Chapter One: Nightmares
It was a regular day working on the Queen's cases. My master, Ciel Phantomhive, sent me into town to find out about his current case. The only information we had so far was that young men in their twenties had been declared missing without a trace. I was heading to the Undertaker's to see if he had any leads or information on the missing. As I jump on a neighboring roof, close to the Undertaker's, I caught a glimpse of familiar crimson hair. The annoying reaper looked as if he was struggling, collecting the cinematic record of a recently deceased young lady. I stopped to watch as he finally finishes his job, looking extremely tired and not his normal flamboyant self. I bound over to him, seeing if he could hold some key to tie the case together. As I approached, he tenses.
"Why, hello Sebastian," he says with fake enthusiasm, without even turning to look at me.
"Evening, Grell. I was wondering if…" I pause, taken aback by his stance and melancholy inflections. "Is something wrong?" His green eyes dart to mine, searching for answers that have been troubling him.
"How do you know something is wrong?" he remarks, concerned. He nervously looks away, crossing his arms defensively.
"You are lacking your usual 'Je ne sais quoi'." I state. He looks back at me in defeat.
"I have just been having these nightmares is all." He answers matter-of-factly.
I am intrigued that he did not try to fight me. "Oh? What about?" I ask determined. Maybe if I know what scares him, I could use his fears to get answers out of him later.
"Oh, um…well." He says nonchalantly. "Could we go someplace more ...private?" He smirks.
"Grell, I do not have time for your continuous passes at me. If you do not intend to tell-."
"No, I do. Just not…'out in the open'" he scans the area for anyone nearby that may be listening. Once he assumes no one will be following, he starts west.
I follow him from a distance, wondering if taking the time to talk to the redheaded reaper will be worth it. We come to a large condo and I look up at the old, dark building questioningly. He brought me back to his place? "Honestly, I do not have time for this." I mutter under my breath.
He leads me up to the third and final floor. We walk down a long hallway and he stops at the end of the hall, and pulls out some keys. The key he uses is in the shape of a chainsaw. How predictable. He opens the door and steps inside, expecting me to follow.
The hallway is bland and boring but just on the other side of the doorway, extreme space and under-worldly elegance waits. His walls are adorned with red and black rose wallpaper. The carpet is the color of dried blood, with the slight metallic smell of the inspiration for the carpet color hanging in the air. Old antique furniture that is in pristine condition decorates the large sitting room. Colorful paintings of death and intricate sculptures scatter their influence around the room. "You have quite a taste in interior design." I smile slightly as the red-haired man blushes from the middle of the room.
"Would you like some tea?" He squirms from his spot, clearly not used to having company.
"No. That is quite alright." He crosses to an 18th century chair and takes a seat. I, however, choose a small loveseat closest to the door. I put my hands together and place them in my lap. I wait for him to begin but he just fidgets across from me."Grell, I do have business I must-" I start but the crimson reaper cuts in.
"I know. I'm just trying to…collect my thoughts." His face contorts as he ponders how to start. I drum the back of my hand with my fingers and impatiently clear my throat.
His eyes dart around the room and, after moments of involuntary sighs, he finally begins."You know Madame Red and I worked together on that string of London murders a while back?" He says sheepishly. I nod and gesture for him to get to the point. "I keep having nightmares, flashbacks, about the murders. The dreams start out as memories, simply replaying the scenes in my mind, but right as Madame Red goes in to cut into the out-of-her-wits victim, things morph. I become the victim. I become the terrified person who is going to get ripped open. It always ends with me looking into Madame Red's confused and frightened eyes as she tries to stop herself, noticing that I'm no longer standing next to her. She never can seem to stop herself though. I feel the blade pierce my skin, intense pain, and then…darkness." The effeminate man shifts uncomfortably.
"What do you think is evoking these hallucinations?" I ponder. I rub the bridge my nose, challenging my sanity in coming here.
He jerks his head side to side and continues. "I…I am not sure but I do have a strange feeling about it though. I feel almost as if Madame Red isn't entirely gone." The red cloaked brute somewhat shudders at the thought.
"Madame Red was a mere human. How could she survive a fatal blow right through her body with an enhanced grim reaper's scythe?" I ask inquisitively.
Grell stands up and rushes to his room. He returns in a breath, wielding a black and silver scrapbook with old articles and newspaper clippings spilling out. He places the mess of papers on the coffee table and quickly flips to a page with Madame Red's picture plastered in a Shinigami Realm News bulletin. A headline reads, "Human shatters souls!". Grell turns a page, revealing the list of the ten most wanted people in the shinigami realm outlying some of the most infamous rogue reapers surrounded in handwritten letters from Angelina Durless herself.
I examine the Most Wanted poster closely. Number eight on the list reads:
Angelina Durless
Wanted for being the only human to successfully render a soul unattainable
Reward!
I contemplate how a human could possibly figure out how to rip a soul. Even reapers need a specialized weapon to tear a soul from its body. How could a lowly human, Ciel's aunt, estimate the right precautions as to not put herself at risk in the process?
I begin racking my brain for any possible explanation when Grell lays a wad of rolled up pounds on the table. My eyes widen as the realization hits.
"You killed her for-" A hurt, almost remorseful look crosses the feminine man's face.
"Yes." He shakes his head and clears his throat. "I had to take her out. She was a major threat. But I-"
"You regret it?" I finish.
"Well…" He stands, closing the book and retrieving the money from the table. He crosses the room and places the things on a small table next to his chair and his takes his seat again. "I was-am" He corrects himself before continuing, "confused about my feelings on this case."
"You were assigned to take on a case not directly associated with the reaping of a soul?"
He stirs."Well, yes. It is not common but on rare occasions, when certain.. challenges.. present themselves, reapers are forced to get to the bottom of the strange occurrences, as to halt any unregistered should collection. Or, in this case, the total destruction of souls."
"Why were you chosen for this specific case?" I interrogate impatiently.
He smiles slightly. "We both have our crimson locks. It was only natural for me to be chosen for a lengthy case with an unnatural flamboyant human that was Angelina." His smile twists into a sneer. His plump pink lips outline his shark like teeth. His eyes drop from mine to the scrapbook in front of him, "also, our pasts tied us together as well. We were destined for each other."
"Your... pasts? As a reaper, your past, and future, is merely to reap and harvest the souls on the To Die ledger. How could your pasts possibly be the same?"
"My past as a human. " He shivers as the air thickens. I raise an eyebrow as he twirls his thumbs. I know nothing of the small reaper's human life. Honestly, I had never thought about it. However, seeing Madame Red's cinematic record on that fateful night, I can't possibly believe that he has a similar story.
"What do you mean your pasts link you two together?"
He sits up in his chair a little straighter. "It's simple. You saw her cinematic record. You know."
"But, I don't understand." My finger twitches as I wait for him to respond.
He sighs and looks out a nearby window. "It was a long time ago. None of it really matters now. I just can't shake the feelings that she is still… around." He rubs his eyes a bit and looks back in my general direction. He clearly was looking at me, but through me. His eyes glaze over at the remembrance of his short lived partner.
"It does matter. It all matters if I have ever going to get a bloody break in the case." My eyebrow twitches in annoyance. The trance Grell was in breaks and he shoots me a hurt look but then a sad understanding washes over his face.
"Oh, right. The brat's case. What is it this time?" he asks with innocent curiosity. I open my mouth to answer when there is a knock at the door. Grell gets up, rather confused at who could be visiting him in the middle of a work day. He opens the door to find Ronald Knox, leaning on the doorframe and panting.
Authors' Note: First time trying a mystery. I hope you all enjoy! Please leave reviews and don't be shy, PM me! :D