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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
- 24
- 25
- 26
Disorder

Ciel lights a taper on the new nightstand which graces the opposite side of the bed from his usual one. He has had this piece of furniture here ever since the right side of the bed – right if he lies in it, left if he stands facing it – became Sebastian's a month ago.

He has developed some dexterity at striking matches and lighting tapers by himself too, in that time.

If he tucks back the bed curtain, the small light the flame casts is just enough for him to see Sebastian by. His devil is asleep. No, not really asleep in the way Ciel understands it, but close enough. It is a state in which he can rest, even dream, without reacting to every movement and sound, yet remain aware of what is happening around the manor so that all within will be safe. Ciel mentally adds to the list of roles Sebastian plays that of "manor guard dog".

He draws the covers down, rests his head on Sebastian's stomach, over the nightshirt, and stares up at the demon's face from this perspective. The light is too weak for him to make out every feature, but he can see enough. More interestingly, with his ear pressed to his butler's abdomen, he hears complete silence. Nothing rumbles through his guts. Nothing churns in his tummy.

In the past, Ciel had often pressed his head to his mother's and father's stomachs while being hugged by them, or while lying in bed between them. There were always funny little gurgles which made him laugh, suggestions of the movement of food and water deep within which drew giggles from him.

His butler has a silent body. It amuses Ciel in a different way from his parents' humanity. He shifts his head up that warm but unmoving torso and presses his ear to his chest. Sebastian's heart normally beats quite regularly – he has blood in his veins, after all – but its circulation is not essential for his survival. He normally breathes regularly too, but again, breathing is not vital.

Tonight, he has no heartbeat. His chest does not rise and fall. Ciel listens to the silence and wonders how he will know for sure if and when Sebastian should really ever die. As he ponders that, a surge of blood, a powerful throb of the demon's heart, and a deep inhalation stir the flesh beneath his head, and Ciel jumps. Sebastian chuckles.

"You did that on purpose," the earl mutters, his own heart pitter-pattering.

"Of course I did. Why aren't you asleep?"

"I awoke from a dream. Then I just wanted to hear if anything was moving inside your body."

"You usually sleep through the night. My presence seems to interfere with that."

"You've spent little enough time here since Ambrose came. I don't care if I don't sleep through the night."

Sebastian has indeed spent few nights here in the month since Percival Ambrose moved into the north wing. Their three-hundred-year-old guest's arrival was followed within days by the return of Soma and Agni from the Continent, Carsten's daily admission to the house under strict conditions and only for certain hours of the day, and frequent visits by Lady Elizabeth. Although it would be easy for Sebastian to slip unobserved into Ciel's room after bedtime, the earl and butler have agreed that with so much activity around the manor, it is best for Sebastian to be in his room most nights, in case the servants need him.

When he sleeps upstairs, it is a secret indulgence. It has become a comforting routine for them, curling up with or stretching out beside each other, though it has not gone much beyond that. The earl has largely accepted his lack of full preparedness for too much intimacy with anyone, and the need to give himself time to grow up a little more before exploring this aspect of the adult world that he knows nothing healthy about.

Still, he enjoys kissing his devil – especially when, like now, Sebastian pulls him firmly towards him and gives him a long, deep caress, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue, a light brushing of tooth against fang.

"Sleep," Sebastian says, once they end the kiss. "In a few hours, we'll face the chaos of the manor again. This is all the peace we have these days."

Ciel sits up to blow out the taper, careful not to let any wax droplets splatter onto the preserved sterling silver rose that rests on the nightstand. He snuggles back down against Sebastian's front and mischievously presses his bottom to his butler's privates, his boldness fuelled by trust and the security of knowing that this peculiar devil in his bed will not allow it. As expected, those elegant but devilishly strong fingers make contact with his derriere in a second and pinch him smartly.

"Ouch!" he hisses, but in the darkness, he has a smile on his face – the hint of a true smile, not the cynical smirk that has graced his features for over three years. He is then seized and wrapped securely in an embrace of arms and legs going over and around him. He squirms and grumbles, but sleep he does very soon, ensconced in a cocoon of demonic limbs and flesh beneath which all is silence.

He is no longer awake to sense it when Sebastian himself smiles in the darkness, fills his lungs with a deep breath of his master's scent, and presses a kiss to his soft hair before he too closes his eyes and indulges himself with a return to the world of dreaming.

***

At midday, Sebastian glides through the manor, outwardly unflappable as always, but wishing internally that everything except Ciel would go to hell.

He loves the anarchy of a bloodbath, and the chaos of despair, but this disorder in the manor offends all his sensibilities. He is violently tempted to snatch his young master up, burst through the roof of the mansion with the boy safe in his arms, then set fire to the whole damned place and everything inside it.

Percival Ambrose has been lying in the north wing for a little over four weeks now, dying by inches, constantly cautioning Ciel that he must be careful not to be doomed like the earls before him.

Carsten has been skulking about, itching to rend Ambrose limb from limb, but wanting also the satisfaction of relentlessly troubling him. He seeks ongoing explanations from him about why he did the things he did, deriving a new sense of devilish contentment from seeing him die slowly – old, weak, wrinkled, sometimes incontinent, and often in pain.

Soma and Agni have settled back in as if they were never away, except that Soma is full of tales about their experiences in Denmark and France, and the goodness of the Prince and Princess of Wales. The Bengali prince is constantly underfoot like a badly trained puppy, while Agni heroically tries to make everything right for his master and the manor staff, which makes Sebastian wonder if he is supposed to come off as an uncaring monster in comparison. Soma accepts without question Ambrose's presence as Ciel's taking pity on a sick and friendless old acquaintance of his great-grandfather's; Agni is less naive, sensing unusual energies from the man, but too polite to keep questioning their host.

Elizabeth has visited four times in four weeks, and is here again for a three-day stay with her mother's permission, her maid Paula in tow. She is planning a small party to cheer up the manor and give everybody, including that "sick old gentleman who knew my great-grandfather Phantomhive", and the servants, an opportunity to dress up prettily and enjoy themselves.

All of which is well within Sebastian's considerable abilities to cope with. Except that the prophet of doom in the north wing is affecting the young master's mood, Soma must be firmly yet politely handled, Agni's suspicions must be soothed, Carsten must be watched closely, and Elizabeth freely exercises her undeniable right to openly express her devotion to Ciel while Sebastian in contrast must be particularly discreet. It is becoming quite trying.

"Not that you will care, but breakfast was hardly edible," Ambrose snipes in a thin voice as the butler enters the guest room. "I shall tell the earl that I must have food that's easier to swallow – when he has time to spare from being molested by you."

"Your breakfast was the softest of rice porridge, Mister Ambrose, and our private activities are none of your business," Sebastian says politely, setting a basin and pitcher on the dresser, for the man needs to wash before and after each meal now, so badly does he drool and spill his food, despite Finnian's dedicated attempts to help him spoon up his meals carefully. "Please do not trouble His Lordship over petty matters, and mind your tongue – Finnian is on his way."

Finny enters the room a minute after Sebastian. He has been playing valet to Ambrose for the past month, for the man likes his good-natured innocence. He and the other staff have been discreetly briefed about Ambrose's supernatural history, and have seen him aging before their eyes, gaining years by the day. His deterioration was rapid at the start, when his body withered dramatically during his first fortnight at the manor. The process has slowed, and the physicians he has seen have issued drugs to relieve some of his physical discomfort, but he is steadily inching through the final leg of his long life.

"Come, Mister Ambrose, I'll help you wash," Finny says cheerfully, as Sebastian closes the door and heads for the kitchen.

"Mister Sebastian, one of the fish we're supposed to cook for lunch is still alive," comes the complaint from Baldroy as Sebastian enters to pick up the plate of minced beef and mashed potatoes intended for Ambrose.

"Then kill it."

"Ho! Ho! Mister Carsten let the carriage horses out of their stalls and they're now in the Christmas rose garden!" laughs Tanaka, in one of his full-blown states of barely knowing what he is doing.

"Baldroy, Finny is busy upstairs. Please help to catch the horses and put them into the paddock beside the stables, before you kill the fish."

"Mister Sebastian! Lady Elizabeth is trying to undress me and put me into an obscene dress she wants me to wear at the party!" Mey-Rin squeals as she sprints into, then out of, the kitchen.

"Let her."

"Oh Sebaaaaastian, have you seen Ciel? I can't find him anywhere!" Soma cries the moment the devil passes the morning room.

"Lord Phantomhive is hiding from you, Your Highness."

"Mister Sebastian, how could you tell the maid to allow herself to be put into an obscene dress?" Agni demands as the butler makes his way upstairs.

"She would probably look very good in it, wouldn't you agree?"

"Mister Sebastian, have you seen my lady? A message has come for her from Lady Midford!" Paula wails from the top of the staircase of the north wing.

"Lady Elizabeth is undressing Mey-Rin somewhere in the bowels of the manor."

"Oh!" Paula cries and trips down the stairs, leaving the third level of the north wing clear for Sebastian to carry Ambrose's lunch to his room, and leave Finny to feed him.

He knows exactly where Ciel is. He senses him in one of the numerous rooms on the second level of the south wing. Those chambers are near the study, beautifully furnished, but except for Tanaka's sitting room, the rest are rarely used. The earl is in one of them, doubtless reclining on a sofa which has its back to the door, quietly reading a book, so that if Soma puts his head in, he will not see him.

Sebastian returns to the ground floor, strides towards the back of the house, and exits through the conservatory. He does not enter the gardens, but turns left towards the stables. There, he finds Carsten watching dispassionately as an annoyed Baldroy casts dirty looks at the visitor he knows as "Mister Wolf" while leading towards the paddock the first of the escaped horses.

"It's too early for me to be admitted to the house," Carsten murmurs uninterestedly, not looking at Sebastian, but at the roses.

The agreed hours at which he may visit Ambrose, under strict supervision by Sebastian and Ciel, are one to three in the afternoon. For his own reasons, outside those hours, he chooses not to leave the grounds. Instead, he lurks in the forest, sits with the horses in the stable, and sometimes strolls in the gardens.

"You got what you wanted from Ambrose a month ago. Why do you insist on remaining here, and seeing him daily?" Sebastian asks.

The day after Carsten's request had been put to Ambrose, the man had acquiesced, and the devil had called. As a precaution, Ambrose and Sebastian had worked together to erect a magical barrier around half his room, preventing Carsten from crossing the invisible line to get his hands on his former master.

But the demon had calmed down significantly from the day before, and did nothing foolish like hurl himself at the barrier or shriek hysterically. He had only demanded bitterly of the man: "Where did you hide it? Tell me where it is."

"What is the use of clinging to that thing?" Ambrose had asked. "I removed it because you dwelt too much on it. It distracted you as nothing else could."

"Tell me!" Carsten had demanded in a raised voice. "You took it from me forty-nine years ago and concealed it with magic somewhere. I want it back!"

Ambrose had shaken his head, but eventually answered: "I sealed it in a box and buried it under the beech tree at my Dresden house."

Carsten had snarled a proper devil's snarl – bared fangs and all – and shot out of the window so quickly that to Ciel's eyes, he appeared to have vanished from the room.

Two days later, he returned, and Sebastian had at once identified the new item on his person: a gold ring set with a garnet. It was obviously too small to be his own, but he wore it on a silver chain around his neck.

"A memento from your first contract?" Sebastian had asked when he sprinted out to the forest to prevent the other demon from going close to the manor until he could ascertain his motives.

"Not my first, but the one I think of most," Carsten had admitted grudgingly.

"Did you release her?"

"No. I devoured her. I didn't want to. She was adamant, however, that a contract must be honoured. She gave me her ring, and she was brave. But she still cried with pain as I killed her, and it does not please me to feel her consciousness here within me, mingled with the hatred and despair of everything else I have consumed. After her, I never again cared for anyone I was contracted to. It is a foolish weakness."

"Yet you value that ring."

"It is the only thing left of her that is whole and untainted. You know what I mean – everything else is contaminated. The bastard took it from me when he saw I was often able to touch it when he had ordered me to do nothing but keep still and listen to him. It gave me a small escape from his control. Damn him."

"Was that why you so badly wanted to get at him? To demand the location of the ring?"

"That was the first thing, but I would have peeled his flesh off his bones after recovering this," Carsten had hissed, eyes flashing. "I still want to – peel off a strip and eat it before his eyes, peel off another, and repeat the process, until he is nothing but bones and organs, but still alive to see the last of his flesh in my mouth."

"I doubt he would taste good," Sebastian had remarked matter-of-factly. "In any case, my young master will not let his guest be harmed, and I will not let anything in or around this manor be harmed. Every human and animal on and around these grounds belongs in my territory, and belongs to me. If you must hunt, hunt elsewhere. The creatures here are mine."

"I know," Carsten snapped. "Your territory. Your humans. Your beasts. But I want satisfaction from that man."

"I shall convey your desire to my young master. Perhaps we can arrange something."

The resulting visit was a disaster, hell breaking loose in the north wing as Carsten clawed at the barrier and cursed Ambrose with foul demonic language that literally smoked the air. Sebastian had to shield Ciel from that explosive rage, assure Lizzie, Soma and Agni that the situation with "Mister Ambrose's estranged ward" was under control, and bodily remove Carsten before he brought the wing down with his fury.

But a strictly supervised visit the day after went reasonably smoothly. Since then, Carsten has been seeing Ambrose daily, venting his rage by questioning his former master, demanding answers, arguing with him that his beliefs are not the only beliefs in the universe, and not every being in the world is required to agree with him.

The devil is rather volatile. It is partly owing to his personality, which is far more petulant than Sebastian's. But the butler also suspects that the decades of enslavement have slightly unhinged him – not beyond recovery, though, for he is gradually regaining his equilibrium. On the whole, he is surprisingly restrained. However, Ambrose has, on four occasions now, provoked him so badly that Sebastian has had to calm his fellow-devil by seizing the lapels of his coat, hauling him out the window, and beating some sense into him in the forest.

"Damn it, Mister Ambrose!" Ciel has snapped at the dying man each time. "Stop provoking him! See someone else's point of view for once in your bloody long life!"

Ambrose has chuckled hoarsely every time instead of admitting his wrongs, and simply told Ciel another story from his past. About Susan Rothstein. Or how Queen Elizabeth's desire to preserve the illusion of beauty and youth even in her old age first sparked his interest in immortal youthfulness. Or how his family was neither Roman Catholic nor Protestant in the religious turbulence of Henry VIII's and Queen Mary's reigns, but secretly agnostic. For they believed they were the "true Ambroses", descended from Emrys of Carmarthen, also known as Emrys of Myrddin, misnamed in the Latin tongue as Merlin Ambrosius, when he became famous as the great Merlin from Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur. Or how he was the first in his family to feel drawn to Roman Catholicism, which he began to practise discreetly in an age when it was safer to be Protestant.

These fascinating stories distract Ciel momentarily. But the earl is objective enough to know that while Ambrose is wise in his own ways, he is close-minded and foolish in many others. He indulges him as a dying elder, and focuses on keeping the meetings between him and Carsten private so that the rest of the household will not overhear terrifying things about wrathful devils, ancient magicians, and the enslavement of things mostly hidden from the human world.

Today, after Carsten spends his two hours calmly enough with Ambrose, he leaves the house and stalks the forest, while Sebastian and Ciel help Ambrose settle in for an afternoon nap. The man is growing vague, foggy, somewhat like Tanaka at his worst. Two days ago, when he took a bad turn, Sebastian found and brought a Roman Catholic priest to the manor to administer the last rites. He recovered somewhat afterward, but the end is near.

He now rambles disconnectedly to Ciel as Sebastian adjusts his pillows and blanket: "I loved her once... Susan... she fled, selfish... wanted to be her own monster... didn't want to be accountable to me. Had to stop her. She was so beautiful. Obsessed with initials, she was. Her S.E. maiden initials, same as Sophia Easton's married initials. Meant much to her. She was obsessed with initials, and I with the meanings of names. Ambrose was a Latin mistake. His name was never Merlin. Emrys it was, becoming Ambrose. We should have been Emryses. Your name comes from the Latin too, you know, indirectly. Ciel, like Celia, from Caelius, the Roman clan name – from 'caelum', meaning 'heaven'. Something in there of 'cerulean' too, blue, like your eye. So you're heaven, and you're blue..."

His words become indistinguishable murmurs as he falls asleep.

A trail of drool starts creeping down his chin. Sebastian wipes it up with a napkin, but another slick trail follows minutes later. The earl feels sorry for Ambrose in a way, and wonders if he is paying for all his years of stolen youth, and those years of stealing Carsten's freedom. Harangued by his former slave, cleaned up several times a day like an infant, losing his clarity of mind – is this punishment enough for the errors of his long life?

Ciel frowns as Sebastian steps quickly out through the invisible barrier. That barrier is designed to prevent Carsten from crossing it, but it hurts Sebastian too. Though it was erected with his help, he feels distinctly uncomfortable each time he crosses the shield, for Ambrose's powers are unpleasant for demons while having no effect on humans. Ciel does not like Sebastian to go through the discomfort, while Sebastian genuinely sympathises with Carsten, who suffered fifty years of enslavement by that magic.

"Lizzie hopes to have Ambrose nicely dressed and cheered up by her party, but I doubt he'll be able to sit through it," Ciel says to Sebastian as they walk through the north wing.

"We can seat him next to Mister Tanaka, and let them be doddery together," Sebastian suggests. "Perhaps one will drool on the other, who will pour green tea over him in retaliation."

"You're evil," says the earl with a smirk that implies he can be just as wicked.

"What else would I be?"

"So you'll do the same to me when I am old?" Ciel asks casually. "Sit me beside someone else who is losing his mind and let us drool over each other?"

"No," Sebastian declares solemnly. "I would wipe up your drool most attentively, sit with you and read to you as much as you like, or carry you wherever you want to go. You are not Percival Ambrose. You are my only Ciel Phantomhive."

Ciel lets a small, resigned laugh escape his lungs in a huff. "It will come to that if I live long enough, you know – me, ancient, drooling and senile."

"Very likely, yes."

"Ambrose has given me his papers, some of which teach one how to live off ghouls and devils as he did, but I don't want that. I was never made to be a parasite."

"I know."

"I'll turn into a wrinkled heap of flesh like he is now. Perhaps you shouldn't stay for that pathetic scenario."

"I would ask nothing less than to be allowed to remain with you till the very end," Sebastian declares softly. "Ambrose speaks much nonsense, but he is right that your name is most likely from the Latin caelum, heaven. Paradise was once lost to me, but you are my heaven, whatever becomes of your physical form. Just as I will be your evil so you need not be devoured by it, you will be my refuge."

They pause at the end of the corridor, where Sebastian cups Ciel's left cheek with his hand, and Ciel lifts his hand to clasp the back of his devil's fingers. An exchange of assurances. A sign of peace, before they descend once again into the cheerful chaos of the manor.

***

"Look, Ciel! Even Mister Ambrose is smiling!" Lizzie gushes that evening, delighted to see that the old man is gazing at the decorations with pleasure, and eating a trifle without spilling too much onto his bib.

He had been introduced to her three weeks ago as a very old acquaintance of her great-grandfather Phantomhive, staying at the manor because he was ill and had not one servant to care for him. Lizzie's cheerful ways have brightened several of his afternoons, and he has been careful to keep from her the truth about his age, and his relationship with Carsten, passed off as a ward of his who has fallen out violently with him.

"It's kind of you to have arranged this party, and to have invited Ambrose, Soma, Agni, and all my staff and servants," Ciel smiles as he spins round the room with Lizzie in his arms. Her happiness is infectious. She is beautiful, and he is not unmoved by it. For once, she has chosen not to wear something pink, but a confection of sea-green silk and cream lace that brings out the emerald of her eyes, and complements her blonde curls.

"Everything in this house has felt so... jumbled... this whole month, since you returned from your last visit to London, and your guests returned from the Continent," she explains. "I wanted everyone here, including your staff, to enjoy themselves for an evening. That's why I 'borrowed' some of the musicians my father patronises, and got our footmen to serve so your people would not have to work at all. If only Mister Ambrose's ward had not refused to come, he might be as happy as everyone else is now. I wanted to bring a little happiness to this manor. I hope to always bring happiness to this place."

She sounds mysteriously grown-up as she says that, and he looks at her, intrigued. She is turning into a woman before his eyes, and he wonders if she sees him becoming a man, or if to her he is still a child.

"I'm still not fond of parties, but I do thank you for this, Lizzie," he replies sincerely. Despite his frequent awkwardness in the face of her enthusiasm for things he does not care to understand – including their engagement – he is genuinely fond of her, and cares deeply for her. In fact, he can quite easily see himself as an adult with her beside him, his wife, his lady, his Countess, though he is increasingly uncertain that this destiny planned by their parents would be the best for her or himself.

Lizzie's eyes widen and shine at his thanks, and she glows throughout the simple waltz – one he can manage without trampling on her toes. "Ciel..." she begins in a curious tone of voice, staring at him the way she does whenever something new occurs to her. "Oh, Ciel, I do believe you've grown a little taller!"

"Have I?" he asks, although he already knows it, for Sebastian brought it to his attention three days ago. You've grown half an inch since the start of the year. Your eyes are now level with my third nightshirt button when we are barefooted. I have to lean down just a little less now to kiss you. Like this...

He glances across the room at Sebastian, who for once is not serving food or wine, or playing a musical instrument for their entertainment. The butler is dutifully dancing with Paula, as expected of the highest-ranking male servant and the highest-ranking lady's maid at a party to which the staff have been invited. Soma is chatting animatedly about something or other with Baldroy; Finny is saying something about horses to the Midfords' coachman; and Ambrose is apparently holding a decent conversation with Tanaka.

Agni, meanwhile, is gallantly shielding Mey-Rin with his shawl, for the fashionable, champagne-coloured satin dress Lizzie has put her in is exposing too much of her arms and decolletage for her comfort. Ciel shakes his head – every male living in this manor has seen Mey-Rin, skirts swirling high around her shapely thighs as she guns down enemies – but show a little upper arm and a lot of neck and shoulders, and she wants to dig a hole in the ground and hide!

"Why are you shaking your head?" Lizzie laughs.

"Look what you've done to my housemaid," he answers. "She doesn't know what to do with herself in that dress."

"Ooh, Agni's russet shawl goes very well with the dress," Lizzie says enthusiastically, a new sparkle in her already-bright eyes. "Oh! She's teaching him how to waltz, and he's draping the shawl carefully about her so it doesn't shift too much as they move. I think he likes her!"

"Don't read too much into it," Ciel sighs. "Agni likes everybody. Unless they try to hurt Soma."

"But don't you think they look wonderful together?" Lizzie persists. "The new eyeglasses you gave Mey-Rin make her look so much prettier, and I think Agni notices."

"Only a girl would think of that," Ciel mutters disdainfully. But when he glances at his housemaid-sniper and the Brahmin manservant, it strikes him that they do look good together. His ten-to-thirteen-year-old mind of years past had thought that if Mey-Rin were to be paired with anyone, it would be Baldroy, as they knew each other so well. Finnian was the soft-hearted little brother to the adults at the manor, as likely to run off with a horse as with a girl. Tanaka seemed mostly past ideas of romance, especially in his vaguest moods. And Sebastian... Ciel had once seen his butler as no more than a dog; now, he rebels at the thought of his devil with anyone other than himself.

As the waltz draws to a close, Ciel prompts Lizzie: "You've only danced once with Prince Soma. He's the highest-ranking man here – you should dance with him again, as this is your party. Let's walk over. He must have picked up some European customs after visiting Denmark and France with the Prince of Wales – if he doesn't know that he should ask you for the next dance when your latest partner walks you up to him, I'll have to smack him over the head with a silver tray."

Lizzie giggles, and is relieved that no trays are needed when Soma does ask. Ciel watches the prince and the young lady twirl across the floor of the grand entrance hall. He briefly has visions of his royal guest and his cousin falling madly in love, becoming husband and wife, leaving him to publicly declare that he will never marry. But it is impossible. Soma and Lizzie are both capable of being absurdly cheerful, but they look at each other only with friendliness. Ciel knows well how he and Sebastian gaze into each other's eyes; nothing of the sort is there between those two. A pity. Lord and Lady Midford would not look askance at a Bengali prince favoured by the future King of England – and back in his immensely wealthy father's good books too.

He sighs and accepts a cup of punch from one of the Midfords' footmen. As he does, he feels rather than sees Sebastian coming up beside him. Without exchanging a word, they leave the floor to Soma and Lizzie, Agni and Mey-Rin, and Baldroy and Paula, and step out of the foyer.

At once, all that is "jumbled" in the manor, as Lizzie describes it, falls away and leaves them in peace. They stand side by side behind the stone balustrade, over to the left, away from the foyer windows.

"Is Carsten still out there?" Ciel asks, gazing into the darkness, fingers linking with Sebastian's on the stone. "What's he doing?"

"Sitting in a tree, doing nothing in particular."

"Fingering that ring?"

"Yes," Sebastian replies as he touches Ciel's blue ring.

"He devoured her although he didn't want to. But that is the way of devils, is it not?"

"Mostly."

"You, of course, are always the exception."

"I like to think so."

"What will I do about Lizzie?" he asks abruptly.

"Marry her as you were meant to, if you both choose."

"What about you?"

"I will be with you to the end."

"That seems unfair to both you and her."

"Stranger arrangements have worked out in the history of mankind."

"And demonkind."

"Indeed."

Sebastian moves his hand and Ciel's off the balustrade and straightens up suddenly, looking towards the forest.

"What is it?" Ciel asks.

"Carsten. Approaching at speed."

Ciel anticipates a fight as his butler vaults over the balustrade to meet the other devil at the end of the driveway. But Sebastian soon spins around, and the two devils move smoothly towards the house.

"Something has happened to Ambrose," Sebastian explains.

"I sensed it from the forest," Carsten adds. "Something is wrong."

"He's just sleeping, as usual," Ciel remarks as the three of them slip indoors and see Ambrose sitting in his armchair, eyes closed. Tanaka is elsewhere, sipping punch which he seems to be mixing with tea.

"His condition has deteriorated sharply," Carsten insists.

"Don't disrupt the party," Sebastian tells the earl softly as he beckons Finnian over. "Finny and I will take him upstairs, through the doorway to the kitchen, so that the others are less likely to notice."

"I'll keep Lizzie occupied," Ciel says.

"You," Sebastian addresses Carsten. "Come with us."

The three males support an all-but-unconscious Percival Ambrose through the doorway that leads towards the kitchen, instead of taking the more direct route up the grand staircase, which would draw everyone's attention. Agni notices, but Ciel catches his eye and shakes his head to convey the message that he should not alarm the others.

Within minutes, Sebastian returns to the foyer to tell Ciel discreetly that he should go upstairs. The earl slips away to the north wing, and finds Ambrose in a bad state.

"Remember... everything... I told you," the ancient man says, once he is at his bedside.

"I won't forget," Ciel assures him.

"You," Ambrose indicates Sebastian. "Break your word, I'll haunt you."

"I'd like to see that," Sebastian smiles. "But I won't."

"Let down the barrier," Ambrose orders, nulling his own magic, and letting Sebastian do the rest. He beckons to Carsten with his fingers, weakly, and the devil steps closer to the bed.

Ciel and Sebastian tense, but Carsten does not move to strike, and Ambrose does not provoke him. Instead, the man smiles ruefully, and whispers with a great effort: "I'm sorry... for everything I did to you. I believed it was best for you... but I understand now that perhaps what I believed was not your belief..."

His breathing becomes laboured. He can say no more, but it is far from the end. It is only long after the party, late into the night, and many hours of speechless pain and suffering later that Percival Ambrose at last gives up the ghost, watched over by a child, a weeping gardener, and two devils, neither of whom attempt to touch his soul as it leaves for wherever it is bound.
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Devilish Impulses