COLIN BRADFORD

FOGGY AND WET

A whole two days had passed since they had been sent to investigate Alfred Hughes’ murder, and now everything was slipping out of their control all over again.

Working on a murder case was never an easy feat for Colin – and one body was more than enough in his opinion. But two bodies? It was guaranteed to make him queasy.

And yet, as he was staring at their new victim, no one could have guessed that the young man was completely out of his depth – he had learned from a young age to conceal his emotions and keep his inner state to himself until he had cooled down enough to express it in a calm and collected manner.

It was not about to change now.

“Hi, I’m late, I know, I know, I… Oh dear.”

Kit stopped right next to Colin and made a face that expressed the very Oh dear of his words. And oh dear indeed. The two young men were accustomed to working together; they made a great team, and they had seen terrible things.

But that did not mean that they were immune to barbaric acts.

“Who… was that?” Kit pointed a long, gloved finger at the victim.

Just like him, Colin was still in his coat and hat, hands securely shoved down his pockets to keep the cold at bay, in vain. The young man would have loved a cup of tea, but he would have to settle with the vague warmth generated by his agitated colleagues all around him and the smoke from Kit’s cigarette, already winding about – all that to say that he was very cold indeed.

“This is Viola Wood. She’s been… well.”

“Killed.” Kit frowned faintly, his lips pressed around the butt of his cigarette. “And violently, too.”

“Thank you for stating the obvious.”

Miss Viola Wood had been violently murdered, to be perfectly precise. They knew her identity solely thanks to the identity papers that they had found in her purse, as her face had been smashed with so much violence that it was unrecognisable as it currently was. It was not immediately obvious that this assassination was connected to Alfred Hughes’ case, but now that he had arrived on the scene, Colin understood perhaps a little more why his father had sent them there.

The body, while being disrespected in much different ways as Hughes’ had been, had been exposed and exhibited just like his. Young children on their way to school had discovered Miss Wood that morning – her body was blue and stiff from death and the cold, but it was obvious that she had been hurt. Her limbs were contorted in a way that probably hinted at the fact that she had been killed, then placed here later. The absence of puddles of blood on the ground also concurred with this assumption.

Mainly, it was the fact that she had been left here, on the steps of a rather fancy home, for everyone to see and anyone to find that bothered Colin. Viola Wood was a familiar public figure in their town, as Alfred Hughes had been.

“You know what? Sometimes I feel like we’re going to be alright, and then some sick individual comes around and wrecks all my good hope.” Kit sounded dejected as he threw his cigarette on the floor.

“I know.” Colin sighed. “Miss Wood very likely died from the contusions and attack on her face, the medical examiner will need proper time with her at the morgue, but he was quite convinced that it was the cause of death.”

Kit looked like he was not quite sure whether he would throw up or laugh – sometimes, the most traumatic sight could bring out the most surprising reactions in people. Colin had been through that, too, and he still had not figured out how he had not yet broken down so far.

“Who’s taking notes on the scene?” The young man asked.

Colin felt his heart tug in his chest. “Clare.”

He moved his chin slightly to the right to silently point at the young woman, who was standing a few steps away from them. In the background, passers-by and onlookers were gathering, which made his stomach recoil even more. Even with the sheets and drapes they had set up, the young man had little hope that their work would remain concealed and secret for very long.

Clare was standing on the side of the scene, occasionally moving so that she could see the body and the macabre staging from another angle. Her head went up and down as she watched and took notes of every single element that she could register and record, and there was something… soothing about watching her like that.

Colin was painfully aware that he was not the only one – nor Kit – who was watching her. Paul and Lloyd were snickering behind her back, surely preparing one more insult against her person. Truthfully, Colin had never understood why they hated Clare so much. If anything, she was clever and adorable – he did not see what their problem was.

Clare was a peaceful, quiet and gentle presence at the police station. She had arrived silently almost a year before, and she had slowly but surely started shining as a very sharp investigator. The young man was secretly convinced that everyone would realise and embrace her full potential if they gave her more of a chance – and had done so much earlier – as Miss Hampshire was nothing but a true asset to their working force.

He figured that this had to do with her being a woman. It was true that it was impossible to ignore. Even with a relatively simple wardrobe and her quiet, mousy appearance, Clare was a woman one could not ignore. She was small and thin, a delicate and elegant presence in a police station filled with men. Her red hair was bright and loud against the pale colour of her face, and she wore no colour on her lips nor her cheeks. She had freckles on her nose that looked like constellations. She was impossible to ignore.

No one could have expected a better inspector than her, truthfully.

But it should not have mattered so much within the scope of their workday duties. The young woman was standing quietly, no emotion passing over her features as she took stock, time and again, of the horror before her eyes. Countless times, Colin had wondered if she would be fine facing blood and gore, but by far she was the one who kept her features the most under control. It truly was impossible to read her expression – maybe she had broken the secret code to put as much professional distance between her feelings and reality.

Colin could not help but find that admirable. More than that, he was thankful that she was his partner at that moment, because she was keeping her composure with seemingly more ease than he could. Kit would not have done better either – the two of them were used to be paired up together, and it was a definite change in dynamics with Clare.

He was not complaining.

“Are you frozen, New York?” Lloyd attacked first, snickering. “Can’t move to save your life, huh?”

Clare did not react, though Colin saw her pen halt ever so briefly as she was writing on her notebook.

“You make a pathetic inspector if you can’t do anything, Hampshire.” Paul added.

Kit sighed. “Bloody hell.” He grunted. “Can’t they just leave her alone?”

When Colin looked at his friend, he saw him shake his head in disbelief – and, perhaps, disillusion.

It was by far not the first time that they were facing such a situation. But it made Colin sick to his stomach every single time.

“Hey, Colin.”

The young man was suddenly forced out of his scrutiny of the situation with Clare and his own thoughts by Eugene, who had stopped between Kit and him.

The other inspector placed a companionable hand on his shoulder – Colin wanted to swat his hand away instantly.

But he did not want.

“I’ve been meaning to express my condolences.” His colleague started.

Colin froze, and Kit frowned, both men clearly taken aback – Eugene continued, though, a playful and amused grin on his face.

“I mean, you got badly served when Superintendent Bradford paired you up with New York. I feel bad for you, I really do.” He patted his shoulder heavily. “But it will be over soon hopefully, just stay strong.” Colin froze even more, which Eugene completely misunderstood, as his gaze went to Clare. “If I can offer you a word of advice, I’d say that you need to show her who the boss is.” He squeezed his shoulder again.

Either Eugene was insanely stupid, or he had no will to live. Colin did not think that he was the type of man one approached easily – he was trying his best to be Inspector Bradford in his own right, away from his father’s shadow.

But this?

This was treating him like a child on a whole other level. Colin might have only been twenty-five years old, he felt perhaps a little more mature than the idiot who was trying to lecture him like an older brother right now.

Given the dark look that Kit shot their way, their eyes meeting briefly, at least Colin knew that his best friend shared the sentiment.

“You need to break her, Colin.” Eugene continued, completely oblivious. “That’s the only way. Otherwise, she’s going to have opinions and then she’ll hinder the investigation, and everything is going to drag and be delayed.”

“That’s enough, Eugene.”

The sharpness of Colin’s tone brought his colleague and Kit to a halt. The young man prided himself on being calm and collected, but that man was testing his limits, and he was not reacting in the most quiet way.

He did not care, either.

“I’m just saying!” Eugene laughed – it was a nervous laugh, though.

“We are a team.” Colin replied sharply. “We need to stick together and be united, because our real enemy is the crimes we are trying to solve, not ourselves. If you and your colleagues decide to attack one of ours, you attack all of us, and this is the first step down the road of self-destruction.” He shook his head, his hat firmly in place. “Think about it.”

“It’s disrespectful to all of us, to our uniform, and to the Crown.” Kit concluded.

There was a darkness about him at this moment that Colin would never be able to emulate – first, because he was the son of their boss, and as such lived with parental pressure breathing down his neck, and second, because the young man did not have Kit’s aura.

His best friend could be terrifying if he let himself be.

Right now, he was not holding back, which explained why Eugene’s eyes widened in fear and horror.

“I… I… My apol…”

Colin lifted his hand to stop him – he did not know if he could trust his words just for now. He did not wish to hear any more coming out of his mouth, and instead made his way past the officers and medical practitioners who were trying to wrap up Miss Wood to get her back to the morgue for further examination.

Clare looked up when he stopped by her side, but Colin’s gaze stayed, lingering, on Lloyd and Paul. Eventually, when he was spotted, the two other inspectors scurried away to continue their work.

“Colin?” Clare asked, and he looked back at her, straight into her deep green eyes. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes.” He nodded, checking over his shoulder – Kit was still giving the stink-eye to Eugene in the back. “And you?”

“Oh, yes.” She nodded dismissively.

It was too light, too casual to be true, though – the young man could have sworn that it was fake.

“I’m sorry that they are treating you like that.” He admitted, feeling like a fool.

It would have been easy to stop this – but his father always turned a blind ear to his plea, no matter how, when, or how many times he tried to tell him about the situation. To him, the police station was only filled with competent and honourable individuals. Every time he showed up in a conference room or on the open floor, everyone was on their best behaviour.

Obviously, he could not see the truth if it was constantly concealed.

“Well.” Clare said quietly, holding his gaze.

He could see the small, shy girl in her, but it was not all – there was something else in her beautiful green eyes. There was strength, power, and courage, something that he was not surprised to see in her, but still unable to look away from.

“I’m getting used to it.” She completed.

“This is not right.”

She only shrugged faintly, which made him feel perhaps ten times worse. She should not have been used to that kind of treatment, and all of them – either active participants or passive ones – should have experienced the burning sensation of shame like he could feel in his chest.

“I’m sorry, Clare.”

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She glanced at him once again, her gentle face tipped up to him. Her expression was neither closed-off nor completely open. Clare was looking at him like she was trying to solve a puzzle.

It was a strange sensation, and Colin fought the urge to look away and hide himself in reaction.

“Did you manage to get some good elements?” The young woman asked when they both turned back to the victim and the scene of the crime.

“I can’t tell if the two cases are connected.” Colin admitted honestly.

While some of his other colleagues would have given him grief as he opened up about his worries and concerns regarding the case, the young man did not feel so pressured when he told Clare.

Besides, he was a firm believer that honesty and truthfulness were two of the driving forces of good working partnerships. It was his first time leading with her, but he hoped that they could be on the same page about such matters.

“There are very little common elements about the two victims, yes.” Clare eventually nodded, looking down at her notes. “But the modus operandi, however…” She made a face that scrunched up her nose, and Colin blinked at the sight. “While Mister Hughes was shot, Miss Wood was savagely assaulted. Those are very different – if our assumptions are correct, what happened two days ago was prepared and premeditated. This, if we’re facing the same criminal, feels more…”

“Rushed.” Colin completed.

Clare nodded eagerly; they were on the same page.

“Either way, we’re facing two public figures who have been killed and exposed outside in the open for anyone and everyone to see.” The young man continued. “That might be one of the only things in common between the two cases, but I’d say it is a little too substantial to simply dismiss as a coincidence.”

For the first time since they had started working in closer collaboration, Colin thought that he saw Clare falter.

She looked worried, just then. Her skin looked a little paler, her freckles a little more prominent – the young man was not used to have her afraid. Impressed, yes. Out of her depth, relatively often, especially within the station walls.

But afraid? Not quite – in fact, she often looked even more stoic whenever someone decided to pick on her.

If she was to break apart under pressure, he was certain that she probably would have done so already.

“You look cold.” He whispered.

She flashed him a quick but bright smile, before shrugging her shoulders a little. “A bit.” She replied.

There always was something enticing about the way she pronounced her vowels, compared to the rest of them.

Colin figured that was why he enjoyed listening to her speak.

“Kit!” He called, turning his head away at last.

The young man appeared not too long after, grinning at Clare as he nodded at her in greeting. “Yes?”

“If we’re done here, let’s pack up and go back to the station.” Colin was growing tired of having the other inspectors constantly glancing in their direction.

And it was very uncomfortable out here – they may have protections to shield them from the public eye, it did not mean that it was an easy position to be in.

The young man just wanted to do his job in private, for the time being. Besides, they could not get more details about Viola Wood if they did not bring her body inside.

“Alright.” Kit nodded, smirking like a wolf waiting for a feast.

He turned away and walked off to tell the others. Colin abandoned Clare briefly to the last of her notes, heading to the men who were finishing wrapping their victim up.

“Hold on a minute.” He said, raising his hand.

The young man did not know how his eyes had caught the slight bruise on the victim’s neck, especially considering all the dried blood covering her skin, but there was something there – it looked like an imprint of some sort of symbol…

Colin leaned forward, breathing into his handkerchief to prevent the stench of death to make him too nauseated, and he squinted at the mark on Miss Wood’s skin.

Was that a snake?

“What’s that?” He squinted further, beckoning one of the experts closer.

One of the oldest ones leaned forward to take a look. “Looks like a scar, doesn’t it?”

“Or a tattoo?” Another one proposed.

Colin frowned – it did not look like either of those things, but the young man could not be sure before they let Doctor Silverman examine her. Still, the shape felt familiar to him, like it was tickling a long-forgotten itch in his mind, one that he now desperately needed to scratch. Could it be something that he had seen when he was younger?

It truly did not ring a bell.

With a sigh that moved the air around him and let the smells reach him a little too closely, he leaned back and motioned for the men to finish what they were doing. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was not relevant at all.

Or maybe it was.

When he turned his head again, Kit and Clare were watching him from the side. Clare’s notebook was now closed, clutched tight against her chest, while Kit had lit up another cigarette. From afar, and if he had not known better, Colin would have thought that those two were two gangsters – one looking absolutely innocent and inconspicuous, the other displaying nerves of steel.

“Let’s go back to somewhere warm, shall we?” Kit raised an impatient eyebrow at his friend.

Clare only narrowed her eyes to thin slits as she looked at Colin – was she trying to understand what had just happened. If so, why did she not ask? Was she waiting for the recapitulation meeting that they would have back at the station?

Either way, Colin nodded.

----------------------------------------

Back at the Station, Colin watched as the inspectors who had come on the field with him scattered across the open space. They went back to their desks, either alone or in groups, chatting about evidence, clues, elements relating to their new case or the old one.

Just like that, the young man knew that he was not the only one who was bewildered by the current situation they were facing.

If the two matters were indeed linked, they had no certainty that it would be the only two victims on their hands. It was their duty and responsibility to protect the citizens, hence why they needed to get to the bottom of that madness, and the sooner the better. The lives of innocent people were at risk.

Colin thought that having Alfred Hughes and Viola Wood paying the price of some madman out there was already too heavy to even risk adding another victim to that list.

“You look angry.” Kit commented, standing by his side.

“I am.” Colin admitted quietly. “Mainly worried, though, I’m not going to lie about that.”

“Well, I have to agree.” His friend conceded. “It’s been a while since we’ve had such a big case.”

Colin turned his head and studied Kit in silence for a moment. His best friend was the definition of self-composure. He always wore a quiet expression, even in times of distress, and nothing could ever break his resolve, it seems. He was either smiling or serious, but never in the extremes.

Still, at that moment, his lack of reaction was almost scary and slightly unnerving.

“Are you alright?”

Kit grinned. “Yes. Just hungry.”

Colin rolled his eyes. “How can you be, when we’ve just walked out of a bloodbath?”

“Well.” He chuckled. “I’m always hungry, and you know that I don’t think well on an empty stomach.”

That was true, but the young man did not play his game.

“Can we just take a break?” Kit continued. “Look at the others, they’re having lunch too.” He pointed at a couple of desks.

Colin sighed, following his gaze. He did not know if the pain in his stomach was due to nerves or hunger, and a part of him was not quite keen to find out.

And yet, he understood the need to pretend that things were alright. Perhaps taking a breather would help him think more clearly about the case.

He could try.

“Come on, Bradford.” Kit smiled faintly. “You look like you’re about to keel over. I’m not asking to take a three-hour break, but just a few minutes? To eat something? Smoke a cigarette?”

The young man sighed again and looked away.

Outside, the snow had stopped falling even while the fog was still going strong, and Colin was surprised to see that Clare was standing out on the front porch. It was impossible to mistake her bright red hair for anyone else.

Was she alright? Was she trying to escape the obviously manic behaviour of their colleagues? Should he check on her, or was he, too, part of what she was trying to distance herself from, even if only momentarily?

Or was she always alone when it was lunchtime, only he had never quite noticed because… Colin frowned.

Because he was never alone.

“Alright.” He eventually sighed. “We can take a break.” He told Kit, who grinned wildly in response. “Do you mind if we join Clare outside?” He added while pointing at the door.

Kit raised a surprised eyebrow, before dropping his hands from the buttons of his coat, which he had been trying to undo. “Alright, fine. Some fresh air might help. Let me grab my lunchbox.”

He walked back to his desk as Colin walked in the other direction, straight for the door. Clare had lowered herself to the first few steps, her coat shielding her from the cold and wet ground; she did not move when the door opened – anyone could walk up and down the stairs without trouble, as she was on the side.

As usual, the young woman seemed to be always thinking of a way to make herself as invisible as possible.

A minute or so later, while Colin was still deep in his internal debate regarding whether or not to disturb Clare, Kit patted him on the back while shoving his lunch bag in his arms.

“Got that from your desk.” He told him.

“Thank you.” Colin smiled faintly.

Just like that, the young man felt like he was back to school as a boy, ready to find a bench somewhere under a tree to quietly eat before classes would start again. He did not know if he liked the trip down memory lane or not.

“Hey, Clare.” Kit spoke up first, before Colin could try anything.

The young woman started, then looked up – the instant wariness that flooded her eyes receded when she recognised them, and Colin smiled softly.

“Hi.” He said next. “Can we join you for lunch?”

Clare blinked, clearly surprised. “S… Sure.” She said in slight confusion. “But it’s not quite comfortable around here.”

“No worries.” Kit grunted as he took a seat on the steps, leaving a spot free for Colin between them. “I could eat anywhere.”

Colin waited until he was sitting down, careful not disrupt either one of them, before he spoke again.

“Do you often eat outside?” He asked.

“Sometimes.” Clare admitted with a faint shrug. “Often when I need to clear my head. This morning was quite violent, once you step back and take stock.”

“I agree.” Kit grunted, his mouth full.

Both Colin and Clare watched him for a brief moment.

“That didn’t spoil your appetite, at least.” Colin jested.

His friend grinned goofily. “You’d be dead worried if it happened.”

“That’s quite possible.” He conceded.

When he turned back, he saw that Clare was smiling faintly. It only tugged at one side of her mouth and did not fully reach her eyes, but it was a smile either way.

“But I agree with you, Clare.” He added eventually. “There’s something extremely disturbing about those last few days.”

“It seeps into your clothes, doesn’t it?” She asked, turning away from her small sandwich to look at him, then Kit.

Her eyes were changing colour in the light – right now, they looked almost like they were the same shade as raw aquamarine.

“I think you’re mistaking your feelings for the fog, Clare.”

Colin could not repress the laugh that bubbled out of him, which in turn made Kit grin and Clare smile for real. They probably looked quite strange from an outsider, right now – they did not come from the same world, but at the same time, they did.

To be fair, they probably looked as stranger from the insiders, warm and dry in the police station.

“That’s probably it, my apologies.” The young woman nodded respectfully. “All this talk of murders and my mind is gone.”

“We’ll forgive you this once.” Colin smiled playfully.

Silence settled onto the three of them as they ate quietly, sitting one next to the other like it was not slightly awkward.

They never did this.

Then again, Colin wondered why not. He was slightly disappointed in himself that he had not been paying more attention to every inspector in their team before.

“Well, this silence is making me uncomfortable.” Kit said eventually, grabbing his cigarettes from his pocket.

“Not now.” Colin caught his arm. “After we’re done eating, please.”

His friend grunted, but still agreed.

“I don’t mind, if I’m the reason why you’re not smoking.” Clare waved her hand, eating the last of her lunch.

“But he does.” Kit tilted his head in Colin’s direction. “He doesn’t like the smell.” He made a face.

Colin sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Clare nodded. “You’re right.”

He turned his head in her direction, finding her already looking at him. She looked like she was still trying to solve a puzzle, which felt slightly ironic, given that he felt like she was the one whose mystery deserved to be solved. Clare sat on the edge of the step like one breath might push her off.

“Have you heard back from the Superintendent?” He asked her.

She blinked in surprise at the question, before shaking her head. “No, I haven’t. I gave him the report yesterday morning.”

“That’s strange that he hasn’t commented on it.” Colin whispered almost to himself.

He felt cold, though mainly tired and worried – nothing that a strong cup of tea might not solve, although he could not tell for sure at this point.

“Now, children, children, be patient.” Kit said, rubbing his hands together, before running them into his black hair to smooth it out. “I’m pretty sure Superintendent Bradford is being monopolised by the Mayor’s cabinet about Alfred Hughes. And now that we have to add Viola Wood to the list, it’s not going to get better.”

“She is a little known, you’re right.” Colin sighed in agreement.

Miss Wood was notorious for being a very charitable woman, who constantly worked to help improve the citizens of the town’s lives.

It truly would be a big loss for the community.

And to think that she had died in such horrid conditions… The young man shuddered at the thought.

“The press must be involved too.” Clare added, tucking a strand of bright red hair behind her ear. “News like that travel fast, I’m sure that it’s only a question of time.”

“Bloody hell.” Kit grunted once more.

“Let’s think.” Colin said, refusing to admit defeat. “So far, we know that the two murders happened.”

“Strong start.” His best friend commented.

While Colin glared, he also heard Clare chuckle faintly.

“We don’t know yet if the murders are related, but the only obvious common thread that we can pull between the two is that the victims were violently killed and left on display in public. In my opinion, that’s not a coincidence.”

“I agree.” Kit nodded, tossing his cigarette box between his hands.

Colin knew that his friend was getting impatient with the need to smoke, which made him appreciate his restraint even more.

“I’d be surprised if the two didn’t connect at some point.” He admitted, both to himself and his two comrades.

“The quickest way to find out is to investigate the victims’ respective background and check if they knew each other. It doesn’t help figuring out who might have been behind the crimes, but at least we’d have an idea of what brought them together.”

“That’s a good idea.” He nodded, pleased with her quick wit.

“I can start on that this afternoon.” Clare offered. “Unless you need my assistance with something else?”

“Not immediately, no.” Colin shook his head. “But I might go to the laboratory later on today, so maybe you’ll want to join?”

She smiled faintly, as if she was glad to be involved, before nodding quietly.

“I can help you with the report, Clare, if you want.” Kit offered. “If you take Miss Wood and I take Sir Hughes, or vice-versa, we’ll go that much faster.”

“That sounds good, thank you.”

“Great plan.” Colin approved. “In the meantime, I’ll go to the library or the archives, because I noticed a mark on Miss Wood’s neck back to the crime scene, and I need to figure out what that symbol is.”

“What symbol?” Kit and Clare asked in unison, apparently on the same page.

“It was a sort of… snake.”

Colin bent down and tried to draw the snake from memory in the melting snow on the edge of the few steps they were sitting on. He did not quite do a good job by any standards, he thought.

“Does that ring a bell?” He asked, frowning, wondering about the whole of it himself at that point.

Kit hummed. “I didn’t know that the absence of artistic skills could actually worsen with time.”

“Oh, shush.” He grumbled while Clare smiled faintly, looking like she was trying to actually repress her reaction.

Their dynamics was strange – a little wary, and perhaps too polite to be completely natural – but pleasant nonetheless so far.

The young man was looking forward to seeing how that would unravel throughout the investigation.

“I’ve never seen such an ugly thing.” Kit continued, despite the warning. “What is it?”

“A snake.”

Clare frowned instantly, before scrunching up her nose in mild disguise.

“A snake?” She repeated.

“Yes.” He nodded. “For some reason, it feels like something I should know, maybe like a gang, or an organisation…”

Kit laughed faintly. “Colin, the only ‘organisation’ that we might think about these days is the Serpent Society, but that’s clearly a dead end.”

Colin looked at his friend without truly seeing him for a moment. The Serpent Society was in fact known for working in the dark, in the shadows of the city they lived in. But they had not come out of hiding in decades, and with time people had started attribute them all sorts of terrible actions and movements.

They were either drug dealers, murderers, money launderers, there was probably somewhere a very long list of potential felonies that they might have committed.

They were nothing short of a mystery, but no one had heard of them in a long time. At least, not knowingly.

“Why would it be a dead end?”

“They’re a legend, Colin.” Kit shook his head. “That’s what we tell children so that they don’t stray away outside at night. No one knows who the Serpent Society really is, be it vigilantes or criminals, and it also goes to the point where we don’t even know if they are real.”

The young inspector frowned at his friend’s words. Was he chasing ghosts, then? The point remained that he needed to investigate the mark he had found. Whether it led to the Society was only secondary for now.

There was a clue, it had not appeared out of thin air, so he needed to find out the truth about it; that was all.

“This is strange, though.” Clare said, opening her notebook onto a blank page to scribble a few words. “You see a snake, and you automatically think about a legendary, quiet and silent group that no one knows anything about?”

Colin made a face as he turned his attention to her. She met his gaze without hesitating nor wavering.

“Well, when you put it that way, of course…”

Kit chuckled. “Maybe figure out what the mark truly looked like, first, because you’re probably the only one who can see a snake in that melted snow of yours. Then we’ll help you see where it takes us. But I bet you that it won’t be the Serpent Society.”

“I wouldn’t have worded it that way, but I agree with Kit.” Clare nodded. “We should stay focused on looking for our murderer, possibly murderers.”

“But what if the Society is behind the two cases?” Colin taunted.

Again, she did not shy away from his gaze. “Ghosts are not killers, Colin.” She said softly.

When she looked at him like that, which he was still trying to get used to, the young man could not help but wonder whether she was wildly naïve about human nature or incredibly intelligent.

Despite what Kit and Clare’s words and expressions told him about their opinion on his suggestion, Colin was not sold on the idea of giving up so easily. He watched Clare write down the Serpent Society name on her notebook, before striking it through with a bold, black line of ink.

And that vision did not sit right with him.