A/N:

This chapter will be especially long because it introduces the characters and the plot, so don't feel discouraged by length! They definitely won't be this long in the future(I am not devoting that much time to this haha)

SO, here you are!

Sebastian Michaelis looked down in distaste at what he was seeing.

"Mey-Rin?"

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

He watched as a blush quickly occupied the girl's face. She was bundled tightly in the master's sheets, swaddled like a child. Goodness only knows how she got herself there. When he first spotted her, she had been rolling around on the ground in them like a dog, the filthy vermin.

"Oh! Well y'see, I was just 'ere doing my business when I heard the thunder crash! Scared me out of my britches, yes it did! So 'ere I was with this large boom, and next thing I know the sheets are flying around me and wrap themselves real tight, yes they did!"

Sebastian sighed and looked at the horizon. The girl was quite right about the storm. Even when he had sensed its presence, it had shocked him when he heard the strike. Shook the chandelier terribly. Normally he would not have minded a little extra excitement in the atmosphere, but it was another matter entirely when the laundry was out to dry.

He pulled the cloth swiftly. With an expert flick of the wrist which, had it been anyone else it would have been impossible, landed neatly folded draped on his forearm. The girl spun around comically. He stopped her rotations and gave her a stern expression.

"Hurry along, now. We haven't much time before the storm and these clothes need to be taken down immediately. The master cannot wear something soiled by rain. God forbid should it land in the mud." He gave her a cheerful smile, which turned coy with a dark glint in his eyes as he handed he handed her the sheet. "Do try to hurry."

Mey-Rin blushed(for Pete's sake...) and made a flustered expression, fumbling. She began taking the clothes down hurriedly, fumbling with the clothespins clumsily. Sebastian returned inside to prepare dinner. Baldroy, the idiot, had already torched one of the night's geese in the oven. Luckily, Sebastian had already bought another, and had set the boy on some other menial task. He should return with Finnian from the garden with mint leaves anytime now. And-Ah! Look at the time! Among his daydreaming he had already lost two minutes. He should have to set the oven to the proper temperature right away.

He came to the kitchen inhumanly fast, for in fact he was not human, and set to work. He finished his job promptly, and began chopping the side vegetables rhythmically. Sebastian glanced outside through the window. He watched the clouds make their steady march towards the manor. Their mood was almost as foul as Ciel's the last time Lady Elizabeth came over with a new outfit for him. He shivered. He never knew a human could be capable of such an atrocity, but the girl had managed something Satan himself would be like as not to do. She had made him wear a bonnet, damn her.

He may be one hell of a butler, but even he had never been to that region of eternal damnation.

His eyes skimmed across the backyard. The trees were blowing madly. The courtyard had been so beautiful earlier that day. Then the sky had been entirely clear, with maybe a few cumulus clouds scattered on the horizon, instead of this dreary overhang that looked like a damp cotton ball. The light was being slowly sucked from the world; it was only 5:15 p.m. in the summer, and yet it looked closer to dusk with every second. More leaves and other debris from the brush flew about the garden. Finnian was going to have his work cut out for him. Which was like as not to say, Sebastian was going to have his work cut out for him.

C'est la vie.

Although he did hope he had some time to himself tonight. He normally did not sleep, and it was not uncommon for the master of this household, Ciel Phantomhive, a thirteen year-old boy with an unusual strict and proud disposition for his age, to send him on another task for one of the queen's latest mysteries. His stature was befitting a boy of his rank, although hardly convenient for Sebastian as Ciel's servant when he wished to spend quality time with his cats.

Sebastian never once regretted making his Faustian Contract, a contract between a demon and mortal, in which the demon acquires the mortal's soul after said mortal's goal is fulfilled. In fact, he could say that he was relishing in this one. He was forced to hide his cats, but otherwise this job was quite enjoyable. And nobody could say he was not excited for the rewards. Beyond Ciel's soul, there were many aspects to the job that he found to be fun.

Most prominently was their adventures. He certainly lost none of the excitement in his lifestyle from before his contract, if not gained some. Ciel was practically making an effort to die, so the challenge of keeping him alive was entertainment enough, and on top of that this little boy's adversaries were quite... well, interesting, to say the least.

Humans in general were just such peculiar creatures, and not a little enjoyable to watch scurry about. Their lofty goals, inhibitions, varying temperaments all were so intriguing. Their lives were so short, so the way they bustled about to make the most of them was like watching dogs fight over meat.

Sebastian looked over at Mey-Rin. She had just finished and been walking in, the wind tossing her hair about her face, when a leaf flew straight onto her glasses. Her hands waved about her face madly when slipped on the ground, throwing the laundry high in the air.

He watched as Finnian and Baldroy returned at that precise moment and tripped over Mey-Rin's fallen form. A basket of mint they had been carrying flew into the air and caught with the breeze.

Sebastian watched the leaves fly and sighed with a tired expression.

Well, the show must go on.

Idiots.

Ciel Phantomhive read the letter from Queen Victoria intently.

Dear Ciel, Earl of Phantomhive, and my loyal servant,
A series of murders have been plaguing England, following the coast from Liverpool down to Birmingham and most of the small towns in between, and have now reached London. In each case, it is always a young girl. The murders are brutal and ruthless, and in each case the women are found in a fountain, entirely submerged, although showing no signs of drowning.
One of the most peculiar traits are the jewelry the women wear, and how they each wear a flower crown. The flowers are always fresh, assumedly prepared by the serial killer. The jewelry, be it a necklace, ring, pendant, or brooch, always bears a honey bee atop a key. A similar symbol had been found tatooed on a young teenage girl who died from a fall at a Madame Trixie's Finishing School eight years ago. The connection between events remains a mystery.
The news grieves my heart immensely. Find the murderer and stop him.

On a lighter note, I do wish you would visit me sometime soon. A boy like you should be allowed to enjoy himself to tea with the queen sometimes, shouldn't he?

Best of Wishes,
Your Queen, Victoria

Ciel sat back in his large armchair by the window behind his gargantuan desk.

His one cobalt blue eye narrowed, the other eye overshadowed with an eye patch and his bluish-black hair.

What could it mean? Obviously a cult was in play, or some sort of dark ritual was being practiced by only one person, but in either scenario, it was clear the murderer was in search of something supernatural.

And the teenage girl from eight years ago only complicated things. It would have been one thing if this string of murders was just beginning, leaving a fresh trail and narrowing down the area in which the murderer was likely from considerably, but Madame Trixie's Finishing School was nowhere near Liverpool. Additionally, if it truly was only one individual, and not a group, that the murderer may be very well experienced and no novice at concealing evidence from the police.

Or it could mean that the girl just fell and died, sending them on a goose chase.

"What a pain," Ciel sighed. If her majesty requested it of him, though, as the Royal Guard Dog of the Queen it was his duty to obey.

He laid out a plan. If he could have Sebastian make a list of all the girls murdered and analyze their information for any patterns; specific blood type, age, boarding school, et cetera.

Meanwhile, he would go to London and view the most recent victim and scene of the crime. The fact that they were all found submerged in a fountain with no signs of drowning was curious. Did she mean that they still even had air in their lungs? Again, it was obviously supernatural.

Then they will have to visit this boarding school to look for any connection with that girl. The traveling will be a pain, but if he missed any of the information there it could possibly leave loose ends in the data when he found the murderer, and that might use even more of his time.

Ciel reached for the service bell cord and pulled. Sebastian would be up at any moment.

Ciel angled his chair so he could look out the window. His one large, cobalt blue eye narrowed, the other overshadowed by an eyepatch and his dark bluish-black hair.

He could see a storm on the horizon.

Amelia Stephenie Abendroth was tired.

She had been running from the storm for an hour now. With a heavy backpack on her shoulders and a small breakfast, she did not know how much longer she could keep this up. It was back-breaking work, quite literally, and if she did not find shelter soon the storm would catch up to her and then...

Then all hell would break loose.

She ran faster.

She was sure that she would come upon a house soon, though. I mean, for God's sake, she wasn't that far from London! She could worry about a fountain after she had found a place to hide for the night.

She stumbled, righted herself, and kept running. If she kept running this way, eventually she should run into a farm or something. She could only hope at this point it was soon, not only because she knew her pursuers were gaining on her, but also because her lungs were on fire. It was like somebody had coated the walls of her throat with sandpaper. It showed in her breathing. It was ragged and frantic.

She stumbled again and righted herself without stopping or missing a beat. Just keep running.

Her blonde hair stuck to her neck and forehead and cheeks from sweat. Her hair was a golden, dirty blonde. A gardener's blonde, as one woman once told her. Everyone in that town had loved her hair because it was so curly. Large ringlets framed her face down to her chest. It framed her face like a lion's mane. Coincidentally her horoscope was Leo. Funny how things stick with you like that, memories and such. Like when she met this woman who offered to buy her a bracelet. She didn't buy her the bracelet, but it was the thought that mattered. Amelia felt horrible when she...

Amelia realized her pace had slowed, and picked it up. She had to focus and keep moving forward. She could not allow her mind to wander like that!

Her backpack jangled noisily behind her. She had no misgivings about how immodestly she was dressed at that moment. She had ripped her skirt off ages ago because it kept tangling around her legs, and her blouse had been a similar story. Now all she wore was a trench coat buttoned by one button on her chest, knee-high lace-up riding boots, wool socks, and her underwear, a one-piece white cotton garment that looked like a lacy swimsuit cover-up. This was the nineteenth century, and even running for her life she blushed a little, hoping her attire was entirely opaque. Truly, if she had just worn trousers that day.

A rain drop fell on her cheek, then her brow. She welcomed the coolness. It reminded her of when she was little and Jack, a boy whose home had been a block from hers, had taken her with his brothers and sister to their watering hole, where they even had a rope swing. She had been so excited!

Yet the excitement she felt now was tainted with fear and urgency. She had to focus on running quickly.

Her breathing was still heaving out, like a steam engine that refused to die. She was not out of shape, in fact she was very slim, never needing a corset(had she even bothered with one), but even she could not keep up hours of constant running.

Her face was flushed against her fair skin. The rain began pouring more steadily now, dampening her clothes and hair. She gritted her teeth against the cold. All her extra clothes were in her pack, and she sure as hell wasn't stopping. Her blue-grey eyes looked at the sky.

The storm was fully upon her now.

She heard a dog howl behind her.

She gasped and stumbled, but did not stop running.

Looking ahead, she thought she saw lights.

"And tonight we have foie gras with roasted almonds on the side, complemented with-"

BANG BANG BANG

"Honestly, who would dare to disturb me at this hour?" Ciel Phantomhive cast an annoyed glance in the direction of the door. "Take care of it, Sebastan."

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG...

"Of course, my lord." Sebastian bowed deeply.

Sebastian rose from his bow and strode down the lengthy, well-furnished hallways towards the grand staircase to the entrance to the manor. Lightning flashed as he made his way down the halls. The thunder was like a round of fist-a-cuffs between mountains. The rain was now a full torrent, assailing the windows mercilessly. The landscape was like that of India in monsoon season.

He descended the grand staircase in the main entry hall.

He stood straight and tall in front of the door, adopted a cheerful disposition, and opened the door swiftly between knocks.

He began welcoming the stranger at the door until he registered what he was looking at. The girl was soaked down to the bone, blonde hair hanging in wet, tangled tendrils around her face. She clutched her cloak for dear life with the hand she was not using to bang the door down with. It was then that he noticed he could see her knees and lower thighs and the ends of what looked like her underclothes. Sabastien knew as well as anyone else that a woman being so immodest with herself was insanity and a social suicide of one of the highest degrees. What an odd girl. She was covered in mud from the waist down. A backpack lay on the ground next to her, a sad leather sack that looked like it was stuffed to the top. She had large bags under her eyes, and was breathing very heavily. As he opened the door her fist landed on his chest. It felt small and weak, surprising for all the noise it made. If she had not looked like a half-drowned witch at that moment, someone could have said that she was very pretty. Unfortunately for her, she did look like a half-drowned witch, and a smile played across Sebastian's lips when he thought of how his master was going to receive the girl. His red eyes glinted devilishly.

"How may we help you, Miss?"

Her eyes met his through her hanging tendrils of hair, dripping on the ground. She gave him a dubious, exhausted, and almost agitated look. As if to say with her eyes "I have been through hell and back. I don't need this right now." Sebastian's smile turned coy. And then relief swept over her eyes and she looked as though she would kiss him then and there.

"Th-Thank-you, could-could I speak to the lord of this...," She slurred her words out like she was rocking back and forth between consciousness and unconsciousness, her last few syllables lost as her head lolled forward and she fell into his chest.

He looked down at her dubiously for a moment. She had fallen asleep while standing, leaning against his chest like a pillow. She snored softly. Well I didn't expect that. Now what do I do with you?

He picked her up in a heap like he had done with Ciel so many times before, an unconscious bride, and took her bag with him. Her trench coat fell open as he lifted her. His shoes squeaked noisily on the marble floors as he walked across the room steadily. He laid her out on the stairwell beneath where the previous master of the house's painting used to be, at the main platform where the two wings of the grand staircase converged. He had considered taking her to a room, but quite frankly, her manner of dress and condition did not bode well for how her arrival would affect his master's status, and he did not want to accept her as a guest just yet. If you were going to start trouble for Sebastian and his master, you were hardly worth wetting the hallways' carpets over. He took a closer look at her.

It was true, she was quite pretty, although after you were a demon for over a thousand years you were hardly ever impressed by human appearance anymore. But it was true; she had a slim frame, and was actually tall for a girl, about 5'7". If he were to guess her age, he would say about nineteen or so. Her skin was fair and light, although her face at this time looked almost sickly from her ordeal in the storm. Her hair webbed across the floor around her face, a great, large mass of tangled, wet-induced dreadlocks about her head that were a beautiful gold in the candlelight.

Her shift showing was quite embarrassing for a lady, though, as it did not cover all of her and after becoming so damp and close to her form... Well, it left little to the imagination while her trench coat was open like that. It reminded him of that Ran-Mao woman, if it was not even more scandalous.

A bemused smile played at his lips as he began ascending the stairwell towards his master in the dining hall. He toyed with how the boy would react to seeing her like this. It would do his young master some good to be flustered from time to time. He chuckled to himself.

He heard the girl cough softly behind him and shift around on the carpeting.

Sebastian turned around and looked at her inquisitively. She was still asleep, but had curled herself into a ball. The position reminded him of a cat curling up in the sun.

He sighed to himself. What a troublesome girl...

Sebastian returned to her body and took off her trench coat and folded it neatly. He placed it under her head as a pillow. He took off his butler coat and buttoned it overtop her clothing.

He lifted her into his arms. She wasn't very heavy. She snored softly against his chest. He supposed it would look bad on the famed Phantomhive hospitality if he were to let her sleep awhile on the ground like that, if even she was not exactly the type of guest suitable for this esteemed household.

They began making their way down the hallway. As Sebastian walked towards a servant's quarter(he was not putting her in a guest bedroom sopping wet like this) he noticed a small pattern on the back of her neck. It was difficult to tell beneath the mud, grime, and hair, but it looked like a bumblebee atop a key.

What a bizarre tattoo.

A/N~
So here's my first ever legitimate fanfiction! I hope everyone enjoyed it! Please leave comments and other stuff with the story. Criticisms would be immensely appreciated! My self-esteem will not take a blow if you tell me to work on my grammar or anything, so don't hold back! And tell me if I'm doing the characters justice, because I was terrified I might make Sebastian OOC, and if I did I would want to know immediately! Doing that without someone telling me might just kill me!
Next chapter is on the way! (And yes, based on the picture you can safely assume she will glow at one point)