Chapter Three:
To answer animesbff13's question, yes, Évelyne is Damian as a female. But she is different character wise, she is more composed, aloof, than Damian is/was. But she still has a temper and is impulsive on occasion, like Damian. Mostly because she is older, and because I feel as if Talia would have trained Évelyne to be like her.
Évelyne watched her father accept a shifter glass of cognac from Alfred, which surprised her, her father rarely drank, she had sat in her father's office for a half-hour in silence and was wondering why she was there. Her painting of a coven of witches performing their ritual by a bonfire was above the mahogany fireplace, and made her father seem like the perfect, society father that sent his daughter to a conservative private school, making her refined and polished into the 'perfect' maiden that would one day bind two companies or corporations together.
"You have a teacher named Charles Bertram?" Bruce finally spoke, his eyes met her's for only a moment. There was no spark, no emotion. This was an interrogation.
His question surprised her, and sent a million ideas and theories off in her head. Was her favorite teacher dead? Was it her own fault? "Yes," Évelyne said, uneasily. "He's my art teacher."
"Was," Bruce corrected her, adjusting his glass so Alfred could replenish it with more nectar. "He was taken into custody earlier today."
There was silence, her forehead wrinkled and she said, trying to keep her tone steady, "I don't understand. What happened?" She clenched her fists to keep them from shaking.
"He was responsible for the murder of five of your classmates."
"Who? Who did he kill?" Mister Bertram, her clumsy art teacher that knew so much, had so much ahead of him... Murders could be anyone, he could have been a psychopath, she coached herself as the room began blurring. But I should have known, I was trained to spot everything, to know everything, but... What now? What have I been blind to? What did I miss?
"He mutilated the bodies of Rachel Smalls, Lillian Oliver, Vincent Tyler-"
"Can I use this?" Vincent Tyler asked her, "Mine got stolen by some underclassmen."
"Just give it back," she said, nodding. He smiled and sat back down at his seat by his friends.
"-Daniel Rowe, and Mackenzie Mcguire. All students in your class." Bruce ended, his tone was rough and coarse, like Batman's.
Mackenzie, Rachel, Lillian, the girls that had ignored her and shunned her since she arrived. Vincent and Daniel, who flirted with her and other girls. All connected to her, all things Mister Bertram must have seen.
"Batman raided his apartment, he had pictures of you everywhere, and the pictures of his victims slashed and marred." Bruce watched her, she felt goosebumps on her arms and her barely eaten dinner sloshing in her stomach. "Did you pursue a relationship with him?"
"No!" Évelyne jumped to her feet, her chair toppled on the floor. "Of course not! He was my teacher!"
"He had paintings of yours in his house, paintings that were never sent out of school. There were no records of him ever signing off the artwork to other establishments." His eyes were stern, but there was something else, was it shame? Shame of something he thought - no, knew she had done. Évelyne the assassin with no morals, Évelyne the girl who had only enemies, Évelyne who would most certainly pursue a relationship with a man more than ten years older than herself.
"How dare you!" Évelyne's face flushed red, "This is such bullshit!"
"Lady Évelyne," Alfred pulled his head out of the sand. "Please-"
"You would assume that, wouldn't you," Évelyne let out a derisive laugh and slammed her palms on the desk. "Évelyne, the daughter you are embarrassed of because my birth, my upbringing. You think of me as a problem that my mother tied in a bow and dropped on your doorstep. programmed to screw up your work as Batman!"
"Évelyne, that's not why I am asking you this!" Bruce had no qualms about raising his voice, either. "Did you or did you not court with this man!"
"Bruce!" A voice called from downstairs, "Bruce, where are you?"
They both recognized the speaker, it was Dick. Évelyne called out, "Dick! We're up here! In the office!"
"Évelyne-" Bruce began, clearly he did not want Dick to hear.
"He can hear what we have to say, or, well, what you have to say because my words mean nothing to you." Évelyne spat out, turning on her heel and throwing open the double doors. There was a tense moment before Officer Grayson hurried down the hall and to the doors. His uniform was still on and his eyes were tired, but wary as he saw the emotion in his father's and sister's faces.
"I see I'm a little late," he seemed to try to prepare for damage control. "Bruce, Évelyne was never dating Mr. Bertram, so she can go. And Évelyne, Bruce..." Dick couldn't find the words. "Just, just wait for me in your room, alright?"
"Don't bother, I'm leaving for Kaela's, I won't be back for another week or so." Évelyne pushed past her elder brother and hastened to her room, heavy footfalls followed her and a large hand pulled her back, her small heel twisted in the carpet as she skidded to a halt and the hands wrapped around her waist.
"You're my daughter Évelyne, you know that, right?" Bruce finally said, his head on the top of her's. She was taken aback, then a wave of something like sadness. She thought she had grown too old for her father's words to hurt her, but fifteen wasn't as old as she thought.
"Am I?" Évelyne choked out, pulling out of his grip and rushing to her room, slamming and shutting the door behind her, throwing herself on the bed and pulled her knees to her chest. Her phone lay far away by her unfinished canvas, but she didn't move to pick it up, she was too busy trying to pull herself together.
When moonlight shone across the manor grounds and the house was empty besides Alfred. Évelyne checked her phone, it was buzzing with messages. She had a picture message from an unknown number, she loaded it and turned the screen.
It was an oil pastel work of her, naked, surrounded by vines and thorns, she was on her knees, extending her right arm for the single rose just out of her reach. The message at the bottom almost made her sick; This was inspired by my memories, my dear Évelyne.
Évelyne highlighted the number with shaking hands and redialed, the other phone was picked up by the fifth ring.
"Mister Bertram?" She whispered.
A.N. I just wanted you to know that I have struggled to move forward with this story, and after reading Jane Eyre I have found my muse once again! I will only be able to update on weekends due to the massive workload I have been given this semester. Bye-Bye!