Before Frederick has the chance to knock and announce their arrival, an irritated voice answers through the wood.

"Enter."

Opening the door, he ushers them inside what appears to be a study. The heavy curtains on the widows are only half-drawn, allowing just two thin rectangles of weak light to spread across the carpet. The rest of the room is dim.

Across from them, seated behind a large oak-wood desk, is a man who looks like he belongs to a rock band. Long ebony hair falls past his shoulders, blending in with the colour of the black three-piece suit he wears. This must be who they call His Grace. Emelia thinks he looks like a pretentious prick.

"Hello," he greets them in a smooth, accented tenor. "My name is Bartholmieu Dashiell."

A pretentious prick with a pretentious name, she thinks. She notices François then, peering out from the side of the high-backed chair facing the desk, staring at her.

"And of course you have met my son," the man named Bartholmieu continues. "Francois."

"Unfortunately," Emelia mutters, her heart hiccupping nervously when Francois chuckles.

"I told you she was rude."

"I think you and I both have very different definitions of what being rude means," she snaps at him in response, glaring his way. She turns her attention back to Bartholmieu and says unflinchingly, "I demand that you let us go right now."

Francois' father leans back in his chair, linking his fingers together, and appraises her with a nonplussed expression. Clearly, her outspokenness has taken him by surprise. Good.

"I'm afraid releasing you is impossible," he says after a moment's pause. "You have both seen too much. Letting you go would be putting my kind's existent at risk."

"Your kind?" Sofie asks faintly by Emelia's side.

"He's talking about vampires, Sofie," she mutters, vaguely remembering what François claimed to be before assaulting her the other night. "Because that's what they think they are."

"What you believe is inconsequential," Bartholmieu replies, his dismissiveness making indignation flare in Emelia's chest. "The fact still remains that you cannot be released."

"You can't keep us here," she exclaims angrily. "People will be looking for us. We have a family."

Her words don't appear to deter or worry either of them in any way.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that," Bartholmieu says. "I don't plan on keeping either of you."

Although his tone is nonchalant, the insinuation behind the statement is sinister. Are they going to kill is?

The look in Bartholmieu's umber brown eyes tells her that this is exactly what he plans on doing. Sofie stiffens next to her, clearly coming to the same realisation.

"You won't get away with this," Emelia warns, her heart fearful but words bold. "My father is a very powerful man."

Faint amusement flickers across Bartholmieu's face for a moment.

"Is that so?" he asks, arching a dark eyebrow. "And who may he be?"

"His name is Elias Temple," she replies smugly. "And he's the UK's Secretary of State for Defence."

Emilia enjoys watching both of their faces once she reveals her dad's identity. She sees shock pass across their features, then disbelief, and then dread. Gotcha.

Bartholmieu turns to his son with a thunderous expression and snarls, "What have you done?"

François blanches, his lips parting with shock

"How was I possibly supposed to know that?" he asks defensively. "Are we meant to ask every single human we interact with who their parents are?"

Batholmieu's nostrils flare wide like an enraged bull's but he seems to manage to reel in his temper fast enough to think rationally. Silence reigns in the room for a tense moment while he sits there thinking.

"This is going to cause a lot of problems for us," he mutters eventually. "I will have to inform the Elder Committee immediately."

François throws a shrewd glance Emelia's way, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"She could be lying."

His father replies by shaking his head.

"I won't risk it," he says, adamant. "The consequences could be catastrophic if I did."

He looks at the two of them then and says, "I have decided that you will remain here until further notice."

"What?" Emelia gapes at him.

"I will assure that my staff provides everything you need in order to make your stay with us as comfortable as possible," he continues, talking to them now as if they are guests instead of hostages. The change in his conduct is surreal.

"You can't do that," she shouts. "You have to let us go now!"

Bartholmieu's stare becomes steely, his voice lowering with a warning.

"It would be in your best interest, young lady, to remember that you are under my hospitality," he says. "And if you wish for your stay here to be a pleasant one then you will show respect, understand?"

"All I understand is that my dad has enough money and connections to make sure your whole family goes down in court," Emelia replies, fuming. "I guarantee that you'll get the maximum sentence for what you've done. Murder, kidnapping, assault and battery -" She lists everything off on her fingers one by one for added effect. "Your entire family will be put behind bars and so will everyone who works for you!"

"Is this speech suppose to scare us?" Francois' expression is the epitome of unimpressed.

"If it doesn't then you're extremely stupid," she snorts.

"Your father knows who we are," he tells her.

"My dad doesn't know you," she retorts, sure of that fact.

"Your father knows more than you think he does," Batholmieu intercedes calmly. "Not only does he know who we are but what we are too."

"You're lying," Emelia accuses and Francois growls, his annoyance clear

"Stop being stupid and use your brain, fille. Of course he knows! Just like all the other men in charge of defence before him, he would have been given that classified information before accepting the job."

Uncertainty surfaces in Emilia's stomach at his words. Despite not wanting to believe it, she can't deny that it all adds up. If anyone was to know about the existence of a supernatural species it would be a high ranking government official like her father.

"There is no escape," Bartholmieu tells them, "so don't bother looking for one."

His eyes flicker down to Emelia's injured wrist and he adds, "You will only get yourselves hurt."

And with that, they are dismissed.