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“No, thank you,” Adrian says archly. “I must admit, where I came from, that was illegal.”
“Smoking?”
“Yes. No cigarettes, no alcohol, no Halloween.”
“Ah, yes, the three most dangerous substances. Which crazy cult is that? The AFC, Anti-Fun Cult?"
Adrian ruffles. “It's not a cult."
“My bad.” Paimon faces the house and goes to ascend the porch. “It just needs a little TLC.” When he steps on one of the rotted steps, the wooden plank caves. Two handmade rocking chairs sit on the porch, and a porch swing suspended in chains creaks as the early winter wind blows. The pillars and window shutters are painted a light yellow.
They enter the house, and despite his Heaven-high standards, Paimon is impressed. There’s a wood stove connected to a gray brick wall, which seems to be acting as a rustic fireplace, and yet, there’s also a chimney on the opposite side, where the windows reach from the ceiling to the floor—but have since been boarded up.
With a snap and faint buzz, despite the dampness settled into the house’s bones, the electricity comes alive, basking the greens and browns of the rooms with burnished amber light.
Adrian examines the chimney, which has rain water in its mouth. Daisy sniffs the floor, giving it an experimental lick and sneezing.
It’s quite the massive layout, a glass coffee table in the middle of the dusty wood floor, a series of plush chairs and a couch with a green quilt surrounding it.
Looking deeper, he finds a bathroom and two bedrooms with queen-sized beds, smaller than the one in the motel. One of them has disturbed sheets, the top sheet folded back, but everything is layered with dust.
Whoever was here last seems to have left in a hurry, and seems to have left ages ago.
Nice.
And whoever it is apparently had good tastes, since despite the amount of overgrown weeds, shriveled from the cold, outside the window by the oak dresser is a wide expanse. A clearing with few trees. They must’ve cut some down.
Better yet, on the nightstand...
“Oh,” Paimon says adoringly, picking up a small porcelain jewelry holder, “look at this goose.”
Lauren?iu says, reserved, “Looks like we’re already at home.”
Later, by the fire, as the day darkens, and fireflies sway outside, they sit in the living room. Paimon went and tore off most of the boards, allowing the world to seep in.
Now, he sits on the couch beside Lauren?iu, who looks a little more relaxed. Adrian is in one of the chairs while Daisy, always fond of warmth, rests inside the fire.
“What will we do here,” they ask, “play Mom, Dad, Child, and Dog?”
Paimon folds his arms behind him, leaning back and crossing his ankles on the coffee table. “Looks like it.”
Adrian stiffens their shoulders. “I had a family. In fact, it was my life. It didn’t work out. I don’t need another one.”
“Understood.” He can’t say that he blames them, really. Family can be complicated. Family hurts. Family is Hell.
Before Lauren?iu’s quest is done, though, it might not be too painful to pretend.
Chapter 16
Lauren?iu
A week passes, and not for the first time, Lauren?iu wakes up to screaming. He jerks awake and lifts his head.
Adrian has a lot of nightmares.
He looks around. The bedroom he sleeps in is dim, perfect for a vampire, but telling by the sun through the gold-lined curtains Paimon installed, it’s midday. Midnight for them nowadays. It’s similar to the schedule he had before Anthony’s husband killed him. Work and feed all night, and then sleep all day.
A cold seeps into the room. It might be snowing. Frost ghosts over the windows.
