There it was - the perfect target. He'd spent weeks observing the family of three that living in that perfect little house with that perfect picket fence. Of course all the houses in the subdivision looked the same, but this one seemed just that tad bit cheerier, that little bit happier, that made it so much better than the others. He sneered. Of course it was. And the family was perfect, too. Daddy worked his 9-to-5 in a tall, shiny building in the city. Mommy spent her mornings in the garden and her evenings putting together a perfect dinner. Sonny studied hard at an upscale school near Daddy's workplace — which he admittedly only knew because of the all-A report card he could see on the fridge through the window.
And now they were gone, left on some holiday trip that would probably take the whole weekend. The house was dark and the surrounding streets empty.Perfect.
Judal casually hopped the low fence gate, knowing if he bothered to open it it would squeak midway and the neighbors in this town had selected hearing. He kept his stride leisurely and even, but he was ready to bolt if he needed. Crossing the yard, he ducked through the archway leading to the back — the house sat at the end of the cul-de-sac, so no one could see what went on in the backyard. A moment or two of fiddling with his tension wrench and tumbler and he was in.
He slowly made his way toward the den. He'd yet to see the inside of the house and wanted to savor the moment of ruining such a happy household. The moonlight cast a bluish glow on the carpet and walls, but he was sure they'd be some sort of beige color in the daylight. Maybe cream. Cream would fit the layout better.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he moved on toward the hall. He checked every door in every room until he finally — finally — reached it: the master bedroom. Here would most likely be where Mommy kept her pearl necklaces and diamond earrings.
Drawers were slid open, walls were felt for hidden panels. With a huff he even ducked down to check under the bed.
Nothing.
He squatted on the balls of his feet and huffed again. Running a hand through his hair he murmured, "You'd think the dumb broad would keep that shit in plain sight…"
"And which dumb broad would that be?"
Judal's attempt to stand and turn at the same time would have been comical if it'd happened to anyone but him. Banging his head on the bedside night-table was just the icing on the cake. Clutching his now throbbing temple, he glared at the intruder — oh, the irony — as she flicked on the light.
She had to be one of the smallest women he'd ever seen. Her red eyes did nothing to make her intimidating. The little horns styled on top of her head might've helped if it were still dark in the room - and her hair wasn't that ridiculous shade of pink.
He couldn't help the snort. "You," he said. "Tell me, is that hair a fashion statement or are you just so toxic you have to have a warning sign."
Her cheeks puffed out in irritation, "For your information, it's natural. So are you going to tell me why you're in my house, creeping around—hey, you're bleeding."
He'd taken his hand off his head for a moment, and it was indeed covered in blood. But the next thing he knew he was being ushered into a bathroom and ordered to sit on the toilet lid. He used his sleeve to swipe away the blood he could now feel trickling down towards his eye.
The woman swatted his hands out of the way. "You have to put pressure on it," she murmured absently and then she was pinning his hair back to get a better look and a damp cloth was pressed against it and a multitude of band-aids were needed to cover the damn thing.
And that was how Solomon found his wife thirty minutes later - fussing over a strange teenager whose forehead could stand to lose a band-aid or forty, in their bathroom listening to the story of when Aladdin scraped his knee after his first time riding a bike. He felt the boy had learned his lesson.
He cleared his throat, "Sheba…"
Judal's head whipped toward the man now leaning against the door jam. What was it with this family appearing out of nowhere? And why weren't they on vacation, damn it?!
He watched as the little woman — Sheba, funny how she could talk so much and not once mention her name — pranced over to him to squeeze him in a hug. Her husband didn't seem nearly as affectionate, but the smile on his face and the gentle hand he place on her head were more than enough. Such a blatantly loving couple made Judal feel awkward and uncomfortable. Memories of another man smiling like that at another woman flashed through his mind. He ground his teeth together. Not now.
He hadn't been paying attention to what they were saying, so when Sheba hopped back over and wrapped her arms around his head, declaring him to be her nephew, he could only sit there in shock. But a subtle reminder of the chicken she'd left out to thaw in the sink had her racing for the kitchen. Which left Judal sitting on the toilet, being scrutinized by Sheba's husband, and still feeling awkward as all hell.
Solomon watched the boy fidget. He had to be wondering what had just happened, why his wife had just called him family. For one, Solomon knew his wife had no siblings - no anything, for that matter, she'd been taken in as some weird humanity project his father had started and just kind of never left. But that was another story. He sighed. Might as well humor her.
"So, since your aunt has failed to mention your name, would you like to introduce yourself?" A sneer curled along the boy's lips and he opened his mouth— "Your real name. I have a particular non-tolerance for liars." —and his mouth closed again.
"…Judal," he muttered. He didn't seem happy about the whole situation, but, to be frank, Solomon didn't particularly care. He'd do what he could to convince Sheba whatever she had planned was utterly ridiculous before he gave up after the first two attempts and decide to go along with it. He made a mental note to make a few calls and find out if there were any runaway teens or anything of that sort, but for now…
"Welcome to the family, Judal."