets.
"That aside, the autopsy revealed one common denominator: the victims' hearts have been carefully removed. The rib cages were cut with surgical precision. Their hearts are the only missing organs. The rest are, well, how to say that…"
Jordan throws me a worried glance, and I feel a lump in my throat. What happened to these kids' organs is definitely something gruesome he doesn't want to tell me, and that's probably something I could do without.
Still, I ask.
I want to know.
No, I need to know.
"What about the rest of their organs?"
Seconds pass. Jordan clenches his jaw, and when he parts his lips to speak, his voice drips with seething anger and deep disgust, "They've been feasted on. They're incomplete, and human bites litter them. The bowels show signs that they were chewed on while the victims were still alive."
My stomach churns.
I'm not surprised, but hearing Jordan put words to what these madmen had done makes me retch. Cultists are the worst of the worst. At least, when we talk about beasts that feed on people 'cause they're gonna starve to death otherwise, they have a comprehensible reason, one I can't hold against them.
It's not the case for cultists.
The only saving grace is that it does tell us a bit of what kind of rituals they're engaging in, but I'd rather it didn't. If there's one thing I know, it's that ceremonies involving cannibalism rarely have a good ending for everyone implicated, and they almost always, always, include worshiping beings that would be better left asleep for all of eternity.
"…Are they able to identify the bite marks in a database or something?" I force myself to ask through gritted teeth.
"The government has one such database, but it's not very extensive. We usually take fingerprints, not bite prints, unless there's enough suspicion to ask the suspect for a dental impression."
Jordan tries to stay polite and not call me an idiot. It makes me snort. I know that was a stupid question. I'm just trying to make small talk, 'cause there's absolutely no way I can sleep now. Yes, it was a dumb thing to ask about the case before bed, but I wouldn't have been able to fall asleep either way.
"That aside," I brush the matter, "do you think you need my help?" Or more like, I'd like to help catch those bastards. "With my ability, I mean."
"I don't think your Seer ability would be very useful this time around." Jordan doesn't beat around the bush. "Well, maybe it could be. Cults are usually mostly made of humans, but the ringleader and some high priests are often not. It's just that we have no idea what we're looking for right now, so whatever you see might not help and mislead us instead."
"Fair point…"
I sigh and bury my face in my knees. It's been a while since I last felt this useless. I can't do shit when our targets are humans, and that's infuriating.