When James finally comes downstairs, I'm munching on a plate of Alfredo pasta with chicken meat and broccoli. He looks at me with an arched eyebrow. Well, dude, you don't understand; Jordan's cooking is just chef's kiss.
…Darn, how come he's a better cook than any cook I've ever known? It doesn't make sense. He's a demon, not a human, and I've rarely seen him eat human food to boot! So how…? Oh, whatever, who cares. I'm gonna enjoy the food anyway.
"I see you've been busy while I was putting the kids in bed."
I ignore the sarcasm in James's words. Unlike you, pal, I need to eat three meals a day, and I've skipped two today, so give me some slack, will you?
"Anyway, did you clear up whatever you wanted to clear up with Sir Akerley?" he asks, standing still in front of the couches at a safe distance, almost as if he's afraid that if he were to get too close, he'd get burned.
Not like I don't understand why he's behaving like a reluctant kid, though. He has to either try to squeeze himself on the couch with Jordan and me or take a place beside his patriarch, that is, if he wants to sit in the living room.
Both options most likely don't please him much.
If Jonathan has difficulty coming to terms with Jordan's true status, so does James. The poor guy is just the heir of the vampire clan, not an elder, and not a patriarch like my husband or Jonathan. It makes it quite difficult for him to wrap his mind around his new standing in the household. He's been added to the family tree without being consulted, too.
As someone who went through the same thing, I sympathize with him a bit. But just a bit.
I slurp on a noodle, then finally consent to answer him, "No, we were waiting for you. But it looks like Jonathan has started to doze off. Mind waking him up?"
James narrows his eyes at me, and I respond with a cold smile. He's your patriarch, not mine. And I'm busy eating, anyway.
The message comes across, and he sighs. He peers at the boy on the couch before ever-so-slowly tiptoeing his way to him to shake his small shoulders. It takes a moment, but Jonathan comes to. He wipes his drool, glances at James, and scoots to the side to leave him enough space to sit, seemingly not noticing how stiff his heir is.
Well, looks like James doesn't have much of a choice now but to plop his ass down beside his patriarch. My condolences.
I swallow a mouthful of pasta before taking in a deep breath. I poke a broccoli with my fork and start, "You guys know that Seers not only see everything, but hear everything, too, right?"
Jonathan nods, while James's mouth twitches. "…Erm, no, I didn't know that bit."
"Well, now you know," I shrug. "So, with that in mind, I believe both Katherine and Miria spoke freely, thinking no one could hear them, most likely 'cause of a barrier of some sort or whatever. It's not like either of them knew a Seer would be eavesdropping on them, after all—huh? James? Are you alright?"
His complexion has turned ugly at the mention of Katherine, so ugly, in fact, that it's impossible to ignore it. Looks like he knows her, and they're not exactly best friends. How surprising…!
"…Katherine," he says through gritted teeth, "as in Katherine Woodclear, the head of the Woodclear family?"
Woodclear? That rings a bell. It feels like I've read that name just today—wait, I did. I drop the fork on my plate and quickly pull out my phone from my pocket, my hand trembling as I skim through the message my brother sent me earlier.
There it is. A village on the outskirts of Woodclear.
The phone screen cracks under my grip. Maybe it's just a coincidence, maybe I'm overreacting. But I don't believe in coincidences.
"Scott, you're bleeding," Jordan warns me, and only then do I realize a piece of the broken screen is embedded in my palm.
It's been a while since I last lost control of my strength like this. I might not be as strong as an otherworldly being, but I've still been trained as a hunter. I've just always been careful not to use the spiritual energy cursing trhough my body. I didn't want to give myself away back then. I mean, the useless son shouldn't be able to harvest his spiritual energy, however small.
Not like it matters nowadays.
"Sorry, I think I broke the phone beyond repair."
"Who cares about the phone? I can always buy you another one," Jordan comforts me. "Show me your hand instead."
I purse my lips, but still let go of the broken phone. I hear deep inhales and glance at the two vampires, who are doing their best to pretend the smell of my blood is not making their fangs itchy. They sure have good control over their thirst, don't they?
"…So." Jonathan coughs, trying to appear unflustered without much success. "Yes. It's that Katherine."
"What the heck is that old wrench up to now?" James scowls, his voice dripping with hatred. "Last time, she convinced my father to join their ridiculous dystopian dream, and our kind had hell to pay for their madness. I don't want a repeat of the vampire hunts, thank you."
"Huh…?" I stare at James, and he averts his eyes.
He still forces himself to speak and explains, though. "My father was a clan head, and he led our clan down a doomed path despite my brother's warnings and my opposition. After the hunters annihilated my clan—"
"—with your help," Jonathan cuts off.
"—with my help," James smiles stiffly, "I left for the main clan to report how out of hand the situation was. Let's just say that the right information never reached the elders' or Akerley's ears. They were under the impression that the hunters had gone ballistic without reason. Well, they indeed were attacking the innocent vampires, too, and not just the ones who had gone mad, but, y'know…?"
I blink, letting the words sink in as Jordan busies himself removing the pieces of the phone screen in the palm of my hand. He has let his nails grow into claw-like things to use as some sort of tweezers. Dude, you're way too dexterous; I could never.
"I did hear rumours that you weren't from the main house, so I guess, it checks…?" I say just to keep the conversation going.
"Yeah, I'm not. I was the heir of my father's clan, at first," James admits with a weak smile. "It's a sore point some elders love to bring up to shake up my position as the heir. I mean, no one really knows why I've been appointed as the official heir of the main clan, either."
James eyes Jonathan; Jonathan eyes him back.
No answer comes, though.
"That aside…"
I clear my throat, but the rest of the words refuse to leave my mouth. I can't bring myself to ask about the flocks of crow demons and the pack of direwolves that had gone berserk when my mom and I had been abducted. The timing is a little too convenient, especially in an area that wears the family name of an elder. How can I not be suspicious? Most of the time, a vampire's family names come from the territory their clan oversees.
Later.
I can always ask later.
For now…
"Miria was complaining that you were getting in the way of their smuggling. Ring a bell?"
"Their smuggling?" James repeats, a frown crasing his brow. He ponders for a few seconds before offering a tentative answer, "I don't remember interfering with any smuggling per se, but I've been investigating disappearance cases as of late. Homeless people, addicts, or socially inapt individuals have been vanishing without a trace for quite some time. It wasn't too obvious at first, and most of my aides told me not to care about them, but I don't like the idea of people getting whisked away in my territory, whether they're seen as the dregs of society or not."
Silence falls into the room, and I feel disgust rising in the pit of my stomach. I didn't think Miria could go any lower, but it looks like I gave her too much credit.
…Human trafficking, really? I think I'm gonna puke.