TO KILL IS TO SERVE

Chapter 22: The Family Dinner

“Mommy, uncle Grei is here!” The youngest of the third generation of this household yelled right after I stepped into the main entrance, calling her mother. I met a demon right after I got inside the place. She is very observant for her age for she saw me entering the mansion even though I am confident of how silent my steps were. “Mary! Martha! Uncle Grei is here, let’s go for an ambush!” She is tiresomely hyper. I get tired even just by looking at her energetic self.

“Shut up, Lazy.” I groaned and brushed my hair with my fingers in case Dad appears out of nowhere. Lazara, the youngest and the loudest of the demonic triplets, held my shirt and pulled me to the dining area. Her nickname is the exact opposite of her personality. I glared at her and removed her tight grip on my now-wrinkled shirt when we’ve reached the stairs besides the dining area. “f**k o—”

“Be nice to my kids, you shit.” Esther, their mother, smacked me from behind before I could curse Lazara’s sweet lovely face but definitely devilish soul. I turned to her and furrowed my brows while holding the part of my head that she hit. She came from the second floor and she laid a hand on me as soon as I got here. Her skills never dull and that is really annoying. Lazara ran off while laughing at my powerless state for a second. “Did you realize how low your guard was?” She raised her right brow at me as she mocks. No, your fast reflexes are just extremely bothersome. “Well, what should I expect from a lowly Agent?” Her irritating personality doesn’t suit to be a mother of three but what doesn’t suit you sometimes comes to you. Like a weird artist to an assassin.

“Excuse me, you fucker.”

“She said, stop cursing—” And before another filthy hand lands on my head, I’ve already twisted Jabez’s wrist after grabbing it mid-air. Esther, his wife, laughed at his incompetence towards a poor, lowly Agent and he pulled his wrist from my grip while blushing. The way they silently flirt in front of me is utterly sickening.

“Don’t try me twice. That’s gimcrack.” I scowled at Jabez and he apologized jestingly. I have decided to wait for everyone and everything on my seat in the dining room, so I left Esther and Jabez in a blink. And then Mary, the eldest of the triplets, came to me while holding an Annabelle doll. What a creepy kid. I mumbled to myself as I stare. “What’s up?” I asked and she gave me the doll then left, running. Mary is the polar opposite of Lazara—timid, well-behaved and neat. I vividly recalled how she furiously cries before, whenever her play mat gets dirty. I can’t believe that there is a kid who actually hates getting stained by chocolate all over.

I stared at the creepy Annabelle doll from the famous Annabelle movie and gulped as I got chills on my spine. I hate horrors. “Hey, Mary, your doll—” I called at Mary who’s now in front of me, holding Martha’s hand. Martha stared at me and cried right away. “Why? What the heck?” I cursed and extended my hand towards the mid-kid of the triplets as she bawls, caressing her face without any idea what just happened.

“Why are you enjoying yourself with Martha’s Anna doll?” A voice from behind rang my ears. That f*****g voice always rings my ears. I thought and turned around to look at Samson, the first son of this household’s father—Mister Isaac Loverio. “You’re even making the kid cry.” He teased while smirking. It will be pleasanter if he were to just carry a voice changer everywhere, now and then. I would like it way better if I won’t hear him talk using that hellish voice and tone.

“Go to hell, asshole.” I grunted and shifted my attention back to the fragile, sobbing Martha and handed her the doll. I heard Samson mumbled nonsenses but I just didn’t bother because he’s another level of frustration. Lazara popped under the table and laughed at how she and Mary tricked me. In my assumption, Lazara ordered Mary to give me the doll and then told Mary to bring the cry-baby of them three, Martha, the real owner of the doll, and make her think that I am a doll-thief. The thought that these kids tricked me is f*****g vexing. I sighed and watched Lazara and Mary laughed their asses off, making fun of me. Lazara might be the youngest and the most annoying, but she’s still the smartest of them three. She’s actually always bossing her siblings around, whenever Dad tells me about them.  “Nice play, Lazy.”

Aside from Alora, they are the only ones who can put me into the fire like this.

“Uncle, how did you know that I am Lazy?” Lazara asked as she crawls out of under the dining table. “Are you very smart?”

“Not really.” I answered and turned to look another way. Your mother, father and real uncle are just stupid. “Don’t play with me. I’m not in the mood.” I shooed them whilst not looking their way. Like Samson, their blood-uncle, Lazy also mumbled things before completely getting out of my radar with her 4-year old twin sisters.

The three of them are disturbingly identical to the point that at first, second and third glances, you will think that they are each other’s ghosts. But Mary, the timid and the neatest of them three, has a mole on her right neck. Martha, the whiner and the most fragile, also has a mole on her right neck but another one on her jawline and one might miss that out if not observed carefully. And Lazara, the youngest yet the wildest and loudest, has a mole on her left neck. Aside from those moles, I have no other way of differentiating them but their obviously diverse attitudes. They even sound alike. They would be good partners as assassins, with Lazara as their brain. I smirked while pondering and assuming of how they could trick their targets by the way they look and sound. Maybe Lazara can even work under Info.

“Grei really came!” Carol, Dad’s wife, greeted me as soon as she got out of the kitchen with trays of food on her hands. “Welcome back, Isaac’s favourite boy!” She winked and I nodded, smiling. She’s as jolly as ever. I call Mister Love Dad because he was my mentor back in the day but even though Carol told me to call her Mom; I couldn’t bring myself to use that word on her. The only mom I have in mind is the reason why I became an assassin and I would never taint Carol’s niceness with that title from my mouth.

The foods were served after a while and everyone aside from Dad was gathered in the dining table shortly—Carol, Samson, Esther, Jabez and the triplets.

“Where is Dad, Carol?” I asked as she sits down on the first seat in the right. Samson’s in front of him, at Dad’s assigned seat’s left. Esther’s next to mom, with the triplets consuming four spaces with their toddler chairs. I sat beside Jabez, who’s next to Samson. I glanced at the triplets and they either rolled their eyes on me or put out their tongues. Little monsters. I furrowed my brows and took my glances off of them. I really hate kids.

“Seriously, it’s so awkward to hear you calling mom by her name and dad Dad.” Samson hissed and Carol chuckled. There is this super manly voice of him again, ringing my ears. Whenever he says anything, I just get pissed off right away without any explanation. It’s been like this for f*****g seven years.

“Why am I even on the same table as you, asshole?” I hissed back and he cursed again. Carol tried to stop us while laughing with the kids. I don’t know what’s so funny about this. I rolled my eyes and did not reply anything back to Samson’s stupid rant. He teases me back every damn time like he’s not 31.

“You’re a family, that’s why.” Carol butted in and I frowned at her. “And stop cursing in front of my gorgeous grandchildren, gorgeous.” She added and winked at me and the triplets giggled. There is no sign or feeling of being family when I’m with Samson, Jabez or Esther. They’re like the thorns on my crown, the bugs on my bed, the mould on my cake.

“You call dad Dad and you call Samson asshole, too, Grei.” Esther added. “That is why you’re family.” She laughed while pointing Samson with the spoon she is using to feed Lazara, who’s beside her.

“Shut up, Esther. You’re a bigger ass—”

“Don’t call mommy bad things, asshole uncle!”

“Yeah! Uncle Samson is so mean to mommy when he’s the real asshole!”

“Bad uncle asshole!”

The triplets interfered on Samson and everyone, aside from me and the said victim, the asshole uncle, enjoyed how the kids are cursing and saying the other term for butthole again and again. I don’t know what’s entertaining about that but whatever.

“It’s my 65th birthday and the kids are talking about the anus’ opening.” Dad spoke from behind me and we all greeted him a happy birthday right away, as planned, while the others are suppressing their laughter. He’s indeed an assassin for I neither heard a single footstep from him nor felt his overwhelming presence. It’s his 65th year and he’s still this good. I think it’s unfair.

We spent the night eating and talking randomly. I seldom open my mouth to talk for I’m only focused on eating what’s on my plate that Esther’s kept on putting. I cannot argue with her not for I am with a family of assassins, but because this is not the time for argument about food. I am basically clueless of that so-called warmth internet says about family dinners, but I can tell that I don’t exactly dislike this. It’s been five years since we’re gathered together for a meal. Five years ago, when Jabez was still a newly added member of this family and now, we’re already nine people eating on the same table, discussing everything aside from blood, killing and assassination. It’s been five years when I last ate with ease and not on my guard as an assassin pretending to be a target’s friend, colleague, boss or whomever. I’m just eating, chewing and drinking whatever is available without thinking that I might get poisoned.

Family, huh? Maybe I find this as a comfortable meeting with people I kind of know and work with. I think this is how I define family these days.

“I’m glad Grei is here. We’re the only ones who’re not hypocrites.” Carol spoke and I looked up to her. She sipped on her cup and talked again, “It’s unfair that all of your names came from the Bible and I was named Carol! Good thing Grei is Grei.” She elaborated her little frustration while winking at me for the second time and they laughed at her. Who would ever know that Carol is ten years younger than Dad when she acts like a teenager and Dad doesn’t look 65 at all? They make a perfect couple; it’s infuriating for old singles like Samson.

But truth be told, as ironic as it is, everyone on Loverio’s descendants indeed has Biblical names, including its head. This is the biggest joke of the universe so far—people who kill without second thoughts and just for money have sacred names bestowed on them and allowed for them to use by the government they betray every single day.