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This chapter is dedicated, first and foremost, to my annoyingly helpful sister for helping me figure out this entire tirade and who fought for its publishing date. Forced me to sit down and write, even at the expanse of her movie-watching.

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

'mingling with devils'

part 01

THE NIGHT BEFORE the engagement party, I decided to come partially clean to my parents. Or at least, an admittance to where I see my future.

My knees uneasily juggled against the carpeted flooring of the dining roo. Our usual state during dinner time is perennially quiet; my father preferred not to be talked to but did deign my stepmother when her rhetorical chatter turned to quips or needed a hum. I never said anything much either, following in my father's suit.

But I took a gulp of water now, exhaled, and made sure my voice rose just above my stepmother's mutters about Mrs. Thackery being pregnant again to get both of their attention.

"So I was thinking of going back to school next year."

The table was silenced, my stepmother wide-eyed and eyebrows high. My father on the other hand, vaguely raised his head and made a sound from the back of his throat in posing of a query. I kept my eyes on the rolls in front of me, nodding along.

"Yes, so I've already got my applications filled and most of the money I have saved up is still intact so..." I finally raised my head, meeting my father's eyes behind his small, clear glasses. He was a weary looking man, almost, always busy somewhere else. If not physically, then mind constantly adrift. "I'm going to take a criminology course. Hopefully somewhere close by but I'm most likely going to dorm anyway."

Little Hodge was too far out into the countryside for any means of transportation day to day.

My stepmother glanced at my father before she swallowed her food. "Criminology, dear? I mean that sounds fantastic, you'll love college life I'm sure, but um..."

"Since when," dad asked, going back to his meat as he sawed it carefully.

My stepmother pursed her lips, unable to eat as I carefully looked over to my father. "When what?"

"When did you decide that you're going? Or that you've chosen a course?"

"Since this summer," I said honestly. "I wasn't a hundred percent sure yet back then so I didn't make the necessary process for this year, but I am now and I've done most of the applications, I just need to send them."

"What do you intend to do with a criminology degree?" I tried to discern through my father's usual tone and voice, but there was nothing to dig. This was his usual tone, his usual voice. The conversation felt normal and my shoulders eased slightly in relief.

But I was not relieved. Not yet.

"I was thinking of doing consulting work after." The truth felt like sand in my mouth, but I kept at it despite the wide-eyed stare now blooming in my stepmother's face, shifting a look between my father and I like we were a tennis match.

"Private Investigation?" she finally peeped, voice sort of high and reedy. "Like a PI?"

I kept her stare, willing to make her understand that I was being serious. "Yes, something of a kind."

"But Wendy, honey, don't you think this is a little to rash of a decision? Are you sure about this?"

I nodded, firm. "Yes. I'm sure."

"Then take criminal justice instead," Dad reckoned, setting his cutlery down and wiping his face. He met my stare, his chin raised. "It's a broader field and better suited. Come into my office after you're done. We can talk more about this there."

"Henry, honey -"

" - This isn't a drive-by, snap decision," he insisted, placing a hand on her shoulder amongst the gigantic curls and the worried look in her eye. I almost looked away, but I couldn't help but stare and study my father's every movement, every expression. His face softening just the slightest to assure Estelle. "I know she's thought this through if she's been thinking about since this summer. Wendy always takes everything into consideration before she makes a decision."

He met my eye, my face hot at the praise. He nodded. "Office after."

"Yes, of course. Thank you."

He shook his head ever so slightly, maybe a ghost of a smile but it wasn't really present. "This is your life, Wendy. You don't need to thank me."

- - -

There was no turning back now. I had gotten a simplified, vague permission - a night out in London with a friend - and Leon picked me up. Stubbornly, might I add. And was even more surprised when I said yes. He drove his car up on my street with my father unwillingly dragged outside by my raised eyebrows and wide-eyed stepmother - almost like it was starting to set permanently on her face, who I could just feel was begging in an unorthodox silent, for my father to step up and do something. Or say something.

Anything.

Because this was not common norm. By this hour, I was usually upstairs in my room either reading or browsing the internet. Locked away, quiet, back in my little niche while she worried how this was my common norm.

But now this and my new university life was happening and she can't decide whether she should be happy or worried by all the new changes.

And to top it off, Leon did not make it look like this was a simple night out in London. Though he was still dressed as normally as he could - by that in his usual fashion of long, winded clothes in expensive materials, he added to the suspicion by sweeping his torso in an unironic bow.

"Good evening, sir and ma'am." He was resolutely frigid in his posture once he stood back up, stiff as a bloody plank. "I was hoping to bring Wendy for a night in London, a friend's engagement party."

The 'friend' was stretched since the invitation wasn't even morally willing, but I kept mum, standing beside him to hopefully assuage his stiffness, but even I felt awkward in the stare of my father and my stepmother's gaping mouth.

After a while of blinking, my stepmother shouldered my dad. Hard.

My dad sighed, fixing his glasses. "Right, well. It's wholly up to Wendy. Though I was told you helped her figure out the next course of her life." This wasn't a question, merely a statement. But Leon blinked... then swallowed.

"Sir?"

"Not now," I half-hissed to him, turning to my dad with a more stable expression. "We're going to be late. I'll tell you guys after. Be back before midnight, I promise."

My dad sighed. "You're old enough to stay out, Wendy."

"Henry!" Even I praised my stepmother as we mirrored twin expressions of shock, met eyes, and blushed. Then she shifted. "You're going to wear that, sweetie?

I was already hurriedly pushing Leon to his side of the car, bending down to my own door, vanishing. "No! Bye!"

Dad waved half-heartedly as my stepmother was viciously talking to him, wildly gesturing with her hands from the side mirror until my house disappeared and we were off.

The last thing I saw was my stepmother putting a hand over her heart, her expression morphed into worry.

I exhaled, folding back on the leathered-seat. "Well... that wasn't as rough as I'd thought."

"What was?" He cleared his throat, slowly easing back into his normal skin.

So I told him most of it, even the truth that I haven't told my dad about the body in Leon's library or the murder of his best friend - to my participation in all of it.

At least, not now.

We had no other choice but to willingly enter the chamber filled with devils. I needed all my wits about me. I can deal with my parents right after.

- - -

Cordelia's team welcomed us soon as we got up to her hotel room. The woman herself sat in one armchair, leg crossed over under a silk dress with a deep cut in the middle and long, elongated sleeves fastened at the wrist by gold buttons. The slit was dangerous, but the colour of midnight that matched the waterfall of her black hair made it a welcomed one.

Her look is pointed by her red lips pursed into a defined pout, her fingers quick against her poor phone. Whoever she was messaging, they were either getting swallowed by her messages or is equally fighting back with gusto.

When we entered, she raised one black eyebrow, not looking up. "You're late."

Leon checked his watch. "We still have three hours left."

"And that's not a lot of time to get you two prepped up." Cordelia snapped her fingers and her mob started slowly approaching us. "Let's start. We need to get armed at the ready. Battlestations, darlings."

It became a busy three hours, and after it, I stood still and shock at the floor length mirror I'm pretty sure wasn't part of the hotel room, being held by people who I assume were guards.

The gown was tailored perfectly for my body and height, a brown that's a smidge lighter than my skin tone, a mixture of satin and silk. It felt like a second skin from the bodice before it flares downwards in detailed flowers made of gold and stone. My hair was swept and my curls tamed into a 50s Hollywood style, pulled back severely at the sides before gracious curls bounced tightly just below my ear. The makeup heightened the entire tirade where my eyes were darkened and my lips were cherry burgundy.

"Whoa." I touched my jaw, my lips, trailed my hands over my hips were my curves were prompt.

Cordelia came up behind me, smirking. "Femme fatale. Ugh, you look so good." She brushed a finger against my hair, whispering close, "My brother is gaping."

I followed her eye from the mirror where she was smirking at, and I tipped my chin at Leon's intense gaze. When our eyes met, he blinked, wide-eyed and caught.

He laughed in almost an exhale. "You look unbelievable, Wendy."

I tilted my head, smiling. "You don't look half bad yourself."

And he wasn't. Leon was gorgeous. His hair was swept back as well, his suit tailored to suit his taste. Black coat with a white undercoat and shirt. Draped from his neck was a thin black scarf that seemed more like a thick ribbon with gold linings in the same pattern as the flowers on my gown.

Cordelia beamed, proud of her work. "Straight out of a 50s film, I know. But sadly we can't appreciate it more, or else I'd dare say we can go straight to church with these outfits."

- - -

The party was in an old English theatre transformed into a library and an events place. Luscious red drapes, carpeting, and detailed gold everything. It was draconic details with a loving Renaissance touch, glorifying such macabre expressions instilled among the finery. Among the art. The lights were yellowed and dark, setting the mood as if you've actually stepped inside another time.

We stepped into the lobby, the grandeur overwhelming with its splendor. Cordelia led our procession, her black gown sweeping against the red carpet, fingers fiddling with her spine straight back and perfect. Then she stopped just at the entrance where an elegant sign read LORENZO MORETTI & AOI NAKAMURA enclosed in vibrantly colourful flowers. People as drastically dressed loitered outside and chatted, the music and chatter flowed inside the awaiting entrance.

The chamber of devils beckoned. Cordelia stared at it with hard knitted eyebrows.

"What is it?" Leon asked.

She sighed. Then she raised a hand, fingers waving. The guards that were flanking us, four armed and suited, moved away and walked back to where we came from. "They have to go. It's too threatening. We came here in the guise of peace. To talk. Armed bodyguards aren't exactly the posterity of 'We Come in Peace'. I'll get there first, distract Morettis. You two find the doctor. The last report was that he's by the buffet, getting distracted by food. He's bored, been cooped up for too long and now surrounded by people he doesn't know."

I straightened up. "We're ready."

Cordelia nodded, then her entire demeanor changed. She flipped her hair back and walked confidently towards a pair of ladies chatting by the entrance, her smile beguiling and friendly. Alluring. She kissed each of their cheeks before sauntering forward, disappearing from view. In her wake, the friends' fluttered their lashes and chatted loudly amongst themselves.

Leon held his arm. "Shall we?"

"Did she know them?"

"I have no idea, maybe not, but that's how she operates."

We smiled and nodded at the people outside before venturing in. The devastatingly gorgeous backdrop of classicism in dark wood and brandished gold was entirely breathtaking. We stopped at the top of the stairs, surveying the crowd and the majesty of it all. Flowers filled the corners and spaces, wine and champagne flowed from gliding waiters. A small but live orchestra was set in the side, their music thrilling.

I exhaled. "The bourgeois is really something else here." As we start to descend, I felt jittery, like sugar was jumping in and out of my veins. Each step we took as we went down hammered my heart further. I cleared my throat to clear my head. "So are these the usual parties you get to go to?"

"More or less. Though this is a tad more... dramatic."

"Gowns and all?"

"Gowns and all." He turned to me, eyes briefly resting on my neck.

I bit the inside of my cheek. "What?"

"I wish I'd gotten you a necklace."

Despite my unease, I snorted a snicker. "I really don't need any other finery than this gown. And the shoes." I was scared to think how much it all cost.

"You don't need it, yes," he hummed. "But I would've liked to give you something to remember this day by. It's not everyday you get invited to a ball. Even in the guise of interviewing suspects."

I exhaled, suddenly very warm and eased. Now I couldn't stop smiling, tipping my chin down as I tried to hide my laugh and the no doubt blush spreading across my cheeks. He laughed, taking his other hand to clasp it on my own. We blended well, just a gentleman and his date.

Then he leaned in close, brushing my cheek with his finger. I almost froze, especially when he leaned in close. "The suspect is there." He tilted his chin and I turned, just as he stopped us and flagged a waiter carrying a tray of champagnes.

I observed the doctor, hunched over at a table filled with exquisite food, picking and munching, ignoring the stares of those around him. Though he wore a suit, he looked and felt shabby in movement. He didn't look as old as I thought; dark haired and darting eyes behind thick glasses.

"Any ideas?" he asked, taking a sip of his acquired champagne whilst offering me the other one.

The glass is slim and chilled, I took a sip and flung my eyes around the room, closest proximity to the doctor. People who stood out from my peripheral vision. One, two - " - Four. There are four guards around him."

I turned and faced Leon, smiling. "They're all dressed the same, watching him, blending into the crowd." I handed my glass to a waiter with a charmed smile, then offered a hand to my date. "Dance with me?"

It took him a second before he set his glass at the same waiter and took my hand, guiding us closer, just at the fringe of the dance floor and closer to the buffet table. He clasped our already intertwined hands then rested his other on my waist.

We swayed, moving around and turning while I pointed out the four guards. "The man in the buzzcut, standing behind the pillar..." I whispered in his ear like sweet nothings, noting how he shivered. "The other one closer, by the buffet. Literally in front of him. Then the man and woman, both in suits, conversing whilst keeping their eyes on him every few seconds. We'll need a diversion big enough to distract all of them at once."

"Mmhm." He pulled me close, swaying us to the side. "And any of those watching the cameras. I counted five. They have him caged."

"We'll need your sister."

Leon narrowed his eyes, stopping suddenly. "If it was her then she'd have thought about this. She would've seen this coming." He let go of me but kept our hands intertwined as if I'd disappear. He looked around, frown deepening.

I arched my neck and found the same midnight black silk, a creamy leg out from its slit near the entrance of the room. She was among men in expensive suits, one of which made my heart leap.

A blurry photograph sharpened into reality.

"There," I said. "With Matteo Moretti in the brown suit."

Cordelia turned her head slightly. She moved her hand, the one unseen by the men in front of her, fawning at her. She brought four fingers... then slowly counted down.

Three -

Two -

I braced myself, tightening my hold on Leon.

One.

"OH MY GOD THEY'RE HAVING SEX!"

The crowd hushed into gasps, heads turned. There, ripped by the open curtain by a waiter was a drunk couple that leaped from each other, adjusting their disarrayed clothings and messy hair by the sudden crowd of onlookers.

It was a momentous second when I was still rooted on the spot, shocked by the familiar outlines of the man - blond, rigid, and straight-laced in his suit - adjusted his coat and glared at the people now staring at him. "Christ, we weren't. Yet that is. It's a celebration of love! Mind your damn business!"

The redhead, his partner still adjusting her green dress, blushed crimson.

"That's - "

But I didn't finish my sentiment. The lights went down and the gasps turned to confused screams. Movement amidst the darkness, the room bathed in nothingness.

The words swallowed up in my throat, my eyesight gone. Leon's hand tightened, warm and sure.

"Leon - "

" - I'm here."

" - What - ?"

" - Now is not the time you two," a silky voice said just as a large hand grasped my shoulder. "The doctor's outside, you have seconds. Run."

"Faris?" Leon exclaimed. "And - "

" - James and Ms. Fong is also here, doing all of this, I know, shocking," Dr. Hamel said, not sounding at all shocked. "But it won't last. Seconds. Go, you two, go!"

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NEXT

EPISODE SEVENTEEN

MINGLING WITH DEVILS

PT. 02

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I bet you did not expect that. At all.

And now we're off.

This also reached capacity by being 3k for a chapter, all mostly done today, I hope you're happy. Sound off below for any assumptions to what the hell just happened and what will happen further :-)