This morning, the dining room is, well, let's say, quite lively. Maybe a little too lively, even.
"Scott," James calls me as he leans over toward me, holding onto the backrest of my chair, so as not to fall from his. His voice is low, barely audible, when he whispers in my ear, "Are you sure the kids didn't take a sip of your coffee behind your back…?"
Good question, and I have no fucking clue.
I bring my peanut butter toast to my lips and take a bite, watching the kids literally fly around the kitchen. Elois still has a bit of difficulty controlling his wings, but on the bright side, we're not in the living room, so even if he loses control of them, he won't be falling from high. He can't get hurt at this height.
According to Jordan, anyway.
In any case, a proverbial headache is already thudding at my temples. The children are overly excited this morning and can't stay still—they even wolfed down their breakfast in seconds. Seconds. But I guess, in a way, it's better for them to get rid of their flying urges before we leave for the festival. I don't want them to be racing up in the clouds, thank you very much.
"By the way, James." I munch on my toast, not even bothering to look at him. "How much longer are you planning to stay in my personal space?"
The vampire laughs, but goes back to sitting on his chair properly and sips on his tea.
Gosh, the day has barely started, and I'm already tired. To be fair, the shopping spree of yesterday has exhausted me, so much so that my leg muscles feel sore this morning. I don't understand how these brats can be so energetic after running for hours, and I mean hours, throughout the shopping mall. To make matters worse, these little gremlins happily dragged the adults with them in their search for the "most perfect gift ever" for my brother.
Maybe Jordan shouldn't have told them he wanted to buy something for Bryan. It had been hell trying to rein in their excitement.
Today, too, would be hell.
To start with, I feel like they're not all that interested in the festival anymore. No, they're a lot more excited about meeting Bryan again and giving him their gift, 'cause it's now theirs and not their father's. They've thrown the festival at the back of their heads.
…Perhaps I should warn Bryan that the kids are planning to pounce on him for a hug. They have only met him once, but he's already part of the family in their minds, which isn't wrong for once, considering he's my twin. Marriage of convenience or not, it still makes my brother their uncle.
Not another dad. An uncle.
Yes, I'm still trying to hammer that idea into their little heads, 'cause I feel like it went through one ear and the other last time.
Well, I'll know soon enough if they got the memo; we're supposed to meet with Bryan in just a few hours. He's busy in the late afternoon and evening, so we're planning to get lunch together and let the kids enjoy the outdoor activities.
There's a flash, and my attention is brought to the TV playing in the background. The news shifts, and the festival's location appears on the screen. People have yet to arrive, but it doesn't prevent the reporter from standing in front of the alleys filled with stalls and a row of snow-covered trees. The festival is held at the feet of the Kowell Mountain, between the junction of the forest and the last few streets of downtown.
The reporter wears a broad smile as he talks about the New Year's festivities.
Good food is on the menu, fireworks will light the night sky for the next three days, sliding trails are available, the braves can hike atop the mountain to enjoy the skating ring on the lake, or just enjoy the view, and so on and on; it's the usual rundown I've heard so many times before.
That is, until the reporter loses his smile.
"We would like to remind you not to lift your eyes off your children." Sorrow pulls the corner of the reporter's mouth down. "We are still in search of little Arabella and Louis, who disappeared three days ago. Another boy, Thomas, was reported missing yesterday, too. He vanished out of sight in the shopping mall when his mother got distracted by a clerk. If you see them, please contact the police immediately."
Pictures of a little girl and two boys appear on the screen. None of them seems to be older than ten.
Suddenly, I'm not so hungry anymore and put my toast down on the plate as the reporter continues, "Children are quick, and one second of inattention can lead to disaster. If you notice a lost kid in the crowd at the festival, please swiftly alert the security guards. We, as adults, have the responsibility to watch over the kids. Thank you for your attention."
"Three missing kids in the span of a few days?" James comments with a frown. "That's weird."
"They're not missing anymore." Jordan's voice resounds, colder than I've ever heard it before. My body instinctively tenses as I look at the demon. His jaw is clenched tight, enough for his lips to be drawn into a taut line. "They've been found."
"Not alive, it seems," Jonathan drowsily adds.
"What do you mean…?" I hear myself ask, even though the meaning of his words couldn't be clearer: the missing children are dead, and bodies have been found. The authorities have recovered three small corpses, or whatever is left of their bodies.
My stomach churns.
"The government's dogs are probably waiting for the festival to be over before announcing their deaths," Jonathan continues, half-sprawled onto the table, poking a tea spoon. "You don't want to create panic, and if I have to guess, the kids didn't have a normal death. Although being killed by your peers is not exactly what I'd call normal, either, but anyway. You get the point." He closes his eyes and mumbles, "Depending on the bodies' states, these mutts might also want to spare the parents."
"They've called a corpse specialist." Jordan sighs. "They want to restore the bodies as much as possible before calling in the parents. The specialist is on the other side of the country and has to finish his business first before coming over, so it's going to take a few days."
"The bodies are that mangled?" Jonathan clicks his tongue, scowling a bit more.
"It seems to be the work of cultists."
Bile surges in the pit of my stomach and up into my throat, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. Cultists are insane fools who practice banned rituals. I don't even want to imagine the state of the bodies. It'd be enough for any parent to lose their mind.
"With that said," Jordan pats my shoulder, and I lift my eyes to look into his, "I've been called over to investigate. I'm sorry, but I won't be able to attend the festival."
Don't be sorry.
Children are more important than any frigging festival out there. Since no calamity has hit us, these lunatics' rituals failed. It means they're going to try again, and if their first three targets were kids, the next ones should be kids, too. Their disgusting rituals are strict about what kind of sacrifice they require.
"Don't worry," I force a smile, "I'll watch over Elios and Ellena with James."
"Thank you." His hand lingers on my shoulder a bit longer. I catch a glimpse of the leather bracelet on his wrist—it matches mine. The kids had been adamant yesterday about all of us getting one, including James and Jonathan. But only mine and Jordan's are a perfect replica of each other.
As if our wedding rings weren't enough.
Time ticks, and whether Jordan likes it or not, he has to leave at some point. He eventually releases my shoulder, ready to go meet whoever is in charge of the case.
I watch his back disappear as he closes the door behind him. Seconds later, I hear another door being opened and closed. He's left the house.
The kids are still flying around the dining room, and I slowly lift my eyes toward them.
Deep down, I can't help but think of the murdered children and their parents. Now, I can imagine a little too well how devastated they're going to be at the news. Even if the government's agents restore the small bodies and hide the cruel and gruesome reality behind their deaths, the losses remain.
Scott, don't think about it.