18. Cheribelle #2
Welp, there that was. Having a babysitter wasn’t ideal, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t still work it out.
“By all means then, lead the way, Miss Granady.”
I left Paul sitting on the insanely expensive and stylized couch in the sitting room and followed the second maid as she quickly walked down an adjacent hall.
It turned out that, yeah, I actually did need a guide, because we ended up turning twice and going down another short corridor before the maid opened a door for me, then stepped to the side, gesturing within.
“Do you wish for me to wait for you to finish and return you to the sitting area or would you prefer privacy?”
“You’re absolutely lovely, but I’m not exactly hot to trot on you being witness to the sins my afternoon coffee is about to release in there,” I said with a beaming smile.
“I understand. By your leave, Mademoiselle Hawk.” She gave a little bow, then walked off just as quickly as she’d led me to the bathroom. I heaved a sigh of relief. Time to waste two or three minutes, then get to snooping.
After checking my phone, then a quick bit of powdering my nose, I judged enough time had passed and headed out.
I tried to walk the line between looking like I belonged, while also trying to observe everything I could.
It was a lot of pressure, but it eased when I ducked into a side room and found myself in what looked like a personal library/study.
Belle, eat your heart out, I thought to myself as I went over to the desk and started opening drawers.
I wasn’t sure what I expected. The room had so few emotional echoes.
I doubted anyone had been in there in a couple of weeks, but one never knew when a bread crumb could lead somewhere else.
That was pretty much how I had ended up in my situation, wasn’t it?
Unsurprisingly, however, the study was a bust. But one unsuccessful search definitely emboldened me, and I hurried back out into the hall for my next destination.
Cue a rather long montage of me footing it from room to room, doing my best impersonation of a spy without much success. That was until I approached a staircase only to hear what had to be the two Chevalier daughters descending.
“—cutie, though, isn’t he?”
“I mean, I guess, but like, isn’t he kinda a nobody in his family? I thought there were only three VanMarche sons.”
“Well, there are now. ”
I was genuinely surprised at the amount of vitriol that rose up in me at their words.
What was with people forgetting about Paul?
While I knew I was biased, I couldn’t help but think that he was really the best of the brothers.
Between Chris’s uptightness and obsession with becoming the alpha that had backfired on him, and Jackson clearly choosing to self-medicate rather than addressing the trauma that so clearly hurt him, Paul was an utter delight!
I held my tongue, however, and ducked in through another door that turned out to be a supply closet.
It was actually kind of a relief not to be in another overwrought room, and I waited until the daughters exited my hearing range, and then a little more.
Just because my oracle ears couldn’t pick up the sound of their footsteps didn’t mean their shifter ones couldn’t pick up mine.
Once I was as sure as I could be that the coast was clear, I headed up the exact staircase they descended, figuring that going to a more-used part of the house would get me more results.
And almost immediately, I could see way more emotional imprints floating through the air and lingering around objects.
Okay, I think I’m definitely on the right path.
However, I was all too aware of the fact that being closer to where the Chevaliers hung out made it much more likely that I’d be spotted, whether by them or their staff.
So, I needed to be extra careful and try to spread out my mind to sense if any new and fresh emotions were approaching me.
I wasn’t very good at that, but I knew it was possible from a summer camp I’d gone to as a teen where we played a game ironically called assassins.
We had to sneak up on other players and tag them out by ripping a colorful piece of fabric off their belt.
The first door led to another sitting area and lounge, and I couldn’t help but wonder how many living-room spaces a single family needed. Even with so many kids, relations, and the like, surely three was over-kill?
Or maybe I just didn’t have enough guests or parties in my life. Something to work on.
Having guests means cleaning and keeping a tidy house, as well as a lot of planning and organization to make sure everything goes off without a hitch.
Ew. Fuck that.
The second room was a personal gym, and just like the first-floor study, it was almost completely devoid of any emotion colors.
Looked like no one had used it in a while.
If I was a little less of character and a little stronger of bicep, I might have slipped a couple of the cute, lavender dumbbells in my purse.
Oh well.
The third room was what I guessed was a tearoom, only marginally different from a sitting room, which was only marginally different from a living room.
There were more emotional markers, but they ranged from bored, to relaxed, to condescending, and none of those were really indicative of a murder or someone thinking about hiring an assassin.
Still, I snooped around and predictably didn’t end up with anything.
The fourth room was a laundry room, and finally I had a room that was rife with emotions!
There was frustration, anger, a little bit of hate to spice, excitement.
There was that boredom again, but colored and shaped differently than the previous room, a whole gamut.
Excitement bubbled up in me before I realized that a laundry room was likely more where servants hung out than the actual Chevaliers.
Damn.
I quickly hurried away from that, but as I did, I heard footsteps approaching.
As luck would have it, there wasn’t a doorway I could duck into quickly—especially with so much shifter hearing around—so I pulled a small compact and my lip gloss from my purse, aimlessly striding forward while I primped myself.
And just in time too, because the figure rounded the corner.
“ Excusi , I do not believe you are meant to be here, no?”
I looked up in surprise, dropping my contact for good measure.
“Huh? Oh! You just snuck up out of nowhere, now, didn’t you?
” I said, pitching my tone between surprised and pleasant.
“Just heading back from the ladies’ room.
You know how it is when the ol—” I was about to use the whole period-poop excuse that never failed to make other people change the subject, but I realized if the woman in front of me was a shifter, she’d scent that I was lying.
And once someone found me in a lie, it was real hard to ever win that trust back.
Except for with Paul, who was apparently an angel.
“—afternoon coffee kicks in,” I said, deciding to go back to my old excuse. The woman looked completely unruffled or uninterested, her face a polite mask, and I found my mouth talking faster than my brain.
Darn, and I was doing so good too!
“Do I know you?” I blurted without thinking. Not that it gave me away, but I was trying to be careful, and being careful didn’t mean just spouting off.
But the woman did indeed look familiar. I couldn’t say what it was about her dark hair and blue eyes, or her statuesque frame, I just?—
WAIT! The funeral!
I’d seen her in the line at the funeral! She’d been a few people behind the other two main families, but other than that, she hadn’t stuck out much. That was probably why I had such a hard time remembering her when I’d committed so much of that day to memory.
“You are a VanMarche staff member, yes?” she said so matter-of-factly that I was starting to feel like I was the one being duped. Not a good sign. “Perhaps you recognize me from the work I’ve done at their estate.”
“Oh, probably!” I said brightly. Because if I was truly a member of staff for Paul’s estate, I would know who she was. “I rarely leave my shoebox of an office, but you, uh… you…”
“I do special occasion culinary work for all three great houses.” The woman drew herself up, and it was clear that she was proud of herself. And honestly? Get it, sister! “My family has always supported all of the families, splitting our time equally amongst them to fit their needs.”
I’d never heard anything like that, but I didn’t think I should admit to my ignorance. “Right, of course, of course! I’ve heard the offhand comment here and there about your cupcakes!” I lied. “You got anything delicious on the docket?”
“Of course. Semper Optimis for our leaders.”
My mind rattled through my Latin knowledge, trying to place what she had said.
Semper Optimis…
Semper Fi? No, not quite. But it means always faithful .
So, what’s Optimis? Maybe something to do with eyes? Ocular?
No, that’s not it.
Optimis Prime! Transformers, robots in disguise~
Oh, right, Optimis means best!
Transformers, robots in disguise~ Always the best!
“That’s what I like to say,” I agreed a beat later. But then my curiosity just wouldn’t back off. “I do have to ask; I’m kind of a nobody at the VanMarche estate. I only recently got a promotion because of… you know, the situation. How did you know I work there?”
She could have heard through the grapevine since I arrived, but that seemed awfully soon, especially since she was on the second floor and quite a bit away from the sitting room Paul and I had been shown to.
“That is true, I have never seen you at the estate, but I did notice you at the funeral before all that mess happened.”
“Yeah, it was quite the event, wasn’t it?” I asked.
“It was. Now, do you wish for me to escort you back to Maestro VanMarche? These halls can be disorienting to those unfamiliar with them.”
“You can say that twice! But no, I should be fine if you turn me in the right direction.”
She pointed, and I hurried off, but the entire time I felt watched—even when I was out of her sight.
Definitely creepy.
By the time I reached Paul, he looked visibly relieved to see me. It made me feel that much worse when I had to shake my head. I didn’t know if we wanted one of the two other families to be the bad guys or not, but it still felt a lot like failure.
I fucking hated failing, which was perhaps ironic considering I seemed to be doing it all the time lately. Had I suddenly become too stupid to live, or had I always been that way and I’d never noticed?
For some reason, Paul didn’t seem to catch the shift in my mood. It was usually impossible to get anything past him, but I took the opportunity to shove my RSD back down where it belonged.
After some quick but polite (so not quick at all) goodbyes, the two of us were being golf-carted back to the entrance minus one oversized gift basket.
One great house down, another to go.