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Gilded	By : tinkerheck Category: > Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji ???) Views: 3151 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, aka Black Butler. I make no money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
++++++++ Please see disclaimer & story notes in chapter one ++++++++

++++++++ chapter notes ++++++++

I fly beta-less. Please forgive the typos.

Thanks for reading.

 

+

 

Gilded

Epilogue

 

+

In a small mountainous park somewhere in Tuscany, Italy, a young man of twenty-seven lay dying, the victim of a robbery gone wrong. The man’s name was Rialdo DiNastro, and he liked to dabble in the occult, which is how a demon ended up at his side, ready to bargain.

The demon, for whatever reason, appeared rather disinterested.

“Your girlfriend cheated on you, you say, and you want her to suffer?” The Demon taunted the boy in charming Italian with a dulcet English accent. He laughed bitterly, swiping at a feather. “Oh, dear. You’re going to have to do better than that. I’m feeling rather satisfied these days, you see. I won’t take up just any old contract. A cheating lover, how very pedestrian.”

He yawned. Rialdo coughed up some blood, and the Demon grimaced. “Oh… and all over that lovely blue striped summer shirt you are wearing. Is that one hundred percent cotton?” He touched the fabric. “Yes. Yes it is. The bloodstains will be hard to get out if you wait too long.” Sensing the impending arrival of a Grim Reaper, he sing-songed to Rialdo, “You’d better hurry! Quick, make me an offer I cannot refuse!”

But, to no avail. Rialdo just didn’t have it in him. As the dying man’s cinematic record began to climb out of him, the Demon sighed.

Having nothing better to do that day, he stood up and brushed some of the black feathers from his shoulders. He leaned back against a tree trunk, crossing one ankle over the other. Mindful of his long black tail, he stilled, and waited.

If he was lucky, the boy’s reaping just might have been assigned to Grell Sutcliff, and it would at least be entertaining to watch. But when the Reaper finally arrived, it was not one he recognized.

Probably a fresh recruit, he surmised.

Demon and Reaper briefly acknowledged each other’s presence from a distance with a curt nod. Then they got a really good whiff of each other, and froze.

Then her boss showed up, and all Hell broke loose.

+

The Reaper’s boss, whose name was William T. Spears, tired to kill the Demon. He despised all demons as a rule but he found this one in particular just that much more detestable.

The Demon, whose name can be neither written using these letters nor pronounced by human mouths, hated that particular Reaper with a red-hot disgust which rose from the very depths of his black heart, so he definitely tried to kill him in return.

The Reaper, whose name was Gilda Louise Franks, loved that Demon very much, and was fond of most Reapers in general (there is a red one she completely adores), so she didn’t want to see either of them get hurt. She had unfinished business with the Demon, and the Spears fellow… Well frankly, he could get her fired.

Gilda bravely positioned herself between them and played the pacifist, reminding them that if either one tried to hurt the other any further, they would end up hurting her as well. Gilda told William that while she appreciated his concern for her well-being, she was also a full-fledged Reaper and could take care of herself now. And she reminded the Demon that challenging her manager never led to good things, and shame on him for not remembering that from very recent past experiences.

William stood stock-still, cold eyes shooting daggers at the Demon, while he supervised Gilda (whom he still considered his protégé) as she finished the ugly business of dealing with Rialdo DiNastro’s record. Then William made everyone highly uncomfortable as he lagged around for a bit expecting Gilda to return to headquarters with him. She informed him that Rialdo was her last reaping of the day and she was officially off the clock so any more time spent in his company might possibly be construed as overtime and we wouldn’t want that now would we? William then caught the Demon and Gilda making what was most certainly googly-eyes at each other from afar. Although repulsed by this, he finally got the hint and left them alone. Then they who were once Mistress and Butler, reunited at last, sat down on an old stone bench to have a long overdue, private conversation.

“Out of all the beautiful clothing I bought you, I cannot believe you have chosen to wear that.” She was wearing a very short plaid skirt.

“Hey! I had to sneak into Grell’s divine closet to get this baby back, and he caught me, so I had to wrestle him for it! It was my favorite. Live with it.” She tugged at her top and grinned at him haplessly. “At least I’m wearing the maroon button down you liked so much, right?”

It was true, he had loved that shirt on her. Perhaps because it was the color of blood under a full moon… Although she could take the time out to properly button the cuffs instead of just letting them flap there like that. Tsk, so sloppy. The fire-engine red patent penny loafers were still an eye-sore, but the white, lace-trimmed anklet socks screamed of school-girl sex and that definitely caught his eye. It made him wonder what the other intimates looked like.

“I am happy… and very relieved to see you again, Miss,” he finally said. She smiled shyly, biting her lip, and blushed furiously. Gilda looked down at her feet, and began banging the back of her shoe heel on the stone bench in a nervous manner. When she didn’t answer, he continued. “Where did you… no, scratch that. First off, what exactly happened in that parking lot?”

“You were going to get me a cheeseburger,” Gilda said casually. Already exasperated with her, he frowned, and she laughed lightly. “Sorry. Will alluded that he had something in mind for me, right?”

He nodded stiffly. “Spears,” he said, disgusted. “I want to tear him apart. Slowly.”

She sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. But, maybe you won’t hate him as much when I fill you in on the details.”

He smirked very unpleasantly. “Doubtful.”

“All right,” she scolded. “Maybe you won’t be as bent on killing him.”

He narrowed his eyes at her.

She nodded. “Fine,” she said curtly, “Here goes nothin’.” She crossed her arms and leveled a gaze at him. “William T. Spears struck up an odd association with Ciel Phantomhive about sixty years ago, after he found the little boy’s soul drifting on the outskirts of our dimension. You know Ciel floated aimlessly after he’d been killed as a demon, right?”

The Demon winced, hating the fact that Ciel had suffered as long, and even more harshly than he had. “I grew to hope that his death as a demon was also his end. That he no longer existed and was finally free from his pain.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that. The only way a soul can be obliterated is, well… Oblivion. Getting chowed on by a demon. And poor Ciel had missed his chance at that. Hell kicked his soul out, Heaven didn’t want it either, and he had nowhere to go. It was tragic, really.

“Eventually Ciel’s curiosity got the better of him, and they began to watch you. It became sport for the two of them, laughing at the contracts you engaged in.”

“They weren’t that weak,” he said, bristling.

“That last one was! The one before me? Tommy Solomon – that poor boy. You oughta be ashamed!”

He sighed, defeated.

“Then you found me. And that day you asked William to chaperone when Grell came over to try on shoes? That was what sealed my fate, I’m afraid.”

His eyes widened. “It’s all my fault, then,” he said, voice drifting off.

She scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. No it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is.” He looked despondent.

“Demon.” She tilted her head as he looked down at the ground. “Demon, look at me.”

Sad, red eyes shifted over to hers slowly, and her heart clenched for him.

“My fate changed because of that meeting. But I tell you, I am not unhappy with you. I am not unhappy with anything that happened. So before you start beating yourself up too much, please let me finish.”

He frowned, and nodded.

“William got a whiff of my soul. He went to the Reaper Library afterwards and checked out my record, and read the whole thing up to that point. Then he read my father’s record. Being in a position of power, he was able to get a look at future dispatch orders, and sure enough, my death was on the list. Again.”

“Again?”

“Under normal circumstances, I was scheduled to die in that alley. The Undertaker himself was supposed to collect me. But after contracting with you, I had a new date of death.”

“But I had planned to wait–”

The Demon clammed up, realizing he’d revealed too much.

“Ah hah! I knew it!” she cried, sounding absolutely… gleeful. He bristled. “So you were toying with delaying it – and much longer that I thought,” she said, sounding absolutely delighted with herself. She looked up at the sky, suddenly smug. “You loved being with me.”

When she looked back at him, his eyes were twinkling. Sighing, she shook her head and continued.

“Listen. I know how much you enjoy planning things… but my new date of death wasn’t actually up to you. After reading our records, William sort of deduced that my own father was going to shoot me. He just needed to be present when that happened – with the records, the bookmark… and Ciel’s soul to pull it all off.

“William is – was an administrator in Staffing. He doesn’t just Reap. He trains recruits, and he has an eye for finding them. He decided that he wanted to submit me for Reaper evaluations himself. My compassion made me more than qualified for the position, but it was the rarity of my soul that struck a chord in him. He’d get another huge promotion for sponsoring someone like me. And, incidentally, he did. He’s the Staffing Association Manager, now.”

The Demon glowered, and the leaves on the trees behind him trembled. Gilda was slightly shocked at this rather open display of power, but then she reminded herself that he was very angry.

“Please stop that.” He looked over at her to find she was frowning and pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingertips. “You’re making me lightheaded.”

He complied, immediately. “My apologies, Miss. I simply cannot believe Ciel would do something that dastardly. Spears, yes, but not him.”

“Oh, Demon… you know perfectly well Ciel was capable of getting his heart quite dirty, if not his hands. Besides, he saw things from another angle. With or without them, my death was imminent. This was the most optimal solution for all of us – it gave me a fighting chance for something other than Hell or Oblivion, and it gave you the meal you needed.”

“Yes – but what did he get out of it? Foolish boy.”

She smiled at him sadly. Her voice was gentle when she asked, “William is ambitious. And very clever. His plan needed Ciel to work, but he had something to offer your former Master as well.”

“And what was that?”

She looked at him, surprised. “Really, I thought that was obvious. Ciel was tired. He had no sense of belonging to anything. He was restless.” She gave the Demon a sweet smile. “But he is at peace now, isn’t he?”

The Demon’s face, which had been twisted with anger, smoothed out. “Yes. He is.”

Silence fell between them, until she eventually spoke. “Ciel, he was… is a stubborn little brat, isn’t he?”

“Yes. Like you were. But very pure. Adorable. Delicious. Just like you.” The Demon stared at the trees in front of them with a far away look in his glowing eyes. “He hasn’t even begun to diminish. Not one single bit.”

When he looked back at her, she was smiling. Watching him.

She sighed. “After Ciel hijacked our contract and you ate him, our connection was gone. So I was free to die… and be judged.”

He crossed his arms, looking her over. “But how did Ciel do that?”

“I was weakened,” she said quietly. “Dying. Ciel pushed his way in and shoved me aside. He learned how from his experience with Alois Trancy.”

He gaped at her.

“Yeah, I know a thing or two about your past now. Live with it.” She smirked. “Anyhow, with me bleeding out you had very little time left to make a decision. Eat Ciel, or lose him a second time. Even though you didn’t know my fate at that point, William knew which decision you’d make. I told you he’s clever. No matter how much you may hate him, You have to admit he outdid you that time.”

The Demon narrowed his eyes, and a vicious look came over his face again.

“I know. It’s remarkable how much influence a talented Reaper can have on an angry human, isn’t it?”

The Demon thought of Sutcliff and Madame Red. “Yes. Yes it is.”

She paused, taking a deep breath, even though she didn’t need to anymore, either. “It must be hard for you. Trying to decide which one of them you hate more, Will or... my father,” she said. “But I'm grateful to Ciel, and I can’t hate Will that much, either. They took a great risk this would work, but it did. Let’s leave aside the fact that Will got a big promotion,” she begged, and the Demon curled his lip at Gilda’s words. “Just consider everything else. Ciel can finally rest, you finally got fed, and I got a second chance. I was allowed to choose.”

“Yes. Allowed. But by whom?”

“Never you mind, Demon,” she teased.

“Alexander. Please, call me Alex.”

Gilda smirked. “Don’t you want me to call you Sebastian?”

The Demon smiled wickedly. “That isn’t really my name either. But I would prefer it if you called me by the name you gave me.”

“All right then… Alex,” she said softly, giving him a brilliant smile. “I was given two choices. One; go straight to Hell, immediately and forever, for having contracted with you.” The Demon paled at the thought and she didn’t miss his discomfort. “Or… go to work.”

“But, as a Reaper?” he asked, looking like he’d swallowed human food.

“Heaven, whatever that is, was and always will be closed to me. So this is still a bit of a punishment, having to watch as a human suffers and dies.” She thought of something, and brightened. “But just like you, Reapers have to come from somewhere, right?”

“You’ve learned quite a bit since dying, haven’t you my dear?”

“Yep. For instance, now I know where your kind comes from as well.” She smiled happily. “I would have loved to have seen you as a little boy–”

“You can stop right there, Mistress.”

“Oh! Don’t be so uptight! I bet you were adorable.”

“I was an abomination. When I died, I didn’t get the offer to become a demon because I’d been a goody-two shoes.” His ruby eyes glittered at her. “I used to pull the legs off of bugs.”

“Big deal… all little boys do that.”

“Do they eat them afterwards?”

“Urgh.” she grimaced, closing her eyes and sticking her tongue out. “Fucking bugs,” she muttered. “I still hate ‘em.”

Immediately, he stomped a sexy stiletto boot heel on the ground, sending out just enough energy to obliterate all the nearby insects. Momentarily stunned, she opened her eyes wide, and shivered. Then she smiled and shook her head, laughing at him.

There’s my Gilda, he thought, chuckling.

“I want to thank you for sharing details about your kind – and yourself, with me, while we were contracted together. I know now just how much you hated that. It must have been hard on you.”

“Remarkably, it wasn’t.”

Gilda looked down, blushing. “It explains a lot, though. If you think about it a certain way.”

“How so?”

“You entered your life as a demon with a full-grown demon’s body, right?”

“Yes,” he said, not remembering it fondly. “Unlike Ciel, who was forced into being demonic through erroneous circumstances, I chose it, and I was given the option of having an adult’s body right off. After that, it was one mistake after the other. I was very violent… and impetuous.” He sighed, sounding troubled.

“Because you still had the mentality of a five-year-old human boy.”

He gaped at her, angry. “Who in the hell told you how young I was?”

“Grell did… We snuck out for a drink one night when Will wasn’t looking, and we got totally trashed… I missed you, Alex. So much. I cried. He cried. Then he told me shit.” The Demon narrowed his eyes at her. “Oh, stop that. If you hadn’t wanted him to know any details about your private life, you never would have told him in the first place. And I’d have gotten the truth out of you myself, sooner or later. Now tell me, how many children get recruited like you did?”

“It is very rare, Miss.”

“There. See? You weren’t the abomination, Demon. Being taken as a rotten kid who was in need of a good spanking and never getting one before he died? That was the abomination. You had to do all your growing up as a demon, so it’s no wonder you are conflicted. No wonder you are different. You didn’t pull my legs off and eat them, did you?” She smiled. “It just took you a lot longer to grow up than most people.”

“It shouldn’t have to take tens of millennia.”

She reached over and squeezed his hand, their first skin-on-skin contact in a very long time. They both shivered with the sudden rush of two souls meeting.

“That feels…”

“I know. We don’t need our contract marks to do that anymore. I’m divine. You’re demonic. We can do it anytime we want, now.”

He fell silent, staring at her hand on his, reveling in the brush of her soul against his, faint thought it was. Taking a breath, she removed her hand.

Slow down, dummy, she thought. You have all the time you need, now.

Gilda smiled at the Demon sympathetically, and he remembered that he really did love her. In his own way. He stared at her for a moment, and she could not tell what he was thinking.

“I know all of this is a lot to absorb,” she sighed, beginning to ramble, “You remember how much I hated it when one person would judge another in front of me and now it’s my whole entire job to judge a person’s life…” she stopped, noticing that he was watching her with a small smile playing at his lips. She cleared her throat. “But can you really picture me in Hell? Talk about a soft target.”

“I searched for you, Mistress. I believed I had failed you. As soon as I completed doing the things I had promised you, I went back to Hell and began looking for you. I now see that was futile,” he said, with a trace of bitterness.

“I’m so sorry, Alexander.” She winced. “I was worried you might have done that. I felt kinda bad... The truth is I wasn’t allowed much contact while I was still a recruit. William was very careful with the reapings he assigned me to. Careful, as in he managed to keep me away from any humans you might be interested in. I thought about you a lot, though. It drove William nuts when I zoned out like that,” she laughed, hiding a small smile.

“Ah… ‘zoned out’? What is that?”

She bit the inside of her lip, fighting not to smile harder. “Let’s just say I wasn’t thinking about Reaper qualifications, and… I sighed. Like a girl. Frequently.”

He was touched, truly. But he needed for her to understand.

“If you had been sent to Hell, I would have found you,” he whispered. “Ciel’s soul will keep me from having to feed again for a very long time. I was fully prepared to stay with you, Mistress. To protect you, for as long as I could have.” He said this with the utmost confidence.

“And I doubt I would have survived very long without you,” she said very quietly. “Thank you, Alex.”

“Not at all, Miss,” he smiled at her. “So, I take it you have completed your training and you are a full-fledged Reaper now?”

“Yeah,” she said, grinning, “All bets are off. I get the reapings I get… and even Will can’t be everywhere, now can he?” She glanced at the mischievous smirk on the Demon’s lips, then continued. “My grades were way better than his, too. Straight A’s.”

“No doubt this rankles him. That pleases me.”

“Hey – Check out my new specs!”

Her Reaper spectacles, no longer the plain style of a recruit, had lovely magenta tortoise-shell frames with tiny pink sapphires imbedded in the arms. “Grell hates ‘em. He wanted me to get red, of course, but I knew this color was more suited.”

“Indeed it is,” he said, admiring the way the frames went perfect with her flushed cheeks. Suddenly, the Demon’s face broke into a seductive smile. “Oh my. You do realize that this makes us competitors.”

She smiled, blushing harder. “Yes.”

“So I’ll be seeing you somewhat frequently, then.” He grinned at her, openly flirting now. “Splendid!”

The Demon draped his arm over the back of the bench, not yet touching her on his own, but clearly establishing the desire to do so. They sat in silence for a moment, him watching her from under hooded, happy eyes, her blushing and banging a shoe heel on the bench again.

“It’s a beautiful day today, isn’t it?” She looked up at the ancient trees, swaying gently in a warm breeze, then looked back into his eyes.

“Yes,” he replied, still staring at her. “The clouds are especially nice to look at.”

Gilda zoned out, remembering.

The Demon crossed his long, slender legs, strong thigh muscles straining against the tight black leather. Seeing her eyes drop to his crossed legs, he smiled and shifted, raising his thigh up and down, to caress one leg against the other – like a pretty woman showing off a fancy new pair of dress shoes.

Gilda glanced down at his stiletto boot heels when the sunlight caught on the shiny steel points, and smiled knowingly. She leaned over and helped herself to tracing the cold, smooth steel with a fingertip, neatly avoiding the sharp point. The friction from her divine touch vibrated through his boot and rose up his body, making his insides shiver with lust. He hid the reaction well, save for the twitch at the end of his sensitive tail.

She removed her finger, shaking it and wincing, smiling at the electric buzz that had sank right into the bones. “How do you stand on those things, Alex?”

“It helps when you understand that I am not actually walking in them as a human, yes?”

He watched her appreciating the footwear, waiting for the inevitable.

“Uh, can I…?”

There it is. I’m surprised she isn’t drooling.

“No, Miss, you may not borrow them.”

“Damn,” she muttered, sitting back up. Clearing her throat, she moved on. “Fortune must have been very upset. Did you see to his well-being after my funeral?”

“He was. I did. The young man was very grateful,” the Demon said suggestively, playing up the experience.

Gilda narrowed her eyes at him, and when she was sure that she’d actually heard what she’d heard, she gasped. “Oh… you slut,” she almost shouted, but was not able to keep the humor from her voice. His smug grin confirmed everything. She shook her head, laughing. “Well… I’m glad. I figured he was grief-stricken, and he did have a horrible crush on you. Still, I would have been insanely jealous if you had done that while I was still alive, you know.”

“I would never have given my affection to another while contracted with my Mistress. Flirted with them, absolutely. Seduced them to get what I needed, of course. Had my way with them to achieve a goal… reluctantly, yes… but never my affection. That belonged to you.”

She fell quiet, too shy to look at him. He gazed at her, and reached out to push a lock of hair behind one of her ears, as it was blocking his view of the sparse freckles on her cheek. She smiled, noticing that he was being very mindful of his sharp black nails, so close to her delicate skin.

He watched as she tended to her scythe, which was a heavy, familiar-looking spear. For all appearances it seemed entirely too large for her to handle, yet she did, and deftly.

The Demon frowned, a thought eating away at his mind. “That Death Scythe of yours… is that…?”

Gilda smiled and blushed again. She shifted her scythe from one hand to another nervously. “Recognize that, do you? I commissioned it myself. It’s from the Spartan era.” The Demon smiled wickedly. She giggled. “I found the book Alex.”

“Apologies, Miss. They were such cute little lipstick stains. I simply couldn’t bring myself to throw them away.”

“Yeah, well,” she cleared her throat and looked away, suddenly nervous. “You as much admitted that to me with your very last words. I wanted you to find them, I guess.”

He didn’t want her to be nervous, but they still had a few sensitive things to get out in the open. Reluctantly, he asked, “Is Miss aware of what I did to her father?”

“Yes,” was her only reply.

“Is Miss angry with me for that?”

After a beat, she shook her head and said, “No, Alexander,” while smiling. He frowned for a moment, and she placed her hand on his, patting it in a comforting fashion, little electric taps. “What’s done is done. Stop worrying about it. What about Cat? And her babies?”

“Oh… I do miss them terribly, but… Michael Jacobs and Evelyn Shapiro were preparing to move in together in an old brownstone in New York City. They took the two calicos, who refused to be separated. Fortunado Fernandez kept Cat, Ink, and the other blue-furred kitten. They live with him at Uncle Rafael’s house. I wasn’t happy to lose Cat, but at least she got to keep some of her babies, and they are all safe with humans that truly love them.”

She smiled at his tender expression. “How about my little brother Neil? Have you seen him lately?”

“I’ve taken a little peek now and then. The money you gave to Nancy enabled him to attend a school for children that are gifted in the arts. He is doing brilliantly with the cello. Very promising.”

“I know,” she said, fairly glowing with satisfaction. “By the way, regarding that… I never got to thank you for that, either – fulfilling that last part of our contract. Our contract had been broken before I died, so there was no rule dictating you had to carry out the instructions in my last will and… and my note to you.” She leaned over and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’m very grateful.”

The Demon touched his face where her lips had been, smiling down at her as she was doing the same thing with her lips. “It tickles,” she said, giggling softly.

“There is no need to thank me for that, Mistress. What sort of a butler would I have been if I had not honored our agreement in full?”

She nodded. “You were a very good butler. Among other things.”

“All in the name of duty, Miss,” he whispered, leaning a bit closer to her.

“If you say so. But getting back to Neil… You watch him?”

“Yes. He’s…”

The Demon decided it was best not to finish that statement, then she went ahead and finished it for him. “He’s like me,” she said, matter-of-factly, “and I’m not referring to just his musical talent. Not as strong a soul, but still…”

“He smells simply divine,” the Demon purred, unable to stop himself. His eyes glazed over and he scratched his chest lazily.

“Good Lord, you’ve got the same look on your face that I used to get when I played Brahms. Leave him be, Alex,” she said, and the sharpness in her tone caught his attention. “Aren’t you full of Ciel for awhile, anyway? You don’t get to eat Neil. No one does.”

“I haven’t done a single thing to him,” he said tartly, defending himself. Then he thought, Not yet, anyway.

“And you won’t. I went to extreme pains to see to it that he has a chance.”

“Yes. Extreme pains. As in, you paid with a violent, sudden death. I wasn’t happy about that.”

“Regardless of the nasty way I went, my death was always a part of our contract.”

He didn’t respond, and a look of regret passed across his face. “I swear, Miss, if I had known the real reason why you contracted with me, I…”

“You what?” she asked, teasing.

“I would have done so anyway,” he sighed, looking down.

She smiled.

“And look at what happened. Our contract was supposed to be completed right after I finished my education at the conservatory. You were to wound me fatally, then extract your payment as I died, and then carry out my will. That was it.”

He winced. “So clinical.”

“See? That’s what I’m getting at. Even if your intentions were to wait just one more day, you were allowing your feelings for me to cloud your judgment. That’s part of what cost you Ciel. And I am sure that’s at least one of the reasons he intervened – because he was so tired, and he still loves you, and he saw you were making the same mistake all over again.”

He touched her hand, briefly, then asked, “But Mistress… if that hadn’t happened, if you hadn’t been shot… would it really have been so bad to wait? We made a good pair. We were happy, after we worked out all the kinks. You could have lived on another decade or two, composing, performing… with your loyal butler at your beck and call. Cooking your meals, vacuuming your rugs, defending your life.”

“Oh, Miss Gilda, a demon can stop his heart from doing what it wants,” she said, imitating his accent almost perfectly. “That’s bullshit. You are as susceptible to the whims of your heart, however black, as the rest of us are.” Her voice grew softer as she continued. “But we both knew you were starving by then.”

“That may be, but what’s a decade or two after a several centuries of such hunger? I may even have put it off for longer.”

She blushed again. “Stop changing the subject, Alexander.”

He smirked, gleefully running with it. “I was perfectly willing to remain your devoted servant. Cheerfully tending to your every whim, making as many pot roasts as you liked… scrubbing you clean, lavishing you with affection, warming your bed, satisfying your baser urges–”

“Alex!” She tried, failing, not to laugh. “Listen to me. You stay away from Neil, or so help me…”

“What?” he said, feigning innocence, unable to stop his ruby-red eyes from twinkling even as they bore into her own. The green of Gilda’s eyes was still captivating; only now, as a Reaper, they were as bright as a new blade of grass.

“Do I have to order you, Demon?” The threat in her voice was still present, but there was a distinct sauciness there, too. At least she’d hung on to that. He liked that in a girl. And a boy.

“Shall we strike a deal?”

Her eyes ‘bugged out’, just like before.

“Are you kidding me?”

“I’ll stay away from him, if you give me something in return.”

“My soul cannot be bargained with anymore. I’m not human, it’s mine to keep, forever, even if I am killed as a Reaper. If that happens then my soul goes straight to Hell. That’s the deal I made.” She eyed him as he looked away with a thoughtful expression.

“Then I shall see to it that you never get killed as a Reaper, my dearest Miss.”

She blushed, and bit the side of her cheek, and he could smell her delicious blood, growing hot and rising up to meet him.

“In any case, do not fret. We can make deals. You still have what I want.”

“You… Did you say want?”

“Don’t be silly. You heard me.”

She looked down, pretending to be interested in the grass.

“You still have lips, Mistress, do you not?”

She froze, and looked up at him. Ah, there it is. The perfect ‘o’ of her mouth. I have missed that.

“Blood still pumps through your body. I can still smell the sweetness of it. You still have arms to hold on to me, and a body for me to worship, and I’m sure that the perfectly pink, juicy juncture between your soft thighs which I never could get enough of is still–”

“Oh my…” she muttered, blushing so fiercely she had to hide her face in her hands.

Magenta. Lovely…

“Why do you think your fellow Reaper Grell Sutcliff is always after me? It’s not because he doesn’t have physical wants.” The Demon pulled one of Gilda’s hands away, and she was biting her lip, trying hard not to smile. “He’s still trying to get in my trousers,” he sighed. “I’d much rather have you in there, Mistress.”

The Demon took her other hand down as well, and controlled the sensations, forcing his soul to retreat inside so that they could touch each other without going crazy.

Not just yet. When the time is right, I will let it all go. Because I want to.

He shifted a little closer to her side. The pretty young Reaper grew very still for a moment, and the vicious old Demon thought he may have gone too far with his indecent proposition.

She looked down shyly. “You know, it’s just Gilda now. You can call me Gilda.”

“Well then…” he said, trying it out, “Gilda.” It felt strange though, and he knew he wouldn’t use it often.

She plucked an errant smoke-colored feather from where it had drifted down between them. Twirling the hollow shaft between her fingertips, Gilda admired this token of his true form before letting it go. She took a breath, and spoke in a small voice.

“All right.”

He gaped at her, for just a second, then smiled… dark, dangerous and very seductive. Just like she remembered. She shivered, and he narrowed his eyes at her playfully.

“Your answer is yes, then?”

She tilted her head at him. “This isn’t a contract. And it’s not like you are asking me to do something I don’t enjoy,” she said, reaching back to intentionally cradle her death scythe in the corner of the bench. William was going to be angry enough when he learned she’d let a demon – that demon, in fact – plunder her brand new Reaper body. But he would have her spectacles, her job, her head, her very existence if she lost her scythe.

When she looked back at the Demon and stood up, he saw that confidence had returned to her eyes. It reminded him of the recent past. Their short, remarkable time together as Mistress and Butler.

It felt… comfortable.

Gilda moved to seat herself in his lap, and he uncrossed his legs, transforming immediately into his human form.

“Why… Why did you do that?” she asked, sitting down.

He frowned at her. “You know perfectly well why.”

“You can’t hurt me anymore. I’m divine.”

“It will still hurt.”

“Okay, let me rephrase that. The damage will not be permanent.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Well… no. I just… I know it takes a certain amount of effort on your part, Alex. You have that option now, you know, you don’t have to transform – not just because of me, anyway.”

He glared at her. “Stop being so sacrificial. You have that option now.” She frowned, and looked away from his face. Putting a gentle finger under her chin, the Demon lifted the Reaper’s face until her eyes met his again.

“If I transform, ever, it’s because I choose to. And I choose not to hurt you. You’re going to have to live with that, Miss.”

Slowly, a sweet smile crept over her face. “Thank you,” she said, leaning into his embrace. One long arm encircled her waist. He pressed her upper body closer to his chest with the other hand, and she draped her arms around his neck – holding on to him exactly the way he used to favor.

To her credit, she didn’t make one single rude comment about the erection that she suddenly felt growing under her derrière. Gilda smiled. He never was good at restraining his cock around me, she thought happily.

She trembled, though she was not quite sure why.

He hugged her close. “Are you all right Gilda?”

“I’m fine, Alex,” she said, smiling.

“Is it adrenaline?”

“Maybe. But I thought I didn’t have that sort of stuff anymore.”

“You do. I know that particular odor. Very well.”

“Then I guess you still know how to make me shake like a leaf.”

“Miss.”

Softly, he whispered his thanks for such a compliment, and kissed the top of her head.

Relaxing against him, she tugged on a lock of his black hair and whispered, “I’ll yield to you, Demon, as long as you promise to keep your hands off of Neil.”

“I promise, I will not so much as talk to the boy, ever, until you order otherwise,” he whispered. The Demon closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the intimacy, finding comfort in how she had the same rich, pleasing scent, but it was much stronger than before. “Do we have a deal, Miss?”

The Reaper looked up at him, eyes earnest, and for a moment the Demon thought she was going to change her mind. Panic welled at the thought of losing her again. Cupping her face, he leaned in while whispering her name, questioning her mood. When she did not answer, he attempted to steal a kiss instead. She leaned back in tandem, putting two fingers against his lips to stop him. He cocked an eyebrow at her, slightly irritated.

Gilda hesitated a moment before saying, “I know of an old, quiet bed and breakfast in Cecina, just up the coast from here. The owner is a cute old lady who doesn’t bother with the silliness of passports.”

“And?” he asked around her fingers through clenched teeth. There was a tone to his voice that anyone else might have found threatening, but she recognized it for what it was – frustration.

“Well, it’d be a nice place to finalize the terms of our new agreement… don’t you think?”

He tilted his head and frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to him.

He wanted no interruptions.

“Tell me that Grell Sutcliff did not follow you here.”

“He’s in the Philippines. An airliner is about to crash.”

+

Benedetta Glorioso teetered on her old fashioned heels as she slowly forced her ninety-two year old body to get up the stairs and deliver a fresh carafe of coffee and a fresh pot of Earl Grey tea to her only guests.

They were an odd but attractive pair that had arrived late yesterday afternoon. The woman was extremely cute and young. She wore a button down maroon shirt with a short plaid skirt and bright red shoes. Her eyes were a vivid green, she wore strange pink glasses, and her long, light brown hair was shiny and wavy. For some reason she carried no purse but had a huge spear in her free hand. The man was beautiful; tall and elegant, and composed in an unearthly manner. He wore tailored clothes that were all black, and had shiny black hair that danced delightfully around his dark red eyes. They were very distracted by each other but finally requested a private room with a view of the Ligurian Sea.

Like the male half of that same couple, Benedetta also wore all black. Black closed-toe pumps, black stockings, black petticoats, black unmentionables, and a black dress with black lace and little black pearl buttons. Even her rosary was black. She was obviously widowed, and was obviously staying that way, even though Ernesto, her husband of eight years, had been dead these past fifty-two.

She didn’t understand why her guests needed both coffee and tea, and it had irked her to no end that she’d had to make both. The tea had been a request made by the man. His Italian was perfect, but his accent had revealed him to be an Englishman – ‘Do endeavor to make it strong, madam’, she mimicked silently on the stairs, ‘stronger than you ever have in your life, if you please, and very hot’.

Limey bastard.

Still, they were a nice young couple, clearly very much in love, or at least very much in need of a room. In any case, they had paid in cash, just smacking gobs of it and for the one night only, so… what did she care?

Softly knocking on the door, Benedetta entered after a few polite beats and was surprised to find the woman looking at her, saying good morning – also in perfect Italian, but her accent was distinctly American. It was usually the man that rose first, with the lady dead to the world and sleeping off whatever he’d done to her the night before. But the woman was indeed awake, sitting up in bed, wearing nothing but her pink spectacles, her torso wrapped in a sheet. Her male companion, beautiful specimen that he was, lay nestled against her bared legs, his face buried in her side with one arm tossed possessively over her hips. The other half of the woman’s sheet was draped across his backside, and he slumbered in a way that made him look positively angelic.

But of course, that couldn’t be. Her eyes may be old but Benedetta knew how men behaved, and she remembered the tiny, salacious smirk on his perfect face from the night before.

The woman caught Benedetta staring at her bedmate, but her only response was to shrug her shoulders and smile.

“I’ve brought your coffee,” the widow whispered as she busied herself, setting the tray on a small writing desk in the room. “And the tea,” she said, her tone clearly expressing a dislike for the beverage. “But I’m afraid to set it up, I might wake him.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” the woman answered, giving Benedetta an impish smile. She ran her fingers through the man’s pretty hair and smiled down at him affectionately. “He hasn’t slept in a very long time. He’ll be out for awhile longer.”

The woman climbed out of bed, covering her nudity by taking the sheet with her for Benedetta’s sake only. She left the man where he lay, fast asleep on his stomach without a stitch of clothes on. Flawlessly smooth, pale skin, slender, long, well-muscled limbs, perfect buttocks, a very strong back, and a shock of shiny black hair… all this was laying against her white cotton sheets. The old woman’s mind was flooded with images of romantic oil paintings and beautiful marble statues.

When Benedetta gasped, the woman turned to look back at the man, then faced the inn’s proprietor and winced. “Oh… I’m sorry. That was rude, yes?”

“Oh no, my dear, I don’t mind that. I’ve seen more than my share of naked men over the years while running this place. It’s just that one, he’s so very…” the widow’s voice trailed off.

Waiting a beat, the woman offered, “Bellissima?” then poured herself a cup of coffee.

Benedetta sighed. “Yes,” she finally answered, with a definitive tone.

“I know,” the woman sing-songed. “You should see the other side.” The two women shared a giggle. “Anyhow, ogle him all you want. He likes it.”

“You should get him to marry you, and soon,” the widow gushed.

The woman smirked, shrugging her shoulders again. “We’re in no hurry for that sort of thing. We’re in no hurry at all. Not anymore.” She sat down at the desk and stretched happily. “I do hope we didn’t disturb the other guests last night,” she said, facing Benedetta so that the old woman could read her lips better.

“Ah, but there are no other guests, Miss,” Benedetta answered, smiling and wrinkling beguilingly, “And these do not work as they once did,” she quipped, pointing a crooked finger at an ear.

The old widow had indeed been successfully running that bed and breakfast for a very long time, and it was time that had taught her the propriety necessary to do so. In this case, while her failing ears hadn’t actually heard anything, it was propriety that begged her to keep certain facts to herself.

One fact was that the common room was right below the only occupied guest room. Another fact; the common room held the only TV in the house. And if Benedetta Glorioso hadn’t been watching re-runs of Italian-dubbed Benny Hill the night before, she never would have seen the tiny flecks of dry, dusty plaster as it came loose and floated down to the throw rug in front of the TV, which in turn caused her to look up and smile at the chandelier as it trembled.

+

After the widow left and shut the door behind her, the Demon cracked open one fiery ruby eye and glared at the Reaper. She smirked back, completely at ease with his mood, and sipped her espresso.

He yawned and stretched, and it was lovely to watch… human limbs extended, muscles strained, joints cracked. Raising himself up on one elbow, the Demon stared at the young Reaper a moment before saying, “Mistress… I do not enjoy being ogled.”

“Oh, sure you don’t,” she said, then took another sip, enjoying the fact that at least she could still properly taste human food. “Now get over here and smell your tea while it’s still hot.”

 

+

finito

+

+++++++++ notes +++++++++++

I always compile a playlist while writing a story, which I listen to when I am not writing. I gather some songs before I start, and then add (and subtract) as needed while I go. For Gilded, I had a playlist of over fifty songs.

As I think this is more interesting than showing you pictures of my workspace or talking about my writing habits, below is a short list of the pieces that were played most frequently. Some were about Ciel, some were for Gilda, some Sebastian.

The Child is Gone, Fiona Apple.

Ain't that a Kick in the Head, Dean Martin.

Meditation from Thais, Jules Massenet.

I scare myself, Dan Hicks & His Hot Licks.

Tear in Your Hand, Tori Amos.

Flight Over Africa, John Barry.

Rubberband Girl, Watching You Without Me, and Oh To Be In Love, Kate Bush.

In The Hall of the Mountain King, from Peer Gynt, Edvard Grieg.

I Can’t Untie You From Me, Grayson Hugh.

Satellite, Guster.

Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2, Franz Liszt.

Audrey’s Dance, Angelo Badalamenti.

Lullabye, Concrete Blonde.

You Make Loving Fun, and Say You Love Me, Fleetwood Mac.

Sonata No. 8 in C Minor, Op. 13, "Pathetique", Ludwig van Beethoven.

Die Alone, and Masochist, Ingrid Michaelson.

Waltz in A-Flat Major, Op. 39 No. 15, Johannes Brahms.

+

This one hundred & fifty one thousand word monster of a fic required I put myself into the viewpoint of the Sebastian character, who (my opinion only) is a conflicted, beautiful, deadly, sometimes fervently evil, sometimes reluctantly evil, bisexual, ancient male demon. Personally, I am only (and barely) one of those things (don’t ask not telling). And I don’t particularly enjoy writing in first person. So this fic was a stretch, and more than a bit disturbing… but I persevered, as I was determined to finish it.

Given the lukewarm atmosphere, however, I doubt I shall go back and write the one-shots I’ve been considering for the other contracts. Folks, I am a tough girl, but even I have my limits on the invisibility factor.

That being said, I appreciate that this fic was read by a few people, and my thanks go out to those of you who actually took the time out to leave feedback.

This story is now tagged as complete.
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Gilded