I could hear glass crunching, as I watched Sebastian corner my Queen's mosquito. Randall Bleauclaire was a pretentious medical assistant, intoxicated with human consumption of surgically removed organs. Bleauclaire fancied Madame Red's notorious title we buried from the public. The cleanness of the cuts upon the prostitute's uteruses sparked sexual ecstasy that was blatantly obvious for the course of his bland 37 unwedded and childless years. Bleauclaire was rumored to have been Jack the Ripper months after my Aunt's passing, which provided us an advantage to undergo further studying of his legal records and locations during the scenes of different crimes. Bleauclaire may have personally bitten the organs of some of his victims, however it was common to see a new prostitute victim with a removed uterus and a rotting one only slightly digested after he forced his victim to digest another victims uterus that encompassed a bloody and tiny fetus. Sebastian and I spied on Bleauclaire as he charmed a prostitute into entering his home. As we entered, and unsightly scene of the woman was blindfolded and chained to a nailed down table. She was choking and drowning in her own saliva and aged blood that was being squeezed in Bleauclaire's left fist, whereas his other hand spoke for itself while it was tucked in his pants.
It was my job to do the easy work, which was to untie the hostage while Sebastian was to encounter and exterminate the psychopath. While Bleauclaire slowly backed up against the wall, he removed his right hand from his pants, and twirled his mustache out of the way. The wiry hairs straightened and fixed itself in position from the fluids on his hand. My own eye twitched in disgust.
Sebastian cracked his knuckles, momentarily avoiding Bleauclaire's mannerism, "Certainly, I must dispose of these gloves after dealing with you," he had sighed.
"There is no need to resort to this, Sir, and bringing your kid with you, it would be a shame if something bad were to happen."
Sebastian continued to approach Bleauclaire, and lightheartedly chuckled, "He is not of my kin, I am simply his servant. My master is not taken aback by such scenarios."
"Huh, a little earl thinks he can save the world, he should play his pretend hero games with friends before he hurts himself."
I crawled under the table to identify where the chains connected, and began to pick the lock, "Stop stalling Sebastian, I demand you to dispose of him!"
Typically, Sebastian would kneel and bow in response, but given the circumstances, there was no time for that, "Yes, my Lord," He responded and revealed his choice of silverware as his main weapon.
Bleauclaire was not ignorant to the concept of knife throwing however; and aimed a used scalpel at Sebastian's chest. The scalpel dug into three layers of clothes and punctured his skin on impact. Bleeding, but not amused, Sebastian tossed his utensils at Bleauclaire, which hung him against the wall like damp laundry on a clothing line. The grip it had on him was far too strong for him to break. I continued with my portion of the work, by attempting to unbind the victim from the table.
"Your little master is not in a good position," Bleauclaire spat out, his saliva spraying Sebastian and dripping down his chin.
"And why is that?" He asked, as he looked to where I kneeled.
"That wood is old and worn, he could fall through it easily…" He explained, and kicked a small item to his right.
The item turned out to be a trigger for a series of other interconnected inventions to activate. As small dings chimed around the room, I felt a massive force crash into me from my left side. I rammed into a small bookshelf, as I heard the prostitute chanting out a wild scream. I was certain that my eyes were open, but all I could see was black. I heard a crack in the floor, and the screaming heightened in tone, until the cracking overcame the pitchy screams, and the table fell through the floor, while the girl's shrieks muffled. I felt a few pieces of glass spear my shoes, but nothing more was damaged. The girl was silenced at this point, and it came to my discovery that it was Sebastian's coat that had covered my eyes and had thrust me out from under the table. As he moved off from over me, I got a glimpse of what occurred.
The chandelier that was over the table had fallen onto the prostitute, due to the wire being cut from the series of momentums carried from his precise way of his inventions being organized. It contained hefty items enough to have strained the capacity of weight the floor held, including the velocity of the force when hitting the wood's weakest point. The glass from the chandelier penetrated and punctured enough organs to where she died instantly, instead just drowning in blood in which we found her. When she fell into the basement, the table legs broke under her weight, which would have crushed me.
I then looked at Bleauclaire, who had been able to get himself halfway out of the trap he was engaged in. His clothes were tattered due to the fibers of his clothes being cut by the knives. I felt Sebastian grab at my belt from the back of me, and remove a revolver from my holster. He hoisted me over his shoulder, where I faced against the wall, and shot Bleauclaire. I could hear Bleauclaire stumble and fall onto the floor that was caving in. Sebastian hurriedly maneuvered us out of the home, as it began to topple over. I didn't converse with him until we returned home, and he placed me on my bed to inspect if I had been injured.
"I will be sore in the morning. You bastard, you didn't have to slam me into the goddamn wall."
"My sincerest apologies, young master, I will be sure to clean you up for a nights rest." He assured, and removed my shoes and socks so I could lie down while he started my bath water.
He was rather quick with our nightly ritual. I didn't have to wait for a long time to enter the bathtub and be washed. As he was scrubbing my hair, I noticed that the scapel was still in his chest. "Do you even notice that you had been stabbed?" I asked, and wiped my eyes from the soap that was seeping down my face.
"It is not my time to treat myself," He responded, "I can simply take care of that later."
It looked disgusting while it moved to the rhythm of his pace while washing me, "I would like for you to remove it."
He did as he was told and turned away while he pulled it out, "You should be focused on yourself young master," He tossed it into the trash and returned to me, "Why are you sporting concern for a household servant?"
I glowered at him, "Because of our contract, Sebastian, don't ask stupid questions."
He finished rinsing my hair out, and poured soap onto a wash cloth, "I am more concerned with your injuries. Was it only my fault?"
I looked down to see, my side looked red from the friction and impact of the hit, but my right foot felt sore as well now that the adrenaline had worn off. "That chandelier may have cut my ankle as well."
"I will make sure to be gentle then," He replied, as he began to examine my side and lightly wash it.
It was moments like these that were difficult to handle. I typically was well disciplined in self control, but in times whenever I am sick or inept, Sebastian seems to bring forth my repressed emotions. He gently glided the cloth around my body in small circular motions and kept his eyes fixed at me, waiting to see me break. What was a typical washing felt more like fondling and an act of assertion on his part. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, and let my forehead fall into the palm of my right hand as I avoided his overt gaze. I could sense his crooked smile appear in his eyes more than his lips, while his hand graced lower, and continued washing me.
I wanted nothing more than for either this moment to escalate, or for it to end now as the steam from the water blanketed my face and only made the room much hotter. I couldn't tell if I was panting from being exhausted or mildly turned on. Sebastian finally lifted my right foot onto the rim of the tub to examine a few small cuts, which gave me a small break to regain my composure. After he examined my cuts, he rolled his sleeves up further, and grabbed a warm towel to dry me off. I avoided looking at him while he began dressing me in my night clothes in order to not physically assure him of my desires. He then dried my hair and escorted me into my bedroom with a candle to guide me through the dark hallway.
My bedroom altered into a hazy, humid climate. The stillness of the lit candle challenged my vision. When silence is considered still, my hear paces out of tune like a metronome. The room fragments itself from reality versus imagination, such as a child creates fallacies of their small toys becoming monsters. I am not a child anymore, yet the supernatural stood in front of me. His smile, though completely eligible, inquires my fancy. A being with less emotion than those thoughtless Funtom toys captivates me, secretly driving my imagination away from the superego. Goddamn him, knowing very well that I want to play.
His eyebrow raised while the muscles near his lips did not budge. "Young Master, I assume that you might have not heard my inquiry? Has it been that tiresome of a day for you to be so silent?"
"I heard your question, it's not of enough value to think about," I paused, my eyes fixed upon the candle. His gaze held any weight that I tried to avoid. I have always acknowledged that his eye contact commanded me to follow his direction, but I would prefer to not have to battle my self control. "My pride is held only in a name, Sebastian." I decided to blurt out when thinking of Bleauclaire's commentary on my age. "My day has been long, and I recognize that you have a remark you'd like to say in response to today's events. That lunatic was taken care of well, and the outcome came out as expected. Your critiques can be kept to yourself."
He walked closer, and I could see the wax from the candle dripping onto the stand like beads of sweat. My chest expanded as if a deep breath would tune down the loud thudding my heart felt. His glove crawled just above my Adam's apple, and glided into a caress as it positioned my chin. "I think you handled yourself well, master. You should be pleased with yourself." I kept my gaze down, but his voice heightened in a transparent form of impatience. "Now young Master, you must be troubled, it is not often I see you so quiet after revenge is acquired triumphantly."
"There is no need for celebration." I insisted as I moved his hand off my chin, but as I did so, his face was in level with mine, and our eyes connected. It was as if he drove a spear into my irises and held them in place; there was nothing more penetrating than a demon that manipulates their agenda to fulfill our needs.
"We do not have to celebrate if your mind is absent to the thought. It is clear that you are focused on a new chess piece. Might you inform me of whom you are targeting?"
My stomach knotted as the words regurgitated all kept thoughts, "You are...my next piece."
He smirked and kneeled in front of me in a bow, "I am to follow all instruction of my Lord," his chin angled itself directly in front of my crotch. "Tell me, young master, how do you suppose to knock my chess piece off the board?"
The hairs on my neck stimulated electricity. I felt a shocking pulse move through my body and down to my pelvis. God damn him I wanted to play. "I would test your loyalty to me."
His hands encompassed my thighs, his thumbs layered a rotational pressure on the inside of my legs. "Give me an order."
I couldn't control myself, and gave in as I grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him until he was an inch away from the button on my night shorts, "Then suck on it, Sebastian," I begged out. I had needed this release for months, and I couldn't deny what was so close to happening.
He looked at me one last time, and sported the response "Yes, my Lord," while he suppressed a grin at my defeat.