I crane my neck to stare at the flying children, unsure whether to laugh or cry at the absurd sight.
Elois is circling the chandelier like a spinning top, while his sister is coursing across the living room at high speed, competing against an imaginary friend. I think they've both forgotten we're currently in the middle of a game of tag.
Well, they might as well. It's not like I can catch them right now, no matter what I do. I mean, the ceiling is about three stories high, so there's no frigging way I can jump high enough to actually reach them.
Ah, man, looks like I'm gonna be 'it' forever.
Not like I mind. I don't feel like running away from them, especially not in these oversized clothes. That sounds exhausting, and I'm already exhausted enough as it is from running after their shadows all morning. My legs have been killing me because of yesterday's high heels too, so really, no thank you.
Whatever people say, babysitting is a whole darn sport of its own.
Maybe I should get a job. A real one, I mean. If I'm not at home, I can't be tasked with supervising the children, can I now…?
Just like their AWOL father.
The guy disappeared earlier, after breakfast. Apparently, he's too 'busy' today to skip work. Something about important meetings with important clients and whatnot.
Sounded like a bore, to be honest.
Though I still believe the main reason he left is because he's a coward. He ran away with his tail tucked between his legs, passing over the duty of watching the kids to me. I refuse to believe he doesn't know how raucous his own children are!
Whatever. Let's not think about this traitor.
More importantly, when is nap time again? I sure could do with—holy shit!
"Elois, be careful!"
The warning leaves my mouth before I can understand what I'm doing, my body moving on its own as I sprint under the chandelier. The boy has tried to do some sort of somersault, only to lose his balance.
One of his wings bends at a weird angle.
You've got to be shitting me—
My heart skips a beat as I see him tumble down. Thank God I'm fast enough to catch him.
My arms aren't all that thankful, however. No, they're crying in pain. It feels like something's pulling on them, trying to rip them off my shoulders, and the sensation spreads to my elbows, too. In an instant, the intense pain radiates from my shoulders down my spine to my tailbone like a lightning bolt.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, that hurts like hell!
For a second there, I fear the impact has dislocated my arms. Or at the very least, damaged the ligaments. I've said it before: demons are heavy! And Elois is no exception.
"Tee-hee!"
Tee-hee, my ass!
"I'm it now!!!"
…Well, I guess that does count as catching him. Quite literally. Oh damn it, I gotta run all over the place again now. Fuck my life.
***
I'm slouching on the couch like a dead man, and sure feel like one, too.
My whole body aches from too much exercise, and darn, I think I'm discovering muscles I had no idea existed. And that's coming from someone who's been required to go through hunter lessons, aka a special regime-like training that makes you feel like puking your guts out, every goddamn day of his life for the past two decades.
Being useless at sensing spiritual beings is, apparently, not an excuse to skip the 'common' training for hunters, although it seems like that rule has ever only been applied to me.
Strange, isn't it? Well, whatever.
The point is, babysitting kids is somehow more tiring than any drilling I ever did. Like, seriously, I'm so exhausted I'm about to drop dead. I want to lie in bed and become a starfish for the rest of the day, thank you.
A crashing sound snaps me out of my inner grumbling monologue—I've been at it since half an hour ago after being shooed away from the kitchen by the kids. I'm not allowed to follow them while they prepare a snack for themselves, it seems. I don't want to see any more demonic food today, so that works well for me.
Another crashing sound, and I wince. No. I haven't heard anything!
But it becomes more and more apparent that something's off in the kitchen. I notice a staff member eying me as she waters the potted plants, as if silently asking me if I shouldn't go and see what's going on.
Girl, if you're that curious, how about going there yourself?! You're a demon, too! I'm sure you won't feel like throwing up your morning toasts if—
CRASH, BOOM, SHHH.
...Aaaah, fine, I get it! I'm going, I'm going!
I let out a desperate sigh. The respite has been welcomed, but far too short! Still, I've got to see what's going on. I don't want the kids to actually burn down the house under my watch, or Jordan might as well ask for a divorce and throw me out. I don't want to go back to that hellhole that is my family's house, so…
You gotta do what you gotta do.
First things first, I knock on the door.
"Is everything alright in there?"
"Y-yes!" Ellena answers.
That could have sounded convincing, hadn't it been for Elois's awful coughing fits in the background and the smell of something burning wafting to my nose. Just saying, it stinks.
"…"
What the heck have these two been up to?! They've told me they were going to take something from the fridge! Not use the goddamn oven! I'm not yet irresponsible enough to let little kids cook without supervision; that's a recipe for disaster!
"I'm coming in."
"No, wait!"
I don't listen. No matter how much I want to gain brownie points with the children, there's a limit. So, I push the door open.
What greets me is a mess. And yup, traces of a fire and an explosion can be seen at a glance; the wall near the oven is charred black, and the fridge looks like it has seen better days. At least, there's no raging fire in sight, per se. As demons from a noble lineage, the kids probably naturally know how to extinguish a flame with demonic energy.
Well, it's better than the whole house burning down to ashes, I guess.
"Are you alright…?"
The children lower their heads in shame, and tears well up in Elois's eyes. Oh, please, no! I'm not even scolding you!
I pinch my lips and walk through the disaster. Amid the charred black, I can see white powder—the kids are even covered in it, and it clusters in their auburn hair. It looks like flour.
Ah, I see.
A flour bomb. That's probably what I've heard earlier. I've got no idea how they managed such a feat, but I'm glad the explosion was on a smaller scale. It could have been much worse.
Like, they could have blown up the whole kitchen, for example.
Considering everything, it appears they were trying to bake something. I can't tell what exactly, though. The red mixture doesn't inspire confidence. Gosh, is it blood? Maybe some entrail stuff?
Wait, no. There's a basket of strawberries that has survived. Strawberries? I frown.
Whatever. That's not important right now.
I kneel on one knee before the boy so we're at eye level, grabbing him by the shoulders. I feel him shudder under my hands.
"Hey, everything's alright; look at me. Do I look angry? No, I don't, right? I'm just worried you hurt yourself. You haven't answered me. Are you ok?"
And then, the dam bursts, and the kid starts bawling his eyes out. What?! Why?! What have I done wrong?! Why is he—no, not you, too, Ellena! Oh, please, why?! Why are you crying??!!!