“What are you going to tell him?” Azazel presses urgently.
Alastair pushes a finger to his lips. Everyone stops breathing at once, even the humans present. He then answers the call and presses the speaker so they all can listen in.
“Is it done?” is all his father has to say. Alastair remains silent, prompting his father to continue. “I’ve seen no news on the matter, but I suppose you would have known better than to expose any part of this to the press.”
“No, father, I certainly know better than that,” Alastair says, realizing too late that his voice isn’t as confident as it needs to be. He can practically hear his father frown over the phone.
“You have shut down the place, haven’t you? It’s been plenty of time,” he states with a cold chuckle at the end. Alastair winces, understanding the scolding for what it is.
“I have discovered that they have a small cult following,” he lies glancing at Oliver who shrugs and loops an arm around Alastair reassuringly.