Chomp

“How the hell did they get through security?” Darius demanded, slamming his fists onto the table. The ministers murmured to one another, but never answered him.

As it stood, I hadn’t a clue as to what was going on behind the scenes. Thank god no one had been killed—what a wedding to tell the grandkids that would have been—but the damage had certainly been done.

A variant—fucking Plague Mask of all people—had managed to worm his way past our security systems and into our wedding. While I had alerted Darius before anything terrible happened, the vampire still managed to make off with some sort of small black case.

Darius had refused to fill me in on what it was. I wanted to say that the idea didn’t bother me; after all, I was no longer serving in active duty, and as a civilian, I technically wasn’t entitled to that kind of information.

But at the same time, he was my husband. I crossed my arms and waited for him to release more information.

“Winters, I understand your recent issues with authority and attitude regarding my wife. But that does not excuse the fact that you were in charge of security,” Darius hissed, pacing back and forth in front of them all.

The wedding hall had been cleared out for everyone’s safety and the ministers had taken up spots at the party table. The only people who remained were those directly involved in the Organization—the ministers, soldiers, Darius—and myself.

Part of me suspected I was only allowed to hear this conversation because I was the bride.

“Oh, you’re blaming this on me now?” Winters roared, getting to his feet. His cheeks rouged, a hilarious image considering the hippopotamus mask he wore. I hid a snicker behind my hand. “What are you laughing at?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Don’t draw attention away from your incompetence,” Darius snapped. “Agnes was not the person who just sent our work back weeks, maybe months. You’re not a complete imbecile—most days. Even you could understand where this puts us in terms of R & D.”

Well, that was certainly new. I took a seat on one of the decorated side chairs originally meant for one of my bridesmaids. Winters had snagged the bride’s chair.

The lucky ’bride’ stared up at my husband, his face livid. Winters’ lips twitched, like he was trying to think of some witty reply and coming up short every time.

“I understand full-well what that vermin stole. I still stand by what I said, though. This is not my fault. How was I to know that the creator of the security system was nothing but a cuddy who promoted nescience?”

I smirked. Winters always used odd words when he was frustrated.

“Really? Because the only reason he was able to bypass our systems was because he was a variant. You know… come to think of it, it was the exact variant I tried telling you guys about… Hmm. Isn’t that odd?”

The room went silent. Perfect.

“And,” I continued getting to my feet and slowly walking toward Darius, “As I recall, I was discharged because a certain group of people felt the only reason I was unsuccessful was because this variant had no part in some negligible behaviour—or some stupid crap like that.”

That’s right, Agnes. Leave them slack-jawed and slapped in the face.

“W-W-Well—” Winters stumbled, his voice still gruff.

“‘W-W-Well’ what?” I challenged, arm akimbo. “Does the door only swing the way you want it to?”

“No offense, Dear,” Darius muttered in my ear, “But you hardly know what’s going on here. It’s probably best if you stay out of this.”

Now that was a slap to the face.

“I know more about this vampire than any of you do. That makes me the most qualified in the room to deal with this!” I snapped, jamming a finger to my chest. “Me, you hear? I fought the damn thing!”

“And lost.”

My head snapped over to Winters and his disgusting smirk. It was high time his punchable face got what was coming to it.

“You little cowardly mother fuc—”

A firm hand grasped my shoulder, holding me back from tearing Winters in pieces. Darius’ lips were thin, his face drawn moodily. “I’ll meet you back at the apartment. We’ll talk after.”

Fuming didn’t even begin to describe how I felt. There I was, walking down the road at night, barefoot—in a fucking wedding dress. There was low, and then there was this.

The air had only gotten colder as the night went on, and the wind certainly didn’t help. While my legs were somewhat shielded by negligible flowing material, my arms were bare and covered in countless goosebumps that made my freckled skin look diseased. The only thing that could have made the trek home worse was rain.

Which started as soon as the thought crossed my mind.

I wasn’t even halfway home when the thunder boomed throughout the sky, imitating some sort of far off bomb. The drops fell down in buckets, soaking me to the core, but I still pressed on, changing my saunter to a power-walk. The hem of my dress caught on everything from stray branches to old bicycle racks, tearing every so often, along with my dignity.

“Daddy, she looks homeless. Should we feed her?”

My head snapped over to get a good look at the little shit that even dared to—I blinked. “Adrian?”

He stood under a giant green umbrella that had eyes on it to make it look like a frog. A little girl beside him that I could only assume was Izzie stood in a matching green raincoat and rubber boots. Her hood was up and covered her face, but I knew it had been her that uttered the words.

“A-Agnes?” Adrian took a step closer, tilting his head no doubt to get a better look at me. I mean, who wouldn’t want that? I didn’t have access to a mirror, but I could tell the curls had fallen out of my sopped hair, and my makeup was running down my face—no doubt, I looked like the very definition of a train-wreck.

“Oh, hey. How’s it going?” I asked, trying to sound as casual as I could. My teeth wanted nothing more than to chatter from the cold, but I refused to let them. “Crazy weather we’re having, huh?”

Adrian stepped closer to hold the umbrella over me. While the air was still frigid, the lack of drops did make it a bit better.

“What the hell happened?” he whispered, looking me over. “Oh god—are you okay? Did someone—”

A shiver ran down my spine, finally forcing my body to start shaking.

“Here, hold this.” Adrian shoved the umbrella into my vibrating hands and unzipped his coat. “Let’s get you inside somewhere, and you can tell me after, okay?”

I didn’t even get my mouth open before I felt his warm jacket slide around my shoulders. Immediately, the heat sunk into me, and I craved more. I gave the umbrella back to him but still hovered underneath it as I slipped my arms into the sleeves.

“Thanks,” I whispered, zipping it up and wrapping my arms around myself. It would take a while for me to get warm, but this was a good start.

“Daddy, what’s going on?”

Adrian froze for some reason, as if the sound of his daughter’s voice had shocked him. He recovered almost immediately though.

“Sweetie…” he began slowly. “This is my friend that I told you about. The one who really liked your cream puffs?”

“Is that what I am?” I asked, laughing dryly.

Izzie yipped with what I imagined was glee and sped toward me, her frog-themed boots splashing in the puddles.

“Izzie!” Adrian snapped, sliding a hand in between us. His golden eyes were narrowed in an uncalled-for glare.

His daughter paused and looked at him. “It’s okay, Daddy,” she said, sliding her hood down from her head. “I-I’m under the umbrella now!”

My eyes widened slightly when she revealed her face, but I tried not to let it show. A large, dry red splotch covered the left side of her face, giving that half a reptilian look. Her nose looked as though it had been cut from her face, her nostrils no more than two snake-like slits. Although something seemed off about her, I couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Staring closer, her eyebrows seemed… blurred? It must have been the weather playing tricks on my brain.

Despite all that, she beamed up at me.

“Thank you for buying my cream puffs!” she chirped excitedly. “They were the first thing I learned to make!”

She couldn’t have been more than seven years old, but her speech was far beyond her. I cracked a warm smile. “What can I say, kid? You make them really good.”

I looked back to Adrian, who was eyeing his daughter intuitively. Was he embarrassed? No, he wasn’t the type to care about appearances—then again, despite feeling otherwise, I didn’t really know him all that well. Still, it didn’t seem to fit with his personality.

“You look pretty in that,” Izzie pointed out. Her smile faltered, and she turned to Adrian, a pout forming on her lips. “But she’s cold... Can we bring her home?”

Her father hesitated as he looked down at her. But her brown puppy eyes won out, and he glanced up at me.

“Is that okay?” he asked bleakly, a weak smile crossing his lips. “I’m sure I can find some dry clothes for you, at least.”

“And we’ll feed you, too!” Izzie piped in, nodding her head. Her excitement was palpable. “Daddy will make a lot of food for you. He can even make chicken pot pie—from scratch!”

I laughed softly. “Chicken pot pie sounds amazing right about now,” I confessed, sighing. I turned to my friend. “Think you could, Adrian?”

My god, he definitely could.

Some pastry chefs limit themselves to only working out how to perfect doughnuts, cakes, and other various desserts. Fortunately, Izzie was correct, and Adrian was very well-rounded when it came to the kitchen.

“It tasted okay?” he asked for the third time once I had placed my cleaned plate back down onto the table.

“That’s it—if this friendship continues, I’m going to gain four-hundred more pounds than I already have from you,” I announced, placing a hand over my full belly. I was glad he had leant me one of his t-shirts; it might have been too long and a little baggy on me, but it would have been a nightmare to eat anything more than a few peas at a time in that stupid wedding dress.

Adrian smiled and looked down at his own plate.

“You’re not fat,” he assured me, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork. “Weren’t before, and still aren’t.”

“Ah, yes. Please—stroke my ego. I need this after such a shitty night.”

He looked up, his face drawn, and lowered his fork away from his mouth. “I realized after you handed it to me what kind of dress that was. I’m… I’m sorry.”

I have a dry laugh. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault that so much shit went down,” I replied. The urge to steal what remained on his plate was so strong that I had to look away. “But I guess it’s all part of my line of work. Hell—even off-duty, I still get vampires stealing military-grade secrets. Exciting, at the very least, right?”

He looked at me incredulously, his mouth hanging open.

“S-Sorry?” he blurted out, raising his brows.

“Technically speaking, I’m ’no longer an officer,’” I explained, sneaking a carrot from Adrian’s plate. He didn’t argue. “So, I can tell you a lot of stuff that my old coworkers couldn’t without repercussions. Well, probably.”

I snickered at my own joke. Realistically, what could they really do?

“So…?”

“So, long story short, my wedding was interrupted by this variant vampire—Plague Mask, I’ve dubbed him—who essentially dropped by to steal some… some thing that the military has been working on—I’m assuming it’s a weapon of some sort. I mean, no one was hurt or anything—thank god, right?—but it was still not the right date for that kind of stuff.”

Adrian blinked, slowly taking everything in. “But… Why was there a military weapon at your wedding, anyway?”

I shrugged. “Darius thought—Darius is my husband, by the way; you met him at the hospital—anyway, he thought that it would be a good idea to use our wedding-and-business-conference-masquerade-thing as a cover to receive some things. He’s… He’s a practical guy, you know?”

Even as I said the words, it felt strange. Was that what it was? Practicality? A shiver ran down my spine, but I shoved it aside.

“His own wedding, though,” Adrian remarked, frowning. “To each their own, I guess.”

I shrugged. “You’re telling me your own wedding lacked some underground dealing and a vicious, blood-thirsty creature who knocked the cake over onto the one aunt of your spouse that you can’t stand? What a yawn-fest.”

“You assume I had a wedding,” Adrian accuses, smirking. “I’ll have you know I’ve never done such a kooky, outlandish thing. In fact, Izzie is actually a random child I decided to surprise-adopt at a park on a whim.”

“W-What?” Izzie whimpered softly, a piece of chicken dropping from her mouth. “Really?”

Despite her innocent reaction, he and I burst out laughing.

I hadn’t planned on sleeping at the Bordeaux house; it was a small two-bedroom townhouse that was cramped and homey. Everywhere I looked, there were books of all sorts on shelves, in every room including the bathroom. The faint aroma of warm vanilla permeated the very walls.

But as the night went on and Adrian talked, the sun started to come up, rearing its ugly head over the horizon and reminding us that we all had to sleep.

Surprisingly enough, Adrian insisted that I sleep in the master bedroom while he camped out on the couch.

“You’re a guest, after all,” he explained, grabbing a thick wool blanket from the linen closet. “Here’s a spare. I think I left the window open, but you’re welcome to close it; it just might be kind of cold in there.”

It wasn’t.

Adrian’s bed might have been smaller than my normal king-sized one, but it was certainly comfier and cozier. I swaddled myself in his blankets like a ginger burrito and flopped down onto his cushy pillows. His smell—sweet, pastry-like, with a hint of some cologne I couldn’t place—hung about his sheets. I felt like a bit of a creep for noticing, but I pushed the thought out of my head immediately. I was human—of course I was going to pick up on smells that were there.

While I didn’t sleep for long, I slept like a log. With nothing to do but go home and find something to do, six hours was more than enough for me. When I got up, I made his bed as best I could—definitely not my forte—and made my way into the living room and kitchen.

Izzie was more than likely still passed out in her own room, and Adrian was sprawled out on the couch. I glanced at him curiously. He barely made any noise as he slept, but his chest rose up and down with each breath. If I hadn’t remembered he was here, I would have missed him. He had set his thick-rimmed glasses on the side table, and he seemed to look completely different without them. While the normal gold in his eyes was hidden, his thick dark lashes were more prominent, stark against his skin.

I turned back to the kitchen and opened up a cupboard.

Admittedly, there wasn’t much I could make, but I was the self-proclaimed French Toast champion of the world. Well, maybe not the world, but still. Grabbing a frying pan and some bread, I started making breakfast. I plopped the first three slices into the heated pan when an idea popped into my head.

Bakers had icing sugar, didn’t they?

I knew Adrian must have had some; my creampuffs always had some on top, and it would taste just as good on the French Toast. Humming, I went through the few cupboards that lined the two walls of the kitchen.

When the top cupboards didn’t yield what I wanted, I got on my knees and looked in the bottom ones. The first three were filled with many baking pans, trays, and cake holders, but I couldn’t seem to open the fourth one. Placing my bare feet against the neighbouring cupboards while grasping the handle, I leaned back, hoping the power from my pushing legs would pry it open.

“A-Agnes?”

I whipped my head over to a startled Adrian—who was mid-way through putting on his glasses—a little too quickly. The handle slipped from my grip, and I went crashing into the other counter.

Stars popped before my eyes. “Morning!” I said brightly, smiling despite the goose-egg I could feel forming at the back of my head. “I thought you guys might want icing sugar on your breakfast… It wouldn’t happen to be in here, would it?”

Adrian stared down at me, his cheeks flushed. “I—um… It’s… No…” he managed, avoiding my gaze. “Are you… o-okay, though?”

I blinked. What was that behaviour all about? I knew I probably didn’t look like I was in the best shape; looking down at myself, I saw my bare, freckly legs sprawled across the tiles of his kitchen.

Hey, at least I had decent underwear on.

Oh, wait.

“Sorry!” I hissed, jumping to my feet. Grabbing the hem of the long t-shirt, I attempted to pull it down as far as it would go—which worked out to be fairly high on my thighs. “I guess I forgot to put on those pants you gave me.”

“Only you would forget to put on pants,” he murmured quietly. He still didn’t meet my gaze; I couldn’t explain why, but I felt a little flattered that his cheeks were still flushed.

“So, regarding breakfast—”

“Shit!” Adrian yelped, jumping to the stove. Looking over at the pan, my heart sank. Well, it was certainly very toasted. He flicked the dial to kill the flame and pulled the smoking pan of French Toast off the burner.

“I swear, I’m normally a better cook than this…” I said in a small voice, looking down at my feet.

Adrian cleared his throat and placed the pan on a different burner, waiting for it to cool down. “Don’t worry. It’s… It’s not that bad…”

“Daddy!” came a frantic scream from upstairs. “Is the house on fire?!”

Adrian tried to hide his smile, but unsuccessfully.

Gotta love kids.