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Devilish Impulses	By : Arianawray Category: > Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji ???) Views: 13948 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or any of its characters, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1-Unwanted
- 2-Whim
- 3-Trust
- 4-Taste
- 5-Scheme
- 6-Command
- 7-Competition
- 8-Advice
- 9-Enlightenment
- 10-Sustenance
- 11-Caught
- 12-Breath
- 13-Arms
- 14-Inflammation
- 15-Imagination
- 16-Intent
- 17-Compromise
- 18-Sacrifice
- 19-Despair
- 20-Compassion
- 21-Interest
- 22-Equality
- 23-Mentor
- 24-History
- 25-Disorder
- 26-Reputation
- 27-Gifts
- 28-Admission
- 29-Watching
- 30-Bonds
- 31-Revelations
- 32-Confrontation
- 33-Struggle
- 34-Separation
- 35-Duty
- 36-Change
- 37-Together
- 38-Love
- 39-Epilogue: Heaven
- 9
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Sustenance

At nine in the morning, two large, gleaming carriages pull up in front of the Earl of Phantomhive's London house.

Four men wearing identical black coats and hats pour out of the second carriage and stand beside the first. From that first vehicle, two men in the same cut and colour of coat alight before one of them turns back to hand a tall lady out of the vehicle.

"Ma'am," he says deferentially as she descends from the carriage and sweeps past him, the skirts of her highly fashionable dark-green dress brushing against his trouser legs.

"This is the house?" she demands, from under a magnificent green hat fringed with a black veil that is much more ornamental than practical, for it is so sheer and short that it hides none of her features – strong, proud, and handsome rather than beautiful – nor her fair hair, which is abundant and natural despite her being near the age of fifty. She looks grim, and whenever Sophia Easton looks grim, she looks her best.

"Yes, Ma'am. This is the Earl of Phantomhive's house," answers the man who helped her out onto the pavement.

"Open the gate."

"At once, Ma'am."

The six men in the identical coats move towards the residence. The gate is locked, but they have strong metal tools with them which they employ to break the lock. All of their party, except for the two coachmen, enter the driveway and surround the house. Sophia Easton remains on the driveway, standing directly in front of the closed main door, until one of the men returns to her side to report: "The house seems to be empty, Ma'am. No one appears to be inside."

"Ask the neighbours," she commands.

"That will alert them to..."

"Let them be alerted. Do you think I care?"

The man runs off to the big house next door and heads for the servants' entrance. He speaks to a footman there, who calls out to other members of the staff for better information, and the man soon has his answer. He returns to his mistress and reports: "The servants in that house say that the Earl of Phantomhive and his party left at eight o'clock this morning. They locked up the house and drew all the curtains before leaving, which according to those servants suggests that they have returned to the Phantomhive mansion outside London. Shall we break down the door and smash everything inside?"

"Don't bother. We'll be doing exactly that to his precious mansion soon enough, once we determine the best plan of attack."

"We've come prepared to damage this place, though. We've learnt the layout of the house and all. So if you want to, we can still–"

"Do not waste another moment here. We shall look at our plans again, learn about the Phantomhive mansion and what its weak points are, then in a few days, you can smash whatever you please in there."

She turns, sweeps out of the compound and back into her carriage, not bothering to wait to be helped up by any of her assistants. The men pour back towards the two carriages, and as they whip around and run to the vehicles, leaping in one after the other, some of their coats flap open in the wind so that the curious servants from the neighbouring houses who have come out to look at them can see that under those coats, they are armed with daggers, guns and cruel-looking implements.

Once the coaches drive away, the cook who was called to the door by the footman turns to the young man and says to him: "Best inform Mister Jones and tell 'im to use the telephone to ring them Phantomhive servants – he took kindly to that good-natured young gardener oo was 'ere wi' the earl this time, and he'll want to warn 'em about what's just 'appened."

"Was that who..." the footman begins.

"Yeah, it were. That were Mrs Easton. Tell Mister Jones to tell the Phantomhive servants it were that Sophia 'I-am-a-descendant-of-a-Duke-of-York' Easton. Frightful lady. Never forget, I will, 'ow she slapped my poor old mistress in a dreadful temper over some trifling matter or other, right before everybody at the dinner party jus' when I was called out to speak to one of the guests who wanted to congratulate me on my soufflés, that time when I was still cook for the Shiltons."

***

If the earl and Sebastian had left Finnian behind when they went to London, they would no doubt be drawing up before the Phantomhive manor now to the gardener's rapturous, unrestrained cries of "Lord Phantomhive!" and "Mister Sebastian!"

But as Finnian is with them, riding on the back perch of the carriage while Sebastian drives, they have a less noisy reception from Baldroy, Mey-Rin and Mr Tanaka. Baldo has a loud enough voice, but he is not as immature as Finny, so all he does is salute them with a lopsided grin on his face as they drive up, while Mey-Rin blushes and coos: "Oh Your Lordship!" and "Ohhh, Mister Sebastian!", followed by a deeper blush and an "Ooooh, Mister Agni..."

Sebastian does not sigh audibly as he springs down from the box seat to open the carriage door, but the sigh is written all over his face as he anticipates the trials of returning to the company of all three of the individuals whose considerable talents unfortunately do not run to housework, cooking, or gardening. And of course there is Mister Tanaka, who can do almost nothing. That he retains his place is owing to his present incompetence having been caused by the terrible injuries he sustained at the hands of the Phantomhives' enemies, on the day Ciel's mother and father, and Sebastian the dog, were killed, and Ciel himself was abducted.

"Your Lordship, Mister Sebastian," Baldo says once the passengers have dismounted. "We received a telephone call from the butler at the Goldrich house in London, near the town house, not an hour ago. Seems some lady called Sophia Easton and a gang of black-coated men broke the lock on the gate at about nine o'clock and entered the compound, but then left after that. The house itself appears to be intact, according to them."

"So she's not wasting any time making trouble," Ciel muses. "Let her try. If she comes here, we'll be ready for her."

"Expecting unwelcome visitors, are we?" Baldo grins even more widely. "I could do with a spot of action..."

"Baldo, take this pack of food and put it in the kitchen – and do not touch it once you have set it down on the counter," Sebastian interrupts the cook sternly. "This is to be our lunch and dinner. If you set fire to it or blow it up, we shall be obliged to roast you and eat you instead."

Baldo grumbles, but obeys.

"Finnian, bring the cases down from the roof of the carriage so that Mey-Rin can carry them inside."

"Yes, Mister Sebastian."

"Mister Tanaka, perhaps you can prepare a pot of tea?"

The old steward nods eagerly and goes back into the house.

Sebastian decides that as Finny has been good with the horses, and has neither broken the animals' bones nor the carriage while in London, he will leave him to see to the creatures again. Finny is delighted, for he loves animals more than he does plants, although he must always rein in his strength when dealing with them, so that he does not hurt or kill them unintentionally.

Prince Soma has already gone inside with Ciel, so Agni turns to Sebastian, asking: "Is there anything I can do, Mister Sebastian?"

"You are a guest. You ought to go in and relax. But if you cannot do that, then you may wish to make certain that Baldroy is not attempting to cook the meat in the package by lighting sticks of dynamite under it."

"Of course," Agni says with a chuckle, and heads for the kitchen.

Sebastian goes into the drawing room to find that Tanaka has brought out a pot of green tea for the prince and the earl. The butler holds in yet another sigh, for green tea seems to be all that Tanaka knows. He himself would have chosen something more robust to revive the young master after the two-hour coach ride – perhaps one of the stronger-flavoured Chinese teas. But green tea it shall have to be for the time being.

"I could do with more rest," Ciel declares, taking a deep draught of the tea before putting down his cup and stretching his arms, fingers interlaced, palms facing out.

"So could I," Soma echoes, following up with a yawn. "Yesterday was exhausting. I'm glad Agni and I have four days to recover here before returning to London to leave for Denmark."

"Prince Soma can take as long a nap as he likes after lunch, but Your Lordship has missed several days of your usual lessons, and should resume at least some of them this afternoon," Sebastian says.

"I'm too tired for–" Ciel begins, before stopping himself in the middle of his protest.

"Ciel, you should rest," Soma says, yawning again.

"No," the earl says quietly. "There is much to be done, and much to learn."

Before Sebastian can speak again, Ciel repairs to his study, where he inspects the correspondence which was not forwarded to him in London. Nothing very urgent demands his attention, although a few matters are better dealt with sooner rather than later.

The head designer at the Funtom toy company has sent drawings of a new family of plush rabbits intended to be launched this year. They look well enough, but Ciel cannot tell if they will be sufficiently appealing until he sees them made into proper toys – the stitching, plumpness, firmness, facial expressions and the feel of the hair will all affect their attractiveness, things which cannot be completely told through pencil and paper, however talented the artist.

He writes a few remarks beside the drawings about what he would like to see in the finished products, and adds a note asking that a sample of each of the rabbits proposed be made up and sent to the manor, to Mr Tanaka. Naturally, Mr Tanaka never processes packages from Funtom – Sebastian goes through all mail and parcels, and directs the appropriate ones to the earl.

The butler knocks and enters briefly to say: "Young Master, I have rung Professor Cox, and he is able to come in for an hour-long history lesson at two o'clock. Mister Last, unfortunately, is fully engaged today, so I shall conduct your fencing lesson at three."

Ciel nods to dismiss Sebastian, and returns to his correspondence.

He reads two more letters, one that only requires his signature to approve the ordering of certain grades of raw ingredients for the curry bread, and another that is purely information about the rent the Phantomhive estate has received during the latter half of last year from the tenants on land it owns. He checks to see that all the figures are correct, and pens a quick letter to the manager of the estates to make certain that he does not attempt to raise the rent until the next time property taxes increase.

That done, he yawns and stretches. He is still tired from all the excitement of yesterday, and wonders if he should allow himself to doze off in the study... but no, surely he can do better than that, at least for a little while...

He goes quietly down the long passageways of his mansion and ascends the stairs closest to his bedchamber. He enters his room, shuts the door behind him, pulls off his shoes, and dives onto his bed. He has not done this for a long time, but he is so sleepy, and the bed feels so good – dozing off in the chair at his desk simply does not compare. He stretches his body, arms reaching above his head and legs straining in the opposite direction, back arching, and then falls limp with a contented sigh.

He feels himself sinking, sinking, both into blissful unconsciousness, as well as physically, his weight pressing down the plump bedcovers, only that the descent into sleep seems to make him feel as if he is bodily sinking to a far greater depth than is possible, because if he were really travelling down so far, he would have melted through the bed by now and landed on the floorboards. So sleepy, so...

"Young Master?"

Ciel starts up into a sitting position, legs splayed in front of him, like a small child who is sitting on the floor playing with his toys. He gasps at the sight of his butler standing by the wardrobe, looking rather smug.

"How did you...?" the earl splutters angrily.

"How did I enter without your hearing me? I managed that magical feat by already being here when you came upstairs."

"What?"

"I knew you would come up."

"How?"

"Why did you not simply tell me how exhausted you were?" Sebastian asks, approaching the bed. "I realised how very tired you must be only when you started to protest the idea of having any lessons, and then agreed to go ahead with them. You always do what you think you cannot do, just to show that you can. I should not have insisted upon your picking up where you left off at once. I shall ring Professor Cox and ask him to come tomorrow."

"No," Ciel says firmly. "He has agreed to come; we should not cancel the appointment. And he will only be here for one hour. I can manage that."

Sebastian smiles and begins to slip his master's stockings off his feet. "You are as determined as ever to do what is necessary," he remarks.

"Leave my stockings alone," Ciel orders, pushing the butler's hands away and climbing down from the bed before striding across the room to the spot where he has left his shoes. "I shouldn't have crept upstairs like this. I should be making plans for the sweet factory... hey, what are you doing? Put me down!"

For Sebastian has come swiftly up behind him to seize him under his arms, and is now carrying him back towards the bed.

"Let me go! I'm not a baby!"

But his butler deposits him on the bed, just in the right spot for him to recline on the pillows. "I am pleased to have such a determined young master to groom, but my master often forgets that he must also be a child, and human, at the right times."

"Stop treating me like an infant!" Ciel demands, trying to sit up, only to have his butler take advantage of that movement to slip his jacket off before bodily pressing him back against the bed.

"If you do not wish to be treated like an infant, perhaps you ought to know your own limitations like an adult does, and act sensibly."

"Limitations? If something must be done, it must be done," Ciel states angrily.

"Undoubtedly," Sebastian murmurs, unbuttoning the topmost fastenings of Ciel's shirt, and loosening the tie. "Still, one in a body as fragile as yours needs more rest to recover from his exertions. If you do not want me to cancel the appointment with Professor Cox, then I strongly recommend that you miss lunch, and sleep till half-past one. I will wake you up in time to be dressed and ready for the lesson with the professor. Then for a change of pace after that academic trial, I shall conduct your fencing lesson. Following that, you may reward yourself for your hard work by having as many slices as you like of the chocolate gateau I shall start making for you very soon, as promised."

"You are treating me like a stupid child again."

"Hardly, my lord."

"I could just say no, and order you to make it all go away, you know – except the cake, of course," Ciel says, speculatively, studying Sebastian keenly through his exposed left eye.

"You could, but you will not, because even you, who can play any game according to your own rules, know well that such play would be contrary to your strictness with yourself. And if you were to forget that, and try to make it all go away purely out of laziness, then I would make certain to get rid of the cake as well."

"Bastard," Ciel mutters, closing his eyes.

"Every inch."

It takes very little time for the earl to fall asleep, for he needs the rest. Once Sebastian is certain that his master is no longer conscious, he returns to the kitchen, where he begins to oversee lunch preparations for the servants and Prince Soma. Having gained a minute amount of confidence in Finnian's ability to learn in London, he now takes the risk of baking the chocolate gateau while supervising Baldo as he cooks the lunch, assisted by an encouraging Agni.

"No dynamite. No guns. No bombs," says the butler. "Save those for the Easton thugs when they come."

Baldo grumbles, but does not waste the opportunity of learning from two skilled cooks who are ready to teach. Lighting a normal fire and stirring up ordinary things rather than explosive ingredients in pots is dreadfully dull for the former military man and mercenary, but if this is what it takes to do all parts of his job well without blowing up the kitchen every three months, he will do his best.

At the end of an hour and a half, the cook has a very passable chicken pie, greenhouse salad dressed with a lightly chilli-flavoured oil, and a soft-meringue and cream trifle as a sweet to serve to the prince and his manservant, and for the rest of the household staff to share. It does not meet Sebastian's exacting standards, and he would not dream of offering any of it to his master, but it will do for everyone else.

At half-past one, Sebastian wakes Ciel, cleans his teeth, and sees that the boy is feeling much better for having napped through lunch. To sustain him during the history lesson, in which he is to learn important truths about how the greatest of empires may fall into ruin, Sebastian gives him shortbread biscuits, and ensures that Mey-Rin plies both student and tutor with Chinese tea from two to three o'clock.

"Toast with butter, and half a sausage for energy before fencing," Sebastian says, presenting Ciel with a plate of the said items, as they walk towards the recreation room after thanking the professor for his valuable time and bidding him goodbye.

Fortunately, Soma is still taking his afternoon nap, while Agni is chivalrously assisting a swooning Mey-Rin with the heavier housework. Otherwise, Ciel would most likely have them for an audience again, and Soma would almost certainly wish to try fencing once more, despite knowing none of the rules.

"Come now, Young Master," Sebastian sighs five minutes into the lesson. "You do realise that I am going very easy on you? A competitive opponent would have hit you twenty times by now."

"Shut up," Ciel growls, steeling himself for another thrust, which he performs more quickly this time, coming closer to making a mark on his butler's body.

"You are leaving yourself too open," Sebastian remarks, touching Ciel once more with the point of his epee. "Typical of one who so often allows himself to be kidnapped."

Ciel's exposed eye narrows, and he darts in at Sebastian, forcing the butler to parry the blade away to avoid being touched by it.

"Better, Young Master. Anger can lend you speed, strength and purpose, but it may also cause loss of control and steadiness." So saying, the butler whips his blade back towards the earl, and twists the boy's epee out of his hand.

Ciel is displeased at being so disarmed, but everything is a lesson to be learnt, so he picks up his weapon, prepares for another round, and does better this time.

"To provide you with more motivation, look what I have had Baldo bring up," Sebastian tells him as the door opens at half-past four. The cook enters bearing a glistening chocolate gateau on a cake plate, along with small serving plates, forks and a knife.

"Would you please cut one slice and put it on a plate, Baldo?" Sebastian asks politely.

"Sure," the man replies, looking with amusement at his master and the butler clashing blades.

Sebastian leaps backwards to the sideboard where the cook is holding out the serving plate with a single slice on it, displaying its rich layers of glossy chocolate, thick chocolate cream, and chocolate sponge.

The butler takes the plate out of the man's hand and says: "Thank you, Baldroy. You may leave. The other cake in the kitchen is for our guests, and for the rest of you. Now, Young Master, forget the restrictive rules of fencing for a moment – if you can take this slice of cake from me, or even touch it with the point of your blade, you can start eating it that very moment. Otherwise, you shall have to wait another half-hour, till the end of our lesson."

Ciel needs no further encouragement. He lunges at the plate with his epee, imagining spearing the cake with the point and letting it slide down onto the guard, off which he will eat it.

But Sebastian glides away so smoothly that the cake dances out of reach, yet is never in the least danger of falling off the plate. Again and again Ciel tries, only to have the cake slip just beyond him.

It gratifies Sebastian to see that the earl's determination remains unabated despite the steady movement of the clock hand towards the hour mark. Another child would determine after striving hard for twenty-five minutes that the reward of a slice of cake will be coming to him in five minutes anyway, and cease to battle with such ferocity. But the Earl of Phantomhive is not like other children. He puts every ounce of skill he has into the fight, until, at a minute to four, he springs into the air, grabs Sebastian's left wrist with both his hands, and pulls himself up to the plate to take a cheeky bite out of the cake while glaring defiantly at his butler out of his left eye.

"Young Master, when I said to disregard the rules of fencing, I did not mean that we should abandon the use of the blade altogether," Sebastian sighs.

"You didn't say so, did you?" the earl replies sharply through chocolate-smudged lips, releasing Sebastian's wrist and landing nimbly on his feet on the floorboards.

"You were only a minute away from eating this cake in a much more conventional and dignified manner," Sebastian says reprovingly, surrendering the plate to his master.

"A minute can last forever, and it can mean the difference between life and death," Ciel remarks, taking the plate and striding over to the sideboard to pick up a fork with which to eat the rest of the slice. "Dignity hardly matters in that minute."

"Have you begun to care about life and death again?" Sebastian asks as Ciel moves over to a chair and sinks into it to enjoy his reward.

"Would that make me taste better to you?" he queries, not looking at Sebastian.

"Perhaps."

"As good as this cake?"

"So the cake does please you."

"Enough of your ridiculous competition with Agni. He's not competing back, so you are starting to look absurd. And yes, the cake is bloody good."

"As it should be."

"Would I taste better than it?"

"I couldn't say, as I am not one for cake."

"You don't know how your own cake tastes?"

"I know how it tastes to you."

"That's all you care about?" Ciel studies Sebastian keenly.

"To perform my duties to the best of my ability, yes."

"So if you don't want it, I can eat the rest of it?" Ciel asks with intent.

"I would not advise that, as it will ruin your appetite for dinner. You can always have more in the evening, once you have eaten your meal."

"You are addressing me like a baby again."

"You are behaving like a baby. A more mature child would not eat too many sweets before dinnertime."

"I've earned this cake."

"Yes you have, but it is unnecessary to consume it all in one sitting."

"Do you really not care how it tastes to you?"

"What matters is how it tastes to you."

"Have some."

"No, thank you."

"I insist. A great chef should always taste his own food before offering it to his master."

"Unnecessary, when the master so obviously enjoys the food that it is all over his face."

"Do I have to give you an order?"

"Really, Young Master – you would go so far as to say: 'Sebastian, I command you to taste this cake'?" the butler asks with a smirk, in a wicked imitation of the earl.

Ciel glares at him.

"But if you insist..." Sebastian gives in with a good humour, removing the glove from his right hand. With his uncovered fingers, he wipes the smeared chocolate off Ciel's lips with his thumb and his first two fingers, then licks it off his own fingertips.

"Well?" Ciel demands. He has not expected his butler to taste the cake this way, but it does not deter him from getting an answer to his query.

"It is tolerable on its own, but certainly improved for being mixed with the flavour of your perspiration, and the scent of your flesh."

"Then it would taste even better if you ate it right out of my mouth," Ciel remarks casually, before it occurs to him that he has said something not entirely appropriate.

The boy flushes a little, as Sebastian traces his lips once more with a black-nailed fingertip, removing the last traces of chocolate from his skin. "Undoubtedly it would, but perhaps we should not have you grow up quite that fast."

Ciel growls. "I meant–" he starts to say, before realising that he does not know how to finish.

"I know. That is why you sometimes need to be treated like a child, because you are one."

"I might never have had to be anything else. You could have had me. To eat. Then I would not have to do all this work just to grow up."

"My loss."

"Fool."

"Although with you around, I can always extract some flavouring for the rest of my food," Sebastian muses. "A little blood here, a little sweat there..."

"Twisted bastard."

"Every inch."

***

At that same moment in London, John Jarvis the vicar approaches the gate of the house that he has been told belongs to the Earl of Phantomhive and stands before it looking up at the building, only to find himself accosted there in the street by a plump woman. By the apron she wears, she appears to be a cook.

"You're not here to make more trouble, are you?" she asks suspiciously. "They've 'ad trouble enough today."

"N-no, Madam," he replies hastily, alarmed. "What trouble?"

"Someone 'oose name I'll not mention broke the lock of the earl's gate today, and they've 'ad to send for a new lock. So if yer not 'ere for trouble, what might you be about?"

"I came here in the hope of seeing the Earl of Phantomhive. He helped me out of a difficulty a few days ago, but I did not know who he was at the time. Now that I've learnt his identity and London address, I wanted to thank him in person. I am John Jarvis, vicar of the Church of the Trinity in Lambeth..."

"Well, the earl left for his mansion this morning," says the cook, looking slightly less hostile now that she sees that he is not attired at all like Mrs Easton's men, nor does he have their cold, hard looks. "You'll 'ave to try calling again when he next comes to London."

"I see. I shall do that, then, when I next hear that he is in London. Thank you, Madam."

He tips his hat to her and turns to leave, but she calls out to him: "Look 'ere, Mr Jarvis. If you've come on foot from Lambeth, you've 'ad quite a walk in the cold. I'm cook at the Goldriches' next door, and the master and mistress ain't dining at 'ome today, so I'm not too strapped. Why don't you come into the kitchen for some hot tea and a bite o' hot food before you go?"

"Why, that's very kind of you, Mrs..."

"Mrs Petrie."

"Thank you, Mrs Petrie. I would be delighted. I was given a ride part of the way by one of my parishioners in his hansom, so I haven't walked the entire distance."

"Cold enough in a hansom, and on foot, so you'd best come in for tea. Our butler Mister Jones might even 'ave the address of the mansion for you, as he knows one of the servants there reason'bly well, so you can write to the earl if you want."

"That would be wonderful."

As the two of them walk towards the house next to the earl's, Percival Ambrose watches and listens from the shadow of the trees across the road. He cannot actually hear most of what is spoken, but his companion repeats the words to him.

"Well, Carsten," he says, when the other has told him all that has been spoken. "Is this not a sign to us? That a holy man has taken an interest in the Phantomhive boy?"

"I cannot say, master."

"I believe it is. I think it means that we ought to make contact with him. But we must determine the right moment to do that. It may not be appropriate for us to go a-calling just now. With Sophia Easton out for his blood, the boy and his devil will be in for a very busy time."
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Devilish Impulses