The plate of food clattered when Ana set it down without a care. She walked to the opposite end of the table and took a seat. Marchosias stared down at the pasta meal, as if gauging if it was poisoned. It wasn’t, but Ana wished it was.

They were in the dining room, a once cheerful place that collected dust unless Marchosias insisted on one of their bi-monthly ‘family’ dinners. A simple wooden table and chairs surrounded by faded yellow walls and lush scenery paintings. A chandelier hung above them, hand-crafted by an old friend of her dad’s. It had 3 bulbs, but two had blown out sometime after her dad’s death and she never bothered to replace them. One remained on her side, so Marchosias was cloaked in a shadow, only a part of his face and body was visible. It didn’t matter, anyway. She didn’t need to see his statue-stillness.

She looked down at her own plate with disinterest. She had already eaten her fill when Logan was over, and the bland pasta and tomato sauce could not tempt her into eating again. Nevertheless, she picked up her fork and pushed the food around.

“Have you seen my mom lately?” She murmured, resting her cheek on her free hand.

“Yes.” His movements were still robotic and strange, even when he was eating. Left hand at his side while the right hand used the fork to pick up the food and put it in his mouth. He didn’t chew, only swallowed.

“And? Did she look sick?”

He took another mouthful. “Yes. Headache and a fever. She’s taking sleeping medication.”

Ana stared at him as he ate, or did his best imitation of it. Her mom wouldn’t have told him all those things. She hated talking to him, and would never tell him that she was sick and weak. Like mother like daughter, you don’t show the soft flesh of your stomach to the predator wolf.

This fact could only mean that he had been possibly spying on her. Could he be spying on Ana, too? If he was, he wouldn’t be acting so calm.

Ana grabbed her glass of water and took a sip. She noted that Marchosias also had a glass, but it was empty. She hadn’t gotten it for him, which meant he had taken it from the kitchen himself. His behavior was strange, as it always was. He was a creature pretending to be human, but never quite grasping it.

“I wanted to talk about the incident.” Ana started, anxiously poking the pasta with her fork.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Marchosias replied.

“There is,” Ana insisted. “I just wanted—”

“It happened, Ana.” His dark purple eyes met hers, and she felt her heart still for a moment, out of fear. “The past doesn’t change.”

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“I just wanted you to tell me what happened again.” She pressed again, despite her bouncing leg and twitching finger telling her not to. “My memory seems to fail me.”

He stared at her, his face plain and unreadable as always. He didn’t have a napkin on him, but somehow there was not a speck of food on his face. He was meticulous, especially when it came to pasta sauce.

“The Motloes chased you into the woods, and dragged you back to their house. They tried to kill you to steal your core. I killed them, or thought I did. I took you to the hospital. I made the humans forget it ever happened. That’s it. That’s what happened.” His voice was monotone, but Ana could hear the annoyance in his blunt words.

She looked down at her plate. “Strange of you to make a mistake like that.”

Silence. She said too much. She clenched the fork in her hand. Get ready for another sprained wrist.

The clatter of his fork on his plate made her jump. She calmed her nerves, and slowly look up at him. He had ate everything on his plate and now had his arms resting on the table. He stared at her, and Ana now felt like she was a criminal being interrogated.

“What brought this sudden interest on?” He asked.

Ana shrugged. “I’ve just been thinking. A lot.”

She wasn’t sure the answer satisfied him, but he didn’t press her for a more clear one. He still stared, however. As if he could burn a hole in her head and unlock all of her secrets.

“Have you seen the Motloes yet?”

She swallowed. I have to be careful about answering this, she thought. I can’t lie in front of a demon.

She swallowed, before gesturing to no where in particular with her fork. “I wouldn’t be here if I did, would I?”

“I didn’t ask for sarcasm, I asked for an answer.” His voice raised.

Ana shook her head and set her fork down. “I don’t know what you expect. Ask stupid questions, get stupid answers.”

Ana felt as if she had gone too far that time, but he did nothing. The dining room was silent as they sat there, doing nothing as the night grew older. She was tired and wanted to go to bed, but Marchosias insisted on this poor excuse of a family dinner. Family. They were only family by blood.

Her human dad had been a natural cook. He had tried to teach her, but she could only make the most basic of food. He always made dinner feel lively. Asking about her day, telling her jokes and insisting she had a second or third helping. He frequently invited friends of his to eat dinner, or even struggling families. Her and her demonic father’s current dinner was a cold, fading echo of what once was.

Marchosias abruptly stood from his spot, the chair screeching against the hardwood floor. “I must go.”

“All of a sudden? Did you leave your oven on or something?” Ana quipped, standing up too.

“No. I have matters to attend to.”

“Matters?” She followed him to the living room. “What kind of matters?”

He stopped suddenly, and Ana nearly bumped into him. She backed away as he turned around to look at her, a strange and foreign glint in his eye. “I still have the Motloes to find. There’s also the matter of their mother that needs to be attended to.”

Her mouth ran dry. “Mother?”

He raised his head and looked down at her. “Yes. What do you think they’re stalking around this town for? They want to use you to find their mother.”

He’s on their tail, she thought grimly. How long before they get caught and he realizes I have been helping them?

She turned away from him and to the TV that was still paused. “Good luck with that, then.”

He didn’t disappear like he usually did. He stood there, looking down at her. Was she suspicious? Did he suspect her of hiding something? Say something else. She pressed her lips together, and tentatively looked back at him.

“I get nightmares, about something chasing me in the woods and dragging me into the basement. I can’t escape from them.” She murmured. It was technically the truth, but also not. She did have those nightmares, but she hasn’t had them in months. She thought the recent stress would bring them back, but it didn’t for some strange reason.

He studied her for a moment before placing his hand on her shoulder. A strange, cold touch. “They will be dead soon.” His voice was quiet and hollow, no warmth like Ana had stupidly expected. It wasn’t reassurance, but a declaration.His eyes went to the coffee table and narrowed. “Clean up your mess. What do I have for a daughter, a woman or a pig?”

He left. The gesture wasn’t made out concern or genuine care. He had done what he had thought was expected of him, and that was it. That was there entire relationship. He only talked to her because her mother insisted they have a relationship, despite Ana’s insistence they didn’t. She would be just happy if he left her alone, but every week he visits and complains about one thing or another.

Ana sighed, walked to the coffee table, and cleaned the remnants of her and Logan’s takeout and crime show session.