Anxious—that's the word. I've been at Mary Garden for four days now. If I didn't write to you sooner, well, you know how it is, my friend. When sadness takes over, I have to surround myself with flowers, with beauty and perfection. But I don't want to. I just want to stay in bed, mourning how beautiful it was to see Lucius and Killian every single day. And that's exactly how I spent these past few days: crying, eating snacks in bed, and then crying all over again.
I had to turn off the TV. They've been talking about the five of us non-stop. The Longfields and the Bances draw attention like magnets, but for reasons I can't fathom, nearly half the time they only focus on me. Maybe it's because of my background, because they see me as more imperfect, more relatable. That must be it.
The only part that actually made me laugh was when two handsome, completely unknown men appeared on screen, claiming to have been my boyfriends back in high school. They were given lengthy interviews, and just because I didn't come forward to deny it, the media already took it as gospel. At least those liars spoke wonders about my character and sense of humor; they exaggerated way too much, but people believed them. The funny thing is, one of them was pretty charming, and if I had met him by chance and he had asked me out, I might have said yes. But everyone seems desperate to get on camera and plug their social media accounts.
In case you were wondering, friend—no, neither of them wrote to me, and I didn't write to them either. Do you think I'm a fool? Don't worry, I feel a bit like one myself, but I won't go back to Longfield. Not with that whole Samael Code business being treated as if it were just another tool to solve a problem. No, no, no. Yet, I can't stop thinking about them: where they are, what they're doing. At times I imagine they've already moved on, just like their father said: "They're Longfields and they'll get through this," and blah, blah, blah. But sometimes I want to believe they realized I'm the love of their lives and they're coming for me.
I turn on the TV, and the first thing I see is Bruce Bance. It's a shot of him while they interview an elderly lady who hired his services many years ago. She says he was an arrogant boy but an excellent detective; thanks to him, she found her husband—who had been presumed dead on a trip to the Amazon—alive, in the jungle, and married to someone else.
Then they showed a live broadcast of my house. The reporters are still there; there are police officers, a barricade, and some fans, or something like that. The girls look adorable to me; some are wearing DIY versions of the Alexander McQueen dress, and their boyfriends or friends are dressed like Killian. They're being interviewed and taking photos, replicating the exact pose from that iconic London image.
And during that live broadcast, right behind those teenagers, I saw a woman walking like she was on a runway. She was wearing a coat and tight, shiny black pants, causing an absolute uproar… five bodyguards surrounded her, but she looked like she could handle everyone all by herself. I dashed desperately toward the gates of Mary Garden, a smile on my lips and tears of excitement in my eyes.
I pressed the red button they had installed for me, and the thick wooden gates slid open to let her in.
The frantic reporters screamed, "Evangelina! Evangelina!" She threw them a quick glance with her clear eyes, her perfect red hair blowing in the wind. A thousand camera flashes went off, and then she waved at them and stepped inside, freezing the moment as she cleared the gate, which shut tight behind her.
Then she opened her arms as if beauty itself were calling out to me, and I ran into her embrace. Like a little girl, I let out a massive sob, unable to hold back my tears any longer.
Evangelina kept telling me, "Calm down, Carmilla, come on, I'm right here with you. Come on, let's go inside. What a beautiful garden you have!"
We sat on the living room couch, right next to the bookshelf. I made coffee and said, "You look like a movie heroine. You're so beautiful, and I'm a total mess. Did you come here just to make me feel even worse?"
She laughed and replied, "You look gorgeous. Those pajamas—a mouse or a bear, whatever it is—are a bit tight on you, but cute… I just flew out here to see you and… also to sign some documents with the Longfields. They're going to announce it in an hour, and the global markets are going to go through the roof, but that's the least of our concerns right now. I missed you, Carmilla! I really missed you so much."
I gave her a hug, and she gave me a quick kiss on the lips, which I returned with a much longer one because I was happy—beyond happy—about her visit.
Flustered as always, I wanted to tell her everything in a single minute. You know, friend, she's now one of the most powerful women in the world; I thought she would only stay for a moment, but she reassured me and said, "We have time, all the time in the world. We're going to cook, drink some good wine, and have a pajama party together—since you're already wearing whatever that is—and tomorrow, when we wake up, I'll head out. Give me a second to call my people so they can bring everything we need. I don't feel like cooking."
I replied, "Thank you, thank you, thank you. I need your massive brain to help me. I know you told me you're terrible at love stuff, and I want to hear what happened with Bruce… Maybe love just wasn't made for us. Maybe God gave us other talents: you got the gift of being a gorgeous super-genius, and I got the knack for distinguishing scents and taking care of flowers. Hey! I think He likes you better."
We laughed. I had some microwave popcorn, so we made it to watch TV together; the idea was to amuse ourselves with the nonsense the media was spouting. I gave her the longest T-shirt I owned to use as pajamas; even though it was short on her, she still looked like Aphrodite herself lying in my bed.
The big topic of conversation in the media was: why did I leave the Longfields and return to my house? That's what the headline read, and that's how I found out the mansion had issued a brief statement: "Carmilla Morris continues to collaborate with the Longfield empire; not only is she fundamental to our perfume company, but she is also a cherished friend of the family."
That "friend" part pissed Evangelina off, and I joined in on the protest against the screen. We laughed and shouted things like, "No way 'friend'! I'm the mistress of both!" and other outrageous things that made us laugh so hard we had to hold our stomachs.
Later, we turned down the volume, and I told her why I had walked away from them. That part wasn't so funny anymore, especially when Evangelina said, "They're right. From what I've learned so far, when we close a business deal, we enrich a lot of people, but we also destroy the competition. There are people who can't stand that, who built their companies using thugs. They never take no for an answer, and they sure as hell aren't going to sit back and watch their corporations die. They're capable of murdering us. Right now, we are personally monitoring over fifteen threats. Some we can bring to justice, but others… if you saw what they're capable of… Fortunately, with the merger, the Longfields will take care of all that."
I clutched my head and pleaded, "Please, Evangelina, tell me you don't agree with this whole going-around-killing-people thing…"
She whispered, visibly emotional, "It's too late for me, remember? I had to defend myself against Annia."
I hugged her and apologized for my lack of tact. She continued, "It was self-defense, which isn't so different from what the Longfields do, but we could change that. Although it would be much riskier. Imagine if, instead of getting rid of the bad guys permanently, we could catch them and expose them. You know, leak the atrocities of those bastards to the press and capture them to bring them to justice."
Astonished, I said, "Oh, no, no, no, I think I know what you're getting at. You must have been talking to Lucius; he had that in mind: forming a sort of special group to track down other psychopaths like Mr. Vandereck or Annia, to rescue their victims. I didn't think he actually believed it was possible."
She countered, "Why not? Who else would do it? Look, we have more money than any other mortal, fast cars, planes, and a global presence. We're smart, we're strong. Don't you think we're the right ones for the job? And wouldn't it be thrilling? I'm sure that if I came here and told you: we found a villain holding a young girl hostage, we don't know where, and the police say they can't do anything… wouldn't you come with us to save her? I think you'd be the first one out the door."
I begged her to please change the subject, but since I didn't want to ruin the night, I made a joke out of it: "Come on! You guys would look like superheroes in your sophisticated black suits, and I'd end up with a… beetle or a ladybug costume… I'd be a total cartoon next to Bruce, Killian, Lucius, and you—who already look like Wonder Woman in pajamas."
She laughed but said, "Don't worry, I think Lucius mentioned that Emilia Toure is already handling that. This is serious, Carmilla. Look, the truth is Bruce didn't leave me this time to get away from me—at least that's what he says. Now I know he left to do what he does best: find the bad guys. Lucius and he are working together on this. We're all meeting in seven days… I hope you'll be there. But don't worry about it now… tonight we're talking about boys and broken hearts. Tell me everything about your relationship with both of them, and don't you dare leave out anything they did to you in bed…"