So much credit goes to the lovely Neneko from lairofthedevil for inspiring this story. This is meant to be a fanmade sequel to her fancomic "Phobia" and is meant to be read along side her "Obsessia". While Ciel and Sebastian are busy in Italy solving the Mary Ann Cotton case at the Belli mansion, Lizzie Middleford is back at Ciel's mansion and she's taking part in a far more grisly role than she did in "Phobia".

Some of the characters belong to Neneko and are not my own original characters. This is meant to be a fanmade sequel to "Phobia" and not a direct copy of it, so please keep an open mind to the changes in interpretation and characterization. Neneko is fabulous but I'm not Neneko, so please don't expect me to write the same way that she does. She was also kind enough to draw the cover illustration for Reprise as well.

Thank you to anyone who reads this story and an even bigger thank you to Neneko, who has helped and inspired me immeasurably in creating this. I look forward to an exciting future writing more stories with you, dear! 3

Part I: I am the Plague

Elizabeth sits in Ciel's basement in a fine green velvet robe, it drapes over her and she feels groggy, as if she doesn't know exactly why she's there. She recognizes this as a room that she and Ciel used to play hide and seek in when they were children. She knows it's remote, but she doesn't know why. She feels like she's had too much wine to drink and the Ciel kissing her isn't really Ciel. His chest isn't this soft, and neither are his lips, for that matter.

"Ciel, do you remember anything from that night?" Lizzie asked. She had been plagued with memories, or perhaps a lack of memories, a complete amnesia of a time in her life. She remembered meeting meeting Priscilla, then all of the sudden- nothing. It a week after the fact and it seemed like Priscilla didn't remember her at all.

"Elizabeth, don't make me tell you again- you tripped in the basement and smacked your head. That is all that happened to you." Ciel reminded her. He was irritating Lizzie with his dismissive attitude. She did more than fall in the basement when Priscilla and her were exploring the manor, she had kissed the other girl! She couldn't remember it, but she was sure it had been more than once, too. Of course Ciel wouldn't remember that part of it, and if she had her way, she would have forgotten it as well.

"Ciel-"

"Elizabeth. You are fine."

"But I swear that Pris-"

"Is fine! Goodness you two just had tea! Just drop it. You both were fooling around in the basement and you both had fallen. You were fine in a few hours. It's normal and fine if you don't remember that night, the doctor said you were fine, you are fine," Ciel assured her, but she did not feel fine. She felt confused and she hated feeling like she didn't know what was happening in her life anymore.

"I think-"

"Nothing. Now, I will be leaving you here while I do a quick investigation in Italy with Sebastian. Can you promise me, promise me, that you will stay out of trouble?" Ciel asked her.

"Yes, dear." Lizzie nodded along. She'd stay out of trouble, she'd obey. She wouldn't ask more any more questions. Every girl in the country of roses is raised this way. With her head wrapped in cotton, nobody told her to think. Never question your lord, always be cute and meek. Wear gloves to cover the callouses on your hands. Don't wear make up or he can tell when you've been crying. Keep your voice soft even after puberty has deepened it. Tighten your corset, he won't care if you're not breathing but he tell when you're unfashionable. He's prettier than you.

"I promise I will be back as soon as I can and we can plan our wedding, alright?"

"I love you Ciel, stay safe." Lizzie said, waving goodbye. It would to have been out of line to suggest, than in the very least, she preferred the kisses from other girl over Ciel's. Lizzie doesn't feel as if his heart is in it, and she's questioning if hers should be in it, as well.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Elizabeth thinks Ciel is a liar. Or if he's not a liar, he is in he very least, omitting more information to Lizzie than she deems necessary. She goes to bed that night, alone, and in the silk nightie she had imported from Paris, France. It was pale lavender with black netting lace, and if Ciel were here instead of being in Italy with Sebastian- he would have appreciated it. She remembers seeing Priscilla wear a similar night gown when she was with... oh it didn't matter. What did Lizzie care what night gown her friend was wearing, or if she seemed completely different after her amnesia? She feels like she's not supposed to remember that. Like so many facets of life, ti is supposed to be shut off from her, it is out of her sphere of influence. Lizzie drifts off into her dreams against the cotton bed sheets and in her dreams, tries to forget about the intolerable thoughts.

"You're right, because you're not." says a voice, and before Lizzie appears a woman she does not recognize, but she is certain that she knows her. There is something about her snarky smile and that 'I-can-get-you-to-do-my-will' appearance. It reminds her of a black swan on the lake a midnight, her black feather barely illuminating by the full moon. On any other night, she would have vanished into the void.

"Excuse me?" Lizzie asks. This is her own dream, simply a manifestation of her inner thoughts and she believes that she has every right to ask.

"I said- someone doesn't want you to remember what happened between us."

"It's not my place to question." Lizzie said.

"Why don't you take a look in Ciel's library? Why not take look and see if there's not a few books in there that can lead you to a better answer, hm?" her black swan asks. And what a strange thing for her mind to make up, for she had never shown interest in Ciel's library before and had been there on or two times.

She can usually think up a rational explanation for her dreams but she feels as if there is something very much amiss with her mind as of late. She feels like all of her thoughts as of late had been those coming in from an unwelcome parasite, feasting on her dreams and riding on the tailcoats of her imagination. Lizzie knows that her dreams are just dreams and that she has the dreams of a sad, hormonal girl. She is lonely because Ciel is not there. She is dreaming things and making them up because she doesn't have Ciel to reign her in. Ciel is the smart one- she is not. Ciel is the strong one- she is not. Ciel is the resourceful one- she is not. That is how it's meant to be. She doesn't ask questions. She acts cute for Ciel. She is the angel of his house and nothing more. That is how it's meant to be.

"You're unsatisfied."

Lizzie gets out of the bed and takes the metal lantern with her. It is late and the moon is high in the sky, she does not care. She will get up and do as she pleases, for she is bothering no one, and though Ciel may protest, he was not around to control her. She has a thin silk housecoat on over her nightgown and soft slippers that make her footsteps on the hard floor inaudible. The Phantomhive manor is empty and barren, for it is made to hold so many people ,and yet hardly anyone is ever home. Many parts of the estate look as if they've never been touched, and like a doll house, are never meant to the touched by human hands. It is only a display of humanity.

"You wish you didn't have to rely on the love of a man who doesn't love you to get by."

She walks up to the library door, the large wooden door is locked with a large padlock. It is old and rusted, the key is probably in Ciels' office. Elizabeth scowled at the lock, because she had walked so far and she did not feel like walking back through the desolate halls decorated with austere paintings. The ancient lock nearly falls apart in her grasp as she pulls on it, because Elizabeth doesn't need a key to get into a place. If she wills it, anything can fall apart in her grasp, if she wants it to, and so, so rarely does she ever want it to.

"You're alone."

Lizzie doesn't know which of the hundreds of dusty tomes she should be looking at. The library is three floors and comprises a large part of the manor. It has little outlets here and here of tables, desks, and velvet plush chairs by the fire place for the purpose for reading in any position. Vincent Phantomhive was rumored to have read every book in the library- twice. She would divide and conquer, even if it took her until dawn.

"I can help you."

She sat complacently at the table with the dusty, leather bound book, the edges of the covers were worn at the edges, the cloth of the inside cover was nubby and frayed to the touch. Like magnet, she was drawn to this particular book, for she had simply started her quest through the library aimlessly picking at books. The spine was unmarked, and the charcoal gray leather did nothing to the make the book stand out from the others. Yet, somehow, it called to her, or perhaps, she was being led to it by an unknown force that had taken up residence within the furthest parts of her mind. It was handwritten, and it's yellowed pages gave off the indication that this could have been handwritten within some monastery. The archaic dialect was older than Shakespeare himself, the contents of the books told of items that Elizabeth did not know of. Symbols she did not understand the meaning of or purpose to, and an assortment of dubious things that sounded like they were up. Was this a tome of ancient magic, or the mad ramblings of a monk who had gone mad from years of isolation, lost within a fantasy world of sigils, incantations, and outrageous tales of a world she never wished to venture towards.

"Look for the answer."

She doesn't know what the answer is.

Lizzie dreams of Priscilla.

"What are you?" Lizzie asked, facing her black swan. Priscilla is taller than she is, though she lacks the same womanly features. Lizzie is not sure if she is simply younger and less developed, or if she was caught in a strange permanent stasis. Priscilla is blonde and she is beautiful, much like Elizabeth but her beauty sits on the edge of a razor and drips down to the floor and through the cracks in between floor boards.

"Guess," Priscilla teases and she laughs as Elizabeth's face grows red with frustration. She will not be toyed with, not in her own mind, but Priscilla is under the impression that she can be.

"You're not Priscilla," Lizzie said, and Priscilla snaps her fingers, as if she continues to mock Lizzie, as if she doesn't need her, which she does.

"Well, you've crossed out one name in a billion, why don't you consider getting more specific?"

"Tell me what you are." Lizzie said again. Priscilla is thrown back by her insistence, Lizzie will not budge and Priscilla can feel it between them, as she relies on Lizzie's attention to survive, that Lizzie will not accept anything other than this.

"You are different when you're in your own mind, I had never thought that you could be so... forceful. Well then, let me entertain your questions. One- I am a fury, and two, I am a hair width's length from death itself, and you have managed to summon back."

"What is a fury?"

"You have an entire book in front of you... well, you did. You're asleep right now," Priscilla said.

"Then we have time. Go on, pontificate for me, fury."

"I was a fury taking residence in the body of one Priscilla Grenfell and I was attempting to get my own body, until Eisengrid betrayed me, killing my new body and nearly destroying my soul. Yet, somehow, it managed to survive out there in the void long enough to take up residence- inside you. Tell me Elizabeth, do you think of me often?" Priscilla asked Lizzie a question, one which she refuses to answer. Of course she thinks of her often, there is very little else of what she thinks of lately, even her concentration on the latest fashion line has waned considerably since that week. It is not her case to be had, but Lizzie suspects it is more than likely that the pomme rouge case was never truly completed, or if it was, that Ciel was omitting something big from the picture. Entire parts of a week do not slip through the grasp of a person, no matter how normal he says that is.

"I cannot take the energy of a human against their will without a ritual. There is no other way for me to have gotten here without you willing it." Priscilla said. Of course a fury cannot force a human, but one can most certainly blackmail a human into wanting to help her, a loophole which Priscilla conveniently does not bring up. She seemed so honest but who was Elizabeth to trust the word of a woman who outright admitted to being inhuman? And really, who was Elizabeth to not trust the word of her future husband, however suspicious his actions might have been.

"I don't believe you."

"Well, you are going to have to, bunny, because unless you want to help me create a new body, I will be stuck here, forever feeding off your delightful thoughts of me. Some of which, I have to say, are quite exciting." Priscilla teased. Lizzie's face grew red with guilt, knowing that someone else was in there, watching the things and reading the thoughts she wanted to keep secret.

"Shut it fury. I have no reason to want to help you." Lizzie said, yet she must have, for if she did not, she could have banished the fury but Priscilla was still there, quite unbanished and still wanted.

"Well, would you like to be host to a parasitic twin, no matter how attractive I may be, I am still resident here."

"I don't trust you."

"That is a fair point, but here is another- I can't exist without your help. In this situation, you can do whatever you want to me, you have the upper hand over me."

"I could be persuaded to help you if you stay in line, I suppose you can be trusted on a short leash."

"How delightful! Get reading, my protege!" Priscilla cheered as she clapped her hands enthusiastically, it was an action that would have sweet and endearing if anyone else had done so.

Elizabeth awoke in the library, the beams of light from morning sun shone down on her through the windows. The trees rustling in the courtyard created waves of shadows that fluttered across her skin. She was groggy and unceremoniously displaced in the library, she clearly looked like a disheveled, foolish girl who spent the night reading in a library she wasn't allowed to be in. Had her mother been here, she would have been thoroughly scolded and called improper, after all, Elizabeth was under constant reminder that she wasn't a proper girl. She hadn't the patience of skills for the fine, dainty arts she was told she had to like, she was more gifted in the chest than a prostitute, and of her temper, how it had made her less-than-delicate frame appear downright beastly. No wonder why Ciel was in Italy, any man would have willed himself away from such a girl! She was unfit as wife.

Even worse still, was how she had spent the night coming in and out of strange delusions. The images of women who were more appealing to her than they should have been flowed through her mind. She tried to brush them off, yet every time the memory of Priscilla brushed gently into the back of her mind, holding her tight in an embrace she refused to break away from. In front of her, is the old tome of magic and incantations that she did not understand, or believe in, though after last night, she may have been significantly more inclined to believe it. They could have been delusions, but the force that had compelled her to do things she normally would not have thought of, put ideas in her head she would not have had on her own. It felt as if her actions were that of an unknown parasite, taking a known form and carrying around her body like a flesh puppet. It was better than to feel like she was alone. For now, she never felt like she was alone, even though there was not another soul in sight, but out of sight? Lizzie knew better than to think that she was alone with these books.

To validate her beliefs, she looked high and low on the subject of the furies, and she beheld information she did not want to believe. She flipped to the page, detailing out the nature of a fury. A female figure, similar to that of a demon but with more limited abilities. Furies are unable to take the energy of humans against their own will, and often rely on inhuman servants to do their bidding. Furies are extremely strong and able to implant and transmute the nature of souls themselves, for they exist as souls that occupy the bodies of others. Furies do not have bodies of their own, they must gain energy from existing as soul before they can create a body of their own. If her mind was making this up, then it would not have had the same conclusion about furies as this book did. Lizzie closed the book, and took her silk outerwear off, so that she could disguise the ancient book with in it. She would be keeping this tome for safe keeping, just in case she needed any more information from it.

She didn't want to know why the Phantomhives had a book like this.