That Butler, Suspicious

"Dammit! Someone's playing with me!" my young master shouted, throwing a small box across the room.

We had been working on a very odd case for the last three weeks, one in which affluent young men of London would simply disappear from their beds at night, and my master had found the whole thing extremely trying. There were no witnesses to the kidnappings, no clues left behind, but after each disappearance my master would receive a box with a lock of hair from the victim inside it and a taunting note addressed to the Queen's Guard Dog.

"They're trying to make you angry, young master, which will cause you to make stupid mistakes," I said, trying to soothe him.

It had been the wrong thing to say. "I know that, you bastard!" He was shouting again. "There can't be this many disappearances without someone seeing or hearing something! All we have to go on are these ridiculous little packages and they're doing us a world of good!"

Ah, that was sarcasm. After a year and a half of serving my young master, I'd learned to recognize it and wisely stay silent. I retrieved the box and read the note over again. To the Queen's Guard Dog-A memento from our latest guest, Lord Phantomhive. The paper and ink were too common to bother tracing, the box was folded from a single piece of pasteboard, also too common to bother tracing. Aside from that, there was nothing to go on.

"A bloody disappearance every night for the last three weeks!" he shouted, pacing back and forth on the hearth rug. "We start receiving those a week before we're called into the case and still NOTHING!"

If I didn't know better, I would have said that the young master was about to have a tantrum.

"None of the families or servants of these men heard or saw anything! What were, they deaf and blind?"

"No, they were human," I reminded him. "They don't have the best sight or hearing."

"Quiet, you!"

Oops.

"There has to be something we can go on! There has to be some sort of clue!"

I pulled out the notes from the case. The only thing these young men had in common was that they were unmarried, in their late teens or early twenties and still lived in the family home. A few were from the wealthy "trade" families of London while others were from landed gentry families and noble families. The disappearance of a duke's son had spurred the Queen to contact my master and here we were, two weeks later and with no leads. Oddly enough, there had been no ransom requests or threats to any of the families in the intervening time. Most unusual. Due to this case my master had begun sleeping poorly and merely picking at his food and this state of things was something that could not continue. As it was, he was up far past his usual bed time since we'd already been to the latest victim's house, a young man called Ulrich Heiderich, the German ambassador's son. The only reason that we'd learned about the crime the same evening was that the ambassador was in the habit of checking on his son before heading to bed himself and since the boy had never been known to sneak out of the house at night, he'd been rather alarmed. The young master's "memento" had arrived shortly after we'd returned to the town house, confirming that young Master Heiderich was one of the victims of this infuriating kidnapper.

"The young master is not thinking," I chided him. "You must consider all the tools at your disposal."

"I'm trying to think!"

A sofa cushion acquired the powers of flight and I caught it easily. Had he not heard what I'd said? "You are too angry to think effectively, young master," I answered. "Calm yourself and consider the problem from a new angle."

He kept pacing. And pacing. And pacing…I could tell that his mind was working furiously, but I knew that he was merely turning the same information over and over in his head. Suddenly, he stopped and threw himself into an easy chair. "There has to be some way to make a break in this case!"

"I'm sure that there is," I said evenly. "Would you like to see the case reports again?"

He held out his hand and I placed the sheaf of papers in it. I left him to his reading and slipped out to fetch him some tea and a little snack. Hopefully he would eat it. He'd lost almost a stone in weight in the past few weeks and since his frame was already spare he had me worried.

I returned to his study ten minutes later with a pot of tea and some sandwiches to find he had spread the papers all over his desk. In one hand he clutched a map of London and in the other he held a pencil. He was marking the map just as I'd come in and as I set down the tray I heard him swear under his breath.

"I was hoping that the person behind this would be trying to make some kind of pattern in London, but nothing shows up on this map," he muttered. "I've tried shapes, I've tried letters, I've tried numbers and Roman numerals…"

"Why don't you take a break, young master?" I suggested. "You've been working on this problem for hours."

Sighing, he put down the map and pencil. "All right. Honestly, I feel as if my brain's become mush over the last few days, but I can't shake the feeling that there's some kind of pattern that I'm just not seeing."

I poured him tea and added two sugars. He tended to eat more when he had something sweet to go with a meal, and I was not above using any advantage at my disposal. "For your quite-late-evening snack, we have ham and spinach sandwiches on whole wheat bread and chicken and watercress sandwiches on potato bread. If you eat at least two sandwiches, I think a crème brulee will magically appear."

He glared at me. "What if I ordered you to get it and bring it here?"

"Since I always follow orders to the letter, young master, you would have quite a time hemming me in with the correct ones so that I would bring it here and actually let you eat it."

Aahh, it had been the right thing to say. There had been a period of about two weeks at the beginning of our contract when he'd been absolutely impossible when it came to food and I'd found ways around his orders so neatly that he became quite a frustrated young man. He'd consumed practically nothing but sweets during that time, so I took matters into my own hands. He could order me to bake a cake, but if he didn't order me to take it out of the baking pans, or frost it, or serve it with tea, why, then, I wouldn't. If he managed to order me to do all of that in the first place, then he had to order me to bring it to him, cut a slice, put it on a plate, hand it to him, and then to let him put some of it in his mouth. It took him close to a week to figure out how to inch me along, order by order, but I could tell that he found it very irksome and tiring. More than once he threatened to make me into a stable hand.

In the end, he gave up. After a week that he spent entirely without sweets while eating healthy, nutritious food, desserts made a return the following week. He was so glad that he actually thanked me when I served dessert that evening and ever since then I'd noticed that he would eat a good portion of his meals without being difficult. When his mood turned dark, though, he went back to wanting nothing but sweets, so I would have to be careful to make sure that his health did not suffer. If my master became sickly due to poor nutrition, then what kind of butler would I be?

"Very well," he muttered, taking a sandwich after a sip of tea. "You really are annoying."

"My only wish is for my master's good health," I said smoothly.

Once he'd eaten two sandwiches, I fetched the crème brulee and I was most pleased to return and find him munching his way through a third. Once he'd finished it I knew that nothing would come between him and the dessert in my hand, so I let him slaughter the poor thing.

"I keep thinking that there's a pattern," he said, once he'd finished his promised sweet. "These just can't be random kidnappings. I mean, what would be the point?"

"I think that there's a pattern, too," I confessed, pouring him a second cup of tea. "I think that once we find it, the rest will fall into place."

"Hmm," he agreed. "All right, let's look at this again." He sat down and began writing. In a short time he had a list of all the young men's names and he was looking at them closely. On another sheet of paper he wrote down what the men had in common (little though it was) and kept jotting odd thoughts down. While he did that, I tidied the detritus of his snack away and returned the dishes to the kitchen so I could see to the washing up. I was just drying the last piece of silver when I heard him call me.

"Yes, young master?" I said, reaching the study's door.

"Look at this!" he said excitedly. "I think I've figured out a pattern!"

He was never more tantalizing than this. His eyes were bright and he was eager for me to see what he'd figured out. When he craved my approval, as he was doing now, his soul was so enticing that the temptation was unbearably sweet.

"I was an idiot not to have noticed it before!" he said, handing me the list of the young men's names. "Look! Their given names…when they're written in the order of their disappearances, the first letters correspond to the letters of the alphabet!"

I looked and he was right. At the moment, though, I felt like the bigger idiot. I'd seen their names countless times during the course of this investigation and I hadn't figured this out. Of course, with hindsight, it was obvious. The first victim was a young man called Alexander Blake whose family was well-known in London shipping enterprises. The next victim was Bernard Williams, the eldest son of a baronet, and the next was Clarence Hamsley, of the Yorkshire gentry. His family was in London for the Season.

"With the number of disappearances, the next victim's name would start with V," my master said, taking out Burke's peerage and a London directory. Within twenty minutes he and I had compiled a list of ten possible young men from the correct social circles that could interest our kidnapper.

"What on earth is this fashion for naming people 'Victor'?" my young master said idly once we'd finished. "We have five Victors on this list!"

"Possibly because of the Queen," I suggested.

He put a hand to his forehead. "Of course. And the others are called Vaughn, Varney, Vernon, Valentine, and…Vincent."

I knew the reason for the pause. The previous earl had been called Vincent.

He yawned and blinked at the clock. It was two in the morning. "When was the last time I was up this late?"

"Do you really wish me to answer that, young master?"

"Not really," he admitted. He knew that bed time and his lack of adherence to it was something that had been irking me of late. "Sebastian, help me prepare for bed and while I'm sleeping, go the Yard and inform them of what we've learned and tell them to assign plainclothes protection for each. You and I will return there in the morning to discuss a battle plan."

With ten young men to watch out for, this would be a logistical nightmare. "Yes, my lord."

Our headquarters the following night was the master's town house since it was near the center of London. Each young man had protection, we had runners to keep us in contact with that protection,and now we were only waiting. I could tell that my master found an invasion of the town house by Scotland Yard to be distasteful in the extreme, but my master could be gracious in the face of duty. My master stayed up as valiantly as he could, but around midnight he fell asleep in a chair and left entertaining our guests to me. It was around six in the morning before we heard anything. One of the Victors' protection details arrived, out of breath and pale.

"Young master," I said, shaking his shoulder. I knew he would wish to hear what this man had to say. "Young master?"

He jerked awake and nearly toppled out of the chair. "What? What is it?"

The man began to report to Lord Randall. The young man, Victor Paulson, had gone to bed around eleven the previous night. His protection detail had remained in his room with him while the young man went to sleep. All had been quiet for hours until about five that morning, when a woman in white appeared in the young man's room and absconded with him.

"What do you mean?" Lord Randall demanded. "A woman in white?"

"Yes, sir, but she wasn't like any woman I've ever seen," the man said, gray to the lips. "She was...well, she was terrifying. Her eyes were glowing with their own light and she moved so quickly that she was there and gone before I even had a chance to move or call for help."

That caught my master's attention. "Tell me everything he did yesterday," he ordered. "Everywhere he went and who he spoke to!"

While I was busy fetching tea for the young man faced with the master's complete attention, my master ruthlessly questioned him and received an accounting for each moment of the day that he'd spent with the victim. Victor Paulson was just seventeen. He'd been educated at home all his life due to delicate health. On the day he'd spent with his protection detail he'd visited two friends during the morning and during the afternoon he'd visited his father's office, had lunch with his father at his club, and then he went to a music lesson with a woman called Madame Sylvie Devereaux.

"From what Master Paulson told me, he hated all of his lessons except his music lessons," the constable finished. "By the time we got to Madame's studio he was like a child in a sweetshop."

"And what happened during the music lesson?" my master demanded. "What was he studying? Piano? Violin? Something else?"

"Voice."

I could tell that surprised my master. "Voice?" Among the upper classes, it was normal for young ladies to study voice, but it was rare among young men.

"Oh, yes," the bodyguard told us. "Master Paulson has a pretty good voice, I have to say, but I've got no ear for music myself. Never had one, really, but he sounded like one of those gentlemen you'd hear at Covent Garden."

My master, who frequently visited Covent Garden, kept any opinions to himself. "I see. So nothing happened at the music lesson?"

"Nothing unusual," the man said. "I could tell the young man thought the world of Madame Devereaux, though. What she said sounded like gospel to that young man."

The rest of the man's report was singularly boring and the morning was bright by the time the Yard departed. My master said he would be by later to meet with Lord Randall.

The next few days were not good. Victims that filled the rest of the alphabet disappeared, despite protection details and all the steps the Yard could take. My young master was furious.

"I doubt we'll ever see any of the victims again," he said dejectedly after the last young man, Zacharias Hallwell, was reported missing by his family.

"Why do you say that, young master?"

"Whoever this mysterious woman in white is, she's completed her pattern," he answered. "Twenty-six young men have been taken, for whatever purpose. We might have had a chance to save them if we'd found some clues before the pattern had been completed, but now..." He trailed off. Whenever he had difficulties with a case or thought he might fail, he became despondent.

He spent the rest of that day immersed in files about the victims, trying to find some common link that might lead him to ideas of the young men's whereabouts. I kept busy seeing to my duties and coaxing him to eat at mealtimes. By bedtime, I'd determined to make him a pot of chamomile tea with hops and valerian. To eat, a light castella cake dusted with powdered sugar. Eating something sweet would make him drink the tea, which was what I wanted. The tea would help him relax and hopefully, sleep. He'd been shorting himself on sleep lately, far too often for my comfort, and he needed at least one good night of rest.

It worked. I served him the tea and cake after his bath, and within twenty minutes of drinking a cup of the tea, his head was nodding and his eyes were barely open.

"My, my, my," I said softly. "Young master, you are very tired, aren't you?"

"Hmmph," he said, shifting in his easy chair. "What kind of tea was that?"

"Nothing you haven't had before," I told him. "Come, you can't fall asleep in your chair. Let's get you properly into bed, shall we?"

He didn't argue as I lifted him from his chair, removed his robe and slippers, and tucked him into bed. "Sebastian?"

"Yes, young master?"

"Stay here until I fall asleep."

"Of course, young master."

"Wake me tomorrow at seven," he said.

I winced. That early in the morning he would be in an absolutely foul mood. Well, I had better make sure that a good pot of tea was ready in the morning.

"Young master? It is time for you to wake up."

I opened the curtains and tied them back and by this point, my master...had pulled the blankets over his head.

"Young master? It is seven o'clock."

"I know," he muttered, levering himself into a sitting position.

"Did you sleep well, young master?" I asked as I poured his tea.

"Mmmn."

While I got him dressed and made the bed, I noticed that he had two cups of two instead of his normal one. Ah, so he was trying to wake himself up.

"For breakfast this morning we have a pork sausage and broccoli quiche, fresh berries and grapes, and scones, toast, or pain perdu on the side. Which would you care for this morning?" I already knew the answer, but the laws of the universe dictated that the one morning I made only scones, he would want something different. It was best to have several choices prepared, just in case.

He seemed half-asleep through breakfast but he seemed to perk up over his second scone. That, and a third cup of tea seemed to wake him up a little more.

"Is there anything on the schedule today, Sebastian?"

"There is nothing listed in your datebook today, young master," I told him. "Was there something you did not tell me?"

"Today I intend to re-examine the case," he said, putting his tea cup down at last. "I am sure that there is something that I've missed. While I'm re-examining the case files, I wish you to roam over London. If you sense anything that is not human, tell me."

"You think it may be a demon, young master?"

"Either a demon or something like that ridiculous reaper," he told me. "If you find anything or if anything seems unusual to you, I order you to tell me, Sebastian. Is that understood."

I bowed. "Yes, my lord."

I returned to the house only to make and serve lunch and later dinner, and it was close to the master's accustomed bedtime when I finished my errand. While I had sensed no demons or shinigami, I had sensed something unusual in one corner of London that I felt deserved a closer look. While I helped my master bathe and prepare for bed, I reported my findings.

"If it's not a demon or shinigami, but you sensed something unusual, what could it be?" he demanded.

"Any number of things," I admitted, tucking him into bed. "At any rate, what I sensed was near a certain music studio let to a Madame Devereaux."

My master smiled. "I spent the day going over case files again. It seems that each of the young men have either been under this woman's tutelage or they've met her at the theater, at parties where there was music, and once at a private concert. I think our next step is to talk to this woman."

I nodded. "In the morning, then, young master?"

He dropped into the pillows behind him. Even though he'd been doing mental work, it was no less exhausting for all that. "Yes. I think I need a new music teacher, Sebastian, and by tomorrow afternoon. Invite her to come here to the townhouse for our first lesson. Most criminals enjoy their success in some way, and she might enjoy coming to the house of the detective sent to track her down. Such a chance would be irresistible."

After my master had begun his breakfast the next morning, I went to Madame Devereaux's studio (the floor at the top of four flights of stairs in an old brick building) to make the necessary arrangements for her visit. As soon as I opened the door, there it was...that strange feeling that there wasn't something quite right. There was a waiting room filled with chairs and shelves of books and a door in the far room said, "Lesson Room. Silence, Please." on a card tacked to the wall beside it. I could hear a piano. I waited a few minutes before silence fell. She emerged from the lesson room and a pupil followed close behind her.

"Now, practice the piece twice a day until next week, and I am sure that you will see some improvement, cher," she said, patting the young man on the shoulder.

"Merci, Madame," the young man said. "A bientot."

She smiled and patted his shoulder again. "A bientot."

Her student clattered down the stairs and the Madame caught sight of me. "May I help you, monsieur?"

"Oui, Madame," I said, rising to my feet. "Je suis venu pour organiser un lecon avec Madame."

She looked at me. I could tell that my French had impressed her. "Pour vous, monsieur?"

I shook my head. "Non, pour mon maitre, un jeune homme. Il a treize ans et il aimerait commencer les lecons avec Madame, s'il est possible."

She smiled. "Oui, c'est possible, Monsieur."

She fetched a datebook and consulted it. Fortunately, she was free that afternoon, so we set the lesson for four that afternoon at the townhouse. I bade Madame adieu and went back to my master to report.

"Is she coming?" he demanded as soon as I walked in the door.

"This afternoon at four o'clock. I told her that you wished a new teacher for the piano."

"Perfect!" my master said excitedly. "When she comes..."

"When she comes, I hope you will be ready to give a convincing performance as a student of music," I interrupted. "I told her the level you have reached in your studies and she was enthusiastic to have such an accomplished pupil. Since you have neglected your studies of late due to the case, hadn't you better do a little practicing?"

The look he gave me would have killed a human. As it was, I did feel rather disconcerted.

He didn't say anything, but he did turn around and go into the music room. I heard him take a seat on the piano bench, the ruffle of sheet music, and then some rather...vigorous...scales being pounded out on the piano. Under the notes I could hear grumbling. He took a break for lunch and later for a light tea, and then it was four o'clock.

The bell rang and I answered the door. There the Madame was, dressed in a blue ladies' walking suit and a rather tasteful hat, every inch a music teacher.

"Bienvenue, Madame," I said, bowing. "Suivez-moi, s'il vous-plait."

I showed her to the music room, introduced her to the young master and he to her, and I stayed in the room on the young master's orders to turn the pages of the music while he played. While she was there, I sensed nothing unusual. Indeed, she seemed entirely human, but I knew that I had sensed something unusual about her. We would have to be patient, but eventually, we would find out everything.

Lord Randall was not happy about the sudden standstill in the case while the young master pursued this latest lead. I placated him as best I could and carried on with my duties. Madame Devereaux came each afternoon for the next week to give the master his music lessons and each time she seemed entirely human. While my young master did improve in his music, we made absolutely no progress on the case. I could tell that his patience was wearing thin.

"Have you learned anything about her at all?" my master asked after a week of lessons.

"Her favorite color is blue and she wears it most often," I reported. "She is equally dextrous with either hand, and she lives alone. Aside from that, I've learned nothing new."

"Have you learned anything useful?" he snarled.

"I regret to say I have not," I confessed. "There is something unusual about her, young master, but what it is just yet...I do not know."

The glare he gave me would have leveled a building. "Go to her house. Find out what it was you sensed. This is an order, Sebastian. Do you understand?"

I bowed. "Yes, my lord."

Two nights of watching Madame Devereaux's house yielded nothing interesting aside from learning more about the lady's habits. She was a rather quiet person and the only people who visited her were her students. One of them had disappeared, much the way the young men had, but she did not seem unduly concerned. I couldn't understand it. Her home consisted of her lesson room, waiting room, a three room flat, and an attic. That was it. No matter how much time I spent around the house or on the roof, I could sense nothing more than that something about her was not quite right. I didn't think that I was mistaken in this matter. She had something to do with it.

I knew that on Friday evenings the Madame went to Covent Garden, so I waited until she departed her home before I slipped inside. I was in there less than a moment before I realized that the "oddness" I'd sensed hadn't gone with her. It was still there. I felt as if I'd just entered a very crowded room and everyone had turned around to stare at me, as if I were interrupting a private party. Hmm. Strange, quite strange.

I could sense no one else in the apartment so I began to look around. I examined letters and papers on the lady's desk, her ledgers, her files, and finally the bookshelves. Examining these things usually yielded some clue, however slight. Hmmm. Interesting, the lady had a predilection for hand-lettered books and manuscripts. Her shelves were full of them. One leather-bound book made my stomach turn and I looked at it closely. A grimoire, was it? So, the lady was a devotee of the dark arts, or she did not know what it was she had. There had been charlatans over the years who'd written nonsense grimoires and spell books, but I was certain that this one was genuine. For instance, the ink on its pages had been mixed with human blood. That alone smacked of infernal forces. It was authentic, but clumsily done, and there seemed to be...

WHAM!

In the next moment, I was fighting off something that was trying with might and main to tear my throat out with its teeth. I lashed out and knocked the thing end over end before it banged into the shelves. Strangely, it didn't disturb a volume or ruffle a page. Ah, so it was largely incorporeal. As it rushed at me again I got a good look at it and realized I was fighting an imp. They were minor dark spirits, usually ripe for enslavement by a demon or even a human. This one already had a master, but whoever this person was, it was not Madame Devereaux. The link this beast had was with someone very different from the lady. Hmm.

It didn't take me long to subdue the creature by wrapping it in a blood bond...a demon of my level would have no problem with that. One drop of my blood and "ropes" formed around the creature, holding it immobile. Now, the difficult part would be getting it to talk to me. "Where is your master?" I demanded.

The thing cackled. "And why should I tell you, master demon? Where's yours?"

I tightened the bonds I had on it and the thing shrieked. "One more time," I said. "Your master is not the human woman living here. Who is your master?"

It giggled, hurting my ears. "I have not been ordered by my mistress to talk to you. I don't have to, but she didn't order me not to talk to you, if you understand me..."

I sighed. I had something it wanted. "All right, then," I said. "What is it you wish so you'll answer my questions?"

"Hmmm-hmmm-hmmmm-hm-hmmm!" it chuckled, sneering up at me. "What do you think I want?"

Uh-oh. It could want one of two things and neither experience would be pleasant for me. "An imp of your abilities would want something to increase its power, so it follows that you would want...to feed?"

"Yessss!" it hissed. "I am hungry! SO HUNGRY!" It thrashed within its bonds. "My mistress has kept me hungry for so long...and that human woman lives here and I can almost taste her blood and soul...but I am forbidden! One good meal, and I shall tell you what you wish!"

I was not a demon for nothing. I knew very well that it could eat and then refuse to tell me anything. "I shall bond you to an oath," I told it.

"Whatever you like," it said. "Bind me if you wish, I accept your oath. Feed me, and I will answer you!"

If he went back on the bargain after I fed him, the oath would he'd sworn would kill him. "All right," I said, feeling my gorge rise as I rolled up my sleeve. I slashed my wrist with a talon and pressed my wrist against his mouth...

By the time he'd finished feeding, my entire arm was throbbing with pain. I'd forgotten that imps bit while they fed and the poison in his teeth was slowly burning its way through me. While the pain was considerable now, by morning it would be gone. I would have to endure it until then. "Now, about my questions..."

"My mistress is one who lived here long ago," it hissed, its face slack and stupid from its recent gorging. "She could not bear the thought of death, so she fought all her life to find a way to keep it...She managed it, but she's doomed to a half-life...Her body died, but the rest of her remained...She bound herself to this earth with words and books and she uses human letters to keep herself here...When she needs to go out, she uses the human woman...puts the woman's body on like a suit of clothes and she goes to fetch her prey...she uses me to keep them subdued and to guard them, keeping them hidden from those who want to find them...She is off hunting again, for one pure and bright despite the darkness that surrounds him..."

SEBASTIAN!

The panic in that summons had me out of the apartment and halfway across London in record time. How could I have been so stupid? HOW? I ran as fast as I could, allowing no fears of being seen to stop me...

I burst into the townhouse and found the young master in the parlor, backing away from Madame Devereaux...no, not the Madame. She was giving off an eerie, eldritch white glow and the light in her eyes declared that someone else was inside her body and had taken over. I flew across the room and snatched the young master after knocking her into the wall.

"What's wrong with her?" he gasped into my ear.

"She's been possessed!" I told him, rushing out of the house.

"By what?"

"I'll explain later!" I told him curtly. "Right now, I have to keep her away from you!"

I ran, trying to think of a suitable place where I could fight her. Someplace open...a park! Perfect! I changed my direction and darted off to the nearest park, the lady right behind me. Within a few minutes we were there and I found the perfect place to put the young master...a grape arbor. I put up protections quickly so even if she managed to get past me, she would have to work to reach him. "Young master, I am asking you to remain in this arbor," I told him as the last protection went up. "If you leave this place, you will be vulnerable, and I won't be able to fight her and follow after you in order to protect you. Do you understand?"

He nodded. He was silent, which meant that he'd been frightened. I would have to reassure him later, but for the moment, I had other things to think about.

A cackle drew my attention.

"Hello, master demon," the imp said, grinning. "Ah, I see why my mistress wanted this one...He looks delicious!"

If both of them fought me, I would be in trouble. "Have you been ordered to get my young master?" I demanded while the woman rushed at me.

"Not yet!" it sighed. "Don't worry, I won't do anything unless I'm ordered! You're delectable, by the way!"

I ignored the imp as I fought its mistress. The woman slashed at my face, bit at me...she'd been alive in this half-life for so long that she'd lost most of her humanity. Pitiful, really, but she was still powerful enough to inflict some serious damage on me and possible wrest my master away from me. More than once I had to turn my face away to protect my eyes, and before long my arms and torso were covered in gashes. She'd gained in power over the years during this half-life she'd trapped herself in, which meant she would be a challenge to defeat.

The woman shrieked something and I felt the protections around my master shudder. Oh, wonderful. She'd ordered him to obtain my master. I kicked off of her body and landed on the imp.

"You don't wish to cross me!" I snarled at it.

"I have been ordered," he growled back.

She swept down upon me and suddenly I had both of them to battle. I used every trick I knew, tried to get them attack each other...I'd already been at less than my best due to the feeding and the imp's poison and I was tiring quickly. I had to bring this to an end somehow...I kicked out, sending them halfway across the park...What did I know about imps and human spirits? Weren't they usually bound to a place? To an item?

Inspiration struck and I dropped out of the air, ran through the grape arbor and carrying my master, I headed back to Madame Devereaux's studio.

"Now where are we going?" my master demanded.

"Not now!" I said, fighting to save my breath.

"You...!"

I burst through the door into the studio, grabbed the grimoire, and held it over the nearest gas jet, causing the cover to smolder and catch flame. The shriek that pierced the air made me wince, but I was thanking every lucky star I might possess that my surmise had proved correct.

The woman burst in, still shrieking. "Put it down!" she screamed. "It's mine! MINE!"

"I think you've lived long enough, madam," I said evenly, watching ash flake from the cover of the book.

"NOOO!" she screamed. "YOU CAN'T!"

"And why not?" I wanted to know. "You've lived for centuries. No human is meant to live that long."

She screamed again before whimpering and turning her gaze on the young master. "Kind boy," she wheezed. "You won't let him hurt me...you won't let him burn what's keeping me alive...you want to be safe, don't you? Somewhere safe to spend your life? I can give you that...you'll have love and music and sweet sleep..."

She stepped forward and Madame Devereaux's body fell to the floor. Now, what was facing us was the ghost of an old, old woman, one who looked so old that she looked like a corpse. The imp appeared next to her, lending her its power according to their contract.

"Are you the one responsible for the disappearances of all those young men?" my master asked, surprising me.

"Such sweet boys..." she wheezed. "Sweet, sweet boys, who make music and give me their strength so I can live, and I give them the sweetest sleep and love they'll ever know..." Her eyes were glowing with a fanatic light that even I found a bit frightening.

My master shuddered in my arms. "Sebastian, this is an order," he whispered. "End it!"

I caused the book to blaze, reducing it to ash. She screamed, her scream piercing my head. The imp cackled as it was set free and it was off like a shot, seeking the closest vulnerable prey, a human facing temptation. I placed my master in a chair, lay Madame on her bed, and...

"Young master?" I said, seeing his white face.

"I'm fine," he said shortly. "Do you think the young men are still alive?"

I stiffened as my ears caught a whisper of sound up in the attic. "Yes, young master. They're upstairs in the attic. Now that the imp is no longer here, I sense them."

"Take me back to the town house, and then take each young man to his home," he ordered. "I'll talk to you once you've returned."

I took him to the town house, saw him comfortably ensconced in a chair with a cup of tea, and then I hurried back to the apartment. Madame Devereaux was sleeping rather deeply. I had a strong feeling that when she woke up in the morning she would have a splitting misery of a headache. Well, that wasn't my affair. I went up to the attic and found all twenty-six young men, each of them wrapped in blankets and as deeply asleep as the Madame. Taking two at a time, I carried them to their homes and left them on their doorsteps, to be found by the person who answered the doorbell. By the time anyone arrived at the door, I was gone, carrying the next young man home. It was close to midnight when I returned to the town house, to find my young master still in the chair staring pensively into the cup of tea. He'd swallowed none of it.

"They are all home, young master," I reported, appearing at his side.

He jumped and looked dazedly up at me. "All right," he said flatly. "I'm hungry, Sebastian."

I smiled. "That's right, I wasn't able to prepare dinner this evening. I won't be a moment."

At all times, I kept the makings for a quick soup on hand, and within half an hour I carried a pork and vegetable stew and some hot bread up to my master, as well as a pot of chamomile tea. He'd had a bad fright and quite an upsetting evening, so he needed to relax. I stayed near while he ate and once he was finished I ran his bath and settled him in the tub. I helped him wash, dressed him in a fresh nightshirt, and carried him to his bed. When I tried to put him into bed he held onto my coat lapels.

"This is unusual, young master," I said, rather surprised.

"I'm all right," he lied.

"No, you're not," I corrected, turning so I could sit on the bed and hold him. "But you will be."

"Explain what happened," he ordered. "Explain everything."

It took me the better part of an hour to explain and I could tell that he was digesting everything I'd said. Finally, he spoke. "Will any of them remember anything?"

"It is unlikely," I said as he relaxed.

"Lord Randall will have a fit," he said, finally allowing me to put him in his bed. "He'll probably be by in the morning, and I'll be able to report to the Queen. Well done, Sebastian."

"Thank you, my lord," I said, tucking him in. I picked up the candle and began to leave, but a whispered order stopped my in my tracks. I smiled. "Yes, my lord. I'll stay until you're sleeping. Sleep well."