The morning news is bleak.
There's another missing child.
I can't finish my breakfast and push it aside, my throat tightening. The girl went missing at the festival. She was abducted near me, right under my nose, and I didn't notice.
I should have, but I didn't.
My bowels are just about to twist into knots when Jordan pats my shoulder. He leans over to whisper in my ear, "Don't worry, she's been found."
I freeze. Sorry, what?
The girl has been found…?
"I've just received an e-mail from the agents I'm in touch with. One of their own managed to find the girl before she could be whisked away. They replaced her with a shapeshifter. Anyway, we don't want to alert our targets, and only the parents have been made aware that their daughter is fine. They've been asked to play along, with the excuse of running the missing info to catch the culprit. It's not exactly a lie, either."
Jordan pauses, letting the words sink in.
The girl is alright. She's safe and sound.
Relief crashes over me like a tidal wave. My shoulders slump forward, and I let out a breath that I didn't even know I was holding. Thank God, she's fine.
"The point is, as long as the cultists don't realize something is off," he continues as he pulls the chair beside me to sit, "they should come pick up their package this afternoon or this evening."
"And I presume the agents are planning to ambush them when they have their backs turned?" Jonathan yawns, his misty eyes half-open. Jordan nods as an answer, and Jonathan snorts, "These cultists are quite daring, hunting for prey in the middle of a crowd."
That, I can't deny it. But it's also the perfect hunting ground. The excited kids are more likely to follow them without question, especially if the cultists tell them they're going to bring them to the security stall so they can find their parents.
At the same time, too much is happening all at once for people to realize something is wrong before it's too late.
"We're going back today, aren't we?" Jonathan hums, a pensive look on his face. "I could play bait, I don't mind."
The words don't match his expression. He looks utterly unbothered as he leans over the table to take a cup and pour himself some tea. It's like he's talking about the weather, and it's enough to make me doubt my ears. Yeah, right, it sounds like I had an auditory hallucination—
"Better prepare many traps than only one, just in case the ambush fails." Jonathan sips on his tea. Well, looks like my ears are working just fine. "My current appearance fits their taste to a T, so might as well try our luck."
"You're in no state to play bait," Jordan refutes without batting an eye. His voice held that kind of paternal authority hard to deny.
"Weakened or not, I can still handle measly humans just fine," Jonathan replies, a bit harshly. "But if it bothers you too much, my uncle can always accompany me."
James flinches beside me, choking on his tea.
I've got a hunch it's not so much because of the idea of taking on a child form and playing bait, but because his patriarch is calling him uncle, and sardonically at that. It's surprising how easily Jonathan has accepted his new status as the adopted son of a patriarch and a matriarch—from a demon family, of all things.
Or more accurately, it feels like he couldn't care less, now that the initial shock has worn off.
I'm kinda envious of his ability to adapt.
"Jonathan…" Jordan warns.
"Do you want to catch these madmen or not?" Jonathan rolls his eyes. "Even I am not all that amused by their antics, never mind people like you who have empathy for other species."
So, he does know he comes across as heartless when it comes to other species, huh?
"And to top it all," Jonathan adds, "Scott has been looking so out of it since yesterday morning that the kids came crying into my bed during the night, disturbing my sleep. I want my peaceful night's rest back, thank you."
Oh, so that's the real reason—wait.
The kids did what…?
I instinctively turn around, looking at the stairs. A moment ago, the children went upstairs to change into today's outfit—and chose ours, while they're at it. I hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary this morning. They had been their usual energetic selves.
Did they really wake in the middle of the night and go to their brother's room to cry…?
"Well," James wipes the tea smearing his lips, "I do think Sir Ak—"
He stops mid-sentence at the pointed glare his patriarch gives him. I mustn't laugh. The topic of the conversation is too solemn to laugh at James's face right now, but darn… It's priceless.
I wonder when he'll lose the habit of calling his patriarch by his title. It pops out now and then, especially when a serious topic is brought up.
"Erm, I think Jonathan has a point." James obediently corrects himself. "There could be more than a group of cultists tasked with finding suitable offerings, and while some of theirs go to retrieve the shapeshifter, others could be out searching for more children to abduct, just in case. The more offerings they have, the better."
That would be the logical approach, yes.
"The new year is just around the corner, too, and I wouldn't be surprised if they're growing frantic. They don't have much time left to carry out their rituals to fruition. If they don't succeed by the end of the weekend, they'll need to wait for the spring equinox."
Right. We might not know what rituals they're going for, but the vast majority of them have to be concluded at a peculiar time during the year. The new year is the best period, then come the equinoxes and the solstices. Considering the number of kids they have already sacrificed, I fear it's a ritual that demands days of offering before the end of a cycle.
Even if the girl on the news was saved, I fear we'll still discover a child's corpse soon.
"Whatever your reason, that would be putting you two in danger," Jordan grunts after a moment of silence. "There's no need to risk your safety. We have other options."
"There are only so many options available!" James points out with pinched lips. "You didn't mind when Eve played bait last time!"
"Eve is a matriarch, from what I recall."
Jordan arches an eyebrow, as if to dare James to argue against him. The next instant, James deflates and shuts his mouth.
Not Jonathan, though.
"And I'm a patriarch, from what I recall."
I wisely say nothing as Jonathan and Jordan engage in a staring contest. James, too, tries to make himself smaller. Even though our dear patriarchs are not purposely letting their aura out, there is still a tension in the air, one that makes goosebumps spread on my skin.
My instinct is screaming at me to get away.
"You're being emotional and not rational." Jonathan ultimately breaks the silence. He offers a sheepish smile as he adds, "Think about the most optimal option here. Stop worrying over nothing. I'm not easy to kill, and James has already proven that he's sturdy enough not to die at the hands of pesky humans, or has he not?"
Holy cow. Jonathan is merciless, and he sure as hell doesn't give a shit about twisting the knife. James's crucifixion and his wounded heart are a sore spot for both Jordan and Eve.
Me too, for all that matters.
Even if that makes his point come across, it sure as hell isn't bringing up good memories.
I slowly peer at Jordan, and my breath hitches; primal fear constricts my lungs. The shadow of his true form is shaking, shrouded in anger. Yet, his face shows none of his inner turmoil, and a polite smile hangs on his lips. His hazel eyes are also a pool of calmness.
The contrast sends shivers down my spine.
"Alright, fine," he concedes with a cold voice. "But not without a few precautions, and I'm not allowing any 'no' in that department."