CLARE HAMPSHIRE
SUNNY
The moment Clare met Colin’s eyes, the young woman felt like she had been granted a rare view of the secret universe they were holding. For once, the stars they seemed to hide did not look like they were too far away from the surface, and Clare could simply not look away from him.
Colin looked surprised by the announcement that Richard had just made. His eyes were a little wide, his brows dipping as he was trying so hard – too hard – to contain the real roaring fire of his emotions, as if it was a lion ready to lunge and attack. But mainly, what the young woman could see on his face was sadness and betrayal.
Dick had struck again, it seemed.
Clare did not like that Colin looked – and felt, by all appearances – so abandoned, almost forsaken. It was not an expression that suited him, nor was it an expression that she enjoyed seeing on his face. On Dick’s face? Sure. Even Paul, Kenneth, Eugene or any of these assholes would do, although she had better ideas for them than simply “abandoned” or “confused”.
More importantly, and perhaps also more alarmingly, Clare did not like that she felt so strongly at the sight of his face. In fact, she almost suddenly felt bloodthirsty with the need to make Dick pay for that very Dick-move. It was obvious that Colin had not been warned in advance, that much was clear – he was not a good enough actor not to convey that impression, at least.
It just was not right.
Eventually, the young woman forced a faint smile to play on her lips. It was not much, but it was heartfelt. Most of the time, she played a role at the police station: she was the sweet, innocent girl that remained beyond any suspicion. She was nothing but a saint, at least at first glance.
But the smile she gave him was genuine. It was from Clare Hampshire, the girl who did not quite know in what waters she was swimming just then, and who was doing her best for now.
It seemed like Colin’s heartbreak and confusion were just took much at this moment, however.
Because he did not smile back.
And by the time the young woman had decided to step forward, it was already too late for her.
Eugene appeared to her left, probably taking advantage of the commotion in the room, as everyone was chatting about and celebrating the great news – sure. It was not every day that one was invited to a ball celebrating the boss’ son.
“So, New York, you know what to do, right?” The inspector sneered.
Clare saw Colin’s eyes widen in surprise before she turned her head to watch her colleague. He was grinning powerfully, just like he did when Paul was backing him up, even if Edwards was currently sucking up to Richard at that moment.
Still, the young woman presumed that Lloyd and Kenneth’s presence by his side were enough to him.
She frowned.
“Come on, you know better than to show up at the ball, don’t you? Have a little respect!” He continued, reading her expression before she could actually say anything.
“If not for yourself, at least for us.” Kenneth smirked, his eyes roaming up and down her body.
Clare fought back a shudder at that look – her clothes were voluntarily loose so that she would not draw attention to her body. It was part of her persona, of that character she had built for the police station.
The idea that it had never worked against Kenneth Smith was seriously creeping her out. This man was insane, there was no other explanation in her mind.
“I don’t understand.” She replied, and the confusion in her voice was not completely forced.
She genuinely was bewildered by their sudden attack.
“It’s easy, New York.” Lloyd piped up, apparently feeling left out from the fun. “What we ask of you is very simple: do yourself a favour, and do us a favour. Don’t come to the ball.”
Clare frowned even deeper. “Why not?”
“You’d only humiliate us.” Eugene shook his head as if she was daft. “We don’t need that. This is a ball for the real inspectors, not the little girl who slept with the boss to get the job.”
Every muscle in Clare’s body tensed at the jab. One more push, and she would murder the three of them in cold blood and in public. Lou had trained her to know exactly where to hit to inflict the most damage, if not to kill on the spot.
She knew she could physically take them down.
She also knew that Rosalind would make sure that she was the next one to be murdered if she stepped so much out of line with that.
“So it’s not hard.” Kenneth shrugged. “Don’t come. It would just be embarrassing, and no one wants you there.”
Clare squeezed her right hand into a fist, and the movement only made the inspectors grin at the sight apparently – it only infuriated her even more, even if she was trying so hard not to show it on her face.
And just like that, the satisfied smile on their shit-eating faces dropped when she tried to walk past them.
If she could make her way back to her desk, she would be alright. Their words stung, especially knowing how far from the truth they were, especially knowing all the things she could do to them that would have those idiots silent for the rest of their miserable life…
But Eugene stepped forward, right in her way, blocking her path. She looked up at once, heart beating fast in her chest.
She was going to murder him.
She was going to enjoy it, too.
“Not so fast, New York.” He crooned. “You need to agree, first.”
Clare narrowed her eyes. And yet, before she could say anything back – still debating whether to break her cover and avenge herself once and for all, consequences be damned – Eugene’s smile dropped on its own. She did not even have to threaten him a little for that to happen.
“That’s enough.” Colin commanded, standing right behind her; he was so much taller than her that the heat from his body was rolling over her like a thick cloak.
His tone was so dark and imposing that all three inspectors drew to a halt, blinking at the look on his face. That, and Kit looked murderous when she tilted her head to the side to check them out.
If that had been possible in this world, black ripples of smoke would have been swirling around the two men’s bodies while they stood there behind her.
“Hi, Mates.” Eugene grinned as if to nothing. “Clare and I were just having a fun little conversation about your birthday, Colin.” He tilted his chin in the man’s direction.
“Stop your bullshit.” Kit snapped before Colin could reply.
Clare felt a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up to see Colin slowly edging her to the side, while Kit took her place in front of the inspectors.
At last, they looked like they were understanding the situation – they were in trouble. Clare looked at them, until another squeeze from Colin’s hand had her look back at him.
Their eyes met, and she noticed how his dark gaze was filled with concern. His hand dropped from her shoulder to her wrist, as if he was not quite convinced that she would not bolt and make a run for it.
But Clare did not move.
She was secretly happy that Kit and he had come to her rescue, even if that was not usually in her habit to think this way. But if she could have those idiotic inspectors face consequences while protecting her identity and enforcing the fact that she was a poor, weak little creature that needed saving, she was a winner all around, she thought.
It felt awful, but it was still a good thing in her case.
“Are you alright?”
She could have lost herself in his eyes at that moment, in the sensation of his warm palm pressed against her slender wrist, had he not spoken just then.
“I am.” She replied softly.
“I’m sorry that they’re like this with you.” Colin shook his head, glaring at Kit roasting Eugene, Lloyd and Kenneth at that moment.
His best friend was not even being soft nor discreet about it, and the young woman almost felt her skin crawl at the idea of being possibly at the end of that ire one day.
“I’m used to it.” She shook her head the way he just had, forcing herself to tilt her chin up so that she could look into his eyes more easily.
Colin blinked, looking back at her – there was something, there. A connection of some sort. It made her feel warm inside.
“You shouldn’t be.” He sighed; his free hand went up, and he ran it through his soft hair.
At least, it looked soft. Then again, Clare did not know what she was thinking. What was happening to her?
“Don’t listen to them, alright?” Colin reminded her. “They’ve got problems with their ego, I’d say.”
Was that the politically correct way to talk about manhood, these days? The young woman was not sure.
“I try not to listen.” She replied, being more honest than she had been so far with him. “Sometimes, it’s harder than others.” She shrugged lightly.
“I understand.”
Clare did not know if that was true.
“I heard them, you know?” Colin spoke again. “This isn’t right. So I still want you to know that I’d be happy to have you at the… ball.”
At that moment, the young man looked like he might need help to attend, too. It felt as if the two of them had been thrown into a lion’s den without any warning nor chance to prepare.
“I…”
“Excuse me, pardon me, excuse me, pardon me.”
Clare and Colin looked up and away from one another as Marlene desperately tried to make her way through the group of inspectors and employees. Richard’s little stunt had successfully put chaos into the open floor, that was for sure, Clare thought.
“Hi, Marlene.” She said, her voice thin and her tone faint.
“Hi, Clare.” The archivist replied with a smile, before turning to Colin. “Congratulations on your birthday! I’m looking forward to celebrating with you.”
The smile that he shot her almost broke Clare’s heart. It was clearly forced, and it made the young man look like it was the very last thing preventing him from breaking apart. She hated that Richard had put him in this situation, and it enraged her that it seemed to make her madder than him.
She felt like she was stealing his anger, and that was just not right.
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“Thank you, Marlene.” Colin faked another smile as he looked down at the stack of envelopes in her hands. “What’s that?”
“Oh!” She looked down at them, then up at him in confusion. “Your invites! Don’t you recognise them?”
“Of course, my bad.” He recovered easily.
“Chief Superintendent Bradford asked me to hand them out.” The young woman smiled, clearly happy to help.
She turned to the side and gave one to Clare.
“Here you go!” She then glanced a little to the side, where Kit was still angrily lecturing the boys. “What’s happening over there?”
“Nothing.” Clare shook her head, even as Colin looked like he had just been about to say something different.
That was exactly the reason why the young woman had wanted to speak first, too.
“Should I interrupt them?” Marlene looked confused, frowning faintly and toying with her lower lip nervously.
Clare did not know how she could maintain her bright red lipstick intact with that kind of treatment, but apparently her mouth was undisturbed by it.
“Maybe finish the round and end with them.” Colin offered. “It doesn’t look like they’re quite done.”
“Yes, I believe it would be safer, Marlene.” Clare added. “You know how they can be sometimes.”
When the two women exchanged a long, hard look, there was no doubt that they knew that very well indeed.
“Alright, I’ll be right back, then!” Their cheery secretary recovered effortlessly and grinned before spinning around and continuing her distribution.
Without another word, Colin and Clare looked down at the envelope in the young woman’s hand. If she was right, then it was not only her first time seeing it, which made sense, but also his, which did not.
The envelope itself reeked of wealth and money – it was thick, the paper a much better quality than any document they worked with on a daily basis. Its black colour was startingly beautiful and instantly chic. The embossed letters with Colin’s name were traced in gold.
“Is this the type of stationery that you would have used?” Clare could not help but ask.
Colin did not reply, but when she looked up, she saw that he was surprised that she had apparently put two and two together.
It was not hard.
He ought to give her more credit than that.
Clare opened the envelope and slid the invitation card out. In the same dark shade with bold golden font, it officially invited the guests to a formal ball at the City Hall on Friday night indeed.
What drew Clare’s attention, however, was the mention that the ball would be masked. She had never thought Richard – let alone Colin, but that was out of the question, given that the very existence of that ball was a surprise to him – would be a voluntary client of that kind of trend, but here they were.
“Masked ball?” Colin raised an eyebrow. “Christ, it’s like the gift that keeps on giving.”
Clare sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Yes, me too.” He grumbled, not so elegantly. “The invitation still stands, though. You can absolutely come.”
Clare could hear the subtle plea in his voice – he would perhaps be a little less aggravated if she was there to commiserate with him, in a way.
She understood that very clearly.
But it did not fit the brief of poor little lamb that needs a knight in shiny armour and a white horse to rescue her.
If she showed up at his birthday ball, she would place herself as immediate target for her regular bullies. She would implicitly dare them to move on with their threats.
She would metaphorically declare war to them.
And in fact, she was completely ready for it – but not as her gentle self. If she was to go to battle, she would do it in all her glory; she would not have it any other way.
“Thank you, Colin, I appreciate it.” The young woman replied eventually.
He gave her a smile like he already knew what she was about to say. “… But?”
Clare could not help but smile back, keeping her hands to herself while she felt the urge to stroke the frown away from his brows. “But I’ll probably decline.” She replied. “I don’t want… them to win.” She admitted, not bothering with identifying them, because she knew Colin and she were on the same page about that. “But I also don’t want to be in their company if I can avoid it.”
“I understand.” He nodded gracefully.
And yet, he looked sad, which was a reaction that the young woman did not quite understand. Why did it matter so much that he had wanted her there to celebrate? Why was her presence something he was wishing for?
And why did that make her feel warm inside?
“I’m sure that you’ll have fun.” She added, looking up at him, then away at the busy open space.
“Yes.” He nodded faintly. “Me too.”
He could not have spoken with a flatter tone.
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The hours dragged on until it was finally time to leave – Clare simply could not wait. She had too much to do, too many things to say, and she found herself dreaming of a tool that would allow her to communicate with her friends and fellow members of the Society whenever she needs them.
Stop dreaming.
After wishing a good evening to Colin and Kit, the young woman walked out of the police station. She successfully avoided any of her usual torturers, and she felt instantly lighter as she made her way down the few steps outside, finally free.
It was only a limited freedom, given that she would have to come back the next day, but she would take and cherish what she was granted.
Instead of going immediately back home, Clare started walking towards the centre of their town. It was cold and already dark outside, and these days the young woman felt like the sun was just a myth.
She had not seen it, nor blue skies, in what felt like two hundred years. At least.
Thankfully, Mila was waiting for her at their meeting point. The young woman was impossible to ignore, with her long fur coat, her bright red lips, her sharp bob of dark hair and her eyeliner to die for. If anything, she looked like she had jumped straight out of one of those motion pictures that everyone was raving about.
Mila was truly nothing short of spectacular, especially when she smiled – just like then, when she spotted Clare coming her way.
“Well, if this is not washed-out, sad-looking Clare!” She chuckled.
“Hi, Mila.” The young woman replied as she rolled her eyes. “Thanks for waiting for me.”
“It’s been dreadful, I’ve had to stand by this street for a grand total of two minutes.” She protested in a mock diva-like voice. “Can you imagine? The audacity!”
Clare laughed. “My apologies.”
“That’s better.” She nodded.
The two friends hooked their arms around one another and started down the street.
“Did you get to do everything you needed to do?” Clare asked.
“Yes.” Mila nodded with satisfaction – it almost made her cloche hat droop further down her lovely made-up eyes. “My duties for our dear Society are officially done.”
She shook her head. “Maybe you shouldn’t say that too loudly. You know better than anyone else that this whole city has eyes and ears.”
“Fair point, my dear, fair point!”
And yet, Mila did not seem to mind. It was always so impressive when she behaved like that. It truly felt like she had no care in the world, that the only thing that mattered to her were her own choices.
It felt like she had her destiny in her hands, cradling it between her palms like the treasure most of them had given away in exchange for something else.
Clare felt almost as if her stomach had dropped down her core at the thought.
“So now.” Mila rubbed her gloved hands together, looking around in curiosity as they neared the shops that were still open at the end of the day.
Soon, everything would close, though. At least, everything official would. Clare could actually imagine her best friend slowly convince her to go and spend a little time at the Society – she also could see herself accepting.
Tonight, she needed it, even if hanging out with her best friend, Lou, Lara, Robin, Fleur and Audrey was always a dangerous decision to make.
Alcohol tended to flow, in such occasions.
She did not know if she wanted to go to work tomorrow while nursing a nasty hangover. Still, pushing the thoughts out of her mind to focus on her friend, who was looking at her with a curious look on her face.
“I’ve done my duties to my master.” Mila said again, wriggling her eyebrows with a smirk. “But what about you, Miss Hampshire?” She asked. “Have you successfully steered Colin Bradford away from even the slightest thought of us?”
“I’m really doing my best.” Clare replied earnestly. “Every time the subject is possibly mentioned, I keep turning down his ideas and killing his intuitions, but he’s strong.”
And he’s right.
Mila sighed dramatically. “Try harder, then.”
“It would look weird if I suddenly started showing my fangs or something, to be fair.” Clare countered.
“Why?”
“Because Colin is very nice to me. He’s one of the only ones who doesn’t treat me like garbage.”
Mila shuddered. “It makes me sick, to imagine someone like you being trapped by men like them. Sorry if I sound heartless, but I wouldn’t trade our places for anything in the world.”
“You’re right.” Clare nodded quietly, looking at the street as they walked. “You do sound heartless.”
If anything, that made her best friend laugh.
“For example, he saved me today.” She started again, still not quite looking at her in the eye. “The inspectors had trapped me again, and he came to stop them. I was this close to murder them all.”
“Clare, you can’t let that happen.”
“I know. That’s why I didn’t do it. But I swear, Mila, it’s getting harder every day.”
Her friend sighed sympathetically. “What did they want this time? Is it always the same, checking if you actually slept your way into the station?” She made a face when Clare turned her head to look at her.
It seemed like she was not the only one with violent desires – maybe that was true friendship, after all. Willing to dirty oneself with the blood of another to help someone else.
Going to prison together.
“No.” Clare sighed. “There’s a masked ball on Friday. A surprise from the boss to his son for his birthday, apparently. The inspectors were trying to get me not to go.”
“Why would you spend another minute with those baboons if you could avoid it?” Mila almost cried out, before controlling herself at the last moment.
“Well, I think I will go, actually.”
“What?” This time, Mila’s voice echoed across the street.
Clare had to smile apologetically at the other pedestrians who turned in surprise, and, perhaps, fear, too.
“You will go?” She continued.
“Yes.” Clare nodded. “But as myself. It’s a masked birthday ball. It’s perfect for me.”
The taller woman narrowed her pretty hazel eyes at her.
“Clare Hampshire, are you going for the man, or are you going for the cause?”
Clare’s heart jumped in her chest, and yet she still managed to keep her face straight, if not a little offended.
“Mila, what is this question?”
“I’m just asking!”
“Of course, I’m doing it for us.” She rolled her eyes with a faint grunt. “It’ll be the perfect opportunity to get a good look at the guestlist and see who to befriend and who to behead.”
“Ooooh, nice punchline.”
Clare smirked. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that play on words.”
The young woman thought that she had handled it fairly well, all things considered. But the truth remained heavy and impossible to ignore, right there on her ribcage, pressing down, down, down and threatening to squeeze her heart until it exploded.
She almost shuddered.
But the fact remained that she was not quite sure herself of her actual motivations. Of course, the rational part of her was going to help the Serpent Society. She was going to get intelligence, information, to put faces on the names she had read in one report or another, to target some individuals, to discard others.
For that night, she would be the eyes, the ears and the mouth of the Society.
Of course, she was going.
And yet, she would be foolish to ignore the other part of her. The part that lived, breathed, felt still like a young woman of twenty-four years old. That girl had dreams, ambitions, feelings.
So perhaps did she want to be part of Colin’s birthday party for him, too. Because the look of sadness and loss on his face at her declining the invitation was still bright in her mind, and because that was perhaps her way of returning the kindness that he had continually shown her. Even if he would not know that she was here in the ballroom, she would.
Maybe she wanted that moment with him for deeper reasons, too. But that, she was too afraid, too much of a coward, to agree on analysing right at that moment.
It was neither the time nor the place.
“You should be happy, though.” Clare nudged her elbow against Mila’s ribs.
“About what?”
“Now, you get to help me pick a present…”
She did not know if that would convince her friend that she was not going for Colin, truthfully. But who attended someone’s birthday without bringing a gift? Especially knowing that the whole thing had been done behind his back… There was no certainty that the guests his father had chosen would be good at picking something that he would love.
Not that she even had that arrogance, though.
“How is that supposed to make me happy?” Mila raised an eyebrow.
“… And a dress.”
Mila stopped dead in her tracks at once; since her arm was still hooked with Clare’s, the young woman almost tumbled forward at the sudden change.
“Mila!”
“Sorry, sorry!” She shook her head, before meeting her gaze, not moving in any way. “Do you mean it, though? Will you let me dress you up and get you ready?”
Clare shrugged. “Of course! I wouldn’t trust anyone else!”
“Oh, Lord! Thank you!” She beamed happily, letting go of her to clap her hands – it made practically no sound, the noise muffled by her gloves. “When is the ball?”
“This Friday.”
Mila immediately swore, but her smile was still sparking in her eyes. “Alright, I’ll consider this a challenge!”
She grabbed Clare’s arm again and yanked her after her; it was so sudden and almost violent that the young woman barely made it without crashing on the floor and falling onto her face.
That would have been nasty.
“I know exactly where we should go!”
“The shops are going to close soon, Mila.” Clare frowned.
“I know.” She nodded, determined. “But you and I also know that we are not just anyone and we don’t work for just anyone.”
Sometimes, the young woman could not help but wonder what would happen if her best friend put the same amount of drive into dangerous plans with huge consequences as she did when it came to fashion and transformations.
It most certainly explained why she was so good.
Possibly at both, too.
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An hour or so later, and Clare had been shoved into the back of a very luxurious boutique, right inside a changing room that was more lavish and opulent that the entirety of her and Mila’s flat.
It reminded her a lot of their Headquarters’ aesthetics, which made sense. Wherever the Serpent Society had dug its fangs, there were traces to act as a reminder – of allegiance, of promises, of duty.
For the time being, the young woman was trying on her third dress. The two outfits before this one had been beautiful and splendid, but Clare did not feel the magic spark like it sometimes could do. She knew, however, that she would have to make a decision soon enough, because she was growing tired, and her feet were rather cold – she wanted to go home.
At least, she had found a present for Colin. It was a simple but elegant leather-bound notebook, monogrammed, and she half-knew, half-hoped that he would like it. Deep down, she was almost completely convinced that he would, though: she had seen him, studied him at the station, and if there was a significant other out there for Colin Bradford, it was his work.
This man was passionate, to say the least, and a notebook was never a superfluous accessory for someone who always had one thing or another to write down.
If that was the only thing positive coming out of their shopping spree, Clare was already glad. Of course, that would not go well with Mila, who was complaining about her being slow and too picky – while being the worst of the kind, but hypocrisy knew no boundaries anyway.
“Are you done?” Mila grunted from the other side.
She sounded like she was at the end of her life, sitting there in agony and waiting for Death to ravish her.
“I’m coming.” Clare sighed.
From the moment she stepped out of the dressing room and caught even just a glimpse of her reflection in the full-length mirror at her disposal, she knew that was it. This would be her dress for the ball.
That Mila and Ethel, their assistant for tonight, squealed in delight confirmed her opinion, but she would have taken the dress even if the two women hated it.
Because she did not.
The dress was black, made in velvet to ward off the cold weather and the season – and yet, it did not feel heavy or rough like it could sometimes be the case. If anything, Clare felt like she was wearing nothing at that moment. The dress had bell sleeve, a quite loose waist with a thin belt and a looser skirt, which twirled around her every time she took a step forward, perched on high heels.
It was black like the invitation card. And, just like that very same invite, the dress came with a mesh and gold capelet that wrapped around her torso with delicacy – flowers were sewn into the fabric, their hearts sequins glittering in the light every time she moved.
Without another word, Mila stepped behind her while Clare watched her reflection in the mirror. She undid the messy updo that the young woman did on the days she worked at the police station, and her long-ish bright red hair cascaded down, free at last. Her friend grabbed handfuls of it, spinning it and twisting it until it resembled vaguely what she probably had in mind for Friday night.
Clare looked…
“Beautiful.” Ethel grinned happily. “Oh, it’s like this dress was made for you! You’re small enough, slender enough, it’s perfect for you!”
“I’ll give you a bold red lip, I’ll work on your eye makeup a little, and with the mask I have in mind…” Mila continued, her gaze trailing over Clare’s frame like she only saw numbers and measurements, and no longer flesh, blood and feelings. “This is perfect, Clare.”
In the mirror, their eyes met. But there was surprisingly no smile on their lips – a bright fire was burning in their gazes, however, and perhaps was it more telling than any happy expression.
“No one will be able to resist you on Friday.” Mila grinned widely.
In a way, Clare wondered if she should be scared of that.