by Sofia Daniel
The boys continued mocking Blake and his blowjob escapade with Charlotte all the way through London. Eventually, the car stopped at a residential street in Westminster, close to the river, and the driver announced that we had reached our destination. Blake opened the limo door, and we all piled outside. I glanced down a road about four-hundred feet long with over two-dozen monkey puzzle trees on each side.
We hurried down the road, knocking on every house with a red door and a kooky-looking, evergreen tree in front. Very few people answered their doors, and all said they weren’t holding a party of any kind. Considering the absence of loud music, I was inclined to agree with them.
Halfway down the road, we found a house fitting the description. Outside stood a sign that read:
BOURNEVILLES
Property Auctions
For Sale By
AUCTION
I opened my mouth to ask if this was one of his family’s companies, but clamped my lips shut. It would be indelicate to ask, considering why he had been disinherited. A moment later, Blake gave Henry a consolatory pat on the back, which answered my unasked question.
Edward knocked on the red door, and an Asian man answered. “Hello?”
I scrolled up the Saturday Correspondent article and glanced at the picture of the tenant. It was the same guy.
“Good evening,” said Edward. “Is this where Charlotte’s party is being held?”
His lips tightened. “Charlotte who?”
“Underwood,” said Blake.
Angry, red blotches appeared on his face. “For the last time, I don’t know anything about the Underwoods. Now, fuck off, and don’t come back again!”
Chapter 23
The tenant slammed the door, and Edward stepped away from the house, rubbing the back of his neck. He turned to us, brows raised. “What on earth was that?”
I glared in the direction of the limousine. “Duncan. The slimy little snake sent us on a wild goose chase.”
“He didn’t count on Henry taking him hostage when he lied,” said Blake.
I clapped a hand over my mouth. “What if he escaped while our backs were turned?”
Henry sprinted to the limo, flung the door open, reached inside, and dragged Duncan out by the arm. The smaller boy stumbled across the sidewalk, sloshing the contents of his champagne glass over his front. Rolling my eyes, I followed after them with Blake at my side. Duncan also hadn’t counted on getting drunk after being banished with a bottle of champagne.
“What’s wrong?” Duncan slurred. “Did Coates and the others not let you in?” Henry gave him a rough shove, and Duncan staggered back, his ass knocking into the side of the limousine. “What was that for?”
Edward advanced on him, his eyes as cold and as sharp as icicles. “You gave us the wrong location.”
Duncan clutched the half-full champagne glass to his chest. “Charlotte said it would be at her father’s London apartment, I swear.”
“Stand aside.” Henry pulled him up by the lapels. “I’m going to shake this skinny bastard until he spews out the answer.”
“N-no, don’t,” cried Duncan. “I’ll wet myself.”
Henry let go of him as though the champagne down the front of Duncan’s shirt was urine. “Oh, for goodness’ sake!”
Duncan staggered toward a lamp post and fumbled with the flies of his pants.
Everyone, including me, turned their heads.
Ignoring the sounds of urination, I turned to Blake. “Send texts to all the girls at the academy you think Charlotte might have invited. One of them should be able to tell you where they are, especially if they’ve worked out the boys have paid for their company and have stormed out in disgust.”
He frowned but pulled out his smartphone. “Alright.”
We all piled into the back of the limo. Duncan sat with us in case he remembered anything he might have overheard. I sent Rita a text in case she had heard from anyone about the party, but she replied straight away to say she hadn’t. The only person I could think of was Alice, who had defected to join Charlotte. I sent her a quick text to ask if she was at Charlotte’s party.
“Have you heard from anyone yet?” I asked Blake.
“Give them time,” he replied. “Parties are noisy, and most girls keep their phones in handbags, so they might not feel anything vibrate.”
“I say we interrogate Blackwell,” snarled Henry.
“Beat me up all you like.” Duncan swigged from the bottle he had brought from the front. “But I don’t know any more than you.”
Edward rubbed his chin. “All the bus companies local to the academy might be closed at this time of the evening, but it doesn’t hurt to try them.”
I nodded and fired up the Google app. While Blake texted every girl in his smartphone, Henry explained that the party could be in any city within driving distance of Mercia county. The only ones I recognized were Brighton, Chichester, Canterbury, and Oxford, but the more places he listed, the more my spirits plummeted.
“Charlotte would hold the party in London,” said Blake. “I’m sure of it.”
Duncan swigged from his champagne bottle. “She did say her party would rival the Valentine’s Day Massacre.” He shot me a hurt look. “Thanks for inviting me, by the way.”
I let the sarcastic comment wash over me. If he had been at the gauntlet, I would have made sure he’d had a place. But I wasn’t about to admit that to an ally of Charlotte.
My phone buzzed, and a message from Alice flashed on the screen. I’m there, and I’ve been throwing up all evening. Never mix a cocktail and penicillin.
My heart flipped. “I’ve heard from Alice!”
“Where are they?” asked Edward.
“Hold on.” Are you in London?
On a Thames booze cruise.
“Booze cruise,” I said. “She’s really sick.”
Henry pressed the intercom button. “Head for the Westminster Millennium Pier.”
“But you don’t know where the cruise is,” I said.
“It will be on the Thames, which bisects the entire city. Ask her for the name of the boat or its location.”
Which cruise? Where are you?
Forgot the name. We boarded at Butler’s Wharf and turned around at Greenwich.
I shook my head. “None of this makes any sense to me.” I handed my phone to Henry, who seemed to have the best knowledge of London. “It’ll be faster if you ask her the right questions.”
Duncan wrung his hands. “Hobson? May I ask what Alice ate?”
“She didn’t mention any food. Just that she had a cocktail while she was on penicillin.”
He shook his head. “That isn’t right. I’ve mixed alcohol and penicillin, and it didn’t have that effect on me.”
“Let’s focus on finding her.” I rubbed my brow and stared as the Houses of Parliament whizzed by.
Shortly afterward, the limo stopped at a pier, and Blake stepped out. Big Ben loomed from the other side of the bridge.
Henry handed me back my smartphone. “I know where they are, but the cruise will likely stop at Butler’s Wharf, since it’s already turned around at Greenwich. If we head there, we’ll catch up with them as they arrive.”
“Are you sure we’ll make it on time?” asked Edward.
“I’ve told Blake to find a speedboat.” The ominous tone in Henry’s voice said he wasn’t sure. Not even one bit. He rushed ahead through a line of people waiting to board a river bus.
Edward placed a hand on the small of my back and guided me along the pier. I glanced over my shoulder, partly looking for signs of Mr. Carbuncle. Charlotte might have told him we would use the pier nearest to her father’s home. I shook off the paranoid thought. It was too far-fetched, even for Charlotte.
Henry returned seconds later, beckoning us to hurry. Blake had found a boat willing to take us directly to our destination without stopping. We rushed past the people and onto a red speedboat that accommodated twelve passengers. One of the two men in charge h
anded us yellow lifejackets, and we took our seats. Henry stood in the front with the two men, presumably to make any last-minute arrangements.
The boat’s engine roared to life, and Blake took the seat next to me. “They won’t stop at any of the eight other piers on their route.”
My phone buzzed. I glanced at Alice’s message. All the girls are throwing up!
I updated the others on the newest development.
“It’s strange that she didn’t mention the boys being sick,” Edward said over the noise of the engine.
Duncan, who sat in the seat in front, turned around. “Charlotte wouldn’t poison a cocktail and give it just to girls.”
I held the smartphone up. “See for yourself.”
The rest of the journey through the Thames was tense. Famous buildings I’d only seen from afar zoomed by, but I couldn’t enjoy the sights. Not when anything could be happening to a boatful of girls. Edward tried calling 999 and having ambulances sent to help the girls, but the operator needed the name of the boat and its location. I stared at the screen of my smartphone for several minutes. Alice had gone silent for an agonizingly long time. I tried calling her, but I got transferred to voicemail.
After passing Tower Bridge, the majestic drawbridge consisting of two huge towers connected by a walkway at the top, we reached Butler’s Wharf Pier, just as a group of boys rushed en masse off a double-decker river boat and up a ramp. They huddled together at the covered walkway at the top, staring down at the boat. I shook my head and gaped. There were about fifty boys.
Blake leaned across and pointed at a trio of large males at the back of the procession. “That’s Coates, that’s Bierson, and that’s Ellis.”
The speedboat stopped behind the party boat, and we piled out and along the pier. My mouth dried to the consistency of sandpaper, and my heart skipped several beats. What the hell would we find on that boat?
Two male crew members blocked the entrance. “No entry, guys. It’s a private party.”
“Our classmates are in there,” I said. “We know the girls are being sick, and need to see what’s happened to them.”
The larger of the males, who wore a pair of thick-framed glasses, folded his arms across his chest. “Sorry, but the captain says no one’s allowed to board.”
“Did you at least call an ambulance?” asked Edward.
The crew members exchanged guilty looks and didn’t reply.
“For fuck’s sake!” Henry barreled through the two men, knocking them aside. Edward rushed after him with me at his heels and with Blake taking up the rear with Duncan.
The moment I stepped into the boat’s interior, the acrid stench of vomit filled my nostrils, making me gag. Clapping my hand over my mouth, I stepped aside for Blake and Duncan to pass. We stood at a mezzanine level that looked down on a wooden dance floor with a bar at one end. Tables and chairs ran along the sides, underneath where we stood. Masses of girls either sat at the chairs or knelt on their hands and knees. Each one of them was vomiting or had recently thrown up.
Henry pulled out his phone and spoke to the 999 operator.
After scanning the dance floor for signs of a bleached blonde, I remembered Charlotte had copied my hair color. I looked again but found no sign of her. Or of Alice. I muttered, “Does anyone know first aid?”
“A little.” Duncan walked toward a metal stairwell. “We’d better check on the girls and see if any of them need to be put in the recovery position.”
We all followed after him, but when we reached the bottom of the stairs, a group of female crew members assured us they had called the ambulances and that the girls were safe. Sirens blared from the distance, and we trudged up the stairs and waited on the mezzanine.
A team of four paramedics stepped into the boat and froze. One of them stepped out, presumably to call for more help, and the others tended to the girls. Moments later, a pair of policemen arrived, who made us wait outside.
I sucked in relatively fresh air and stood with the others by the pier, watching a procession of girls being wheeled or walked up the ramp. Each of them trembled uncontrollably and looked as pale as specters. I swallowed hard. “How could she do this?”
“Do you really think she’s capable of something so heinous?” asked Duncan. “Any one of those boys could have spiked the girls’ cocktails.”
My gaze turned to the group of boys huddled up on the walkway. Eight or so policemen walked among them, taking down details in their notebooks.
Edward wrapped an arm around my waist. “Are you alright?”
“Just horrified,” I replied.
A photographer I recognized from the Saturday Correspondent strolled down the ramp, taking photos of the aftermath. The sight of him hovering around like a vulture sent spikes of irritation across my skin. Ignoring the little voice in the back of my mind calling me a hypocrite, I broke away from Edward and approached him. “How did you get here so quickly?”
He flicked his head at the two crew members Henry had pushed aside. “That lot told me.”
That’s when I noticed they both wore thick glasses. I would bet any amount that Tom’s van was parked in a back street, having driven on the roads parallel to the river during its cruise. My hands balled into fists. If the Correspondent had known Charlotte would drug schoolgirls, why didn’t they do something to stop it?
I was about to walk over and speak to them when a paramedic wheeled a girl with hair the exact shade as mine. Her head was bowed, and her hair covered most of her upper body, but there wasn’t a trace of vomit in that long hair or on her skirt or on her bare legs.
“Charlotte.”
She turned her head up at me. Then her eyes widened, and she leaped out of the wheelchair and bolted up the ramp.
Chapter 24
Charlotte’s four-inch heels clanked up the ramp, and the muscles in her thighs and calves rippled with each rapid movement. For someone in such ridiculous footwear, she made surprising progress. Holding my aching ribs, I chased after her amidst the cheers and the catcalls of the boys being interviewed by the police.
“Emilia!” Blake held my wrist.
“Come on!” I continued running with him by my side. “Overtake me. She’s getting away.”
“I’m not leaving you,” he replied. “Henry’s right behind us, and I doubt he’ll want you alone either.”
Somehow, between the ramp and the waterfront, a wide restaurant-lined sidewalk, Charlotte had taken off her shoes and sprinted ahead. I growled my frustration. Why were the boys being so overprotective at a time like this? We ran past a row of parked ambulances and police vans, at the end of which stood a black cab.
Charlotte waved her arm. “Taxi! Taxi!”
A burst of fury powered my limbs and dulled the pain around my ribs, and I closed the distance between us. She wasn’t going to get away.
Channeling Henry, I leaped through the air and tackled her. “Stupid bitch!”
We both tumbled to the ground. My knees hit the paving stones, sending pain radiating up my thighs. I winced and held onto my quarry.
“Get off me, you trollop!” Charlotte elbowed me in the gut, aggravating my bruises.
I clenched my teeth. “Not until you tell the police and the medics what you put in the girls’ cocktails.”
She wriggled in my grip like a floundering fish. “Rape,” she screeched. “Police!”
Large hands lifted me off Charlotte. “Calm down, Emilia,” said Henry. “She’s trying to make herself look like the victim.”
A male police officer ran over with his female colleague a few feet behind. “What’s going on here?”
Charlotte pointed at me. “Didn’t you see her assault me? Arrest her!”
“That is Charlotte Underwood, the daughter of Neil Underwood, the disgraced Cabinet Minister, and the organizer of this party,” I said between clenched teeth. “She sold tickets to boys from our school, promising them sex with girls they liked. Then to make sure the girls were compliant, she put something in
their drinks.”
“No,” spat Charlotte. “You put the drugs in the punch!”
The policewoman turned to me with her lips pursed, as though I were the liar. “Alright. I need you both to come with me.”
“But Emilia wasn’t even on the boat,” said Edward.
The policewoman raised her brows. “And you are?”
“Edward Mercia, Viscount Highdown.” He pulled out his wallet and showed them some ID.
I held my breath and examined the policewoman’s face. Surely, that fancy title would sway her.
She inclined her head a fraction. “And you can vouch for this young lady?”
“We all can,” said Blake. “She drove down with us in the limousine.”
The policewoman blinked as though she recognized Blake from somewhere, then her gaze darted to Henry, and her eyes widened with recognition. She smoothed her features into a neutral expression and asked, “And the other young lady?”
“It’s as Emilia said,” Edward replied. “Charlotte Underwood organized this party.”
Even more police officers arrived and took us all to one side, making sure to separate us from Charlotte. While more ambulances arrived to take the girls away, a huge coach pulled up at the side road. Either it was something that Charlotte had organized, or one of the boys had called their parents to send transportation back to the academy.
Long after the Saturday Correspondent reporters had climbed into Tom’s black van and left, and the ambulances had pulled away, we all stayed at the waterfront giving our details to the police. No matter what we said, they wouldn’t arrest Charlotte. I supposed they suspected we were bullying her. That, or she had a guardian angel.
The police escorted the boys onto the coach and stopped the traffic on the main road for it to reverse out.
“Good riddance,” muttered Henry.
“What a disgusting bunch of bastards,” added Blake.
Edward rubbed his temples and sighed. “I’m just grateful for Charlotte’s incompetence.”
“Just think of what would have happened if she had made the girls compliant instead of violently sick.” I shuddered.
