I'm frozen in place, unsure what to do; somehow, Jordan has fallen asleep, his head resting against my shoulder. His breathing is even and shallow, while his third eye has finally stopped bleeding. There's still a faint trace of dried blood on the bridge of his nose, however.
…It's the first time I'm actually seeing him asleep. Even when we share the same bed, he wakes before me.
"So, you do sleep…"
A scoff leaves me. Am I stupid or something? Of course, he sleeps.
Only a few demon species don't need to rest, and they're usually the type of beings whose brains aren't exactly of much use, like newborn ghouls. Unlike them, Jordan has a brain that he uses a bit too much. He might not need to sleep as much as me, but he has to once in a while.
Regardless, it's a strange sight.
Now that I've actually taken the time to observe him a bit more, I'm realizing his usual neat appearance isn't so neat anymore. As always, his long hair is tied at the nape of his neck, but a few strands have gone astray, and he's wearing the same clothing as yesterday's night. He hasn't taken the time to change before going on a search for me and James, it seems.
…Has he even gone home since my disappearance? I'm not sure.
And I don't think I want to know, deep down.
Shifting my attention back to the waiting room, I do my best to ignore the weight on my shoulder. Instead, I fiddle with my phone. Jordan's been kind enough to bring it to me. I haven't had the time to open it yet, though—I've been too busy trying to pacify a certain demon about my overall health.
Anyway, I've got time now.
More importantly, I need to keep my mind busy for as long as James undergoes that surgery, or I fear the thoughts that might pop up in my mind in the meantime.
I hesitate a second, then swipe the screen open.
The moment I do, I notice the 99+ notifications, and my mouth twitches. One third is from Eve, and the other two-thirds is from Jordan.
I skim through the missed calls and text messages, unsure whether to laugh or cry. There are way too many, and I bet there would have been many more hadn't they noticed my forgotten phone on the counter of the bar.
After clearing all the notifications, my thumb lingers near the screen.
…Should I? Or should I not?
Something about the case has been bothering me, and that guy might just have the answer. It's just that I don't have the best relationship with my elder brother.
Not on the same scale as these scum half-siblings of mine, of course, but…
Does Bryan even know I've been married off? I doubt Miria or our father has told him. He has already more or less cut off contact with them and only talks to our father when absolutely necessary.
Logically speaking, though, he probably has heard about it from others by now, considering how famous I've become with that little stunt of mine.
—Maybe walking down the aisle in my underwear truly wasn't such a good idea, after all.
Well, whatever. What's done is done.
In any case, Bryan works for the government and handles sensitive data about otherworldly beings and hunters, from what I recall. With this line of work, it'd be strange if he hadn't come across the news or at least rumours about this legendary wedding of mine by now.
Allegedly, his department is also monitoring clans and such, keeping an eye on what's happening in our society—it's not like they're very subtle about it, either. Weren't there low-ranking government officials at my wedding alongside the political figures or something?
Not like these guys actually intervene in our affairs, as long as it doesn't affect theirs.
So, Bryan should know a thing or two about the vampire clan's stifle. I know Jordan has been in touch with a government official, but I don't know to what extent they've shared their information with him.
But what if my brother knew more? This one has always been good at gathering intel. A little too much, even—now that I think about it, it was hell trying to hide my ability from him when we were younger.
That aside, the thing is: will Bryan even be willing to answer my call?
Hard to say.
We haven't talked in over two years, and I'm not even sure his phone number is still the same. He could have changed it, for all I know. I wouldn't be surprised if he did, just to avoid being called by our dear stepmother. But maybe he hasn't.
I still remember his number.
So, should I…?
"—What are you thinking about so deeply that you haven't noticed us approaching?"
Eve's voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I lift my gaze to meet hers. She offers me a bright smile, one so tender I can't help but avert my eyes. Girl, keep that kind of gaze for your lovers, not me, thank you.
"How is James…?"
"He will live." It's Lucy who answers me. "He's quite the tenacious lad, I've got to admit. His heart was badly damaged, and he certainly wouldn't have made it without your blood. You did well to feed him."
How many times did James say he was fine again? That goddamn liar. I'm surrounded by liars.
"Thank you."
That's all I can say to Lucy.
"No problem."
The angel lets herself slouch on the sofa in front of me, and Eve very naturally sits on the armrest beside her. Now, splatters of blood also dot her cocktail dress; I wonder if it can be cleaned. The light-pink dress does appear pricey. Well, she can always send the bill to James later.
"Gosh, I'm dead tired now," Lucy whines, drawing my attention back to her, just in time to see her turn around and snuggle against Eve's thigh. She wraps her arms around her waist. Wait, huh, aren't they being a little too intimate?
"Sorry, sorry, I know you had a busy day, but it was an emergency."
"Don't worry about it. Complicated surgeries right after waking up are just a little mentally draining, even for me. Damn, I need a nap."
"My thighs make good pillows, you know?"
"Yes, yes, I know, and I'll require their services tonight. And maybe tomorrow too. You overworked me today, dear."
"Oh? And here I was planning to overwork you again later. Don't tell me you're too tired now?"
"For you? Never."
…Are they flirting? A demon and an angel? The fuck. Since when have these two species gotten along well enough to allow this kind of—
"Scott, you're making a funny face."
I wonder why. Angels and demons are notoriously known to hate each other's guts, and even the outside world has depicted them as such.
Although, admittedly, I shouldn't pay much heed to what they say, seeing how they elevated angels to be the good guys, when they're no better than demons. They've just taken our side during a war some two thousand years ago for some obscure reason, but that seems to have been enough to put them on a pedestal. The funny thing is that, before the allegiance, they've done far worse than the devils depicted in some books.
—History is written by the victors, and what is read in history books should always be taken with a grain of salt.
Right… Maybe, and just maybe, the relationship between these two species isn't as bad as they say. Or these two are oddballs. Either way, it doesn't concern me. James is safe, and that's all that matters to me. If he had died, it would have left a bad taste in my mouth.
"Oh, right," Lucy chuckles, eying me while still snuggling against Eve's thigh. "Would you like me to take care of those marks on your wrist?"
"No, thank you."
If I can avoid making a deal with an angel, I certainly will.
People are often mistaken about them: their kindness isn't free, and it never was. It's just that, unlike demons, who are upfront with the price to pay, these guys are more cunning about it. I don't know what price the miracle she performed on James will be, but it seems like Eve will be the one paying it.
As a matriarch, she's old enough to know what she's doing and strong enough to shoulder whatever the price is. Hopefully.
As for me, I'd rather sell my soul to someone whose intentions I know than to someone whose plans are unknown. So, sorry, but I'll keep these cuts on my wrist, thank you.