"Fine," he said.
"Sit down at the table. I've prepared dinner; we need to talk."
Ethan and Gina exchanged a look. There was a heaviness in their father's voice that hadn't been there before. He wasn't just worried; he was afraid of something.
David walked into the kitchen, but before he did, he looked at his children once more. His gaze lingered on the silver badges with a drop of blood pinned to their clothes.
Ethan felt a chill run down his spine. They entered the apartment.
"Did you get the badges?" he asked quietly.
"Good."
He nodded to himself, as if checking off a box on some internal list.
"Dinner is on the table. Change into your hunting clothes and check your gear. We head out at 19:30."
His father's voice was flat. He didn't wait for an answer; he simply turned and went into the kitchen.
Ethan and Gina looked at each other. Without a word, they went to their separate rooms. A few minutes later, both returned to the kitchen already dressed in "hunting" clothes, dark, comfortable garments their father had specially selected for nights like this: sturdy boots, pants with many pockets, and jackets with reinforced inserts. Small pouches containing salt and silver crosses hung from each of their belts.
Simple food sat on the table,pasta with stewed meat and vegetables. The smell was familiar and domestic, yet today it felt almost foreign.
They sat down. Conversation hardly flowed.
David silently served the food onto the plates, then sat down himself and began to eat very slowly. Every now and then, he raised his eyes to his children, first to Gina, then to Ethan, looking at them as if trying to memorize every feature of their faces. It was as if he feared this might be their last dinner together.
Gina ate quickly, almost greedily, as if she wanted to finish as fast as possible. She didn't lift her eyes from her plate; Ethan could see how tense her shoulders were.
Ethan himself barely touched his food. He picked at the pasta with his fork, but he couldn't swallow a single bite. The thought of the upcoming "first hunt", a real one, not involving dummies in the basements, made him feel nauseous. He didn't want to be full before what awaited them.
His father noticed this almost immediately.
"Ethan," he said softly, putting down his fork.
"Why aren't you eating?"
Ethan looked up. His father was watching him intently, with concern.
"I'm… not hungry," Ethan replied quietly, averting his eyes.
"Before… this… I just don't feel like it."
David remained silent for a long time. Then he nodded, as if he understood something important.
"Yes, it takes away the appetite," he said gently. "That's normal. But you need to eat at least a little. You'll need your strength tonight."
Gina raised her head and looked at her brother. A flash of sympathy flickered in her eyes, but she said nothing, simply sliding the plate of vegetables closer to him.
Ethan reluctantly took his fork and forced himself to eat a few bites. Every swallow was a struggle.
David set his fork aside and slowly looked up at his son. He watched closely, as if trying to read Ethan's thoughts through his lowered lashes. The wrinkles on his face seemed deeper in the light of the dim lamp.
David sighed, but there was no irritation in that sigh, only deep fatherly care.
"I'm worried… What if I blow it on my first hunt? What if I… let everyone down?"
The words hung in the air. Gina stopped chewing and looked at her brother. David was silent for a long time, looking at his son with that mixture of pride and pain that Ethan knew so well.
"You can always blow it," his father finally said.
"What matters isn't that you fell. What matters is what you did while falling."
He reached across the table and lightly squeezed Ethan's shoulder.
"No one is forcing you to jump in with a stake right away. Just observe. Learn. And as for fear… let it be there, but don't let it control you."
Ethan took his fork and forced himself to eat a few more bites. Gina, sitting opposite him, quietly nudged his leg under the table.
"Don't chicken out," she whispered with a slight smile.
"If anything happens, I've got your back, like always."
David looked first at Gina, then at Ethan, and said softly:
"Everyone goes through this. Each in their own time. Listen to me and Gina. We'll manage. Whatever happens tonight, we're together."
His voice was warm. He tried to smile, but it came out sad.
Gina finished her portion, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and leaned back in her chair. Despite the tension in the air, she found the strength to give a very bold, almost defiant smile.
"Oh, come on," she said brightly. "I'm actually looking forward to hunting a vampire. I wonder what he'll be like—scary like in the old records, or just some tall guy with red eyes?"
She snorted, trying to lighten the mood, but Ethan could see that nervousness was hiding beneath her bravado. Gina always did that—covering fear with jokes and defiance.
Ethan smiled weakly. He pushed away his plate, which was still more than half full.
"I just… don't want to mess up," he said quietly.
"What if I freeze in place? Or start shaking? Or… do something wrong."
David looked at his son with a heavy gaze. In his eyes was not just care, but a quiet ache.
"No one expects you to get it right the first time," he said softly.
Gina nodded, agreeing with her father.
"Exactly. And if you do start shaking, I'll poke you in the ribs with my elbow, just like now. Then you'll know what to do."
She tried to laugh. Silence fell over the kitchen once more. Only the clock on the wall ticked away, counting down the minutes until their departure.
Ethan stared into his plate and thought that tonight would change everything. It didn't matter how hard he tried.