32| Spiced Eggnog

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Not even my worst nightmares could create something so horrible. That's how I knew that, despite my wishes, this was real. Mr. Phillips, or rather Ray, was here standing near the doorway holding a liquor bottle, two cups, and a completely surprised expression aimed directly at me. In an act of desperation, I scanned his features to try and find some sort of evidence that it wasn't him. That the man that I had known for so long wasn't a traitor, but I couldn't. Even if he was dressed differently, it was still him. It was really him.

"I'm so glad that you were able to make it on time today," my father said to the older man across the room. "When you told me you might be arriving late I was worried."

Mr. Phillips seemed to only half register that my father was talking to him until a moment later he tore his eyes from me to look at his superior with a muted expression.

"Uh . . . yes. Sorry about that. Holiday traffic is beginning to pick up."

"It usually does around this time. But no worries. You are here now. Please," father gestured to the front of his desk, "set your things down and have a seat somewhere."

I don't know if my father caught Mr. Phillips' hesitation like I did as he walked further inside the room. I could practically feel the discomfort rolling off of him. He was completely avoiding eye contact now as he walked past me to place the liquor bottle on the oak desk along with the two glasses. After he was finished he said, "If you don't mind I'll remain standing. It was a long drive, you know."

"Of course," Papa flashed a somewhat sincere smile. "If that is what you prefer."

"It is."

But I knew that was a lie. The only other spot available for him to sit in the room was next to me. Instead, he resorted to standing next to my father with his eyes locked on the fireplace and away from me. His stance, his posture, his expression, everything was to distance himself from me. Although I should say that his behavior didn't hurt me, it did. So much. He was my friend only days ago. And now we were strangers.

Why?

"Now that all that is established, Alexandria," I stiffened in my chair, "allow me to introduce you to one of my closest friends these past eight years, Ray Clarke, although you probably know him by a different name," my father introduced a little too happily. "Ray is a former investigator, and a good one at that. However, he gave up that lifestyle a while back . . . until I persuaded him otherwise."

I watched the investigators reaction as my father spoke hoping to see some sort of denial, but he never once spoke up or dismissed any claim. His silence broke off my pieces of my heart as it only confirmed my father's words.

Don't cry, I willed myself. Not here.

"I honestly had no idea that hiring him would go so well," Papa continued. "I only asked him to watch you from afar, but you changed all that when you were almost instantly drawn to him. I guess you just couldn't help but be pulled in by your desire to help the unfortunate."

"That's not true," my response slipped out without warning and landed weakly.

"But it is," father fired back. "Your fatal flaw or hamartia has always been you caring about others even more than yourself. That care makes you weak and vulnerable. It's the reason why you had no idea that this whole time Ray was working for me. You cared about him too much to see him in a negative manner and believed that he wasn't capable of hurting you because you were friends. You refused to question his character even for a second like any smart person would."

"I had no reason to believe that he would betray me."

"Anyone with a timid heart is capable of betrayal. If you had opened your eyes you could have seen that, but you didn't. You were too weak and blind. Just as you've always been."

Funny how his words stung as much as his physical assaults. I was too wrapped up in the backlash of it all I couldn't form any sort of retort. The only sound in the room was Papa's leather chair adjusting as he leaned back in it. He seemed more than at ease to put me down, but then again this wasn't new to him. He was the Vulture after all. Putting people down was his past time. I just happen to be his favorite victim. I never understood why, but I doubt he would ever tell me.

After long, silent minutes passed by I had hoped that he was finished toying with me, but when he opened his mouth the next words were not one of dismissal much to my dismay.

"I don't know why you are acting this way, Alexandria. You wanted to know how I got my information and I told you," he reached for the liquor bottle to unscrew it. "If anything you should be thanking me for my generosity."

"Generosity?" again, my reply slipped. Only this time Papa didn't brush it off.

"Are you saying that it's not?" he challenged in a threatening tone.

I quickly backpedaled before it could get out of hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I don't know what I was saying."

After a moment he resumed pouring himself a drink and scoffed. "Typical. Despite your childish protests, you are just like your mother. Although I will say she has more manners. She knows when to thank me," he eyed me expectantly.

But that was the last thing I wanted to do. Still, I knew that despite the fact that my emotions have been slaughtered repeatedly within the last few hours, I had a mission to complete here. I had to stay in his house until I found proof of his true identity even though I knew there was no other person vile enough to be Vulture like my father. Regardless, I will do the right thing to help Armita get exactly what she needed. No matter what.

Therefore, with the most half-heart tone I could muster, I said the words my father craved but didn't deserve.

"Thank . . . you."

I could practically see his ego inflate at my words. "Of course. I would do anything for my daughter," he took a sip of his drink before leaning back in his chair with a sigh. "But that's enough chatting. You need to go get ready for the party tonight. We will discuss your new position in detail tomorrow."

"Yes, Papa," I tried not to shoot up from my seat too quickly the second I heard his dismissal.

"You remember where your room is, right?"

"I do."

"Excellent. Then that will be all," he took another long sip of his drink. "Make sure that you are cheerful by tonight. We don't want your sulking to bring down the mood of the party. It's nearly Christmas after all."

And I was about to give him the biggest gift of his life the second I find what I'm looking for.

"Yes, Papa," I nodded to him before turning my attention to Mr. Ph—Ray, who still didn't look at me. "I suppose I will see you both at the party, then."

"Yes. And with your return home, it will be one to remember," my father smirked.

But it was me who truly felt smug about the entire situation as I turned to leave the room. Little did he know just how memorable tonight would truly be.

+++

I don't remember the walk to my room. As confident as I felt when I left father's office, the weight of Mr. Phillips betrayal hit me like a ton of bricks as soon as I stepped outside the doors. My mind was so twisted up in trying to think back to any warning signs to the older man's true character that I couldn't focus on the direction I was heading. It amazed me that given the current mental state I made it up the staircase without falling. Unless I really did fall and just didn't remember. All I knew was that somehow I made it to my room, and in the middle of processing everything I heard a knock at the door.

My heart started fluttering in my chest at the sound, but not in a good way. I had a sinking feeling that I knew exactly who was at my door, but I wasn't ready to let him in. I don't know when I'll ever be able to face him again, really. Because of that, I planned on continuing to ignore the following knocks until I heard a soft, British voice from behind the door say, "Ma'am? I-It's Clara. I don't know if you remember me, but, uh . . . that's not important. Your mother sent me up here to help you with your things. May I come in?"

Not Mr. Phillips/Ray, but I was still equally surprised.

The second I heard her accent I knew who she was. As if I could ever forget her. Much like with Mr. Curtis, I couldn't believe that she was still here. Especially with what happened all those years ago I never imagined that she would stay around for much longer. I know I didn't. But once I got off the bed to open the door, I couldn't deny that the petite, British woman, much shorter than myself, standing in the doorway was the same Clara I knew from before.

She, too, looked a little taken aback when she saw me, but quickly averted her eyes when they lingered. Still shy as ever. I was about to tell her how happy I was to see her when she suddenly shoved what I thought was a plastic garment bag in my face.

"Mrs. D-Devenue wanted me to help you with this, ma'am" she sputtered. "It's for the party tonight."

I blinked a few times, completely caught off guard by so many things, before I gently pushed the bag away from my face. "Oh, is this supposed to be my dress?"

Clara nodded. "I-It's a gift. She bought it for you."

I highly doubt it, I wanted to say but instead I switched it for something more appropriate. "I see. Well, I brought my own so I don't really need it. But then again refusing a gift would be impolite, so I guess I'll try it on," I took the bag from her hand with a smile.

"I-I can help you with it," Clara offered. "It is backless so it might be difficult to put on by yourself."

Rather than explaining to her that backless dresses are not that difficult to put on, I said, "You don't have to do that. Not that I'm not grateful for your help! I just don't want you to do anything you don't have to."

"I-I really don't mind helping you! Really," she insisted. "I can do your hair and makeup, too, if you'd like. I am pretty good at it. Not that I think you need any makeup. You are beautiful with or without it. But since the event is formal tonight I figured you would want it. Your makeup done, that is. And as for hair, I have been told that I can curl very well. It wouldn't be a bother at all to be of service to you. Unless you don't want me to be, then I understand. I-I'm sure your mother has something else for me to—"

"Wait, wait, wait! That's not what I meant!" I waved my hands frantically around hoping that it could somehow steer the conversation back on course. "I don't mind you being here at all. That's not what I was trying to say. If you really want to help me and not just because my mother ordered you to then that's fine."

"I do want to help, ma'am."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," she nodded. "It would be an h-honor, ma'am."

I couldn't figure out where her determination to help me was coming from, but I wasn't going to push the subject. Perhaps father would think that I am weak for not suspecting her of something, but I didn't care. Maybe trusting and believing in someone makes me weak, but I'd rather live that way instead of being closed off and cold all the time.

Therefore, I replied, "Okay. That would be great! But on one condition."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Don't call me 'ma'am' anymore. We are nearly the same age," I winked.

"Oh! M-My apologies, ma'am—I mean! Uh, Ms. Devenue."

That wasn't any better, but I didn't want to tell her that. It might make her combust. Instead, I sent her a kind smile before opening my door wider for her to walk through.

In all honesty, we only knew each other for a few months before I left the mansion so I was never close to Clara like I was with the others. Still, we had enough substance to strike up different conversations. The only problem was that she didn't seem to be interested in holding one for very long. She had always been shy, but now it was more than that. She appeared almost nervous for some reason. It wasn't until we were talking about the bakery that she started to finally relax.

"So you actually did it," she said while putting on my eyeshadow. "You opened up your own bakery."

I was going to nod but then thought better of it. "I did. It's was a small place, but it was enough."

"What sort of desserts did you make?"

"Anything you can imagine," I smiled, happily. "Good or bad."

Darn those sriracha doughnuts.

"And you did this by yourself?"

"Oh, definitely not. I had a wonderful staff with me."

"Really?"

"Mhmm."

"Wow," she breathed. "What were they like?"

"My staff?" I peeked at her to see her nod before closing my eye back. Although I trusted her enough to let her come inside I couldn't deny that I felt wary about sharing personal information. After what happened with Mr. Phillips, I felt that I should leave at least some of my guard up. "Well, they were like family to me. They all have their unique traits that I loved. It was hard to let them go when the bakery didn't make it. But I know they will still be around somehow."

I couldn't see her but I imagined she was smiling. "That sounds wonderful."

"It is."

I thought about my typical morning of walking in the bakery to see all of their smiling faces, ready for the day. It made my heart swell up and long for them.

Clara didn't say anything after that. Instead she continued brushing on my makeup quietly. This time the silence wasn't awkward and instead pleasant, which is exactly what I needed after everything that has happened today. Not to mention what will happen.

Thinking about that made my thoughts shift to more important ones, like figuring out how to get Armita and her crew into the house. Not to mention how to get proof of my father's true identity. Armita, Percy, and Oliver ran through different options with me last night on how to obtain it, but as of now, none of those would work. Maybe I could ask Clara about a few things since she's been here for so long, although that might be pushing it. Still, I was willing to try when suddenly I heard something click and Clara say, "All finished. You can open your eyes now, Ms. Devenue."

But before I did I pushed aside the severe thoughts for now, telling myself I'll return to them later. Clara was definitely a possible opportunity, but for now, I had other things to tend to.

When I finally opened my eyes I saw the petite woman smiling at me with glee before she turned me to face my large vanity mirror. When my attention landed on my reflection, I knew Clara was a liar, because her makeup skills were not 'okay,' they were absolutely amazing.

Her dark eyeshadow selection, that I would never have tried myself, made my blue eyes looked like sapphires surrounded by long, dark eyelashes. She even somehow managed to arch my eyebrows and make them fuller like the models I see in magazines, or Violet. I had no idea that was even possible! My cheekbones were now prominent, my lips full and painted in a deep crimson color. I never thought about using such a shade but now I might have to consider it. My makeup wasn't too powerful but it did command attention.

I felt incredibly beautiful.

"Wow," I breathed, leaning forward to get a better view. I turned my head to look at her work in different angles. "Is that really me?"

"I didn't do much. Just highlighted your features."

"You did some sort of magic while my eyes were closed. Really, this is wonderful," I turned to look up at her with a smile. "Thank you, Clara."

Her cheeks looked like they had a rose-colored blush on them like my own. "Y-You're welcome."

"Seriously. You shouldn't be in a place like this when you are so gifted. You can do so much more out there. You have great potential!"

I meant for my words to be a compliment but for some reason, her smile started to droop. I too stopped smiling and instead grew confused which only increased when she suddenly grabbed the makeup and got up to put it away silently. I wasn't sure if I offended her, although I couldn't see how, so I was readying an apology when she came back looking flustered. I opened my mouth to speak but she beat me to it.

"Ms. Devenue? Can I ask you something, please?"

"Of course," I replied, sincerely.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Now it was my turn to feel confused. "I'm sorry. What?"

"It's just that . . . I don't understand why you would. I've been waiting for you to get angry with me, to scream at me, to do something. It's what I deserve."

"What are you talking about? Why would I be mad at you."

"Because of what happened last time."

And there it was. I figured maybe we could avoid that topic a little while longer, but I suppose not anymore.

"Oh," I was all I could say at first. "You mean on Halloween?"

She visibly flinched.

"Clara, that was years ago."

"It doesn't matter. What happened to you was wrong. And it was all because of me."

"It wasn't your fault—"

"B-But it was! I shouldn't have been there that night," she looked down at her hands. "I knew better than to take anything from your family, but . . . I wanted Thomas to have something for Halloween. He was three, you know, so it was his first true experience."

"I know," I nodded in agreement.

She may not know it, but her son and what she did for him heavily influenced my life. Because of that, it's impossible to forget them.

"I thought a few pieces wouldn't be missed, but I guess that's not how your father viewed it. I-If I had known how his reaction would be, if I had known what would have happened," her voice grew distant. When she looked up at me I noticed her eyes were starting to look glossier than normal. "You have to believe me when I say that I am so sorry, Ms. Devenue. You didn't know me at the time and you stood up for me anyway. Because of your kindness to me, you suffered. A-And all I did was stand there and let it happen. I just watched as he hurt you."

"Clara—"

"Wait," she held up her hand while wiping her tears with the other. "Wait, just let me finish really quick. Please."

And so I shut my mouth to let her say the words she has clearly been holding back all night, if not longer. Even if I knew she didn't have to say them, I listened.

After releasing a deep, shaky breath she began. "I have wanted to tell you for so long that to this day I regret what happened. I-I was going to tell you that night, but I was too scared. Then by the time I was ready to tell you, you had already left. It is one of my greatest regrets that I was never able to tell you how sorry I was. I don't expect you to f-forgive me right away either. I know I wouldn't. All that pain you went through . . ." she shook her head. "It was enough to drive you out of the house. Which I don't blame you for. I only wish that I had helped you and Ms. Katherine with your escape. But I didn't and I am so sorry. I was just a coward and . . . and . .

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