This is part of my "Crossroads" series, which is Black Butler if it had taken place in SPN universe, but it can be read as a standalone story. All you need to know is that Sebastian and Ciel are on the hunt for a monster :)
- takes place soon after the contract started. Ciel is 10 years old. SPOILERS for mangaverse.
April, 1886
The air was crisp with the bite of winter that hadn't yet lost its grip entirely, and the slight breeze twirled its way across the yellowed grass as the dog-cart jostled over the packed dirt road, bumping from lump to pothole and rattling the teeth of the aristocratic child who sat perched up front, trying hard to maintain an air of haughty indifference to the surroundings. In fact, all he managed was to look both bored and slightly pained—but perhaps the difference there was slight. The child watched the surroundings fall away behind them as they passed through the countryside; dry-stone walls running back at perpendicular angles, sheep standing in fluffy, black-legged clumps in the fields, and here and there, the lone farmhouse with its hint of grayish smoke rising from a chimney as though to call to mind the warmth of a fire. It wasn't still cold enough for winter coat or blanket, but the child known as Ciel Phantomhive was glad for the gloves on his hands. He smelled like the outdoors—air and dirt and grass, woolen coat and cart planks, smoothed and splintered by the years, and underneath that the hint, still, of infancy; that child-smell that reminded one that this boy, watching the world with two cold blue eyes, was yet ten years old. His façade of indifference would dip toward truth as he stared with bored mien at the land around, and then a spike of adrenaline would hit and he would look toward his butler's unreadable back, the black overcoat and the black hair above it. He did not seem to notice that he did so; nor did the butler draw attention. It was only natural, after all, for one in the child's position to feel discomfited with what the butler was; what his instincts, not yet dulled into habituation, were telling him about the danger.
Ciel sighed deeply.
"Is something the matter, young master?"
"No," Ciel said. He fidgeted, and sighed again, resting his chin on his hand for a moment. Another jolt had him jerking his head back before he could accidentally knock himself on his own teeth, and he put his hand onto his lap.
"It would be a jolly time if this was all just some wild goose chase and not a case at all," Ciel continued, at last, in a scathing tone that made it quite clear that the way he would think to describe it would be anything but jolly.
"There are the disappearances, my lord," Sebastian said.
"Pshaw!" Ciel waved a hand dismissively, though the butler, who was focused on guiding the horses, could not see the motion. "Coincidence."
"Do you really think so?" the butler replied, with evident amusement.
Ciel closed his eyes as he spoke, piecing together everything that they knew so far. "A small village of less than a hundred people; it's a prosperous village, for its size; its chief concerns are farming, and particularly, the apple orchards which are the pride of the place. The only peculiarity is the number of disappearances marked—and the regularity of it. All in April. The travelers who vanish are all adults, but there is no pattern to who disappears, nor is there a pattern to the years in which these disappearances take place. It seems like a superstition built on coincidence, to me. Of course, the discrepancy could account to lack of record—if some of the missing persons were never added to this tally, or if some locals, whose disappearances were covered up, were added to the toll, a pattern might emerge. Yes," Ciel admitted, at last, "it might indeed be a real case, but I can't help but feel like we've been thrown a scrap. If this 'issue' was not of enough account to send anyone to look at for so many years, why now? Nothing has changed; and no one has recently been reported as missing."
"Perhaps you might call it a 'test'," Sebastian responded. "If you do well here; if you in fact uncover something, it will do nothing but good for your reputation."
"Mm," Ciel replied. "'My reputation'—you speak as though I have one."
"Well, we all must start somewhere, musn't we?" Sebastian said. The bastard was quite too cheerful for his own good, Ciel thought—he could picture the smug smile on his face. Sebastian never did anything, in Ciel's opinion, that was not smug in one way or supercilious in another.
"Yes," Ciel said. "Well. I wonder if they make any good desserts with these famous apples." He looked ahead, and in a moment, round the bend, it appeared: the village unfolded itself from the ground that rose and dipped and rose again, as the cart rattled on. One moment, it was a glimpse in the distance; and only minutes later, it was standing beside the road with the shadow of the orchards a dull green behind it, hidden in a low-lying fog.
The cart drove up through the main road, which became wider and smoother as it passed between a cluster of buildings that served as the town proper. There was a small general store, in front of which they came to a stop, and Sebastian stepped down from the seat.
"Go in on your own and see what you can find out," Ciel said, meeting Sebastian's eyes. "I'll join you in a minute."
"As you wish," Sebastian replied. Ciel watched him walk into the building; the metal bell chiming as it opened. Ciel kicked his feet and looked around, waiting for the group of boys, hovering on the other side of the road, whispering and nudging each other as they glanced his way, to get up the courage to run over.
There were three of them, on closer look; two with hair the color of straw; all three with inquisitive brown eyes. They were simply dressed, but their clothing fit and was not overly patched, and though the winter had been hard, none of them had the sallow cheeks that spoke of hunger. Prosperous indeed, Ciel thought. They watched him with undisguised curiosity, and Ciel returned the perusal.
"You stayin' here long?" one asked—taller by the slightest margin; he was obviously the leader of the little group.
"No, just passing through."
The three boys looked at each other with what seemed both mischief and disappointment. "Aw," the smallest, dark-haired one replied.
"You traveling just wi' him?" The middle one garnered Ciel's attention: he was quieter than the other two, and didn't seem to be possessed of the same levity. Indeed, if Ciel had to place the look in his eyes, he would almost call it anger. The question is, he thought, is it a personal anger?
"Yes." The answer didn't seem to appease the boy.
"You should stay here," the small one said, with a grin. "You could be my brother."
"Don't be forward with the stranger." The leader nudged his companion in the ribs, and he looked down, muttering.
"He could be, though. I like 'im."
Ciel looked away. For a moment, he forgot what he had been doing with this conversation. He looked toward the shop door and wished that Sebastian would come out. He could feel his own heart thumping under his skin, like a snare; fast and wild. Ice seemed to steal itself over his limbs and fog his breath. Don't be so ridiculous, he thought. Lots of people have brothers. This kid… is saying something a little odd, but there's no reason to— he looked down at the ring on his finger, heavy and shining over his thick glove. It steadied him. A moment later, his thoughts resumed. No, that was definitely odd. Might it have meaning? These boys… he looked over at them. They know something. The question is: what?
"Hey—you okay?" It was the tallest one again. "Don't mind Tom, he can be a dummy sometimes."
"Am not!" Tom—the small one—retorted.
"No," Ciel replied. "I'm fine."
"Listen," the tall one said, with a smile. "If you two aren't in a hurry, you should stop by our house for dinner. Mum makes the best apple pie in the whole village," he boasted.
"Henry," Tom complained, "I wanted to invite him."
"Well you didn't, so suck it."
"I'll consider it," Ciel said. "Thanks." He looked back toward the store, and scrambled out of the cart. He stepped up the few steps to the door and glanced back, for a moment, seeing the three boys still crowded around and watching him. The horse flicked its ear and blew out a breath, and Ciel reached up on his toes to grab the door handle and push it open.
Inside, beyond the full-length window, everything was shadowed. There was a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, but it wasn't on. The store smelled mustily of stuff: spices, fabric, flour, tools, all blending into one. Behind the counter at the very back of the store, the proprietor was explaining something to Sebastian, who had put on his best air of innocent curiosity.
"That your boy?" the man asked, and Ciel could have sworn he saw a trace of discomfort pass over the man's face.
"Yes," Sebastian answered, with a smile.
"Hm."
Sebastian looked over at Ciel with a question, and Ciel shook his head slightly. "Well, that will be all, I think," Sebastian said, taking a package that the man handed him. "Thank you very much."
They stepped back out of the store, Ciel blinking at the sudden sunlight that drifted into his eyes. The boys who he had talked to were on the other side of the road again, playing with hoops and sticks. They looked over when the two stepped out. "Hey, you coming?" one yelled, waving.
"Yeah!" Ciel said, waving back. He turned slightly toward Sebastian, so that they could not see him speak. "It seems we've been invited to dinner with one of the village families."
"And you believe this will prove a fruitful means of investigation?" Sebastian said, under his breath, as he helped Ciel into the cart.
"I do," Ciel said. He huffed a laugh. "If nothing else, it should prove fruitful. Apparently this woman makes the best apple pie in the village."
.
.
.