CLARE HAMPSHIRE

LIGHT SNOW

The sound of the keys on her typewriter was soothing Clare’s nerves, ever so slightly. There was something steady, reassuring, methodically about each time she stroked a key, writing a letter, then a word, then a sentence.

This, she could control a little more than a dead body in Primrose Park, or even the weather. It had started snowing earlier while they were still outside gathering evidence, and the rest of their “field trip”, as Kit had called it, had been a messy rush to collect as much as possible, grab everything and go back to the Central Police Station.

All in all, they had been gone for about two hours, but Clare still felt cold and frozen, as if she would never be able to get warmed again in this lifetime. Her hands were now back to normal temperature, thankfully, as she was charged with typing up a preliminary report on their morning discovery – because the other inspectors often thought that it was her job, apparently, and Richard had never bothered correcting them.

Neither had she, to be fair.

Her eyes went back and forth between the page she was typing up and her and Colin’s notes, which she was compiling at best given the time – the man himself was sitting at his desk nearby, hoping to gather more clues and create connections in the meantime. In a generous display of kinship and teamwork, though, he had reminded Clare that she could bother him any time while writing – he would be there to help her.

If anything, that was very nice of him, she thought.

Alfred Hughes. Fifty-eight years of age. Found dead in Primrose Park on November fifteenth, nineteen-twenty-one.

During their time outside, Clare and Colin had written down any detail, sign or mark they could find on Hughes’ body while it was still on display, hanging on the tree trunk. Eugene, Lloyd and Paul had been relatively useful, too, which was nice, but Kit had been the most helpful – the young woman supposed that being the current supervisor’s best friend helped lowering certain social cues that the others still had tightly secured.

At last, though, it had been recovered and examined a little further, before being wrapped up and transferred to the morgue.

In the two hours they had been at the crime scene, the crowd of onlookers had not depleted – quite the contrary, in fact.

Clare could still remember the look of hunger and fear in their eyes as she walked back later on, and she did not like that.

Because it was the first report they would have available about that case, the young woman figured that they would need a bit of background information about the victim. Sure enough, they would have to dig into his past to understand whether this criminal act was in fact retaliation and a revenge of some sort, but that could come later.

For now, she just needed to basic facts, and she knew exactly who to ask about it.

Clare abandoned her desk briefly to cross the open working space, navigating between the other stations like she always did, which meant that she tried to make herself as invisible as possible. It was not much, truthfully, given that she almost tripped and knocked down a lamp on her way to Marlene’s desk, but she would take it as a personal victory that she did not succeed.

It’s the little things!

Marlene looked up from her work as she approached, and she smiled. “Hi, Clare.”

“Hi, Marlene.” She said. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“Not at all!” She said loudly, her accent always carrying so much more against Clare’s absent one. “How can I help you?”

“Would you mind lending me the keys to the archive room, please? I’d like to look up if we have some documents on our new case.”

It was often hard to move past Marlene because her eyes and ears wandered everywhere, making her both dangerous and a good asset depending on whether one wanted to be inconspicuous or to gather some information. However, the young woman understood that she was sometimes made privy to some ongoing cases, while it also happened that others were harder to access. For now, the Hughes investigation was something that only progressed between Clare, Colin, Richard and the four other inspectors working on it. The situation might change later on as they made some breakthroughs, but it was not the case just yet.

“Sure!” Marlene nodded, before opening her drawing and rummaging through it.

There were a lot of office supplies in there, and the sounds of metal clinking, things being moved around almost made Clare feel bad for bothering her and disrupting the obvious mess that was surrounding her desk.

“But don’t go snooping around, alright?” The secretary and archivist grinned as she handed her a key with a leather cord as its keychain.

Clare gave her a grateful yet slightly shy smile. It was as if it was the first time they had this conversation. It was true that not everyone had such easy access to the archives. But Marlene was more lenient towards her, apparently, because they were somewhat friends and they needed to stick together.

Besides, Clare knew that Marlene trusted her. And that meant something to her.

“Of course not.” She said, taking the key. “Thank you, Marlene.”

“No problem!” Her sing-song voice followed her.

Kenneth Smith smirked at her while she made her way past the remaining desks and towards the archive room. By now, the lighting outside had dimmed, signalling the impending end of their workday, and all the lamps were alit inside the station – it gave the whole place a much warmer look, even if it did not feel like home.

Then again, this was England for Clare. Nothing felt like home. But the way Kenneth creepily smiled at her made her want to drop everything and run back to the apartment she and her best friend occupied downtown.

She did not, but the feeling lingered.

It even intensified when she disappeared from the open space and nearly collided with none other than Paul Edwards himself. He caught her by the arm, probably out of reflex, before letting go like he had been burnt by the contact – his bright blue eyes flashed with surprise first, then quickly flared with loathing instead, which looked more like him indeed.

“Look where you’re going New York, or you’re going to have problems!” He hissed moodily.

Clare knew better than to argue. Even if it was an accident, everything would be her fault either way according to their cypher expert. Besides, he was such a suck-up to Richard than he could probably have her fired for misconduct if she was not careful enough.

The young woman did not want to lose her job, and she knew that this was not a fight for her.

Paul Edwards was not worth it.

Sadly, Paul Edwards thought that he was a piece of god within the police station.

As she muttered a half-hearted apology, lowering her eyes to the ground, Clare tried to walk past the young man so that she could disappear from view all over again. With him, it was safer than being under his scrutiny, and she would choose that outcome over anything and everything else.

But he stepped to the side, blocking her way again, and she had no choice but to look up at his face again.

Paul was handsome. And he knew it. He had a cocky grin about him whenever the important people were not looking at him, like he was multi-faceted individual who adjusted his personality according to what it might bring him, and with who. He was used to women fawning over him and to men wanting to be him – or, at the very least, he behaved in such way.

He also really despised Clare, for a reason that the young woman had yet to discover, unfortunately. It would have been a nice thing to know, so that they could lay it all out and solve the situation – sadly, Paul was also the same breed of dick as Richard, which probably explained why he tried so hard to impress him and remain in his good books.

When the young man suddenly towered over her, Clare was enveloped in a whiff of his cologne – mainly, what overwhelmed her was the sudden pressure of his presence against her body. She did not like that very much, even if she held his gaze. It did not matter that her hands were trembling; as long as she did not look down or away, they were still on this game.

“A word of advice.” His lovely vowels and consonants swirled out of his mouth like audible venom.

Clare had not asked for any help, but she figured that Paul did not need an incentive to stick his nose where he had truly no business.

She did not say a word.

“You should probably resign. For now, you still have time to make things right. But if you continue your little game, thinking you can take our place and steal our work, you’re in for a treat, Doll.” He said, and his voice might have been velvety, his words were steel-like. “I’d hate to make this hard for you.”

The young woman did not know what “hard” meant in Paul’s mouth. She would have said that the constant bullying, mocking, humiliating emanating primarily from him, then taken over by the other inspectors, had been pretty bad already.

If he promised her more and worse, this probably could count as a very serious threat.

Clare opened her mouth to answer, even if she had no idea how she could threaten him back in her current position, but she was saved by a modern Knight in non-shiny armour instead, holding a cup of coffee.

“Paul."

The young man and she parted and turned their heads towards the open space, where Kit was watching them at the corner between their corridor and the communal workspace. He had his scary face on, and the lighting coming from the ceiling and a nearby desk cast shadows over his face in a way that made him look darker than he could usually be. Clare had to confess that it worked wonderful with his usual aura, even if he currently did not have his enticing and inviting stance.

Right now, it was all manhood and threat.

She did not know if he was aware that he had just saved her, and not interrupted a potential lovers’ quarrel, but she was thankful nonetheless.

“Yes, Kit?” Paul’s voice lost all trace of threat as he straightened his back and smiled.

He could stretch all he wanted, Kit would always be taller and broader than him. He and Colin were also impressive like that, it seemed.

“I need your help with a cypher. Come over to my desk, will you?”

“Of course, I’ll…”

“Now.”

Kit had no more power than any other inspector at the police station. By all means, he could not make Paul drop everything and follow his orders like that. But Kit McGill also happened to be Colin’s best friend. He was an excellent investigator. He had earned the respect everyone showed him, instead of simply extorting it from others, like… well – some others.

Most importantly, Kit had a presence. Clare did not know if it was in his voice or his stance, or if the scar on his face could somehow be used to help him like that, but that young man could be as terrifying as he could be lovely.

Right now, he looked a little scary, and given how Paul stiffened, she knew that she was not the only one who had noticed.

“Of course.” He repeated obediently.

Just like Clare, Paul apparently knew when to pick his battles. Going against her was obviously more fun than going against him, clearly. The young woman figured that it probably had to do with his odds at winning.

As he moved away, Clare watched – her gaze met Kit’s from a distance, and while they were not close by any means, she could still see the green colour of his eyes darkening ever so slightly. Like that, she would have ventured that his irises and hers were of a similar shade, which was a rarity usually. She was the one with the dark eyes, out of the two of them.

In those eyes, the young woman saw a warning. It was subtle but present, and Kit tilted his chin towards her as their gazes held.

“You alright, Clare?” He asked.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” At last, a faint smile made the corners of his lips curl up. “Don’t hesitate if you need me. I’ll be over there at my desk. With Paul.”

By that, she understood that he would keep him occupied for a little while, and it took everything in her not to cross the corridor back to him to give him a thank-you hug. But that would be way out of their comfort zone, and definitely out of the boundaries of their professional life.

Still, the feeling lingered.

“Thank you, Kit.” She replied sincerely, and she hoped that he could tell. “I appreciate it.”

That time, his smile was franker, perhaps because he was now sure that she was fine, or perhaps for a completely different reason – who could tell? But he nodded, and they both parted.

As she finally made her way to the archive room, Clare hoped that Kit had indeed needed help with a cypher, otherwise he would be stuck with Paul for absolutely no reason, and she felt a little bad for being the reason behind it.

On the other hand, she was also more than relieved to be rid of that man, though.

The young woman entered the room and nearly coughed at the scent of dust from all the documents and books in there – those had not seen the light of day in too long, and the room needed a good airing, clearly.

She wrinkled her nose and turned on the lights before walking straight into the room and in between the tall metal shelves filled with boxes of files.

It did not take her long to find the one labelled Alfred Hughes – as a member of the Mayor’s circle, they had gathered some information about him over the years, especially in light of an old investigation Clare had vaguely heard about, where the police forces had had to reinforce security around him and Mayor Parson after a nasty case in which they acted as witnesses.

She was not quite sure of the details, and she had never asked. The point of the matter was that they had a file about him and his closed relatives, and she needed that to build a more complete profile for the report.

But she did not stop there.

Clare moved to another small aisle lined with as many shelves as before. One could say many things about Marlene, but she was good at organising their data. More often than not, Clare marvelled at the fact that they had guns and war machines that were more potent that whole armies – she longed for the day where they would have that kind of technology in offices, where all their information pools could be found and accessed in one spot without taking so much space and collecting dust like right here.

But that sounded a little too much for like science fiction to her liking.

She had a list of files to recover, and she had committed the names to memory – even Paul Edwards and his ludicrous intimidation techniques could not damage that about her. She refused to be anything but an efficient worker, and she could multitask.

One by one, she collected her binders: Viola Wood, Lester Green, Walter Wright… Names that would be important down the line. Clare was thankful that Marlene trusted her with the key to the archive room.

Thanks to her, justice would be served.

Eventually, the young woman walked back to the open space, half-expecting Paul or one of his goons to jump up at her, blocking her way with yet another string of insults or threats, but the path was clear. Paul was still working with Kit at his desk – which made Clare feel a little bad for the inspector, because he did not deserve that kind of punishment for helping her. She dropped the key back to the secretary’s desk, dodged the incentive to stay and have a conversation that would have been too long, and she walked back to her desk, where Colin was waiting for her.

The young man was standing as he waited, watching her come with his hands in the pockets of his dark blue trousers. He was wearing a matching vest and a white shirt with a tie, and the acknowledgment Clare made every time she saw him was still ringing true, day after day: Colin Bradford had been made to wear suits.

By now, though, his hair was a little dishevelled after their long hours at work, and he had an easier smile than at the beginning of the day. He was tired, in short.

“Colin.” She said, putting her files on her desk as she arrived. “How can I help you?”

“I’m actually the one coming to help you.” He replied with another small smile. “Can I sit?” He motioned to a chair by the nearest desk.

“Absolutely.” She frowned as she watched him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Colin shook his head. “But I got new information about the autopsy of Alfred Hughes, and I thought that we can go over the details and add them to your report.”

Clare nodded and grabbed her notebook.

“Good idea.” She said, her pen ready. “I’m listening.”

Colin had a great voice. Its low rumble and enticing accent almost made it hard to pay attention to the content of his words – thankfully, Clare was a better professional than that, but she was also human enough to acknowledge that having him dictate information for her to take notes of was infinitely nicer than having Paul or Kenneth treat her like their personal slave.

They worked well together; the young woman did not feel like he had to hash the work for her, and he also accepted her contributions and ideas, and even as they were talking about death and including gruesome elements about Alfred Hughes to their first report, Clare felt almost better than she had all day.

Working in the police apparently made her experience life in a somewhat offset way. Truthfully, the young woman did not know if anything about her had ever been where and what it was supposed to be.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“It looks like a complex case.” Clare admitted eventually.

Colin nodded. “I have to agree with you.” He glanced up at her; his glasses were framed blue, too, and it somehow enhanced the dark black colour of his eyes. “I’m not sure Chief is going to be happy about that.”

“Well.” She tried to be optimistic, which in her case felt counterintuitive. “It’s only our first day, so we can only hope that we’ll find out the truth soon enough.” Clare even smiled a little as she said that.

He chuckled. “Let’s hope, yes. Either way, I’m glad that we’re working together.”

She met his eyes, surprised. “You are?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I feel like work is… easier with you, in a way.”

It had only been a few hours, how could he tell? And also, mainly, how did Clare feel like he understood her thoughts? Because she did feel like they would make a good pair out of this investigation, even if that put her in the spotlight regarding the other inspectors.

“There’s no battles of ego.” Colin added, apparently reading her experience for confusion.

It was Clare’s turn to chuckle. “We can have one if you want.”

“I’m not sure you’re the right type of person for that, Clare.”

She looked up, and while her retort was burning her lips, she kept it down for both their sakes. Colin smiled again, amused, before tearing a page off his own notebook and grabbing his pen once more.

When he looked down at the paper, the surrounding lights caught in his glasses, and Clare got a better look of his profile – straight nose, long eyelashes, smooth skin.

Yes, indeed, there was something soothing about having him near.

“Let’s make a list of what we should do tomorrow.” He declared. “Alright?”

“Alright.” Clare nodded, secretly pleased that he truly understood the word partner as she did, apparently.

Out of the corner of her eyes, the pile of files that she had taken from the archives, along with the notes for the report that still lay unfinished and waiting for her at her typewriter were calling out for her to get her head back into the game, but she ignored that for a little longer.

“We need to interrogate the members of Alfred Hughes’ direct circle and cabinet.” Clare proposed, and Colin took notes.

“We’ll have to also question his family.” He added.

“And the individual who found him.”

Colin looked up. “I think it’s already been taken care of, the report is being drafted.”

Clare nodded with a faint frown. “But he hasn’t been interrogated by… you, who’s leading the case. So maybe you’ll have more questions depending on what has already been asked.”

“Fair point. I’ll also remind you that we are co-leading this investigation. We can interrogate everyone together, if you want.”

She nodded, words failing her. Down to the bottom of it, Clare knew that her duties and that of Colin were extremely different. They might have the same job title on paper, their realities could not have been different.

And to have him breaking down those barriers was like a roaring sea that kept on crashing onto the shore.

If anything, the young woman hoped that she would get used to it soon enough, because there was no way that her gaping mouth and startled expression made her look very clever at that moment.

Still, Colin was gentleman enough not to point that out, which she appreciated.

“I’ll make sure that they are called to the station tomorrow.” Colin said quietly. “We won’t be able to see everyone in one day, but that should be carried out during the week, and we’ll hopefully have a clearer view of who might have wanted Hughes dead.”

“Does your gut tell you anything for now?” Clare could not help but ask.

“No.” He admitted with a slight shake of his head. “Whoever did it was methodical enough to leave no blatant trace behind. But hopefully what we’ve gathered on the scene of the crime will make sense when we pair it with elements from the autopsy and later on with what we’ll collect from the interrogations.” When he smiled, it was soft and almost weary. “We should be able to be efficient.”

Just like Dick asked us to be.

“I’m sure we will be.” She replied. “But you should add that to the list. Just in case we forget.”

He chuckled, his voice low and deep, before actually adding a few items on his list.

“You can finish the report tomorrow morning, Clare.” He told her after checking the clock mounted on the wall. “Bright and early, alright?”

“Are you sure?” The young woman frowned ever so slightly. “I can…”

“It’s alright. You’ll be more efficient tomorrow, and, frankly, the man will still be dead. It’s time to go, so make the most of it. Some interrogations this week might have us spend more time here than we’d like.” He said as he got up.

She watched him before nodding.

“Thank you, Colin.”

He went and placed the chair back where it belonged. “No problem. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Clare did not waste much time after Colin had gone back to his desk. She tidied her work surface, made sure that all her documents were either in her bag or safely locked inside her drawer – not every inspector had to use the key and the lock at the police station, but she had decided to after one too many pranks having her documents ruined too many times – and got back to grab her coat.

Her steps were slightly hurried, but nothing too out of the ordinary, considering how she was treated in here. Still, she had to give credit to Colin for making that last part of her day much more bearable and almost pleasant.

It could have been much worse indeed, at this point.

Outside, the weather had not improved, and it was now dark with the looming evening, well on its way despite the time not being so late. Light snow was falling from the heavy sky, and Clare buried her nose into the thick and soft fur of her coat.

She was more tired than she wanted to admit, but that did not stop her from going on. She would go home soon enough, but she still had one last errand to run before she could finally take her shoes off and relax, away from the scrutiny of her colleagues.

The young woman walked quickly, away from the station and into a perpendicular street. She was still going towards her apartment downtown, but slightly on the side, not quite in the straightest line that she could have chosen.

There was a point, and a reason, to that.

Her goal was the tall, insignificant building on the other side of the neighbourhood. She got there quickly enough, looking forward to some warmth and a dry environment, even if for a little bit.

Only the wooden gate gave a slight indication that something might be out of the ordinary – the building was too old, too abandoned and decaying, to have such a glorious, well-maintained dark limber door. It had clearly been polished recently, too, and the insignia at the top looked as glorious as ever.

Clare used the lionhead door knocker and took a step back, casually looking around her to see if anyone was paying attention. Obviously, given the weather, no one was actually outside, and she did not blame them.

Her eyes wandered upwards next, and they find the familiar insignia.

Two snakes were intertwined, their long tails merging together at the tip until their necks, which suddenly rounded so that their mouths could collide; the reptiles could have looked like they were somewhat kissing from afar, but from closer up – and definitely knowing what and who the symbol represented – Clare could say with fair certainty that they were trying to kill one another.

By all means, it was nothing like an ouroboros, the famous serpent that was eating its own tail, but the top half of that reptilian duo could still ring that bell nonetheless.

But the young inspector was cut shot on her examination of the snakes, which she already knew fairly well anyway by the door creaking open. It sounded dark and ominous, as if slowly giving way to an old, abandoned castle in the Carpathian Mountains.

Still, instead of Lord Nosferatu revived from the Dead, a young woman emerged from the darkness, squinting at Clare upon discovering her there, her head covered with her dark blue cloche hat. But if she was surprised by her look, this was nothing next to her own.

The young woman was tall, taller than any other women Clare had had the chance and opportunity of associate with. Her hair was cropped short, like it was the trend amongst certain fashionable circles, and stark white, despite her being young. She was thin and taunt, like a bow that had been pulled and was ready to go off at any moment. There was something truly striking about her stern expression, her regal chin and her strong, darker brows. If fierce had a name, it would be that of Maxine Robinson.

“Clare.” She stated quietly, her voice much more poised than one could anticipate with an appearance like that.

“Hello, Maxine.”

The young woman looked to the left, then to the right, checking like Clare had that no one was watching over them, before she pressed her hand against the door to let her in. On her middle finger was a gold ring – the serpents had been struck on the seal of the jewel.

The door clinked shut after she entered, and Clare followed Maxine down to the dark and wet corridor. It led straight to a courtyard, which was lit up by natural light, and thus made the walk in semi-darkness relatively passable.

Clare would have liked to strike some conversation, but she knew better. If Harold had come to open the door, she knew that it would have been doomed as well, but Clyde and Alvin were never reluctant to have a little chat with her.

In a way, the silence was a good thing, she reconsidered: it helped her get back to reality after her long day at work, and she could slowly but surely peel off that pristine, almost sterile layer that stuck to her essence whenever she had to go to the police station. She could already feel herself walk with more confidence, even with a little swagger that she secretly enjoyed.

Past the courtyard, they walked into another, much more grandiose building, completely hidden from the street. The deserted, worse for wear façade that served as their front door was truly and utterly just that – Clare did not know if any of those rooms were actually occupied. Maybe they served as storage, or something like that.

But the other, secretive part, was like stepping into another world. The corridors were tall, with high, arched ceilings that occasionally let the light in through skylights. Maxine and Clare walked near a majestic staircase that could have been produced right out of a fairy-tale, but they kept walking.

With that kind of environment, the young woman finished shedding the mask she donned every day. She took off her cloche hat and ruffled her bright hair so that her neat haircut would fall into cascading curls over her coat. The swagger remained, paired up with a slight grin – Clare straightened her back as she followed Maxine forward, towards the deeper end of the ground floor. She no longer tried to be invisible; she had been given space, and she would take it.

As they neared the door that was their destination, a faint meowing made Clare turn her head to the side, ever so slightly.

Zeus was looking at her from a windowsill. His pale green eyes were fixated on her, their pupils thin – Zeus was probably the most astonishing cat there was, and it was so very fitting that he had ended up in a place like this one. His coat was white, grey and black, speckled with all three colours – only his nose and ears were fully black. The rest of him was a fluffy, harmonious canvas.

Clare smiled faintly at their mascot and nodded her head in greeting; that was her personal tradition.

“Who’s in the room today?” She asked Maxine as she looked away from the feline.

The young woman stopped by the door, her hand on the handle, and turned to answer her. She was dressed in all black today, with high-waisted trousers that Clare was secretly dying to own, and a vest and black shirt that would have made most of the men at the police station drool with envy.

Maxine was fierce, dangerous and lethal.

She also knew how to dress and impress.

“Mila, Lara, Lou and Robin are inside, waiting for you.” She replied.

Clare nodded. “Thank you.”

Maxine opened the door. As Clare walked into the room, she was first hit by the familiar smells coming from the inside – those were not nice ones, but she was used to them. It smelled like sweat, exertion, and smoke, and again she found herself not for the first time today wishing someone would just open a window, even considering the cold weather outside.

Then came the sounds. Grunts, groans and grumbles filled the air, mixed with the smells, and it could have been anything – flesh on flesh, although the atmosphere was permeated with violence, and that much was clear given the location where Clare found herself.

This was a training room. It was perhaps one of the largest rooms they kept in this facility, with mats on the side and a boxing ring in the centre. On it, today, were two men. They moved quickly and efficiently, in a way that was both hypnotising and tantalising, yet Clare did not give them more than a quick glance.

Instead, she walked towards one of the benches facing said ring, where two women were already seated.

“Well, look who it is!” The first one grinned, then smirked at Clare’s neat appearance; even with her hair down, she still looked like a proper little lady.

Mila Ridley was Clare’s best friend and flatmate. They had met a little over a year earlier, and their friendship had been instant and strong – they knew everything about each other. In a world of secrets like theirs, they had none for one another.

She was taller than Clare, with a pale complexion that always looked even paler than reality next to her jet-black hair, cut in a sharp bob and bangs, her deep black eyeliner and her pouty red lips. It was an obvious fact that Mila had found her style, and she was sticking to it. That it was so dark was often questioned by members of the outside world.

But in here, one often found themselves accepted and welcomed for who they were.

“You two look so unapproachable.” Clare commented as the two women scooted away to let her sit.

As she did, she stole the cigarette from her friend’s lips to steal a puff, before handing it back to her.

“And yet, here you are.” Lara smirked.

Lara Davies was slightly older than Clare and Mila, by three or four years. She was a firecracker of a woman, even if someone who was not used to her antics might be taken aback by the perpetual look of boredom on her face. Truthfully, life outside these walls could seem a little dull when one was used to the madness that went on within. She was very funny, and when she did not look bored to death, her smile was lovely, as were all her facial expressions – she had a great collection of those, and very little restraint. She had long blond hair that she sometimes bothered to tie up, but not always, and she was wearing the same ring as Maxine. Mila, on the other hand, was not. Neither was Clare.

“How are you?” Mila asked, grabbing her cigarette back. “Long day at work?”

Clare considered how to proceed about this question. Her gaze moved to the ring – she finally recognised that Lou and Robin were training, partly because she was closer now and could see better, but also mainly because Maxine had told her they were inside, and they were the only two people left in the room.

Lou was thinner than his boyfriend, and he fought with grace and precision, something he had tried teaching her over the months she had been around, and that she hoped she managed to emulate on a regular basis.

Robin was bulkier, heavier and more muscular, but that boy did know how to use his strength. Had Clare not known those two were lovers, she would have said they were arch enemies, watching them like that on the ring.

“Yeah.” She eventually replied, her accent drowning out the end of the short word – she always felt strange, speaking like she always had in a sea of posh-sounding individuals. “New case.”

“Oh yeah?” Lara raised an eyebrow at her, and Clare nodded.

“Yeah.”

One heartbeat passed, two heartbeats passed.

Lou crashed on the floor.

“You could have told me that one of you would go and take care of Alfred Hughes.” She eventually said.

Mila frowned. “Oh, that case?”

“Yeah, that case.” Clare rolled her eyes.

Lara’s smile spread like she had turned into a cat, ready to lick a bowl of milk clean. “What a lovely little mess I’ve made.”

“Sure, but next time just give me a heads-up, alright? Because I’m not used to working on a case that I’m supposed to cover up.”

Lara tilted her head back and laughed, probably at the expression on Clare’s face, which only enraged her a little more. The young woman pinched her lips together and resisted the urge to steal Mila’s cigarette once again, before looking away and at the boxing duel once more.

Lou was back on his feet, and he and Robin were throwing taunts and provocations at one another. Clare could not tell who would win that fight in the end.

“How did it go?” Mila asked, nudging her arm against her shoulder.

“So far, fine. But I’m in the leading team on that investigation, it’s not going to be an easy case for me.” She frowned.

To her credit, Lara tried to hide her smirk – she just did not try hard enough. “I am good. There’s no way I left a hint leading back to us. That little shit of Hughes got what he deserved.” She leaned forward and grabbed a cup of steaming liquid from the floor, before taking a sip.

“Look, I’m not denying that. It’s just that I would have liked to know.” Clare rolled her eyes, before extending her hand in her direction. “Give me a sip.”

“No.” Lara replied. “It’s too strong for you.”

Mila sighed dramatically. “Did you spike your tea again?”

“No.” She grinned. “But I like my coffee like I like myself: dark, bitter, and too hot for you.”

Clare rolled her eyes again – there was no way to stop Lara when she was already so far gone. With a sigh, she dropped her hand onto her lap, her fingers curling around the strap of her bag.

“But… Just to be sure, you knew this was coming, right?” Mila frowned, leaning forward to meet her gaze.

“Yes.” Clare nodded. “I knew Hughes was on our list. But I didn’t know that it would happen last night and that I would be sent to investigate.”

“Basically, you’re not upset because of me, but because now you’ve got to walk on eggshells until the case gets cold.” Lara inspected her nails, looking bored.

Clare did not reply, mainly because she had nothing to counter the truth.

“Just keep a low profile.” Mila patted Clare’s knee. “They don’t suspect a thing anyway, so make them regret ever putting you in charge.”

While the young woman agreed – and she had done wonders at being a clumsy mess so far, she thought – she still acknowledged the part of her that wanted that kind of power. She liked being in charge. She liked mysteries, even though this one truly was not one.

Mainly, she enjoyed the chance it gave her to prove herself to all the rascals she worked for and with – in that order.

“Yes…” She sighed.

Silence fell between the young women as they watched the last part of Lou and Robin’s fight. It was obvious by the two men’s movements that they knew each other’s body in more than one way, and they showcased a clear ease in the way they gripped, groped and handled. Had it not been so sweaty and violent, Clare might have found some sort of beauty in that display.

“I’ll have you know that I’m not grateful nor bitter, girls, because I brought the files we talked about the other day.” She announced.

“You got them?” Lara cried out excitedly.

It was a good thing that they already had quite the loud soundscape surrounding them, otherwise the poor girl might have alerted their guards – Clare did not want to be on Maxine’s bad side.

Ever.

“Yes. Viola Wood, Lester Green and Walter Wright.” She nodded, bending down to open her bag, laying at her feet.

“Good job, Clare!” Mila smiled. “I knew you could do it!”

Truthfully, it had not been hard. But while having someone in the police station was obviously exciting and useful in terms of resources and intelligence, they absolutely needed to pace themselves – the point was not to make her a cause for suspicion.

Because if the inspectors or Richard Bradford wanted to find dirt on her, they would.

And they would find a whole graveyard, too.

“Enjoy.” She grabbed the files from her bag and set them on Mila’s lap.

Today, her best friend was wearing a lovely shade of darkness in the shape of a dress, tight fitting at the waist and completely against what the fashion trend was at the moment, but that was Mila.

Always against the grain.

“Thank you.” She replied, looking down and leafing through them. “I’ll give them to Audrey later.”

Clare nodded – what Audrey would do with them was none of her business, but she knew that she would be made aware of everything of importance when the time was right.

They could all trust the Serpent Society for that.

They knew how to find someone when they needed them.

“Great, thanks.” Clare replied absently.

“I’m sure we’ll have news soon of the future assignments.” Lara said as she stifled a yawn.

She was watching intently as Robin swung his fist at Lou, who caught it in his grip and twisted in such a way that his boyfriend was forced to surrender or dislocate his shoulder to escape. Her heart squeezed a little at the thought, but she was glad to see that their accountant was a little more sensible than most of the other members of the Society.

“Stop!” Robin panted, sweat dripping down his gorgeous face. “I surrender!”

From where she was sitting, Clare could see him better as he caught his breath, on hands and knees after Lou had released him. Robin Thompson was tall and broad, made of steel and muscles. When he was dressed properly and attempting to look like an ordinary human being, he could easily pass as the accountant he was. He had an angelic face, with lovely blond hair and a brilliant smile. It also helped that he was assuredly one of the nicest and most generous people Clare had ever met, all societies and environments included.

Robin exuded kindness.

But the young man – who was slightly older than them, at a ripe thirty years of age – could also look terrifying, in a way that Clare was not sure he actually controlled. Like that, without a shirt on and all his tattoos on display, muscles bulging and body sweating, there was something scary about the darkness in his eyes and the aura surrounding him.

On his chest, an eagle was spreading its wings wide on his pectoral muscles, inked into his skin in deep black colour. Their insignia – the double snake, which was a requisite for everyone in the Society to wear or bear – was tattooed on his lower stomach, with the serpents curling around his navel. A wolf was adorning his left shoulder, its intense eyes watching everything as if the animal was actually alive and breathing upon its master.

And yet, in this relationship, Robin was the nice one.

Lou was a different story. If the tall and dark stranger often fleshed out in romance novels found himself propelled into reality, he would look exactly like Lou Walker. The young man was the eldest member of their small group of friends within the much bigger Society. He was tall, thin and pale – next to Robin, they were like night and day, which perhaps explained while their two galaxies had collided so quickly and beautifully.

His dark blue eyes were sharp, and nothing could ever evade him – in that sense, Clare and he were very similar. He had deep black hair that enhanced the impressive aura of doom that followed him anywhere, and he acted, behaved, breathed like nothing and no one could ever take him down.

This was a man who was loyal to a fault to those he loved, while being feared and impressive. It did not matter whether such reaction happened within the walls of the Serpent Society or outside its premises – if one was familiar with the matters of business, law, or politics, they knew who Lou Walker one.

One of the most feared lawyers in the city.

“Hi, Clare.” Robin spotted her first as he wiped his forehead in his forearm; his hair was damp.

Everything was damp.

Still, Robin grinned like a boy, his joyful and genuine expression snaking its way straight into Clare’s cold, dead heart.

While their friendship was not as exuberant and loud as with Mila or Lara, Robin and Clare were very close, mainly because they had discovered very early on that they could understand each other on certain subjects.

Robin had been stained and traumatised by the Great War – Clare came from a military family. That was the first common thread they had found in their personal histories, and it had only been the start of a self-weaving tapestry.

“Hi, Robin.” She replied quietly, her gaze even, her posture relaxed and controlled. “Nice match.”

“Thank you!” Lou was the one who answered, a feral grin about his lips. “How about you join me to see if you’re still good at this?”

“No, thanks.” She grinned back. “I have my work clothes on, and little Miss Hampshire can’t possibly damage her skirts, you know.”

He laughed, and the sound would have terrified her a year ago. Right now, it did not – not anymore, at least.

She knew that Lou laughed only when he felt good. The fight against his boyfriend had probably released some good hormones in his body, and they should all enjoy it while it lasted, she thought.

“Did you come bearing good news, then?” He asked her, running a hand through his dark hair while leaning against the ropes.

He did not move, even while Robin was already walking down the ring and closer to the girls on their bench. Lara and Mila seemed more focused on his half-naked body than on Lou, apparently.

“I have brought files.” Clare replied quietly.

“Rosalind will be happy.”

She nodded. “I hope so.”

It would be best indeed if their Head could be happy. She had worked really hard to make their next moves coherent and efficient – the plans came from her. But nothing would work if her Hands did not act accordingly and in harmony.

That was their task.

“What’s cooking up behind those pretty green eyes?”

Even when Lou asked such an innocent, even charming question, it sounded like a threat. Clare narrowed said pretty green eyes at him, and he grinned.

“You know what? Maybe I will join you for a duel.” She replied.

His smile turned even wider – there was nothing like the call of blood to fill him with glee. “What about your skirt?”

Clare got up from her seat. “I’ll figure it out.”