The next time Ciel Phantonhive reeked of blood and fire was by accident. Sebastian and he were in a warehouse at Limehouse, near the river, where an illegal factory operated by Chinese and Indian immigrants was burning like a torch. The roof was crumpling, menacing to fall down like a pyramid of cards, and the parched timber the walls were made of was spreading the fire very quickly. They didn't get to know the origin of the fire, but with so many fabrics and old machinery it wasn't that odd; any careless smoker could have been the source. And within the hundred of scrawny workers living cramped together in the basement, of course many of them went upstairs at night to have a shared smoke.
Ciel watched in horror as the roof started to crumble. A cough fit had him bent for a full minute, and he realised he had to run from the building as fast as he could, or the smoke would asphyxiate him in no time. His eyes were already watering. And where was that damned butler of his?
"Master…"
Ciel turned, covering his mouth and nose with the brim of his jacket.
"There you are! Move, do something! There are still a lot of people in the basement!"
The workers were running and trying to flee from the ruined warehouse, and the earl could hear lots of voices and movement from outside, from the neighbouring houses, so it was obvious that some help was going to arrive in order to prevent the fire to spread. But he didn't think it was going to arrive soon enough, and the exit door was too narrow to allow all those people to escape in time. Some of them (how many? Forty? Fifty? More?) were going to get trapped by the roof and the fire.
"But master, Lord Vauxhall is escaping. We have to choose, either catching him or helping these people out!"
Ciel didn't hesitate at all, as Sebastian noticed with delight.
"What are you waiting for? Let's go after him!" the young lord shouted.
They caught the man ten minutes later, trapping him against the black and icy waters of the Thames. Lord Vauxhall's doings weren't her Majesty's business, but the man had challenged the underworld the Phantomhives had sworn to keep quiet and in order; so Ciel wasn't interested in taking him to jail. Lord Vauxhall (around fifty years old, black beard with grey streaks in it, dressed in a dark grey suit of magnificent quality, as Ciel observed with almost boredom) looked the younger lord in the eye for a moment and he obviously saw all of it, because instead of trying to beg for his life, he simply jumped into the river. Winter was unmerciful at that time of the year, and Ciel considered the chances of the man: he didn't have many, but they weren't as low as zero, either.
"Sebastian, make sure he never comes up from the river".
"Yes, my lord".
And the dark shadow of the butler was soon lost under the black waters. The earl watched the darkness for a moment, in vain, and suddenly a muffled sound made him turn.
A tall man shrouded in black stepped in the dim circle of light under the nearest gas lamp, his shoes tapping loudly on the deserted street. Ciel hold his breath until he saw the man letting his hood slip backwards, and a mane of white long locks started to fall down from its restraint. He couldn't see the man's eyes, but that smile was unmistakeable. As were the dreadful scars around the man's throat and across his ageless, handsome face.
"Good night, my dear earl!" the man greeted, in a cheerful voice.
"Undertaker", Ciel whispered. He couldn't say that he was surprised, because hardly anything surprised him anymore, but he certainly didn't expect to meet that strange man there.
"You have had a busy night, Ciel Phantomhive", the Undertaker stated. He stopped for a moment, and he seemed to listen to the distant noises; indeed, Ciel could hear the screams and the frightful creaks of the fire and the building still falling down. "Ah, earl… When you will learn how valuable souls are? Even the tiny, least important soul is sacred, you know?"
The young earl said nothing. He was focussed in the Undertaker (one could never truly rely on him), but he was also thinking about how much time would take Sebastian to end that damned lord so they could come back home. He certainly needed a bath and a change of clothes.
The Undertaker leaned forward, again seeming to listen, and he finally said:
"The Shinigamis are having a packed night, too, thanks to you…"
Ciel frowned.
"I didn't start the fire."
"You didn't help to avoid it either. And you have something that could have saved a lot of lives… though you decided against it."
He meant Sebastian, of course, and that thought made Ciel feel uncomfortable. He knew the Undertaker suspected Sebastian's nature, of course, but he didn't like to talk about it with him. And he didn't like that someone tried to make him feel guilty.
"I see that you don't value even your own soul, earl, as you are making it head to hell… Tst, tst, tst… What a naughty boy. So young but yet so evil".
Ciel turned to look again at the river, disgusted.
"It's not like if my soul had any chance of going to heaven, either way", he whispered.
He didn't say it for the Undertaker, but for himself. But he heard nevertheless, because suddenly the man was just behind him, mere inches away, and his breath caressed the boy's ear when he answered:
"I know you don't expect heaven or hell… but there are other ways, young earl…"
Ciel turned his head slightly, shocked. He could see now the yellowish eyes of the tall man, and that wide grin, and he felt sick. What was the Undertaker talking about? What other ways? For him, there was just one: the Great Void, the nothingness that would greet him once Sebastian ate his soul. There was nothing else!
The man's eyes looked down; Ciel followed his gaze and found himself staring at an object on the Undertaker's hand. It was a silver chain, and crimped along it there were a number of lockets, the kind that usually contained a hair lock of someone dear who had passed away. The Undertaker placed the chain with the lockets on Ciel's hands. Astonished, the boy watched carefully the lockets and read the dates and initials inscribed in the delicate objects. Some of them dated back to three hundred years ago, but one was just twenty years old. He didn't recognise any of the initials, but made an effort of recording them on his mind for later study.
"This is my way out, Ciel Phantomhive…" The Undertaker whispered softly, leaning until he was touching the young earl's ear with his lips; Ciel was too shocked to move away. "The only one I can offer. Think of it." And then his lips went still down and Ciel felt them dragging along his jaw. Was that… a kiss… of sorts? Before he could react besides gasping, the strange man straightened up and added: "Your butler is coming back, so I'll have my leave now. It was a pleasure talking to you, earl, as always."
And he retrieved his silver chain and moved away so fast that Ciel's eyes could barely follow him; the man walked fast and disappeared among the shadows in the time Ciel needed to turn towards him. He was left there, alone, feeling confused and slightly angry, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at the comforting sight of Sebastian, the reliable Sebastian, who looked at him with a pleased smile on his face.
"The deed is done, young master. It's past your bedtime, if I'm allowed to say it."
"Let's go, then."
The demon took the boy between his arms and jumped high, towards the sky. He would fly to the Phantomhive Manor now that it was dark night and the few awake people were too busy trying to smother the fire and tending the injured. He felt his master twitching in his arms, looking for a comfortable position until he found it, and smiled while he inhaled, deeply, the fragrance of his charge. Blood and fire. YES.
