Chapter 20

“Your name, Madam. I won’t ask twice.”

I’m almost flattered to get a “madam”… Although I probably shouldn’t rejoice at all right now. I’m at the police station, sitting in front of a desk, with a stubborn cop trying to interrogate me. They gave me some tissues to wipe out the blood off my hands and chin a bit, but they are still looking at me like I’m an alien. Can’t blame them…

“Do you understand my question? …Do you speak English?”

I roll my eyes. …Is it alright to give my name?

“Can I call my lawyer?” I ask.

“First, I want your name,” he retorts. “Listen, Lady, you’re not in trouble yet, but you were found with a lot of blood on your hands and an unknown man who’s now in the ER. If it was self-defense, you can tell me. I am not a bad cop, I just want to do my job. Now, your name?”

“…Hera Heartgraves.”

He sighs, but types it on his decade-old computer.

“Hera… Heartgraves. Age?”

“That’s rude to ask a Lady that.”

“Then your birthdate, if that makes you feel any better. Your occupation too, please.”

I stop answering. I won’t know how much trouble I’m in until Swithin or somebody else shows up, so I might as well try and not make it worse. I look around. It’s pretty busy for a police station, they are already getting all the drunkards and people crying about their stuff getting stolen. If it wasn’t so crowded, perhaps I could have gotten away with Charming him, but that just won’t work in such a noisy environment.

“Fine,” He groans; “I’ll just have to make a good old search. With that attitude, I wouldn’t be surprised if you have… a… rec-…”

What’s going on? He’s staring at his screen with a confused expression. He hits one of the keys repeatedly, as if there’s something wrong with it. He glances at me, then looks around, and calls over one of his colleagues. What now?

“Have you ever seen this?” He asks, confused.

“You better call the chief,” his colleague shakes his head, glancing at me.

The cop in charge of me sighs and leaves towards what I guess to be his superior’s office. Less than two minutes later, he comes running back with an older man, both of them out of breath and giving me strange stares. What. The. Heck?

“…Can you repeat your name, Madam?” Asks his superior, sounding stressed.

“Hera Heartgraves.”

He goes livid.

“M-my colleague said you mentioned a lawyer, Madam?”

“Can I make that call now? …I have his card in my wallet, which you guys confiscated.”

The man almost jumps on my wallet, opens it, and sure enough, when he sees Swithin’s business card, he goes even whiter. Maybe I’m not in such a bad position, after all… I watch him glance at me again, then go back to the card. He takes a deep breath, and grabs the phone.

“…S-Sir Heartgraves? This is Officer Davies, from the London Poli-… Yes, Sir. We have one of your uh… relatives here at the station. …A young woman, Sir. …Yes, Sir, with red hair. …Yes. Yes Sir, I understand. I-I apologize for the inconvenience, Sir… Yes, Sir, I will. Thanks for your understanding, Sir. Good Evening, Sir.”

He waits until Swithin hangs up, and lets out a long sigh. Then, his eyes go back to me, and he quickly grabs all my belongings they had taken, handing them back to me.

“S-Sir Heartgraves is coming to get you, Miss Heartgraves. He said to wait for him right outside and that you… You’d better wait for him there.”

So much for not being in trouble… Still, I grab my belongings, and get up.

“…Can I wash off a bit at least?” I ask. “He won’t be here until a few minutes.”

They take me to what I guess to be their bathroom, not the visitor one. I quickly wash the blood off my hands and chin, but I can’t help but notice how officer Davies has his eyes on me the whole time, as if he was scared I’d suddenly turn into a monster or something. He seemed pretty scared of Swithin…

He’s not charmed, either. Does that mean the London police knows about our kind? Or, at the very least, our family? I don’t ask, and just walk back to the entrance of the station, where they are happy to leave me to wait by myself.

Soon enough, a beautiful, silver car arrives and parks right in front of the station. Swithin steps out, glaring at me from behind his red shades. I sigh, and walk up to him, arms crossed around my big coat.

“…Seriously, Baby Vamp?” He scolds me. “The police station on your second night?”

“Thanks for coming to get me, Daddy,” I grumble, walking up to the passenger seat.

“…Brat.”

We sit down in the car, and he takes out a cigarette.

“You smoke?”

“Not in the house, Catherina hates it.”

“…It seemed easy to get me out of there. What do they know?”

“Just enough,” he retorts. “If the name Heartgraves comes up, I get a call. …Now, are you going to tell me what happened?”

“I split ways with Rebecca and Cecily to go home, and I got thirsty on the way. I made… a mess out of it.”

“I already checked. The guy is alive and fine. Seems like you stopped very early, in fact. How?”

I frown. What happened, indeed?

“Somebody showed up,” I mutter.

“The cops?”

“No, before that. There was another vampire, he showed up. I think… I think he might have been following me.”

Swithin’s expression darkens. His eyes are on the police station, but I can tell he’s thinking long and hard.

“Did he make contact?”

“No. He vanished right before the cops showed up.”

Swithin doesn’t say anything. Only the tip of his cigarette glows in the darkness of the car. After a while, he sighs, and, without a word, smashes his cigarette butt in a tiny box, puts it in his inner pocket, and starts the engine. I glance up.

“Stop!”

He immediately hits the brakes.

“…Hera?”

I keep staring at the entrance of the police station. A male figure just walked in, and I thought I recognized him, but how can it be? …Did I just dream it?

“The vampire?” He asks, glancing in the same direction.

“No. No, I thought I saw… But… No, nevermind. Let’s just go home.”

He doesn’t ask any questions, just lets off the brakes, and slowly drives me home.

…Did I just dream that? It could have been any guy walking into a police station, but I was almost sure it was him. …What the hell would Rick be doing in London? Did I imagine that because I saw him on the tape last night? But he was wearing different clothes… Is it even possible that he would be in London so soon? What the heck am I thinking now… I rub my eyelids, feeling very tired all of a sudden.

Swithin doesn’t say a word on the way home, and I kind of appreciate that. We get back to the Mansion, and I have a feeling Rebecca and Cecily are in more trouble than I am. Bart comes down with an amused grin.

“Somebody tried to play the bad girl?”

“Somebody needs better supervision,” Swithin retorts, glaring at him before walking up to his bedroom.

Bart grimaces, and waits until he’s out of sight to turn to me.

“…You alright, Baby Vamp? You look like you saw a ghost. It can’t have been that bad, was it?”

“Not exactly.”

We walk to the living room, and I tell him about the incident, including how I saw Rick. It’s just the two of us at first, but Felicia then walks in to listen, and I can hear Cata, in the kitchen as always, probably keeping in ear out also.

“…I probably imagined it,” I mutter.

“Perhaps you should consider checking if it’s actually him?” Felicia suggests.

“No. It can’t be.”

I don’t want to think it might be true. If Rick is here in London, there’s only one possible reason why, and that reason has to be me. I can’t have that. I need to focus on my revenge instead. And I have been thinking about how to do that, since earlier.

“…Bart, I want to be hired by him. I’m going to keep up with my plan. Be hired, dig up all the dirt and destroy him from the inside.”

“Aren’t you afraid he’s going to… realize it’s you?”

“The guy saw me dead,” I shake my head. “I’m sure even he couldn’t imagine that I’d come back for him. I’m not even sure my best friend would realize it’s me now, I can barely recognize myself. No, I’m sure I can approach him just fine, the bastard wouldn’t bat an eye.”

“Will you be fine, though?” Felicia asks.

I turn to her. I didn’t expect that question… She’s curled up in the armchair, her arms wrapped around a pillow and legs crossed, looking at me with a worried expression. I force myself to breathe, and nod.

“…I’ll be okay,” I mutter, only half-convinced.

I’ll just hope I don’t murder the bastard right on sight… I feel my cold blood rising to a boiling point just thinking about him, who knows what I’ll do when push comes to shove? …Yeah, I’d push him off any cliff or building.

“How do you plan to join his company, though?” Bart frowns. “It’s not like he’ll just welcome anybody with open arms. You also can’t leave Europe, you promised Richard.”

“I don’t plan to leave Europe,” I nod. “He’s already coming here. I just need to get his attention.”

“Does his company have a branch here?”

“No…”

That might be an issue. How am I supposed to infiltrate a company that’s overseas?

“We could always create an opportunity.”

I turn around. Swithin is standing at the entrance of the living room, Benedict and Lancelot right behind him.

“…How?” I ask, interested.

“If that man is as greedy for money and narcissistic as you said, all we need is to make him think he’s just landed an amazing opportunity to branch out here, in London. You just need to decide on the Business, and we can work to make him want it, and have it.”

I take a second to think. I don’t know if that will be as easy as they make it sound, but to be fair, I’m pretty sure Swithin knows his business like the back of his hand. If half of what Bart told me about him is true, he can definitely hook Charles on a business opportunity. Even better, he can get Hera on that bastard’s radar, and that’s all I’m asking. So, how do I intend to trap him? Charles hung on to what my father had taught him to diversify his company’s actions, but his favourite part was the entertainment industry. I remember how competitive it was for any actor or actress in the agency but me, and even more for the models… I had seen some of the girls cry and quit under the pressure. …maybe it wasn’t just all because of the contracts.

“…What about a modelling agency?”

Benedict raises an eyebrow behind Swithin, while Lance chuckles.

“Why?” Swithin asks.

“Charles is a narcissistic asshole and a control freak. I remember his modelling agency was very hard on all the girls, and when one of his models quit without warning, he gloated about dragging them to court, his lawyers made sure she had to repay him thousands for breach of contract.”

“Didn’t that bother you at the time?” Bart frowns.

“I learned about it long after it was over,” I shrug. “And only because another actress I knew told me about it. I barely even interacted with the models… or with anyone that worked for him, really.”

“Best way to manipulate your employees,” Benedict shrugs. “Keep them from talking and exchanging too much info. Information is power.”

“…I think I should become a model,” I suddenly declare. “If that’s who Charles mistreated and abused the most, I want to start this way. Plus, I don’t see what else I could do. I don’t want to be an actress again, and I don’t have a degree that would get me a job in any other field he controls. Moreover, he’s the type to underestimate female staff, even more so the models. He won’t see me coming…”

“You could probably pass for one,” nods Lancelot. “You’re rather tall and skinny. Plus, models usually avoid the sun so their skin won’t be damaged… That could work.”

“You’re coming out of nowhere, though,” Bart frowns. “How do we make him recruit a newbie model out of the blue?”

“…We give him one he’d be interested in recruiting,” smiles Swithin. “We create a modelling agency in London, put it on the verge of collapse, make Charles Williams think he can buy an amazing business opportunity for pennies and get a future top-model to be as a bonus.”

“Make that two!”

Cecily and Rebecca just walked in, and the first completely ignores Swithin’s glare to walk into the salon, hands on her hips.

“If Hera becomes a model, I want to be one too!” She exclaims.

“You two did receive my text that I had to go and get Hera out of the Police Station, right?” Swithin frowns.

“That’s a great idea, Hera,” Rebecca smiles, ignoring him. “If the Agency looks on the verge of collapse, it would make sense that they have let most of their models go except for a handful.”

“We don’t have much time, though,” frowns Benedict. “How do we set up a modelling agency, make it look on the verge of collapse and get the man’s attention while he’s staying in London?”

“…A business on the verge of collapse could use a lawyer,” mutters Swithin with a creepy smile. “What if the lawyer in charge of Miss Starr’s penthouse just happened to also have Miss Heartgraves as a client, trying to sue her current agency for unpaid work? We’d let him know that he’s got first-hand insight on a future business opportunity. If he’s so proud, he won’t let it pass, and he’ll jump on this thinking it was just his luck.”

“I like that,” Rebecca smiles. “Nothing better to trap a man than his ego…”

Oh, now it’s starting to look like something…

“You can’t just pretend to become a model overnight, though,” frowns Cecily. “Ever done actual work before?”

“I got a few contracts as an actress,” I nod. “Photoshoots for a brand here and there, or promotional pictures for a movie, but nothing as an actual model. It wouldn’t be completely new, but not something I can claim to have a lot of experience in either…”

“Well, we can help with that,” smiles Rebecca.

“That won’t be enough,” says Cecily. “You need to get a book, proof you’ve been working in this industry for a little while at least. We need to find an actual photographer and get you started as soon as possible.”

“…I think I have an idea,” I mutter.

“Alright,” nods Rebecca. “Then, Swithin dear, can you take care of setting up the fake agency with Benedict, and Cecily and I will work on preparing Baby a decent book for a model!”

“Why do I always get more and more work?” He groans. “You Ladies do know I have other things going on, right?”

“Come on,” laughs Lancelot, patting his shoulder. “Your Empire isn’t going to collapse because you help the little sis’ for a while, big boss. I’ll give you a hand.”

Swithin rolls his eyes, but the three of them walk away to another area of the ground floor, most likely an office, while I take out my smartphone.

“What are you looking up?” Asks Cecily, interested.

“I’m searching the forums of Models in London. I already have a good idea where to start, now I just need a name and an appointment…”

If I’m going to have to make a name for myself quickly, I need a photographer with a big reputation.

Luckily for me, the best photographers often turn out to also be the worst…