My brother, that poker-faced fucker, is acting as though he hasn't just dropped a bomb—a nuclear bomb at that—and calmly sips on his wine.
Dude, hello? What the hell am I supposed to do now?
Jordan's and Eve's questioning gazes are burning into my skin. I don't know what to say. So, I imitate my brother and sip on my wine, too. I know I said I'd slow down, and I can feel my thoughts getting tangled, but what else am I supposed to do? It's Bryan who's throwing oil into the fire. He should be the one to extinguish it now, not me.
Yeah, I'm not going to clean up my big brother's mess.
Nuh-uh. Not my job.
Gosh, my head's pounding.
"Scott," Jordan calls me for the nth time tonight. I shrink. Can I pretend to be deaf? Yeah, I'm gonna pretend to be deaf. It's fine. I can be deaf. Miria threw so many ashtrays at my head, it wouldn't be surprising if my hearing got damaged. "Mind enlightening us a little?"
Yup, I mind.
But it's not like I can ignore my hubby forever.
It's just that the floor is swirling, and the carpet seems alive.
"My brother doesn't have the best alcohol tolerance out there," Bryan hums. Bro, you're my twin. Your alcohol tolerance should be shit, too. Our DNA's supposed to be identical or something. It's not fair if alcohol doesn't affect him the way it affects me. Not fair at all. "And he's been drinking quite a bit. I think he's on his fourth glass already?"
Wait. It's the fourth? Where have the three others gone to? My stomach?
I frown. I can't remember.
Either way, I catch sight of Jordan pushing the wine bottle away. Like, toward Eve, far from me. Pal, the damage has already been done. So, who cares if I drink another glass? I'm gonna be hungover tomorrow, anyway. And I kinda need one more drink or two not to go crazy at the absurdity of the situation, y'know? The wine helps keep me sane. Somehow.
"Drink some water," Jordan says when I lean over to pick up the bottle of wine—the guy snatches it from my hand and directly tosses it to Eve. Oi, that's a cheap shot. "Your head is going to explode tomorrow if you don't." He pushes a glass of water toward me. When did he get that? He hasn't left my side these past few hours, has he? "Here. Drink it."
I stare at the water.
My hand tickles.
"Jordan, stop caressing my hand." My tongue is moving on its own. "It feels weird."
"How so?" Jordan chuckles.
"It's like ants are crawling on my skin. Or worms are crawling underneath."
My husband's smile freezes. Ah. Perhaps I shouldn't have said that.
Whatever. I take the glass of water and take a sip. It's refreshing.
"Anyway." Eve claps her hands, and I snap my head toward her. She peers at Bryan with a faint, mischievous grin. But her eyes are tender. They always are. "Would you mind telling us about that blunder of yours? Only if you want to, of course."
She's giving a perch in case Bryan is second-guessing himself, huh? And that's despite having a hunch of what my brother meant by being the one to have made a blunder. Still, she waits for a clear explanation and doesn't push the matter further.
Jordan does the same.
The silence stretches. It's only interrupted by the sound of Bryan taping on his glass of wine. Then, a stinging pain shoots through my bottom lip. Huh? Why?
Ah, looks like I bit it.
The iron taste spreads in my mouth. It's a dire reminder of how different Jordan and Eve are from the people I've known all my life. Unlike those jerks, they're both overly considerate and far too kind. It feels unreal.
Maybe I've been dreaming these past few months, and everything that has happened up to now is just a figment of my imagination. Maybe I'll wake up to the usual nightmare tomorrow.
That'd make more sense.
There's something warm on my lips; it snaps me out of my thoughts.
A slight pressure, and I lower my eyes down to Jordan's thumb wiping off the blood.
"Be careful," he says in that soothing voice of his. I can only answer with a nod. "Don't bite your lips, alright?"
"I didn't bite it on purpose." It's a mumble, but it's the truth. I only noticed I was chewing on my lip when it started to hurt. "It's just a small cut; don't make a fuss over it."
Well, he makes a fuss over it, anyway.
A soft laugh echoes, and I glance at my brother. He's smiling.
"You know," he starts. "Miria has never once done anything good for us in our lives; she's been nothing more than a poison. But I guess she did do one good thing in the end."
I blink. What is he getting at?
"So," he sighs and doesn't delve further into the previous matter. But I guess he doesn't have to. I'm of the same mind; marrying me off to Jordan was probably the kindest thing she's ever done for me. "I'm thankful that you two are trying to play dumb, but you don't have to. Your true forms have told me everything that I need to know, although I'd request that what I'm about to say remains between the four of us."
It should. Lucy's dead asleep, and Jordan and Eve aren't the kind to open their mouths and blurt out things they shouldn't. They know how to keep quiet, unlike me.
"Of course," Jordan nods. Eve also nods. "All who are important to Scott are to us, too. We won't go around spreading rumors that could put you or your brother in danger."
Sometimes, I hate how straightforward Jordan is.
The butterflies in my stomach are painful—wait, I think that's not it.
Gotta hold the puke in.
The water isn't welcomed.
"Earlier," Bryan speaks, his voice steady. He doesn't show any sign of nervousness whatsoever. Tsk. So frigging unfair. Bro, how about sharing a bit of your stoicism with me, huh? "I might have misjudged you from your true forms alone, and told my brother to leave and move in with me. Let's say patriarchs aren't usually safe to be around. Anyway, long story short, I got stunned by everyone else's true forms, and Scott realized that I'm also a Seer, making the both of us Seers." Neither Jordan nor Eve has a strong reaction to it. They just nod. Hum, guys? Both of us. Seers. Shouldn't be possible. I've freaked out about it, so why aren't you? "That's something that should be impossible to begin with, but here we are, and we—!"
"Impossible?" Eve cuts him. Bryan frowns. I frown, too. "It's not impossible. The probability is low, as the conditions for it to happen are hard to come by, but it can happen. It happened in the past, so I don't see why it couldn't have happened again."
Wait, sorry what?
"Eve," Jordan shakes his head. He looks a tad exasperated. "It happened so long ago that it isn't even recorded in the hunter's archives. They wouldn't know about it."
"It didn't happen that long ago!" Eve refutes, a scowl on her face.
She looks like Ellena when she does that.
"I know your conception of time is warped," Jordan bites back, "but three thousand years is a long time ago for humans. They forget things after a decade, never mind thousands of years."
"Even so…!" Eve pouts. It's almost cute. But Jordan has a point. I think our records go up to a thousands year ago…? Then the rest, it's hearsay hunters wrote down, or knowledge they gained later, but didn't exactly experiment for themselves. That's why the records are a mess and have been misleading me. I mean, nothing writing in the archives makes sense about Jordan's and Eve's species. It's a bunch of lies.
"Scott." Bryan's mouth twitches. "How old is your husband?"
Dude, I don't know; these geezers never told me their ages. Oh, right, but even if I don't know per se, I do have a bit of a timeline, thanks to what they said last time. "Dunno, but he's at least older than the current demon king…?"
Ah, my brother has dropped his glass of wine.
It shatters.
Great. There's wine everywhere on the carpet now.