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Together Again	By : CheshireCity Category: > Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji ???) Views: 2888 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler and make no money from the works of Yana Toboso.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
“Together Again”

Chapter Three

Ornithoptera Victoriae

"How does a heart love

If no one has noticed its presence?

And where does it go?

Trembling hands

Play my heart like a drum

But the beat’s gotten lost in the show."

Panic! At the Disco (Nearly Witches)

The halls of the Phantomhive manor slumbered, encased in the velvety embraces of drawn curtains. Sebastian slipped from his master’s bedchambers, entering the main part of the estate to begin his nightly rounds. The images of his mate curled up, catlike, beneath the sheets continued to circle his mind. It was wrong, that much was certain. The lord was supposed to be dignified with natural behaviors. For a human. Despite himself, a smirk curled over the demon’s lips. No matter how hard he tried to feign normalcy, no matter what excuses he made, Ciel Phantomhive would not – and, almost more importantly could not – escape the scant demon blood that was slowly blossoming to life inside of him.

“It seems I’ve marked you thrice, my lord.” Sebastian spoke aloud to no one in particular. The portraits lining the halls seemed to give him judgmental looks. He drew short before one, slightly humbled under the gaze of the austere figure. It was beautifully crafted, cheeks of the now-deceased man brushed rosy with the trace of livelihood, dark hair wispy at all the natural places, yet still sleek and drawn in elegant sheets.

“I wish I could have known you, sir.” The demon said quietly. His eyes flitted upwards to lock with the oil black eyes of the portrait, almost expecting them to blink. They did not. “I think we may have even gotten along… although… perhaps now not so much?” The demon dropped his gaze and something within him wavered and threatened to burst. He choked it back, allowing only the faintest traces of guilt, concern, and other emotions he dared not label creep forward. “I am not sure what it is like for humans, once they pass.” He continued, compelled. “I believe that only the reapers truly know that. All the same I suspect that you are aware of what transpires here, wherever you may be.”

The relaxed grip on the rifle never wavered, Sebastian noted. Not that an oil painting had the capacity, he added to himself. “I wonder what it is that you think of me? What you’ve ever thought of me?” He released a cut-off laugh, resuming eye contact with the man framed in gold. “It’s humorous, really. I’ve never been one to be so openly self-conscious. I suppose your opinion would be one of the first to truly matter.” The man’s expression was not unkind so the demon awkwardly continued.

“I do care, sir. For him. About… about his well-being. It’s not just because of this predicament, though I won’t deny that that has perpetuated these feelings a bit. It’s not that often that even I feel so… lost. It’s been more common these days, I fear. I don’t know what it is that I am doing, not when it comes to him. I understand the source, the mechanics, what I ought and ought not to be doing– ” He swallowed and his throat felt unusually tight. “Moreover… I do not understand why his very words and actions affect me so. …Hurt me so… Would you warrant this behavior, I wonder? Were you a man to take sides? Certainly you’d have every right to take his, and yet I wonder if you wouldn’t be so inclined as to lend me your sympathies? For I am doing the best that I can and surely even you can see that?”

But Vincent Phantomhive remained silent, for there was not a place where the desperate words of the demon – now butler – could reach him. Sebastian lowered his head in shame, padding slowly away from the visage of the person he felt would know best. “One way or ‘nother, my lord, it seems as though an absent father is something we both share.”

It wasn’t as though he had expected the painting to talk, he told himself as he mounted a set of stairs. Not in actuality, at least. But whatever enlightenment, understanding, or relief he had sought had not come. It was foolish anyway, he admonished, seeking such things from anyone, no less an inanimate object. What mattered was what he could physically do or control – enough years on his own had taught him that much. What Sebastian could do was to protect his mate who slumbered blissfully unaware several flights upwards.

Sebastian willed the essence of the young lord to fill him, a little more distant than usual due to their physical distance. There, as always, was the enjoyable aroma of fresh strawberries, spiked with the strange sweetness of conception. He sensed the warmth brought to his master by the den of blankets he had burrowed into, the gentle press of linen and the butler’s own wild raspberry mingling with the scents of his sleeping form. It was as if the young Phantomhive had erupted into a berry-centric bakery in the span of a few days.

Sebastian temporarily amused himself with such images. It was undeniably self-indulgent, imaging himself beside a much more demon-like Ciel, running their own bakery where no one could possibly bother them and their happiness. Provided that they could have such things together – doubtful. As equally doubtful in fact as the possibility that the lord would have any sort of idea what went into a pie or pastry nonetheless how to go about assembling one. Then again, the thought of teaching the young Phantomhive how to bake privately was very much alluring no matter how unrealistic…

The demon tensed, breaking himself of his daydreams and focusing yet again on the scents surrounding his mate. Had he not just said that what mattered most was, in fact, reality? Something pricked at the nape of his neck and not-so-foreign emotions curdled in his veins, growing increasingly more vivid as his mate undoubtedly drew into consciousness. Discomfort, then a sort of generic fear, the breathlessness of anxiety stealing over one’s mind. Sebastian released a low growl, banishing like phenomenons from taking control of his own body. There was something else, something more than just some childish night terror. Instinctually he knew that his master’s own latent awareness was detecting something, reacting to it.

His feet were moving of their own accord, noiselessly sprinting up staircases and through vacant doorways. What was it? What was causing his master – no, his mate – such fear? He scented the air, eyes continuously carding darkened room after darkened halls. There was nothing to be seen, no presence nor aura he could even feel.

With practiced habit he slipped his pocket watch into his palm, observing the face. Thin silver hands indicated to 2:00:03. As he had thought, this was no human intruder. His thoughts wound back to the drawing room from several hours prior. Just as he had poised over the door handle, an inkling of a foreign aroma had caught his attention.

A clammy chill swept him as he proceeded, the faintest wisps of scent entering his consciousness. A bird? He frowned, catlike senses already surging forward, driven by the need to see to his mate’s protection. Yet the scent seemed… large. And, in some horrifying way, empty.

Sebastian in all his years had never encountered such a disturbing presence, not even during the days he wandered through darkened, hostile forests as a child. Helpless in his assessment, he felt very much like he had stepped into a page of that past. Now only the trees were replaced by grandfather clocks, shrubs and bushes by tables and armchairs.

But another sensation consumed him, rooting him to the spot in momentary alarm. Pain. Intense, fiery pain, latching unexpectedly to the nape of the young lord’s neck, severe enough to disorient the butler several metres away. Then he was off, tearing down the remaining hallway with inhuman speed, suddenly appearing within the young Phantomhive’s bedchambers, unseeing in his fury as he launched himself at the grotesque creature within.

He felt with feral satisfaction his claws sink into the flesh of the bird, reveling with macabre pleasure as blood bubbled forth, staining his hands. The thing twisted, cuffing him in the head with a curled wing, trying to shake him off its front. Sebastian snarled, wrenching the mangled flesh forward, catapulting them both through a maze of spinning chandeliers, chair legs, and portraits. His back met harshly with the edge of a doorframe, drawing forth a harsh crack as bone crushed. Infuriated, the demon lunged forward, clawing with bloodstained hands for the thing’s eyes, somehow darting just out of his own vision.

In seconds, his spine had mended himself and he used the brief advantage to spring off of the ornamented carpet, dragging the avian with him. Talons lashed out at him, making to rip and maim, and with slightly greater speeds he avoided their reach, fighting animalistically for purchase: the eyes, the windpipe, the jugular, the heart, but the snap of a razor sharp beak and the slickness of the feathers parried his every blow. Growling throatily he leapt at the beasts neck, impaling the thick mass of plumage with long-since grown fangs.

He gagged, the taste of oil and rot and decay filling up his mouth and invading his nose. He whimpered against the barrage of unpleasantries, screwing his eyes closed as he bit deeper and deeper, vainly angling for something soft and yielding with which to rip the life from the creature hell bent on breaking his every bone. Again his spine bent unnaturally against a harsh object – the demon faintly recognized it as a banister – before recoiling into himself, tightening the muscles in his legs until–

The creature shrieked, like a long, whistling inhale of breath as a powerful kick toppled it, wings flapping mightily as it drug the demon attached to it rolling down the grand entryway, tumbling and capitulating over each other in a mass of bloody feathers and growls until they crashed bodily into a grandfather clock, upsetting it and spilling jagged shards of glass about them. Sebastian skid across the floor, disengaged from the avian in their scuffle, eyes trained on the misshapen figure trying to right itself across the foyer.

The bird was squawking in short gasps, scrabbling as its taloned feet fought to gain purchase over the pieces of glass beneath it. The demon poised himself, scenting the fear of his prey before lunging again, slamming the bird against the opposing wall, throwing his weight forwards again and again, trying to pin or maim the wide flailing wings – whichever came first. The bird flapped forwards, buffeting Sebastian’s attempts, pressing the snarling cat against the stairwell. Again, he bunched, coiling his muscles tight before kicking forcefully at the creature’s midsection, propelling it up and over him, crashing with the certain splintering of wood as it barreled straight through the railing. Sebastian only had seconds to flip himself up and onto the staircase before it spiraled back down to attack him, talons extended.

Without time to react, the demon jumped up to meet his attacker, punching a clawed hand forward to bury into its ruffled chest. Contact. Then his fingers sank further in squelching warm depths, jolting in surprise as they felt the slippery heat of bare muscle and organ and – and the creature was howling in pain and dismay, an overwhelming tortured scream that warped into whistles and wails and crashed about in the demon’s head in a magnified cacophony of pain and then he was falling, scrapping into a hunched stand and clutching at his head as all of his acute senses swam and recoiled from the abrasive being of the bird. There was an offbeat flapping of oversized wings, and the dark creature disappeared altogether, leaving Sebastian growling and disoriented.

‘That thing tried to hurt my mate.’ He internally spat, stripping his crimson gloves off and exchanging them for a clean pair. It was the first thing he had actually thought since the thing’s arrival. And then, simply, ‘Ciel.’

Sebastian bound back up along the splintered stairwell, past upended sofas and rumpled carpets, not stopping until his hand clasped over a single golden knob and he spilled into a very familiar bedchamber, looking more disheveled then he had allowed himself being in quite a long while. Oily green-black feathers still hung in the air, lazily drifting down to rest upon his master’s possessions.

He set the candlestick he had collected from his master’s sitting room down upon the wash table, its light flickering over the young lord’s all-too-pale features. The butler shed his blazer, vainly hoping to distance himself from the oily rank of the creature. Again, he checked his pocket watch. 2:00:12. Precisely nine seconds since he had last checked it. He could have done better.

“I apologize for my appearance, my lord.” He began, a thrumming growl edging into his tone as he swept across the chamber. “I would’ve cleaned myself off if I weren’t so concerned for your well-being.” He shivered as the young lord’s flesh met his cupped palms, filling them with meager warmth as the scent of the scared and confused Phantomhive assailed him. He was safe. Alarmed, but safe. Earnestly, the butler tilted the younger’s head, determinedly looking for the smallest scratch or bruise. “Did it harm you, young mas– .”

A shaky hand slapped across his cheek, the cool prongs of the Phantomhive ring digging a shallow gash beneath an already tender cut. Had the bird landed a blow?

“Don’t touch me so easily!” the other barked, recoiling instantly.

Sebastian faltered, watching as his mate curled up, shuttering as waves of fear rolled off of his person. A low keening sound escaped his throat, but he knew the lord had not heard him, wrapped up in his own terrified thoughts.

‘If only I could touch you, my lord. To caress that fear away.’

Instead he brought the fingers that ached to console to his own face, dabbing at the fresh cut. Indeed, its twin was there above it, and the demon could tell that the cut was deep. Within an hour or so the wound would vanish, he knew, yet the mere presence of the flaw irked him. The bird must have scored his face with a talon; in the bloodlust that had ensnared him, he hadn’t even noticed when the cut was initially made. The concept made his insides writhe. He knew it wasn’t boastful to say that he was strong, or deadly. Yet to think that this creature had not only provoked his senses but had actually left a mark as reminder?

His eyes snapped back to the disturbed boy in the bed, fighting down the urge to snarl. That thing – whatever it was – was undoubtedly after his mate. Potentially wished harm upon him or even… but no, the expanse of nightshirt beneath the lord’s heaving ribs was undisturbed. Surely it couldn’t have known about that. It wasn’t exactly what one would consider to be a common ailment of the male population. Still, the demon’s blood boiled, torn between the intense desires to eliminate the strange attacker and to lathe comfort over his quaking mate. But if such actions could either not be met or only be rejected…

With a sinking feeling, he dropped to one knee, hoping to offer the comfort of boundaries to the young lord who had already encountered far too much in his short life. “My deepest apologies, young master. It was out of line for me.” He intoned, staring submissively at the carpet. I really was such a lovely shade of blue. Quite lovely, in fact. Lovely enough to be distracting from the fact that the earl still had yet to calm completely and was bound to ask questions that the demon rather not answer. Except of course that having cognizance of such fact really beat the purpose of creating a distraction for oneself.

“Did you kill it?”

There it was. Sebastian licked his lips nervously. It wasn’t something he liked to admit to his own private mind, nonetheless openly answer. No matter how he thought of phrasing it, ‘no’ still sounded and tasted like ‘failure’. There was really no graceful way to pretty up the words.

“Well?” the earl spat, and this time the butler could feel the eyes that were suddenly fixated at his back.

“No, my lord.” The demon replied. “I only have an idea as to what it was, and it escaped before I was able to properly dispose of it.” In his mind’s eye he flashed back to the sensation of his fingers sinking deeper and deeper into the open chest cavity, his stomach churning with shame and disgust. He had an inkling of what the bird might have been, but it did not change the fact that he had ultimately failed in protecting his mate. “Its kind is known as masters of speed and stealth– .”

“I want it dead now.” Ciel spat, fingers twisting up in his blankets. Sebastian winced as the smell of fear rebounded: his master had been depending on him and he knew it.

“My deepest apologies.” He echoed softly, easing himself back into standing. “At this point in time, that is something that is impossible.”

“THEN FIX IT!” the young Phantomhive shrieked, white knuckled and trembling. “Do whatever you can! Your orders are now to keep me safe from that thing, no matter what the cost – is that understood?”

“Yes, my lord.” Sebastian replied, giving a habitual bow before turning in to the rest of the room. “Let me begin the preparations. You should try and get some rest while I do so.” Almost immediately came the feeble sensation of trust, and he allowed himself a small smile, knowing he hadn’t entirely failed his lord.

The butler eyed the darkened room, quickly assembling a checklist of items as he tried to evaluate the situation. Their enemy was some sort of bird-like creature, he knew that much. What senses it did or did not possess was an unknown factor, and that alone concerned the butler. The beast’s sight was excellent, its skull broad and eyes forward facing (or so Sebastian believed to recall, suddenly realizing he didn’t even know what colour they were) meaning that the creature was in fact predatory and had a fairly good sense of depth perception in contrast to the average bird. Hearing, too, would be of no help to the pair, the demon sighed. A bird could hear in increments of 1/200^th of a second, and the attacker could do as much. Standard level evasion would be of no use.

‘What else, then?’ his mind raced. ‘What else do we demons rely on?’

There was taste: the standard bird had only 100 taste buds in comparison to a human’s 10,000 (and, Sebastian figured, the uncalculated-but-likely 100,000 of a demon), but such a sense would not help nor hinder them.

‘Unless it decides that the texture of ‘Ciel’ is unappetizing.’ He mused wryly.

The circuitry of an avian was identical to that of humans, so it could sense temperature, pain, and pressure similarly.

‘Which means we can’t lead it out to die of hypothermia: we can’t use the weather against it, except perhaps to ward it off for a brief time.’ Yet something nagged at the back of the demon’s mind, roiling into a knot of anxiety. ‘Why did it fly off at that moment? I don’t feel like I wounded it. I… touched… something within it. But even at that, a cornered animal would have lashed out, not fled. Not when it was so close to harm. Which alludes to the fact that it wasn’t acting on its own instincts, rather the whims of another force…’

He thought back to his master’s curious behavior the afternoon prior, when he had emerged from the tea shop with the Phantomhive’s manic purchases. He had looked alert, eyes clearly staring at a single point… yet when Sebastian himself had gazed across the street he had found nothing out of the ordinary. Had someone been watching them only moments before? Then there was the phantom scent that lingered outside of the drawing room. The very same scent, he realized, as one of the many from the bustle of Baker Street, one that was near as indistinguishable yet subtly and quite vexingly familiar in composition: a sort of musk that was almost too flowery to be masculine. Whomever or whatever it was, Sebastian concluded, was behind the strange beast’s attack.

‘Meaning that what I’m evading isn’t necessarily the bird, but it’s master. An interesting turn of events to be sure. If it’s being sent off, then its abilities must be in some way greater than its owner. Should my lord be moved to another location, then it will be impossible to track where it is we’ve gone off to: the bird will have been called away, and its master not gifted enough to track. Providing that this isn’t some sort of glorified carrion bird, the creature’s sense of smell should only be slightly better than that of an average human, certainly not strong enough to find us.’ He shot a brief look at the boy behind him who was still staring off absently in shock. ‘It’s decided, then.’

“We’ll be moving to the London estate, my lord.” Sebastian spoke aloud, drawing a heavy steamer trunk into the center of the room with ease. “With this particular assassin, it’s best to be amongst many people in order to throw off its sense of smell– .”

Suddenly there was the violent sound of retching and Sebastian whirled about to find his master slung over the side of his bed, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the carpet that the demon had inwardly praised not so very long ago. “Lovely.” He sighed in exasperation. Clearly the earl was far more shaken by the event than he had originally calculated: the oversight displeased him. He raked his eyes over the prone form, the dark hair that was plastered down at odd angles with sweat. He could make out the angry marks of talons on the back of his master’s neck; the flesh looked swollen, but not punctured. With practiced ease the butler resumed his packing, appearing and reappearing before the trunk with pile after pile of meticulously folded clothing.

“I’ll be sure to call Master Soma and his servant to alert them of our presence right after I clean this up.” His tone softened ever so slightly. “Is your neck injured?”

“No,” the teen replied shakily. “Just raw.”

Not a second too soon, Sebastian detected the pounding of feet and inwardly groaned and the bedroom door flew open with a loud bang!

“MASTER!” the trio of discombobulated servants chorused, wide eyed and wielding an assortment of unique ‘weapons’. Clearly object permanence was not a subject in which they were handicapped in. Sebastian eyed them warily – first Bard’s flamethrower, then the gardener’s frying pans, and lastly Maylene’s actually practical pistol.

‘Should have hired more ex-snipers.’

“Where are they?” the American barked, swinging the oversized blowtorch about. “We heard something and got ready to fight as soon as possible.”

‘Unless you’re up against a monstrous crème brûlée, I’d put that ridiculous thing away.’ The demon thought skeptically.

“Sebastian took care of the problem.” Ciel interjected, clearly trying to keep the vexation from his tone. “You can return to bed. We will be leaving for the London estate as soon as possible, so I’m leaving Mister Tanaka in charge.”

The wizened Japanese man stepped out of his position against the doorframe, a pleasant smile across his face. “As I expected, young Mister Sebastian is as effective as ever.” The demon felt a swell of pride at the statement as the house steward turned to the chef. “See? I told you there was no need to worry. He has everything under control. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He sighed, turning from the group and shooting the demon a knowing look before draining the last of his tea. “I’m quite tired.” With that he cheerily left the room, leaving the other servants agape and Sebastian feeling like he had received the world’s most condensed version of the ‘shotgun talk’.

It had been Tanaka, after all, who had trained him in how to run an estate like that Phantomhive’s. He had had prior experience in the trade, but moreover it were his social graces that had received the most attention. The old man had never questioned his presence or state of being, merely accepted him as an oddity of the family he served and had done his best to curb the demon’s once-feral and course behaviors. The thought of swearing before the man still made the butler wince, remembering the many near-concussions he had earned via the unmerciful Wooden Spoon. Whatever the elderly Japanese knew, he never divulged, but since the days of the young Phantomhive’s reestablishment as head of house, it was clear that he had high expectations for the demon. For his part, Sebastian made sure to never disappoint. He wasn’t certain what it was like having a father, but he felt that someone he revered as much as Tanaka was a fair enough replacement.

The earl must have dismissed his audience, for the servants were glumly disappearing through the gaping doorway, seemingly unhappy with their sentencing to remain home alone yet again.

“I’m going to be ill again.” Ciel whimpered. Sebastian’s own stomach lurched. He could feel the count’s turbulent emotions, causing as much discomfort as the unsteadiness of his stomach. The demon bit at his tongue in worry, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t be subjected to illness as a result of their union. The absolute loss of appetite was hard enough for him as it was. The small earl curled in on himself, the smell of salt betraying the fact that tears had begun to well in the corners of his eyes, slowly trickling down his cheeks.

The demon choked back a whine, overwhelmed with the need to comfort and nuzzle. Nuzzle? Now that was something new. Something Sebastian hadn’t felt the need to do in quite a while: somehow giving in to the ridiculously feline inclination did not seem like a way to win Ciel’s favour. Cautiously he approached the bed as the young lord buried his face behind his knees, feeling of shame and pain bubbling up from his rocking form.

“I hate this. I hate this.” He hissed like a mantra. “First illness and now this attack – I haven’t a clue what is happening to my body or my mind, Sebastian, and things seem to be slipping from my control…”

‘If only I could divulge to you the truth, my lord.’ The demon thought solemnly. ‘But even I can hardly believe what it is that you are going through… how will you ever come to forgive me for this particular transgression?’

His chest tightened painfully, unable to voice his inner turmoil. “It’s quite uncharacteristic for you to confide in me like this, young master.” He placed a gloved hand to the mattress. “May I?”

Ciel nodded desperately, unseeing and head still tucked up behind his knees like a child seeking shelter. ‘Can I at least provide you that?’ The demon wondered as he slowly mounted the bed, gently moving across it so as not to startle the emotional earl further. He drew up beside the curled form, examining the defensive clutching of his arms, the limply tussled look of dark hair that fell forward, shielding the small human. From there the puffy swatch of skin along the teen’s neck contrasted brilliantly with its porcelain canvas. A low whimper issued from the demon’s mouth, and this time he didn’t bother fighting the reaction.

‘To think that you’ve been hurt, even to this small extent. I’ve failed to protect you, just this one brief moment. This heady fear that envelops you like a blanket… I hate it. I hate knowing that I’ve allowed you to go back to that place… for all the world you are nothing but a child again, aren’t you?’

Thoughtlessly, he inclined his head towards the injury, inhaling the scent buried beneath all of the emotions, the alluring comfort of strawberries. Calming, he lathed his tongue across the mark in a fluid motion, bathing the wound. The earl gasped – his first sign of physical cognizance, Sebastian recognized with relief – but did not move away from the touch. Emboldened, the demon continued, gently smoothing over the area that felt strangely warm on his tongue. The affect must have been soothing for the tenseness in the earl’s shoulders eased, surrendering to the affectionate attentions of his butler.

‘I will never make you go back to that place, my lord.’ He silently vowed, watching as the wound disappeared under his ministrations. ‘You are no longer that child I rescued from a cage and human greed. I will never let them nor anyone else touch you again. Never let a single soul hurt you. I couldn’t bear the thought. You’re far too precious to let slip away.’

Gently he nuzzled the now-flawless neck of his master, willing as much consolation and affection to transcend to the smaller being as possible. His tongue flicked forward again, mapping a trail up to the earl’s ear, nuzzling against its shell. “Better?” he whispered, eliciting a shiver from Ciel. The distinct scent of strawberries simmered ever so slightly, and the butler smiled, knowing he had more than soothed his troubled mate.

“Y-yes.” The teen shuddered as Sebastian extracted himself, tenderly brushing away the few tears that remained, slipping his fingers beneath the lord’s chin in a gentle touch.

“There now. I’ll continue the preparations, and you should attempt to rest for the time being.”

“O-okay.” Ciel whispered, the demon gently pulling him into a small nod. Sebastian gave a small laugh despite himself and slipped from the mattress, dissipating back into the inky stillness of the room.

The smell of mango lassi and sandalwood barraged Sebastian’s senses far before the man attached to them did. The carriage ride had been uneventful and quiet, Ciel having slipped to and from consciousness as his body tried to steal back the hours of sleep that his waking mind had deprived it of. The demon hadn’t minded when the young lord had lolled against his side during his sleep, he had merely raised a hand to absentmindedly stroke the sleek head of hair beside him, gazing out on to the landscape as fog peeled away with the onset of morning light. It almost would have been romantic – a clichéd term that Sebastian avoided using like the plague – had it not been for the younger’s occasional soft snores and general unconsciousness.

Compared to the social situation the butler was quickly coming in to contact with, he would have greatly preferred the awkwardness of one-sided affections. All too soon the overly excitable man was racing down the front drive, plum-red hair bouncing around like the rest of him.

“Ciel! My little brother! My dearest, most treasured friend!” he cried gleefully, causing the increasingly more caustic Ciel to slouch back against his butler’s chest. Sebastian, for the record, took much joy in this fact, willing the antics of the prince to prolong his master’s ill temper.

“My lord?” he purred.

“I want to go back.” The earl said flatly. “I don’t care if I get eaten by that awful bird. It would be much preferable than being subjected to this.”

‘Not on your life.’ He sighed in exasperation, nudging his master out of the carriage with a look that clearly read, ‘Why must you constantly agonize me so?’ Ciel scowled at him (though perhaps that was just his usual appearance) before forcefully reorganizing his features into a grimace that Sebastian assumed must be a poor excuse for a friendly smile. He figured it must have been great cosmic luck that the earl had been a well-born child, for he certainly would have had hard times pretending to be amicable as a townsperson or, all forbid, a circus performer. For all of his numerous talents, there were just some things that the earl failed miserably at, and forced politeness was usually the most apparent.

This horrendous oversight did not seem to dampen the Bengal prince’s excitement, however, either because he had learned to accredit the act to being a part of What Was Ciel or because he had come to interpret the disdain and fretting of English folk to be a cultural norm for a warm greeting. Judging by the people he’d met in his time, Sebastian wouldn’t be surprised if either were the accurate solution.

“Sebastian, Ciel!” a warm voice called. The foreign butler wore his usual patient smile, following calmly after the excitable prince in a pleasant cloud of spiced chai and almond. For all of the oddities of the duo – including but not limited to their far-too-aromatic dishes and abundance of demon-assaulting spices – Sebastian had always held a certain amount of respect for Agni: he was a humbled soul with whom he could engage in friendly competition and was perhaps above all one of the more sane participants in conversation.

“We were both surprised to have heard from you two after all this time,” Agni said pleasantly as the smaller man tore open the front gate’s latch. “You rarely visit the estate.”

“I’ve been quite busy as of late.” Ciel replied shortly, bracing himself against the impact of jingling prince, arms wrapping around the earl in a tight embrace.

“Ah, Ciel! I’ve been missing you! You must see the plans for the restaurant Agni and I are planning to open!”

Sebastian considered that Soma, too, was quite lucky to have been born with such prestigious blood because the man clearly lacked self-preservation instincts. As Ciel flailed about against the man’s dollops of affections, the demon felt a warning growl surge up in his throat: either it was unnoticed or not as loud as he feared it had been but either way the Indian had not. yet. removed. his. person. from what the butler very much considered to be his, thank you very much.

“We have an entire menu planned out– .”

That was as far as the Bengal got before Sebastian swiftly pried the man from his mate with his arm as a shield, tucking the smaller close to his side. Not that he was possessive, not at all. Soma looked at the spot where the earl had been, then questioningly up at Sebastian, not quite processing where his beloved friend had disappeared off to. The general look of ignorance about him made the demon almost feel guilty for his harsh actions, but it would – he reminded himself – take a good week to erase the scent of yogurty beverage from his mate.

“I apologize, but I was worried for the young master’s health.” He amended a bit stiffer than he had intended.

‘Remember that he’ll be smelling like another male for a time.’ His inner demon chided. He felt increasingly less guilty.

“You see, he’s been under a great deal of physical stress as of late and I fear you may agitate his condition.” He finished smoothly. Soma, however, still seemed stuck on that concept that he was no longer hugging the earl.

“He means that Master Ciel may become ill if you handle him too roughly.” Agni supplied, appearing at his own master’s side. He smiled benevolently at Ciel and Sebastian both, bowing deeply before addressing them. “If you’d come inside, I have breakfast waiting for you.”

If there was one thing that caught his attention, it was food and Soma quickly snapped out of his confusion, face glowing with pride. “Agni made chai tea with milk and a Scottish breakfast food called ‘oat-meal’!” he announced with the awkward enunciation only a foreigner could give. “It’s a lot like the porridge we have back home, but flavoured with brown sugar in place of cumin. I think you’ll like it.”

“Thank you.” Ciel bit out, half resisting Sebastian’s insistent hands that were guiding him up to the house. The butler himself stared straight ahead with bitter resolve. It wasn’t as if he usually had a problem with the eclectic duo: on the contrary, he generally enjoyed their presence, or at least the effect of normalcy they seemed to have upon Ciel who was, outstanding maturity aside, still very young for the responsibilities he shouldered on a day-to-day business. Had the cause for visit been more pleasant, Sebastian supposed he might have even looked forward to seeing the prince and his companion. But things were far too different in far too many ways.

Fingers still clasped firmly across his mate’s shoulder, he steered him into the house, a comfortable difference from the biting nip of October morning air. Sebastian made a quick note of the changing pressure in the morning sky, mindful of the rain that was bound to come. He accepted Ciel’s outstretched arms, removing the black cloak from his person and arranging it carefully over his arm, filled with a sense of pride. As sacred as he held his position in the Phantomhive household it was now unmistakable that the beautiful creature beneath his grasp was indeed very much attached to him and would – for better or worse – always inspire a sense of possession in him that he did not appreciate having stepped upon by the unwitting hands of other males. Or females, for that matter, he thought as an aside. No matter how innocent the advances of others may be, he resigned himself to the fact that so long as his master was kept blissfully unaware of the situation at hand, all others were to be seen as a threat to their union.

The earl’s thoughts must have turned to similar strands of thought because a dusting of pink had risen on his cheeks and Sebastian could tell from his scent that it had nothing to do with the warmth of the manor. Carefully he extracted his hand, silently wondering if the Phantomhive had begun to notice his apparent clinginess as of late. He thanked whatever good graces had been bestowed upon him that it wasn’t a matter that the earl had chosen to bring up: he would much rather enjoy the benefits under the pretenses of concern and worry about the real issues later. Except those issues were going to grow increasingly more apparent and soon, and the demon sighed in remorse at the notion, trying to squish it back down into the part of his mind labeled ‘Things I’d Rather Not Deal With’.

But Ciel was already apprehensively following the puppy-like Soma into the depths of the house, leaving Sebastian to shed his jacket off in the entry hall. He beat its face, assembling it into a wrinkleless shape, and deposited it neatly upon an elegant coat stand that had at some point in time been topped with a small figure of Ganesh. He imagined that the swooping arms of the design had reminded a certain prince of the elephant deity’s trunk, leading to the rechristening of an otherwise perfectly English piece of furniture. Suppressing a snort of amusement, Sebastian turned to find Agni standing a short ways from him smiling in awkward discomfort and knowing pity. The demon frowned at this, turning to the coat rack then back to the fellow butler before slowly coming to the uncomfortable realization that butler or no, he was now considered a guest and would have to do his best to act like one.

Awkwardly he gave a short nod – to which Agni thankfully chose not to make comment upon – and followed after the two lords into what he recalled as being the dining room. It had been quite a while since Sebastian’s last visit to the estate, and he was content to note the foreign bits of design that its residents had added to the place. The plush and vibrant rugs were very different from the sorts of orientals that the butler ordered for the main house, strewn with gorgeous strands of glittering gold, plum, ivory, and orange. The colours echoed in the other new additions: intricate golden idols of Shiva and Kali, wooden bowls inlaid with colourful patterns and holding mysterious contents, comfortable looking futons and swaths of sheer fabrics that acted as doors to the occasional room. Even the scent of the home had changed to mirror the colour scheme, the sachets of lavender and arrangements of potpourri long gone in exchange for what Sebastian could only imagine was incense, mixed with the general zest of spices from the numerous dishes cooked within. It was different, to be sure, but not altogether unpleasant to the near-synesthetic senses of the demon.

“You’ve turned this into quite a lovely and inviting home.” He intoned quietly to Agni as he entered the room, who flushed gratefully as he showed him to his seat.

It was one of the more awkward breakfasts Sebastian had shared – largely in part because he was eating in front of others which, as a butler, was something he generally Did Not Do. Agni sent him plenty of apologetic looks as compensation, and he did his best to look vaguely aware of the topics of conversation while fighting the extreme urge to fix the placement of the dessert and salad forks on every place setting in sight. Righting his own to alleviate his somewhat obsessive-compulsive need for tidiness, he instead chose to earnestly pick apart every single taste within his oatmeal. Which entertained him for all of six (approximate) seconds because after oat, water, and brown sugar, there really wasn’t much left.

Soma, however, seemed to be having a marvelous time rambling on about… who knew what… while Ciel seemed to be suffering from a like affliction of Pretending Like He Cared. At length something seemed to have crossed his mind because he broke off midsentence with a loud, “Ah, yes!” Both Phantomhive residents straightened in the hopes of interesting discourse. “Agni tells me that the reason you came here was not only for your health, but for a mysterious threat.” His features knit into a troubled frown as he hunched over his plate towards the earl. “Rest assured that your best friend will not allow any harm to come to you while you are here, Ciel!”

“Thank you.” The earl replied, trailing off ever so slightly as if considering how ignorant his alleged ‘best friend’ was of the present situation. Sebastian settled for staring pointedly at his master in the vain hopes that it would prevent him from explaining further and thereby putting their hosts in a tailspin of worry.

“You ought to rest while you’re here, Ciel.” Soma added, gesturing to him with what was definitely an egg spoon before scooping up a glob of oatmeal with it. Sebastian grit his teeth against the near-physical pain of improper utensil usage. “You’re always running around so much that you barely have any time to come and visit your best friend – no wonder you’ve fallen so ill!”

‘Thankfully you have nothing to do with said ‘illness’.’

“I suppose.” The earl said glumly, staring down at his breakfast with what Sebastian could tell was an empty stomach and a lack of hunger. He looked into his own bowl and managed a polite bite before turning from it with the annoyance that his own appetite was diminishing against his wishes.

“It’s settled then!” Soma exclaimed, half-stunned by his friend’s lack of response. “When a day comes that Ciel Phantomhive is nearly silent and has yet to make a single facetious comment, it is the day that his best friend will carry him to bed!”

Sebastian was instantly torn between the mental applause of the prince’s usage of the word ‘facetious’ and the extreme displeasure coursing beneath his skin that heartily encouraged him to ensure that the prince would never have the ability to reproduce in this lifetime or the next. To his relief, Ciel had already bolted upright from his chair, grasping the edge of the table in alarm.

“That’s perfectly fine, Soma. In fact, I’m feeling much better already. Sebastian?” he said in a rush, sending a desperate look to the butler who was already gathering possessively at his side.

“Yes, my lord?”

“I believe we have someone to visit. Let us go before it gets too late.” The teen announced, already turning on heel and exiting as swiftly as possible without looking obviously discourteous.

“But it isn’t even ten in the morning!” Soma squawked in confusion. Agni moved in to settle the prince, collecting the barely touched bowls of food as Sebastian sent him a forgiving look.

“And you’ve hardly touched your breakfast. Wouldn’t you like to sit for a while?” he asked, trying to read the look in his fellow butler’s eyes. Sebastian could feel concern emanating from him and was inwardly grateful that he didn’t find their sudden behavior as insulting to his cooking. Shame he couldn’t have eaten more, ‘commoner’ food or no.

“I apologize for my rudeness, but I simply must get this meeting out of the way.” The earl replied firmly, blithely unaware of the other exchanges going on about him as Sebastian helped him change into his customary coat, cane slipping into his gloved grasp. “I wouldn’t be able to eat a bite without getting business attended to.” He shot his butler a look that managed to be both pleading and commanding. “I believe we should be able to walk. It isn’t far from here.”

“But Ciel!” Soma protested and the demon quickly mapped out the surrounding area. There was only one location that fit, and it wasn’t one he was keenly interested in visiting. However… he looked at the surrounding commotion and its misappropriated silverware. The destination could have been much worse. “You’re still ill!” the prince was insisting. “We’re both very concerned about you!”

“I’ll be fine by the time I return, I’m just very anxious about this meeting.” The earl pressed, edging towards the door that his butler was already unlatching. “We’ll return in several hours time. Thank you for breakfast.”

“You’re– !”

But Sebastian was quicker and the door was promptly closed with a resounding click! behind them, allowing the pair to breathe a much needed sigh of relief.

“That was an impressive save, my lord.” Sebastian couldn’t help but smirk as they began down the drive. An undue feeling of personal accomplishment welled up within him that his mate had in some small way chosen him over the all-too-bubbly prince. The count gave a small grunt of agreement as they turned in unison to see said prince plastered against the windowpane like a small dog begging to be let out. The behavior only caused the Phantomhive more grief and he grumbled at the act, marching a little more steadfast across the pavement. Sebastian stepped forward to unlatch the gate, and they both proceeded forward, bracing against the icy sting of autumn winds that brought with it the tidings of oncoming rain showers, just as the demon had predicted.

“We should have brought an umbrella.” The earl commented, pausing to scrutinize the ominous loom of pregnant clouds. “It’s bound to rain soon– .”

With much personal satisfaction Sebastian halted the younger’s words with the quiet click of a black Funtom umbrella as it blossomed out into shape over the Phantomhive’s head.

“One hell of a butler?” Ciel smirked in wry amazement.

“One hell of a butler.” Sebastian nodded, mirroring the other’s smile.

The two walked on in relaxed silence, turning at the end of the way and meandering leisurely through the wide expanses of fellow estates until the houses diminished in size and grew closer and closer together. The twittering of birds and the hush of grass fell away as the chatter and bustle of the streets of London overtook their surroundings, trees being replaced by towering buildings, the smell of their wood infused with the filth of urban living and the heady cling of tobacco and perfumes. Despite the impending weather, people hurried about in close knit groups as humans were wont to do, never seeing others as they scurried about their daily lives, running doggedly ahead from one task to the next.

Sebastian pressed closer to his master’s side as the streets became jagged and spindly, shops crowding one another for space, window fronts growing increasingly concealed by curtain after velvet curtain. Here the strains of nature trickled back to the demon’s refined senses. The bite of metal and sting of coal faded to the natural crackle and wafting smoke of fireplaces, carrying with them the soothing aromas of peppermint, thyme, rosemary, and basil. The shaggy headed women who crooned at them with misaligned teeth, too, were much more natural to the demon, their scents obscured by overpowering perfumes that all too often clashed horrendously with a woman’s body chemistry. The human population frowned on the oddities of the leery eyed women surrounding them, writing them off as witches, gypsies, and cutpurses. Despite their aesthetic misfortunes, Sebastian wondered what it was that they did to earn their keep and how exactly there seemed to be a never ending supply of them within one of the largest cities of the era.

The alley curved, admitting a shadowy shop front littered with carefully arranged displays of caskets and urns, the quality of their composition belying the true value of the otherwise ramshackle building. The grey and black paint was blistered and peeling, the wood in some areas completely worn away, and yet the faded and elegantly painted sign which read Undertaker suggested that the establishment had once held a look of splendor that had long since been neglected. It was here that the two paused, the earl releasing a small sigh before turning to his companion.

“Do you have a joke prepared?”

“As always.” Sebastian assured him, swiftly wrapping the dry umbrella up and folding it behind his lapels. He shot the begrudging Ciel a smile. “Shall we?”

The earl nodded his consent as his butler moved forward to hold open the door for him, the harsh scents of arsenic salt and the alcohol-laden cocktails of ethanol and formaldehyde hitting the demon like a brick wall. He bit back the urge to vomit, overpowered by the astringent chemicals that were mixing in his consciousness with that of disinfectant and the lingering ashy note of remains. The door swung shut behind them, ringing out what sounded curiously to be a sleigh bell, beckoning to the keep to come forward. Ciel took a bold step forward and turned back sharply into his butler’s side, gagging into the fabric of his clothing as a much more minute wave of scent hit him. Sebastian hummed in surprise, folding himself ever so slightly around the smaller form, searching for a hint of the Undertaker himself.

Around them were an area of both caskets and coffins, some ajar and others not. He gave particular attention to the later sort, half anticipating the eccentric keep to pop out of one at any given moment. To his great relief the familiar voice called out, clearly from a back room whose contents the demon chose not to ponder.

“A cock linnet, if you’d please!” the accented voice said, lilting in its usual mysterious way. Sebastian gave a slight smile at its sound, recognizing it as belonging to one of the few men who were more displaced in human society than himself. Whether the owner of it was it eccentric or no was really no matter: there was a sort of camaraderie in feeling oneself to be ostracized. The earl merely scoffed, turning further into the butler’s front, fingers embedding themselves in the fabric of his coat.

“We don’t have all day, you cockney bastard.” The earl snarled, trying his best to appear commanding whilst still clinging to Sebastian like a disoriented child. The embalmer traipsed into the room, shaking his head in amusement and sending his great sheets of white hair swishing about.

“Hmmm, you’re more impatient than usual, young earl.” He said, toweling off his hands with what was quite possibly the dirtiest rag the demon had ever seen. “Did something– .” With that he lurched to a violent stop, examining the unusually clingy Phantomhive with curious intent before his lips twisted into a large grin that split his features as he released a howl of laughter. He released the rag in his fit, falling over on top of his counter as his odd giggles racked his ribs and pealed about in the unusual little shop. Butler and lord exchanged one-sided glances, Sebastian wondering in slight panic if his scent was truly that prevalent upon his mate and if in fact that combined with what the earl was carrying was going to endanger their choice of hideout. Warily he brought his eyes back to the disjointed lump of undertaker, crimson piercing the man who was uttering soft U-hu~’s of amusement.

“Terribly sorry.” The man grinned, raising his head from the counter, spindly fingers darting beneath the overgrown length of bang that obscured his eyes from sight, apparently to dab away the tears of laughter that had sprung up in his fit. “It’s just… this is possibly the funniest thing I ‘ave seen in all my years.”

‘Bullocks. He definitely knows.’

A warning growl rippled up from Sebastian’s throat as the count beside him pricked to attention, pride obviously hurt by the unusual statement. This fact only served to provoke the demon further, his pupils drawing into fine slits.

“Undertaker…” he ground out.

‘Don’t you dare tell him what’s going on. I will bloody well dismember you if you open that proverbial can of worms right now.’

A smile quirked over the morticians lips and he held up his hands in silent defense as though submitted to all of the demon’s unspoken queries, claw-like fingers wriggling in the duo’s general direction.

“It was simply amusing; you know tha’ I meant no harm. Now,” he punctuated abruptly, hoisting what could very well have been an untopped urn from beneath the countertop. “’Oo wants biscuits?”

Sebastian sent him a look of reproach that went entirely unnoticed by his master, who was in turn growing more impatient by the second. “What’s so amusing?” he snapped, lips thinning into a line. Again the demon optically schooled the misanthrope into a proper response, conveying as much threat as a felt himself capable. Either he was much better at such a task than he thought or the man was more flippant than usual.

“Nothing that concerns you.” Was the casual reply, provoking a snort of indignation from the demon. Undertaker shot him an amazingly quick look of exasperation before shoving the urn-turned-cookie-jar back at them. “Come now, don’t be that way!” he exclaimed into both conversations he was holding. “’Ave a biscuit and make yourself at home.” He then gestured grandly to wide array of death boxes as one might to a fine sofa or loveseat. Ciel uttered a low sigh, far too accustomed to the man’s peculiar ways to bother putting up a fight and selected the elegant black lacquered coffin nearest to him. Deciding he needed all the assistance he could at the moment, Sebastian sat beside his mate, turning an imploring eye to their long-time friend.

“So,” Undertaker began, toying with what might have been his second or third bone-shaped treat. “I s’ppose you came here looking for information? The remains uncovered from the accident are in the back waitin’ to go in the oven.”

Sebastian’s thoughts temporarily derailed from his more immediate conundrum, fumbling for a second before he recalled the deaths that had occurred as a result of the peculiar factory fire. He pursed his lips in thought as the earl flinched, ever so slightly shifting towards him. He had almost forgotten about the event in the flurry of events since the avian assassin just earlier that morning.

Undertaker paused around a mouthful of shortbread, looking at the earl as though realizing he had hit upon a bad memory. “You look like you could use a spot o’ tea.” He said a bit louder than necessary, effectively redirecting the young lord’s attentions. Sebastian shot the embalmer a grateful look as his pawed about his quasi-desk. “I recently just bought some delicious black tea with rosehips…” he mused aloud, scrounging up a small tin in one hand and a beaker of questionable origin in the other.

The earl seemed to have felt the same way, nose wrinkling as he declined with a polite, “No thank you.” Unphased, the mortician slid the tea back out of sight, presumably to join its family of like-coloured tins. He leant back over the counter as Ciel continued. “But I did wish to inquire about the cause of death for my employees.”

Undertaker’s face broke out into another broad grin like some oversized cat that knew too many secrets for its own good. “’Ow they were murdered, you mean?” he corrected, tilting his head in such an unnatural manner that specks of iris peered through the curtain of white fringe. “If it weren’t for that note, I would’ve suspected no foul play.”

‘Note?’ Sebastian jerked to attention, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He would have to be more thorough when raiding his master’s pockets, it seemed. He sensed that Undertaker had picked up on his confusion, giving him a pointed look while continuing his story.

“There were no accelerants for the flames on their bodies, and no wounds pre or post-mortem – though it was clear to see that they were in quite a bit o’ agony.” His features danced between enthusiasm for his line of business and the vague notion that such things didn’t – and shouldn’t – provoke joy in others. “As for the perpetrators, it could be a number o’ people.” The tone was casual enough, but as what could be seen of his eyes slid over to meet Sebastian’s, there was a silent understanding between the two men that very few things could have caused such a phenomenon and that such an attack was too purposeful to be considered safe by any means. The butler gave a brief nod in understanding.

“The young master was attacked last evening.” He stated, feeling strained. Feelings of guilt and failure surged up again and he placed a hand over the nape of his master’s neck as much in reassurance to the earl as it was to himself. “And not by any average assassin.”

“Oh?” Undertaker hummed, flopping gracelessly over to examine the demon.

“I’d like to know if you were familiar with any bird-like supernatural beings.” Sebastian queried, gliding forward off of the coffin-couch and reaching into the breast of his coat to retrieve a single, oily green-black feather. The familiar crispness of the undertaker’s scent spiked, its usual comforts of fresh soil and sharp moor air spiked with something very much like alarm. A soft hum of interest tumbled from the man’s lips, fingers nimbly dashing out to capture the feather and burying it within the folds of his robes.

“’Arpy.” He said abruptly, stepping out from behind his desk. “Yes, no doubt about it.”

Sebastian watched his procession across the room with measured concern as his friend’s scent forcefully ironed itself out back to its normal order.

“Harpy?” Ciel was repeating, looking after the mortician with incredulous shock. “You mean those woman-headed birds from Greek mythology?”

“Mythology can be misleading.” Undertaker countered, darkened nails already skimming across the weathered spines of a hodgepodge of books. He was staring fixedly ahead, shielded entirely from sight by the veils of his hair, voice changing ever so slightly in tone as he pressed on. “Your butler ‘ere has nether horns nor hooves as many Christies would describe a demon. N’fact, the image of demons and Satan was stolen from Greece’s god of nature, Pan.” His fingers curled around a particularly old looking tome, extracting it from its brethren and slamming it down upon a nearby coffin with a bang and cloud of dust. “Though I do believe the term ‘’Arpy’ is a tad outdated; ‘s nearly defunct by now. Yes, I do believe the term nowadays is ‘Snatcher’ or ‘Soul-Snatcher’.”

Sebastian moved in beside him, craning his neck down at the handwritten manuscript of the pages, the colour of the pictures fainter in places were hands had traced their shape after years of use. A thin layer of grimy dust coated the pages, provoking the demon to wonder why such an important-looking book had been neglected for so long. “What do you know about them?” he asked as the taller man stopped upon the allotted pages.

“Enough.” The other shrugged offhandedly, scent twisting yet again. Sebastian watched as slightly wavering fingers traced the outline of a horrific black bird with a gaping hole in its breast. Undertaker gave a small cough as he redirected his attentions to the text. “Let’s see ‘ere; as we all know, a snatcher is made from a mother demon and a father reaper,” he quickly read aloud. “Usually they’re born quite uncontrollable, with an amount of energy comparable to a cambion– .”

“Pardon?” Ciel quipped, edging in to examine the book as well.

Sebastian had to keep himself from starting in shock. ‘Ah, young master. At times I forget how little it is you actually know of my world.’ Marking the event down as endearing, he tuned back in to Undertaker’s explanations.

“The product of a human and an incubus or a succubus.”

“A sex demon?” the earl smirked knowingly. “One of those things adulteresses blame pregnancies on?”

Once more the mortician erupted into a litany of giggles, and this time Sebastian could hardly help but to join in. “Once again, another misconception brought upon by the Christies and the Cathies. No.” he sighed in amusement, much to the earl’s chagrin. “While they may be ‘ighly sexual and beautiful things, incubi and succubae have something much worse goin’ for ‘em, and that’s raw power.” He broke off ambiguously there, turning instead to his oversized pockets and spilling an assortment of appalling objects into the coffin they were presently using as a makeshift table until at length he found a slender pair of silver reading glasses and slipped them on over his nose. Sebastian had the distinct impression that among the skeleton keys, coffin nails, and oddly placed meat pie, that the tiny bones he was seeing were the very illegally obtained ex-appendages of the Queen’s swans. Smirking at the flagrant display of rebellious antipatriotism, the demon waited for the misanthrope to sweep his hair from his eyes (while still somehow managing to obscure them from his audience) and continue to read aloud.

“‘ – the form of the animal familiar of the mother’ …no, no… ‘Reaper mothers usually sire– ’ now that’s not it.” He frowned, squinting down at the lines of crowded text. Ah! Here we are: ‘The existence of Animam Aufero, more commonly known as harpies, snatchers, or soul-snatchers can be traced as far back as ancient Egypt, in which the reaper Anubis– .’”

“Anubis was a god of death and mummification.” Ciel interjected flatly, brow furrowing in distaste. “How can we be sure that you’re not feeding us bullocks?”

“You can come over ‘ere and read it yourself, if you’re uncertain.” Undertaker challenged conversationally, the faintest traces of hurt coming from him. “But ask yourself this, young earl: ‘ave I ever lied to you before?”

It took all the resolve Sebastian had not to pin the man with a look of disbelief. ‘Try just a few minutes back, when you chose the words ‘nothing that concerns you’. Funnily enough, pregnancy usually GREATLY concerns the mother.’

The embalmer was either completely unaware of the demon’s inner raging or, more likely, completely content in ignoring it as he watched the earl’s expression sour.

“You’ve concealed the truth, which is as good as lying.” He grumbled, squeezing in between the two men to peer down at the peculiar depictions accompanying the passage. Sebastian was wont to publically agree with the Phantomhive, but thought the better of it when the only thing keeping Undertaker from spilling the precarious little secret was a flimsy matter of the other man’s levels of personal amusement and good temperament. Again, the man began to read aloud.

“‘—in which the reaper Anubis sired an illegitimate child with the cow demoness Hathor, whom was incorrectly celebrated as a reaper by many humans. The child born from their union was Dendara: a sickly, twisted creature with a massive gash in its chest, through which a beating heart could be clearly seen. The creature neither acted nor spoke like either a god or a demon, communicating in shrieks that have been said to wake the dead and going on violent rampages throughout small Egyptian villages."

Sebastian pressed closer forwards, subtly caressing the back of his master’s hand as he stared at the images before him with transfixed horror.

“‘Disgusted, Anubis cut the very beating heart from the creature's chest; only to find that it did not die. The thing tore into the nearest village and extracted a human's soul, plunging it into its very chest. After several attempts to slay his curséd offspring, Anubis came to realize that it was using the human soul as an energy source to heal its wounds. It was only when Anubis pinned Dendara with his sword, wrenched the soul from the creature and bled it to death that he was able to destroy it once and for all. Interestingly enough, the method for slaying a snatcher remains true to the tale of Anubis and his child Dendara; the heart must be extracted from the snatcher's chest and it must be slain whilst not containing a heart or a stolen soul to leech energy from.’”

With a macabre sense of finality, Undertaker snapped the tome shut, causing his audience to start as he carelessly traipsed back to the bookshelf and jammed the thing back in its former place. “A lovely story.” He lilted, turning back to them with his signature quirked grin. “One of my favourites as a child.”

“You were a child once?” Ciel shot back dryly, much to the undertaker’s amusement. Sebastian himself could only envision a mopheaded child in oversized robes, giggling to himself and clinging on to a disembodied limb. Much like the Undertaker before him, only in disturbing miniature.

“Strangely enough, yes.” Came the whimsical reply, only confirming the disturbing images Sebastian was providing for himself. The mortician stole back behind the counter, fishing out another bone-shaped shortbread. “Sure you don’t want any biscuits?”

“Quite.” The earl bit back. “Well, I believe we got what we came here for. Sebastian?”

“Yes, my lord.” He automatically intoned, shooting a questioning look towards Undertaker as he detected the man’s movements. A private smirk answered him, as if daring the demon to question his motives.

“Oh, Earl!” he called. “Do catch!”

With that, he sent an obtuse parcel flying through the air, immediately finding purchase in Sebastian’s outstretched hand, and subconsciously he knew that he was meant to be the one to first receive it. Uncertainly he held the offended package out to his master, who took it and turned it about with curious fingers. A handsome letter opener sat in his hands, sheathed in leather and pressed slightly with gold filigree. Undertaker twisted about behind his desk, eyes locked resolutely on the confused earl.

“You’ll know what to do with it.” He lilted mysteriously, shooing the pair off good naturedly from his shop. He and Sebastian exchanged one last heated look before the demon escorted his mate into the crooked alley.

‘He has a choice, you know.’

‘One I’d rather he not take.’

“He was considerably more cryptic than usual today.” Ciel commented slowly, eyes dragging up to meet his butler’s, whose own were seeing something beyond his reach.

‘I don’t like what it is that you imply, my friend.’ He thought distantly, still reeling from what the mortician had unloaded on them both. ‘You know I’m the sort to fiercely protect that with which I lo– .’

“And you are being strangely quiet.” The earl accused, jarring the demon from his near-self admission. A lucky interference, that. Slightly abashed, he cleared his throat.

“It’s nothing that should concern you, my lord.” He assuaged, producing the black umbrella from the front of his coat once more. “I was merely intrigued by what our dear friend mentioned. Now, I do believe it will begin to rain in a moment.”

Just as he knew it would, fat droplets began to drip from the sky, pattering off the canvas of the umbrella now spread above their heads. Absorbed with the implications of the strange gift and its possible effects on his master’s condition, he wrapped an arm about his mate’s waist, drawing him in and reveling in their unusual closeness. The comforting waft of strawberries mingled across his sleeve and, unmarred by the astringent chemicals of Undertaker’s home and shop, he could detect the gentle undercurrent of sugared éclairs.

“My apologies, my lord.” He said softly, feeling not an ounce of sincerity to put behind them. “But I do believe that this is the most effective method to keeping you dry. I do not mean in infringe upon your personal space.”

“It’s fine.” The smaller mumbled, inspiring the bubbling of berries into the smell of a pleasing, warmer concoction. “But I’ve noticed something as of late.”

An icy weight plunged inside the demon’s stomach and he stilled, turning his face downwards, schooled into a mask of calm surprise. “Oh?” Ciel’s eyes narrowed, somewhat unconvinced by the familiar show.

“You've been touching me as much as possible these past several days. It's been very peculiar, to say the least. Not to mention your new tendency to get quite… possessive whenever somebody else attempts to lay a hand on my person.”

Despite himself, a grin formed upon the demon’s lips, the notion that his mate had recognized such tender motions warming him and giving him the giddy sensation that such actions might actually be welcomed. It was almost like a token of acknowledgement or appreciation. Sebastian allowed himself to think in such a way, at least. “I am merely watching out for my lord's displeasure of contact.” He replied smoothly, caressing the gentle slope of his mate’s neck, unable to keep from leaving even stronger proofs of his scent. He dipped his head to hover over the earl’s own, seductively tilting the other’s head up to meet his, rosy lips a mere breath away. “I apologize for assuming that you would allow me to touch you in an intimate matter.” He purred lowly, curling his fingers through wisps of soft air as a single sapphire eye glazed over in obvious desire, erratic heartbeat thrumming like a trapped rabbit pounding through the demon’s ears. “Though that would be far from an unfamiliar sensation, hnn?” he crooned, angling closer with wicked intent before calmly backing away altogether, leaving the Phantomhive frustrated and confused as all evidences of what was his demon evanesced under the façade of the loyal butler.

The gale whipped about them, snatching away the delicate aromas of Ciel and drowning the compacted emotions of their combined worries, leaving them bare as nothing more than a young lord and his faithful servant. “We should return to the estate as soon as possible, my lord.” Sebastian said gently, sheltering his earl from all the troubles he could and could not see. “I wouldn't want to risk you catching a cold while you're in this condition.”

The rain fell with steady intent, roiling into sheets and pelting the pair as they made their way back to the estate, the butler’s arm draped about the smaller’s shoulders, melding their forms together as the storm raged on around them.
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Together Again