CLARE HAMPSHIRE
FOGGY, LIGHT DRIZZLE
The end of the day could not have come fast enough. Clare felt like she had turned into an over-excited child or a woman high on caffeine hours earlier – her concentration was warped, she had to work twice as hard to appear as ordinary as usual, and she had to double-check everything she did, said or wrote, just in case her mind had wandered too far off its self-appointed boundaries.
When the workday was finally over, the young woman did not linger at the station. She made sure that she did not look like she was more relieved than any time before in her life, though, going as acceptably slow as possible to tidy up her desk and lock her drawer before getting up.
She was glad to leave – the tiredness that had set onto her bones was getting worse and worse as time went by. Today had been long.
She was tired.
She was worried.
Turning her head towards Colin’s desk and finding it empty, Clare carried her bag towards the door, pausing to grab her coat and put it on. As she was buttoning it, one of the inspectors passed by her, snickering as he did so. The young woman did not have time to brace herself for what came out of his mouth.
“Hey, New York, are you finally going back to the colonies?”
Clare’s fingers froze on the button she was holding, but she forced herself not to react, and especially not to turn her head towards the source of the voice. It could have been anyone, but she would have sworn it was Paul.
This man had no idea that she could kill him without a second thought.
Maybe she would, one day.
Maybe coming to England had been a mistake all along. She had been summoned to this place by Rosalind Harris a little over a year earlier, as the leader of the Serpent Society had heard wonders about what Clare was able to do over there in the United States. The Society’s reach was much bigger than one gave it credit for – this tree had branches everywhere.
But had it been wise, to leave New York City?
Either way, it was too late now, so she might as well go on with that dance, the young woman thought.
She finished buttoning her thick, furry coat, put on her cloche, grabbed her bag and raised her chin, before heading out. All the while, she resisted the urge to look back and check if Colin had come back to his desk.
Or to check if that idiotic inspector was still there to taunt her, so that she could kill him with a death stare.
She did not do either of these things, though, her heart beating hard in her chest.
Colin had taken her by surprise earlier. Clare had never imagined in a million years that the Society would be brought up into this mess, even if she imagined that it could be legitimate, given that they were indeed the true murderers.
Meh. The young woman did not quite like that word, though – of course, she did not. She much preferred one of the terms that Kit had used: vigilantes.
Sometimes, one simply needed just a little more help than the regular police to bring some people to justice.
That sounded better to her.
But to think that they were already considered on the list of potential suspects was terrifying. Naturally, Clare was aware that she was jumping to conclusions, here, but she was not the type of women who was exactly optimistic. In the Society, one had to be ready for everything and anything – that was part of the job, to expect the worst.
It was just a safety blanket, in a way.
And yet, she would have thought that they were better than that. This operation had been planned for months, Rosalind’s big master plan that they were not so privy to, and they flunked it on the second steps? They were better than that.
To be fair, Clare did not know if they had actually flunked it.
One thing was sure, however, and it was that if Colin wanted to dig into the Serpent Society’s history, he would be in for a treat.
And he would be served with a taste of its people, too, which did not sound so inviting anymore.
Could she feed her partner to the wild dogs?
For some reason, it did not feel right. Clare only went for the bad men, the ones who deserved cruelty and a slow, torturous death.
So far, Colin was as good as bread, and the young woman had no reason to become instrumental in his death or demise – whichever one came first.
All those dangerous and annoying thoughts kept Clare company while she was walking home, her steps hurried in the cold early evening. The sky was low, the drizzle unnerving as the young woman squinted against it, even with her hat to protect her ever so slightly.
She was fed up with winter already, and they had not yet properly entered the season, too. What a shame.
Something shifted in her chest when she arrived at her building. On the one hand, she was grateful and relieved to finally be home, and the prospect of being inside, warm and dry, sounded heavenly already. On the other hand, she was home. She would have to talk to Mila about what had happened, and she knew for a fact that this would not be an easy conversation, mainly because her best friend was the human definition of a raging fire.
The two friends did not live in a place nearly as luxurious as the Serpent Society’s headquarters, or even in a place that somehow was up to par with their employer’s standards and means.
But it was part of the general will to appear like they were ordinary members of society.
If anything, they had nothing to complain about. They were warm, they had water and food. The tall building was old and needed a fresh coat of paint, but it did not matter so much once she was inside.
It always smelled like an old cellar in the entrance. The once-colourful tiles on the floor had been stained by time and wear and tear. Clare closed the door behind her and made her way to the staircase on the other side of the corridor, ignoring the letterboxes lining the wall. She climbed, slowly but surely, listening to the sounds of life every time she would reach another floor or pass close to a door. The wooden steps under her feet were creaking and cracking.
This whole building was a strange cacophonic melody. In a way, the young woman found that comforting. Life went on. She might die, killed by Mila’s wrath at the news she came bearing, but at least someone else out there would keep going to bed at night and waking up in the morning.
At last, she reached her floor and her door, slipping the key into the lock and coming inside without waiting another minute – there was no point. Inside, it was much warmer, and the smells and sounds already coming from the kitchen made Clare’s mouth water. Mila did not always cook. But when she did, it was more than worth it.
Their little apartment was doused in darkness, except for the fire roaring in the hearth in the living room. Clare removed her hat and coat, hung her bag next to them for later, and slowly made her way towards the kitchen.
She was not as intimidated as she had first anticipated. Perhaps the fact that she was now a little more like the true Clare Hampshire, and not the washed-out, toned-down version of herself at the police station, made it a little easier to face her best friend.
She was a strong woman. She would not let anyone make her feel anything but that.
Nothing of what was happening was her fault, in the end. If anything, she had to remember that, because it might represent her lifeline right at that moment.
Mila was indeed stirring something in a pot, her back to the door, when Clare entered. But that did not mean that her friend was completely oblivious.
They were both in the Society, after all – that meant something.
“Good evening, Clare.”
“Hi.” She replied. “Smells good around here.”
Mila grinned as she turned her head to her friend. Even after a full day at work, the young woman still had a perfect line of kohl on her eyes, and her bright red lipstick was as sharp and efficient as it had been this morning.
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“You look tired.” Mila commented, looking at her face with a little more attention, her spoon suspended over the pot.
“Thanks, it’s the fact that I have to fake being someone else most of the time.” Clare rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her thick cardigan.
She laughed. “You should talk about that with Lara. She knows what a double life really is, you drama queen.”
It was true, too. Lara was the most divided members of their circle within the Society. It meant that she worked two different jobs, lived almost two perfectly different lives depending on the setting she was in, and… it was working so far, but Clare had always wondered how – if – she would ever let her boyfriend into the massive farce.
“Fine.” Clare conceded, edging closer and peering inside the pot at what looked and smelled like soup. “Can I help with anything?”
Mila put down her spoon. “Now I know something’s not right. Since when do you want to help with cooking?” She made a face, before frowning at her. “Are you alright? Should I call for the doctor? Do you have a fever?”
She swatted her hand away before it could get too close. “Back off, you hellcat.”
Mila grinned. “Ah, there she is.”
Clare rolled her eyes again and walked away from the stove, taking a seat by the window. It was much colder over there, though, and she shivered a little as she squeezed her arms closer around her waist.
“Long day?” Her friend asked again.
Clare sighed. “Yes. And bad news.”
Something in her tone must have triggered the darker lady at the source of their dinner for tonight, because Mila slowly lowered her wooden spoon back into the pot and turned her head to her friend.
“What is it?”
It was always incredibly impressive – if not a little scary – to witness how quickly Mila Ridley could just… switch. One second, she was the bubbly, seductive woman that everyone loved, and the next, she had turned into the feared outlaw that worked for the Serpent Society.
In that lighting, too, the kitchen not being their best lit room in the apartment, her face was a painting of shadows and darkness. Her hazel eyes had lost at least three shades of brightness.
“We found Viola Wood today.” Clare started, remaining quiet, even if the state of her inside was another story.
“Alright.” Mila did not look away. “What about it?”
“Do you know who killed her?”
The frown on her friend’s face only deepened. “No, I don’t. You know that unless one of them brags about it, we generally don’t know, Clare. What’s up with that question?”
By that, she implicitly meant Lara. Out of every friend they had at the Society, she was genuinely the only one who showed off her murdering skills.
Not exactly to the taste of most people, apparently.
Whenever Mila was concerned, her accent doubled down on them, and now she almost sounded like one of the poshest girls in England.
“I think whoever did it made a mistake.”
“What do you mean?” Mila asked. “Did they get the wrong girl?” Her eyes widened at the thought.
“No.” Clare replied, shaking her head. “At least, I don’t think so, because she was quite disfigured, so it was a little hard to tell, truthfully.” She continued, watching her friend turn slightly paler. “But there was a mark on the body, and I think it was from one of the rings some of us wear. I haven’t seen the victim cleaned up yet, but according to Colin, it was a snake, Mila.”
This time, the young woman turned whiter than the snow that had been falling for the past few days, on and off.
“Who’s Colin?” She asked as her next question, taking Clare aback slightly.
“Colin Bradford.” She replied. “I’ve been paired up with him on the investigation on Alfred Hughes, and we’ve been sent to the scene where they found Wood’s body this morning.”
“Bradford as in Superintendent Bradford?” Mila’s eyes turned even wider.
“Chief Superintendent.”
“Bloody hell. You’re making deals with the Devil, Clare.”
The young woman shook her head again. “That’s not the point, Mila.” She said, stressing her name like she had with hers. “Colin thought about the Serpent Society when he saw the snake.”
The other woman almost gasped, and it was not faked – everything about her posture at that moment was the physical translation of surprise and shock. She was pale, her eyes were wide, and her hand flew to her chest as if her heart had just tried to make a run for it.
Clare would have agreed with that move.
“How does he even know about us?”
“The Society might have been silent for a few years, the last time it was active in England, it was a blood bath. Kit, one of my other colleagues, called us legendary.”
“Did he tell Bradford that?” She frowned, where she would ordinarily have been slightly pleased and maybe flattered by the underlying compliment. “You don’t go after legends.”
“I know. Kit told him, because he doesn’t believe that’s a lead.”
“Good boy.” Mila muttered.
“And I tried telling him that it was a dead end, but I’m not sure it worked.” Clare confessed.
The other woman stepped away from the stove. “Why not?”
“I have a feeling that he’s not quite the man who’s going to give up on a potential lead without checking that it’s not worth it after all.”
The two young women looked at each other, green eyes in hazel eyes, and they remained silent for a moment, as if a few minutes were required to catch their breaths and absorb the knowledge that had just been spoken out loud into the universe.
“Oh my God.” Mila shook her head.
“I know.” Clare whispered.
“Are we done? Was the cover blown?”
“No, not yet. But I’m scared that it might be later on.”
Mila started pacing in the kitchen, running her hands through her hair and messing up the elegant bob that she took tremendous amount of time and pain to make so perfect every morning before leaving the house.
It did not matter anymore apparently.
“Who the hell messed up so badly, Mila?” Clare’s voice sounded a little too pressing and harsh to be unnoticed.
“I don’t know!” She cried out, raising her hands defensively. “Someone who wears a ring, what do I know?”
“You know everything!”
“I don’t!”
Clare got up and started pacing too, going in the opposite direction as her friend, so that they were almost colliding every time they turned. The air vibrated with tension.
“I don’t know who bloody messed up, that’s not how we work, and you know it, so stop blaming me!”
“I’m not blaming you, Mila!”
“Like hell, you aren’t! Why are you shouting then?”
“Because I’m worried!”
Mila stopped next, and Clare almost crashed into her, glaring at her instead at the last minute. Too bad that she was much smaller than her friend, and she suddenly felt like a small but daring mouse trying to take on a big, fluffy cat with an attitude.
“And why should I be blamed for this?” Mila continued, pointing an angry finger at her, her head tilted down to glare back. “Maybe you didn’t do your best at defending us!”
Clare took a step back, not so much in surprise but rather in offense. “Oh yeah, because that wouldn’t have been suspicious at all!” She threw her hands up, shaking her head in disbelief. “Colin, please don’t investigate the Serpent Society because they’re really dangerous, and we only kill guilty people, oops, did I say ‘we’? I meant ‘they’, of course, silly me!” Her voice rose and exploded on those last words. “How do I know all of that? Luck!”
Mila narrowed her eyes at her, her lips pressing in one angry red line.
“You can’t say it would have happened like that, given that you didn’t try.”
Clare’s eyes narrowed even more, and if they could have thrown daggers, Mila would have dropped dead already. “If you say that again, I’m going to stab you with a rusty knife.”
Her friend snorted. “Fine, maybe that was harsh.” She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “But can you tell for sure that he won’t just drop it?”
The sound of bubbling brought the two women back to reality at once. Mila cursed under her breath and walked straight back to the stove, turning the heat off.
In silence, while the tension in the room stalled and started to decrease, the two friends grabbed bowls and cutlery, before helping themselves to some soup and bread and heading to the table.
Angry eating was not a traditional practice in this house, and it did not feel good.
“I don’t know if he’ll drop it or not.” Clare answered eventually. “And I don’t know what to do about this.”
Mila sighed and lowered her spoon. “We’re panicking. I feel like we shouldn’t be panicking.”
“But we should. What if there’s truly been a mistake, and now we’re discovered?”
“We don’t know that for sure.” She shook her head. “So don’t doubt us before anything that might give you a reason to.”
She was right, and Clare nodded.
“Alright.” She said. “For now, we can’t do anything concrete.”
“Except waiting. Our favourite game.” Mila smirked faintly.
Clare sighed.
“I’ll keep an eye on Colin, and if he addresses it again, I’ll stop him and divert his attention to something else.”
“Good.” Mila nodded, like the plan had actually come from her all along. “We also can’t say anything, so that stays between us.”
“Of course.”
“It’s our duty to keep ourselves safe for now.”
Clare nodded again. “We don’t know that we’re in danger to begin with.”
“Right. I’m sure you’re overthinking it, with that head of yours.” She snorted. “You almost got me there, silly!”
The young woman smiled faintly, playing along, but she had the deep, dark impression that she was right.
The bomb might not have exploded, at least as far as she was aware, but something about this situation told her that it had probably just been placed under their noses.
And now, it was waiting, just like they were waiting for more. They could not talk to anyone about it but each other, and they could not take any specific actions. On one side, doing anything might make matters even worse. On the other side, it might disclose their existence where it might still not be the case.
Maybe Colin would give up on that potential lead.
The Serpent Society was potent, but they did not have a monopoly on snakes, after all. The mark could be attributed to something or someone else, with a little imagination.
And if he did not give up on that idea, maybe then he would simply find himself facing a wall. The Society had not survived into a vacuum, in the end. They had means, and if the young inspector came too close to them, they had ways to stop him.
To make him regret it, too.
The thought made Clare extremely uncomfortable, once more. She did not like the idea of Colin being in danger – there was something toxic about this idea. The Society always went after dangerous and threatening individuals. He was an innocent man, at least as far as she was concerned.
And her judgment might be biased, but she also did not want him to run into trouble because he was one of the only inspectors and employees of the police station who did not treat her like complete garbage. The fact that he was now her partner, extending his generosity and kindness beyond what had been their “normal” until recently, certainly did not help her to remain neutral in this situation.
The point was that she did not want the Serpent Society to be discovered and she did not want Colin to be in danger.
It sounded simple, but that statement put her in a very difficult position. If the situation escalated, which she hoped it would not, a lot of meditation and self-assessment would be needed, assuredly.
That being said, she also wanted to believe that Mila was right, and she was overthinking and overanalysing the whole thing – she was known for that.
Fearless, but maybe a little more fearful than people dared to think. She was good at playing it like she was winging it, always in control and never taken by surprise.
But inside her mind, things were drastically different.
“Are you alright?” Mila asked. “You’ve gone quiet.”
“I’m worried.” Clare admitted, because if she did not confess that to her best friend, then she could not be honest with anyone at all.
“Don’t be.” She shook her head, apparently having recovered much quicker than her. “There’s nothing we can do, and worrying won’t bring anything positive to the table. Eat your soup.”
The young woman raised an eyebrow, not exactly amused by her attitude. “Since when do you give me orders?”
“Since you started acting like a child. Eat your soup and stop worrying. You’ll keep an eye on Bradford, just like you said, and you’ll take any measures necessary to keep him off our backs. Right?”
Clare nodded. “Right.”
“Good, so that’s settled.”
Was it? Clare did not have the energy to ask or continue that discussion, but the thoughts kept roaring in her head, despite her facial expression giving nothing away. She glanced up when Mila pointed her spoon at her.
“Eat your soup.”
So she ate her soup.
All she had to do was keeping everyone safe and unaware of the other’s existence. She could eat that soup.
No pressure.