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The Devil's Smile	By : Kinnikuman Category: > Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji ???) Views: 1969 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Neither author owns or holds rights to the works of "Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji)". We do not make a profit from this story.

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Chapter Two

by the Hatter

Another letter from Alois had come on the morning of their arrival. A personal invitation, he was having a ball to celebrate his fifteenth birthday. There was to be a grand and extravagant ball, probably hundreds of guests, the Trancy family all but vanished from public view when Old Lord Trancy had been alive. Ciel recalled seeing him once or twice at the previous Phantomhive head’s public functions. The previous head hadn’t cared for him much; the watchdog and the spider may function as one unit, purifying Britain for the Queen’s demand, but their two families had a history of distrust and rivalry.

Ciel had never met Alois when they were children; Lord Trancy was a private man, his pretty young wife had committed suicide after their son went missing. The boy was very small, three of four. It was a terrible tragedy, Lord Trancy had almost vanished from public view, his younger brother, Arnold Trancy, keeping up appearances for the family at functions, whilst the previous Trancy head performing the spider’s duties in the dark. He re-emerged briefly after it was announced that he had found his young son, Alois, now a boy of thirteen. That was the first time they had been introduced, it was also the first time Ciel remembered seeing Old Lord Trancy properly. They seemed affectionate; Ciel personally, could not imagine being reunited with a loved one, long believed dead. The idea unsettled him, and he had other business to attend. He and Lau were meeting with a Russian contact with information concerning the drugs trade.

But Alois Trancy had greeted him all the same. He tapped him on the shoulder and smiled that bright, carefree smile, “Ciel? You are Ciel Phantomhive, aren’t you?” His accent was common, not how noblemen should speak, but the boy had been missing from high society for the whole of his life. He seemed cheerful and naïve, Ciel was surprised such a person had taken the time to seek him out personally. The spider and the watchdog rarely came into contact, Lord Arnold Trancy avoided him at those sorts of events and Ciel did the same.

“Yes, you are Alois Trancy. Welcome back,” he said stiffly.

“So you’re the Queen’s guard-dog,” Alois giggled happily, “You’re so young to have such an important job!”

“Her Majesty’s watchdog,” he corrected, trying to keep his temper out of his voice. His patience had been irked, but Ciel managed a stiff nod, “It is my duty as head of the Phantomhive family. And I am quite busy, so if you’ll excuse me.”

“Oh! Right, I’m sorry. I’m still learning all of these things,” the blond boy laughed again, his laugh was childish, his smile embarrassed. “I won’t take up anymore of your time! It was lovely meeting you, Ciel!” he took his hand and squeezed it gently, beaming at him.

The touch had startled him; a perfect stranger had no right to be so familiar with him. He pulled his hand free, now noticeably scowling. But Alois Trancy kept smiling, and then the former Trancy head came towards them. For a second Ciel thought he meant to greet him too, which would have been… very strange, he was about to think of a reason why the spider would present itself so; when he caught sight of Lord Trancy’s face. He was breathless, his old eyes full of confusion. He seemed flushed; Ciel could smell the wine on him from there.

“Alois, you shouldn’t go so far, I was looking for you,” he touched the boy’s shoulder.

“Lord Trancy, Alois, enjoy the celebrations,” Ciel said politely, steering away with a respectful nod of his head. For a split second he thought he saw Alois roll his eyes as he turned to face his father. At the time he thought he had imagined it, now… not so much.

There was something… wrong about the young Trancy heir, something… rotten.

*/*/* line break */*/*

The journey to London always proved exhausting and hardly worth the effort… but Her Majesty’s orders were orders. He would be forced the face the capital city’s stink and the disgusting villainy of every other person you brushed shoulders with. As the Queen’s watchdog most of those he removed were from the London area; Ciel was always going to have to come here, though ever since Madam Red’s death, his dislike of the city had become stronger and stronger.

“Sebastian…”

His butler was sat opposite him, red eyes fixing on him when he spoke, “Yes, my lord?”

“You brought the case documents, did you not? I wish to go over them.”

“Why at once,” he opened up the leather satchel at his side, running a gloved finger along the papers and retrieving the necessary ones. It was an overview; so far, the real investigation would begin once they reached London. The London metropolitan police would be of no use, as per usual, though it amused Ciel how his presence there ruffled their feathers so.

“The victims are widely spread across social status and age. Aside from Her Majesty’s nephew’s wife, Lady Grace, what ties the victims together is a distinct lack of family or friends. And even the Lady Grace has no record of friends of family prior to her marriage. The murders are occurring all over the country,” Sebastian summarised, his eyes glancing over the notes. “The names of the victims suggest a certain use of an alias. However, there was a couple of exceptions, for instance, my young master,” he turned the sheet towards him, “This young boy was identified as Dorian Daniels, his body was discovered in a field twenty miles or so from Lincoln. Though having no family, the boy was cared for by the local magistrate. He claims that Dorian went missing as a small child, emerging just a year ago.”

Ciel peered at the small photograph, it had been taken about a week or so before Dorian Daniels died, the boy was about fifteen, he was skinny, pale, with a few freckles dotted across his cheeks. There was something about him that seemed drained.

“Are you suggesting that the victims all met at some time in the past?”

“So it would appear, my lord. The connection between them is beginning to appear obvious enough.”

“Yes,” Ciel nodded, frowning, his ring felt cold against his cheek as he concentrated; “I want to hear more about these unusual wounds. I am sure the Undertaker will be able to shed some light on the subject.”

“Rather, my lord,” Sebastian smirked, “It is, after all, an area our associate takes such passion in.”

They had little to no contact with the Undertaker since what occurred out at sea. The man had always been accommodating enough, and as difficult as he could be, he had never truly refused Ciel anything before. There was something about this case that bothered him, right from the beginning. The wounds from behind, bursting the victim through to the stomach, talon like claws piercing the flesh and ripping through the body. It reminded him of the bodies of those animals on the night he and Sebastian made their contract. He shivered now to think of it, cold blue eyes gazing out at the countryside. If he closed them, he could smell his blood, feel those dirty hands on him, the mark on his back would throb as if it was freshly branded. Yet the memory of it didn’t fill him with fear as it had once, instead it burnt silently in the pit of his soul. The memories of his shame and humiliation would do nothing but guide him towards his goal; there was no point in letting your past destroy you. When tragedy struck, you either fell into a pit of despair, never to rise again. Or you grasped at the walls of the pit and forced yourself, bloody and broken to climb out and become something else altogether. Ciel had climbed from the pit and Sebastian, the demon who wore a man’s form became his butler.

To imagine that day, and to remember the demon that appeared from the darkness as Ciel burnt in all his anger – such a being looked upon him and Ciel’s world was transformed once again. He had seen the demon take on a human form, and alter the world with it. It was so strange, glancing across at him and knowing what he was; a monster who wore a man’s shape like clothes. It was fitting this would be the man to stand at Ciel’s side for the rest of his life. He was his butler and that is all that he needed to know.

Thinking of Sebastian and how Ciel had seen him kill before, could it be possible there was an unnatural force at work here? Who would go to the trouble to send assassins all over the country to kill off, what would appear to be, perfectly ordinary people. These murders were too messy for simple assassinations. Whoever it was would simply be drawing attention to themselves, it would be sheer madness. It would be a matter of waiting and learning the connection between them, that would lead him to this killer.

“Sebastian,” he glanced up, “You didn’t tell Prince Soma I was coming, did you?”

“Of course not, my lord, if I couldn’t assure your arrival with the most discretion, well, what kind of butler would I be?”

Ciel scowled into his smiling face and took a couple of the pages from him, scanning over the list of names. Everything they had so far said they could be in London for a while, sniffing out the culprit. “When will we be arriving?”

“We shall be arriving in London at approximately three o’clock, should carriage traffic be on a decrease.”

“Good.”

“For tonight’s dinner I shall prepare a dish of seared sea scallops and lemon and white wine, if you find that agreeable, sir?”

“Rather,” Ciel placed the papers aside, “I want you to arrange a meeting with Lau for this evening. I want as much information he can offer me as possible before I see the Undertaker.”

“Yes, my lord.”

*/*/* line break */*/*

There were times Alois would waken in the night, feel the old man’s hands on him, creeping beneath his night shirt, and feel his rancid breath on the back of his neck. He’d scream out into the darkness, as he did once, but Claude did not come to him anymore. He was alone in the dark with just foggy nightmarish memories hanging over him. The truth seemed to catch up with him every night, the old man clawing at him from beyond the grave, reaching up to drag his dirty being back to Hell. But that was not the truth anymore; he was given a new name. It was not him with the bruises in the night, not him with the bites at his neck. He was Alois Trancy now – he was a wealthy count, he had a future, a grand manor, servants, horses, and… he had Claude. He had his Claude…

“Master, what is the matter? Have you had another nightmare?”

It was Hannah at his side, Hannah’s hands touching him, Hannah’s voice trying to calm him down. That was not what he wanted. That was never what he wanted-! He wanted Claude, he wanted his butler. That was how it was supposed to be, that was how it was always supposed to be!

“Get away from me, you stupid tart!” he slammed the palm of his hand against her face, shoving her back sharply.

She gasped as she fell, her forehead bleeding from where his nails had scraped her. She did not move for a moment and neither did he. Their eyes met in the darkness, and it was her who looked away first. Hannah lowered her head in a graceful courtesy, “Forgive me, Master. I only meant too-!”

“Go and fetch Claude-! GET CLAUDE NOW! I DON’T WANT YOU!” he drew the bedclothes back around him, hugging his knees to his chest, “Get Claude now-!” he could feel the sobs building up in his chest, how his knees trembled. He could feel the old ache; feel the bites on his neck, the bruises on his wrists. He could not see they were not there in the dark. No, they weren’t there… His hands were shaking as he fumbled with the matches at his bedside, the candles had gone out. He struck one and it snapped in half, Alois could feel the fears running down his cheeks, he struck another, this time the end burst into a bright little flame. He let out a sigh of relief, rocking back and forth slightly, his legs clasped together, watching it as it slowly travelled down the match, closer and closer to his fingers. Briefly he remembered the fires in the village, the distant embers of the buildings where he found Luca’s body… “Ah-!” he cried out in alarm, dropping the burnt match as the flames licked his fingers. The burning match landed on his wooden bedside table, simmering for a moment before extinguishing under a white gloved hand.

“Master, are you trying to burn down your bedroom again?”

“Everyone is going to find out-! Everyone-! Ciel won’t answer me-! Everyone will look at me and know something is wrong-!” he started to sob, dropping to his knees and clinging to Claude’s thigh, his arms wrapped around it, burying his face against the butler’s knee, “Please, Claude-! I’m so afraid-!”

“There is no reason for my master to fear,” he bent down, one hand touching his cheek so gently, “Come, get back into bed. I am with you now.”

“Y-Yes,” he sobbed, “Oh, Claude-! Promise you’ll be with me forever-! Forever, you have to stay-!” he clasped at the hand on the cheek, kissing the material of the glove, “Oh, Claude-! Promise me you’ll never go-!”

“Yes Your Highness,” he whispered, bowing his head respectfully, golden eyes glancing up at him in the dark. This was all he needed. Alois let out a soft sigh of relief as Claude lifted him up, strong arms around him; he buried his face in his chest, wiping his tears away. Claude placed him down on the bed, drawing the sheets around him. Alois reached out and took his hand, “Come in here. Stay here with me.”

“It was be improper for a butler to share a bed with his master, Your Highness,” he said in that cold flat voice, shutting out the warmth and leaving Alois alone in the darkness again.

His rage bubbled inside his belly and Alois felt his hands clench on the bed sheets, “Are you not supposed to obey my every command?” he asked bitterly.

“You commanded me to be your butler, sir.”

“You’re so cruel, Claude.”

“I am your loyal servant. You do not need to prove your worth to me like that.”

“No…” he covered his face, sitting up and drawing his knees to his chest, “You just think I’m dirty and vulgar, just like the old man said…”

“How could I think such a thing?” the hand was on his cheek, stroking so gently, Alois looked up into those golden eyes staring into his, almost like on that day. The day they met, where Claude looked at him like only he existed in this world.

“Oh, Claude-!” his fears bubbled away and Alois clung to him, his head against his chest. The silence of Claude always soothed him. It slowed down the noise of Alois’s own head, it made everything alright again.

“You are my master, and as a butler I follow your orders absolutely, until the end. I grow hungrier each day,” he leant in as if to inhale the scent of his hair.

‘Until the end’, he always said that, always reminded him that his services came with a price and Claude never ceased to remind him of what that price would be. His every nice gesture; a clean, well-kept manor, good food, warmth, soft word, all of it was just an exchange. Now he was a Count, everyone seemed to want something from him, whether it is wealth, land, money or his affections. And like everyone else, Claude had his price. He did not truly care about him and every time he reminded Alois of the price he’d pay, he made that very clear. It was the one thing that Claude betrayed of himself; his eyes and expressions betrayed nothing of his true thoughts. Alois hated not knowing what people were thinking, everyone was cruel in keeping their intentions from him; how he could be certain that they would not betray him. How could he be certain Claude would always be true to him?

He knew lust, knew wanting, and he had seen it in Claude’s eyes when he looked at Ciel Phantomhive. Once Alois had been pure too, and at times he still felt it. He lusted for Claude, and at other times he just wanted him to hold him gently. He craved attention and he feared attention; it was ever changing in a never ending spinning wheel.

“Just forget about it…” he brushed the hand away from his face, wiping away his tears, “Just stay by the door for all I care.”

“I will watch over you, Your Highness,” he bowed respectfully.

Frowning Alois lay down on his side, watching Claude’s golden eyes in the dim light of the room, watching him and only him. Perhaps that was all the comfort he could hope for tonight. One day perhaps, Claude would see his true heart; see how pure his feelings were. Ciel was a mere fancy compared to someone like Claude. He had to see that.

*/*/* line break */*/*

By morning Alois was feeling much stronger. At one time a boy named Jim, whose dear brother Luca had died some years before, would wake up beside a lecherous monster. He would watch the sun rise in the large window beside the bed. He would slip from the bed, careful not to wake the monster beside him, and walk to the window. He would inhale the morning air and watch the spider in its web dotted with morning dew. It was that sight which kept that boy named Jim sane in an insane world. It was lucky Alois Trancy never had to do something like that. The mornings always made him feel safe. He had passed the darkness of the night and he was safe once again.

He’d always wake in the morning, but would pretend to be asleep so Claude would wake him gently. Today was no exception; he felt the warm sun on the back of his head and wriggled a little in the bed, stirring slightly before burying his face in the pillows.

“Your Highness,” Claude murmured, “It is time to rise.”

Alois shook his head lazily, stretching and twisting his head to look up at him, “Oh, good morning, Claude,” he yawned exaggeratedly. “I slept very well.”

“I am glad to hear that, Master. Your schedule is clear today, sir, so you may enjoy whatever leisurely activities as befits you.”

The schedule was nearly always clear. Sometimes he would sign documents; at others he would accept invitations to charity balls and gala events. He had not wanted to bother with that kind of dull rubbish to begin with; the Old Man never seemed too. Though as his dear father aged he had little mind for much. Ciel, however, was always busy doing his duties as a nobleman. Alois had not wanted to go among nobles at first, he was cautious. When the Old Man was alive, he had shown him off at various parties. That was where he met Ciel. When the Old Man died, Alois was worried he had lost his assurance among these people. He would get things wrong, Claude told him that nobility was treacherous and they would exploit weakness. He could help him learn their ways, but he could only stand in the background, as he was merely a butler. It wasn’t fair… How could he be expected to remember every little detail?

His uncle Arnold was on his heels like a shark. He was furious that he didn’t see an ounce of the Old Man’s money, or rather Alois’s money, as it was now. He was waiting for him to slip up, waiting for an error so he could call him false. That was why Alois had dismissed the servants, they were weak. If Uncle Arnold flashed his money, breathed his disgusting breath over them, some of them would be inclined to talk. People were so very weak, how could he be sure such people would remain loyal to him. They had to go; all of them had to go. None had helped him before, so death was what they deserved. It was fair.

His cousin, Aleister Chambers, the Viscount of Druitt, had been different. He was foolishly spoilt, easily excited and rather stupid. He was taken in with but one smile. The Viscount took Alois under his wing in a sense at the first function they were both invited too. He was so eccentric; he took the liberty of introducing Alois to all his friends, most of them were stupid dolled up society tarts. Everyone said Alois had the Trancy colouring, how wonderful it was that his late father found him again after all that time apart, how much he resembled the late Lady Trancy, which Alois thought was funny. The nobility didn’t seem so scary after that. Most of them chattered away like birds in spring. Others bitched and backstabbed, and some… some, like Ciel Phantomhive, looked and saw everything.

That was why it irritated him that Claude would not be at his side in such things. He’d escort him in and stand at the back wall with the other servants, watching him. But watching him wasn’t good enough. Alois had tried to make him jealous. He had plenty of admirers with which to do so. Lord Gregory was a distinguished writer, a bachelor; he flirted with Alois almost shamelessly.

“Cousin, you are an innocent in the great sea of our London society and do not see the angelic fluttering wings of love in Lord Gregory’s eyes!” Aleister had told him in a hushed whisper as if he was passing on great wisdom. “He puts the lusts and fancies of a woman onto you and breathes passionate breathes when you pass by!”

That was funny too; Alois had been able to see that in a person from the age of nine; although he was glad that to the masses he could seem innocent and sweet.

The Lord was the most persistent. He sent Alois poems sometimes; Alois personally never much cared for poetry, but he appreciated the gesture very much. Claude had gotten him to read the classics so to fit in with educated chatter. Alois preferred to see plays – poems weren’t at all irritating in plays! They told stories of beauty and romance… If Shakespeare had written Alois a sonnet, then that was a different matter. Though he was sure he should like anything Claude wrote him, so long that it was written just for him. Sadly, Lord Gregory was no Claude or even Shakespeare.

Then there was Fernando, a young Italian nobleman and actor. He was a friend of the Viscount’s; he dallied amongst the young ladies and a couple of young men. He danced with anyone he liked, whether they are male or female, and people just accepted it because he was an actor. He was charming but a little too forward for Alois’s liking. He would pull him too close and hold him too tight. Sometimes it scared him and reminded him of Jim. He’d lead him on because he wanted Claude to come and save him.

Percival Martin, Earl Martin’s son was another admirer. He was a graduate from Weston College, he was bookish and dull. He trailed after him at function’s and looked after him in some of the more awkward situations of which Alois was not yet accustomed. His finer features were that he wore glasses, like Claude, and had dark hair, like Claude… He also knew gossip on pretty much everyone. He was also very bashful, which made Alois’s job of gossip stealing incredibly easy… a smile here, a pout there, a little bit of flirting and he got what he wanted.

Alois would giggle and flirt, whispering sweet things in his admirers’ ear. He’d touch his arm, or place a hand on his chest. Always a fleeting gesture, that way it would look innocent enough. He’d glance back at Claude, smirking nastily, wanting to see hurt or jealousy on his face. But alas, Claude just watched.

Did demons have a heart at all?

If Claude had a heart, Alois wanted to tear it out and keep it inside him so Claude could never give it to anyone else. Then everything would be alright.

*/*/* line break */*/*

“Did you know,” Alois said cheerfully as he finished his breakfast, “that Sebastian often acts as Ciel’s tutor as well.”

The triplets were clearing his plates, mumbling to themselves, they glanced at Hannah, who was stood near the door way – she was such an eyesore… Claude was stood beside his chair, he pushed up his glasses to the bridge of his nose; a gesture Alois had become so fond of.

“Is that so, Your Highness?”

“Yes!” he laughed, “That’s what gave me my brilliant idea for today!” he stood up, twirling happily, “I want you to be my tutor! Teach me mathematics, literature and languages and dancing! Yes! You should teach me dancing! I will need to practice if I should make a good impression at the ball!” he clapped his hands, laughing, “Yes! Yes! You have too, Claude! It’s an order! Tell me, you will?”

“Yes Your Highness.”

He twirled around again, “Let’s go to the hall!”

When the Old Man was alive he had a tutor come and teach Alois. Claude had watched him then as well. He struggled with mathematics the most. The tutor had not been allowed to strike him for making mistakes. The Old Man saw to that, the tutor, a very frigid looking woman with mousy hair and a pinched nose, would report to him after each class. He would cane his backside and when he started getting weaker and couldn’t do it himself, he had that wretched Lincoln do it. Lincoln had been the former butler; he was as monstrous as the Old Man had been. He had tried to stop Alois from going in to see the Old Man when he was on his death bed.

Poor Lincoln, he fell down the stairs just a few days after the Old Man passed away. Such a tragic accident… It made him incredibly sad to think of it.

Dancing had been his favourite – he liked Spanish dancing, Fernando had taught him that. They had practiced in the Viscount’s home, in the big glass roofed ballroom. He had held him close and whispered in his ear to, ‘Send four-eyes away’. Alois had laughed and told Claude he was a nuisance and to face the wall with his hands on his hand. Fernando had told him he was a very cruel little spider.

He had been cruel, because he wanted to dance with Claude. And now he finally would!

Hannah set up the record player; Alois did not recognize the music. He should have to learn. It would be another mistake that could harm his cause later. For a moment he began to worry again, and then Claude held out his hand, “Maybe I have this dance, Your Highness?”

Alois took it with enthusiasm, squeezing hard, “Yes! Ok, what will you teach me first?”

“The waltz is always the best to start with.”

“Oh, Claude,” he pouted, “I’ve danced a hundred million waltzes! Can’t you teach me something different – something fast pace and sexy?”

His eyebrow twitched ever so slightly, followed by a stiff nod of his head, “Your Highness, I thought you intended me to be your tutor this morning? A tutor is not usually commanded by their pupil. They mould their student into their lessons, as it were.”

Alois frowned, “Humph… fine.”

“Besides,” he lowered his head, smirking, “I thought my master intended to have a long dance lesson? The waltz is just for starters.”

His face lit up and he held the hand gently, letting his hand rest on top of Claude’s, “You are taller, Claude, so you can dance as the man,” he told him, “I mean, if my tutor will allow…” he smiled playfully.

“I do not see why not.”

Claude’s hand was on his back, not gripping or pressing or timid. It felt… natural, this was why he imagined Claude’s hand would feel on him. His own rose to lie upon his shoulder, Alois wanted to stand a little closer to him, but Claude was holding him firm. It was not quite what he had hoped for… but it was still nice.

“You begin on your heel,” he instructed, “And bring your foot forwards, yes, master, like that.” They began moving, Claude’s feet were so graceful, Alois’s following almost in perfect timing. They turned and twirled through the steps, their footwork matching. Claude did not smile, but he did nod encouragingly.

That was his way. He was so adorable as a tutor, so stern it made him blush to look at him close up.

After the waltz, a simple fox trot, and after that the tango; the tango was Alois’s favourite of the three, Claude was passionate when he danced. He had seen his butler tapping his feet so quickly before he made wonders happen, moving so quickly and gracefully. He would twist not just his legs, but his arms too; like he was in full flight. It was a wonder to see. Alois let out a soft gasp as Claude tilted him back, he was breathing hard, one of his feet raised in the air, letting his butler’s hand on his back be his assurance that he would not fall. Slowly his hands rose up and held his butler’s face, fingertips almost meeting where his jaw met his ears. They were so close, Claude leaning over him like that, clasping him tight, their chests close. For a second he imagined the other man would kiss him, how it would feel to have his Claude kiss him…

And then he was straightened up, his feet back on the ground, those strong, smooth hands away from him. It felt like his head was spinning.

“You must remember to keep one’s hands in proper position,” Claude said calmly, “Passion is the centre of the tango, but you must not forget the proper positions. Other than that, you did well, master. This concludes our dancing lesson.”

Alois was still flushed, his legs felt a little wobbly, “Oh, yes…”

“And now I will escort you to the study, you have an hour of mathematics. I will begin with some long division-”

That jolted him back to his senses, “What?”

“Yes, Your Highness, long division, some basic multiplication and oh, yes, we shall practice your times tables…”

“Claude, you are just my dance tutor!”

“No, no, sir, you instructed me to be your tutor. I believe you said you wanted to learn mathematics, literature, languages as well as dancing. I am better at the German language than French, what would you like to learn?”

“Claude-!”

“My master commanded me to be his tutor for the day, and I will teach you as rigorously as I can. It is on my duty as your butler, Your Highness.”

Something told him his decision, perhaps, had not been the wisest.

“Come now, master, it is a noblemen’s place to be well learned. I will transform day into night, sugar into salt, creatures to corpses, and in this case, my master into an educated gentleman. That’s what makes a Trancy butler.”
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The Devil's Smile