Tango With a Demon:

a Short 'Black Butler' Fan Fiction

By: Kiera G.

The afternoon breeze is chilly on my skin. It blows through my hair, the gauzy ruffles of of my skirt continuing on through the trees behind me. Below the cliffs I am standing on the sea beats boulders strewn across the shoreline. The turf beneath my bare feet is a soft combination of moss and heather. It's secluded, peaceful. It's perfect. No one will find this place. We won't be disturbed.

I stand here on the edge of the world, watching the sun trek along the late afternoon sky. I am waiting to become angry, afraid even. To start crying or have that inner will to live assault me. But in this peaceful place all I feel is relief. I can finally rest.

I turn around and see Him there. Prepping my last cup of afternoon tea. Again I expect to feel some sort of fear. Nothing. Just the same relief and peace. I smile as I walk over to the chair set out for me. He sets an empty teacup down on the small table next to my chair. Upon the table also sits a gramophone. He holds the chair still as I sit down then finishes the final preparations on my tea.

"This afternoon's tea is a bold Oo'long from the lower provinces of China. A deep flavored tea boasts of toasted rice that gives it a slight smokey flavor, which is complimented quite nice with a touch of honey."

I smile again as He passes me my cup. The aroma from the Oo'Long is deep bodied. I can just make out hints of the toasted rice drifting through the steam. As I take my first sip, my mind wanders through my memories to that fateful night. The night I made a contract with Him.

Four years ago I was working as a scullery maid with my brother, Peter, in the mansion of Irston's most powerful man. My father worked the landscaping and mother was a seamstress in the town. Life was hard work, but it was simple. As long as you followed the Master's rules: 1) Obey his every order without fail. 2) Never interrupt the Master when he was "entertaining" his guests unless ordered to do so. You knew when he was entertaining. You just had to listen for the screams.

Everyone dreaded entertainment nights. You never knew who would be part of his entertainment. As long as you followed the rules you were least likely to end up on his list. On entertainment nights we maids and servants worked in threes. It was the best way to be sure every order was carried out promptly. Protect each other. It also added some safety. If you ventured out alone, you ran the risk of becoming the private entertainment of one of the Master's friends. The Master's friends would watch us, waiting for us to wander alone. Measuring us as if to see much we could take. Waiting to test their theories. That was why we maids and servants had our own rule: Never go anywhere alone.

It was storming that night. The rain lashed out at the windows like the devil himself was behind it. Before the storm had come in all the staff were not live-in had left the mansion. Besides Peter and myself the only people who remained were two elderly servants and the head chef. Peter helped the cook in the kitchens, while the two elderly servants brought the courses up to the dining hall. I was stationed in the hall to pour drinks and other medial tasks. Alone.

I tried my best to remain calm. Tried to ignore their conversations. The dirty remarks they threw along the room. To show any emotion would only fuel their fire. I would stand in a corner with my head bowed until they needed me. When they called I would fill their cup or take a plate, bow and smile at their crude remarks. Then I would walk back to my corner again and try not to shake with disgust. It went on for over two hours before they finally dismissed me.

I couldn't run fast enough to the kitchens. The whole lot of them made me sick. I knew soon the entertainment would begin. I really wanted to get as far away as I could. I stopped at a closet only briefly to grab two blankets. I knew Peter and myself would probably sleep in the kitchens tonight.

Peter was passed out at a small table used to prep bread. The cook seemed to have disappeared for the evening. An empty stool was set near the table with a pillow on it. On the table was a small plate with two slices of warm bread and a wedge of cheese. Peter was hugging the a pitcher of water. I took one of the blankets and draped it over Peter's shoulders.

I sat down on the empty stool and draped the other blanket over my shoulders. With the storm raging even more hard than before dinner we would not be leaving until tomorrow. Mother and Father were going to be worried. We only got to see them one weekend a month, and this storm would mean or visit would be cut short. It made me a little sad.

I ate one slice of bread and a small wedge of cheese. I was thirsty, but Peter was holding the pitcher so tightly I gave it up. I could always get some water later. I laid my head down and drifted off to sleep.

Peter's hands over my ears awoke me. I faintly heard the screams through his hands. He did this every time we were stuck in the mansion on entertainment nights. It was his way of trying to protect me. But that night it was different.

His hands were clasped over my ears much more tightly than usual. He was also trembling and staring up in the direction of the dining hall. I tried to say his name, but he covered my mouth with his hand. Screaming assaulted one of my ears. The voice sounded familiar, yet so inhumanly different. I knew that voice from somewhere. I knew... I KNEW that voice! 'Mother!'

I tore myself out of Peter's hands. I knew I shouldn't, but I headed straight for the dining hall. I heard Peter calling my name, his footsteps as he chased after me. In the back of my mind I was yelling at myself to stop. Don't go up there! It's dangerous! But I ignored it all. It couldn't be them. It couldn't! But I had to know. I didn't even stop at the dining hall doors. I burst right through and was halfway to the table before I took control and stopped.

At first my mind could not comprehend what I was seeing. Everything was painted red. Piles of red at the head of the table. Pools of red on the floor. The Master and his friends covered in red. A heap of red in the middle of the table. Someone was screaming. It was me.

My mother's face floated up from the heap of red on the table. I could just see father's face among the scraps on the floor. The piles at the head of the table were their organs.

A hand grabbed my arm and forcibly shoved me towards the door. Peter's head floated into view and said something, but I couldn't understand. I was frozen. I remember thinking 'It's a dream. It's just a dream! Wake up!' when Peter's chest blossomed with red. I tried to scream again. But at that moment something hard hit my head. I fell as another blow struck. Master's face faded into black.

I was floating helplessly in a black fog. Time held no meaning there. I was everywhere and nowhere. I was nothing, one with the blackness that flowed around me. But I wasn't alone, He was there.

"What do you desire?" His voice echoed in the black.

'What did I desire?' What was I doing here? How did I get here, and who was there with me? 'What did I desire?'

"Who are you? What are you?"

"I am everywhere, seeing everything. I am whoever you need to be. For the price of your soul, I do whatever you desire."

"And what do you do with my soul?"

"I shall devour it." This statement should have frightened me. But as I came to terms with myself, I knew I was going to die anyways. My mind was rational again. Peter was dead. I knew I was going to have a fate worse than death. I broke the rules, then stood there helpless. I was angry at myself. Angry at them. I wanted to make them pay.

"What do you desire?"

What did I desire? "To kill them all, everyone involved, with my own two hands if I can!"

I could almost feel Him smiling in that black fog. A searing pain on my sternum brought me back to consciousness. It was dark. I could hear voices coming through the walls. There were soft sheets beneath me, my hands and feet were bound so tightly I couldn't move. A breeze through the room told me they took off my dress but left my undergarments on. 'How considerate of them. Now I will only half freeze.'

"Your orders?" a voice whispered out of the darkness. His voice, the one from the blackness.

"Save me. Kill them."

"Yes, my Lady."

I suddenly heard screams through the walls that were quickly cut short. A door to my left opened with a spill of light as He walked in. He was tall, pale of skin with midnight black hair. He wore a standard butler's uniform done in black, white gloves sticking out of his lapel pocket. He was holding the candelabra in His left hand. His nails looked like slabs of ebony. A tattoo of a star encircled with swirling, thorned vines graced the back of His hand.

He set the candelabra down on the bedside table and unbound me. It was as he helped me sit up I noticed it. Right on my sternum where I felt that searing pain a tattoo appeared that matched his exactly. Proof of our contract.

He walked over to a closet I had not seen and started rummaging through it. From inside he pulled out a dress of dark green and a pair of polished shoes.

"These once belonged to your Master's wife. They should fit quite nicely. The Master and five of his associates have already left for the evening to attend some other business."

I remember Him saying that. I know He started saying something more but I cannot remember what it was. I tried to stand but couldn't. If He had not reached me at that moment, I would have crumpled to the floor. When I looked up into His eyes I saw that they were a deep forest green. He held me there until the world stopped spinning, then helped me stand. It seemed to take forever to get that dress on.

"You are suffering from a concussion, my Lady. If you permit me to do so I shall carry you out."

He didn't give me any time to answer Him. He swept me up into his arms and walked out of the room. He carried me through the mansion to the front steps without breaking a sweat. Outside on the drive a small coach with two horses waited. A few luggage bags were already strapped to the back.

"The wonderful gentlemen inside are allowing us to borrow their coach and a small manor in London. They have also donated some of their bank to us. They won't be bothering us anymore." I could have sworn I saw a small twinkle in His eye as He as spoke.

"Thank you... your name. You haven't told me your name."

He settled me down into the back of the coach carefully, as if afraid He would break me. Right before He closed the door He looked directly into my eyes and told me His name was "Angelo."

'Angelo.' His name echoed through my mind as the coach lurched forward. 'Angelo.' The name of my savior and damnation. 'Angelo.'

I look down at my teacup, now empty. The echoes of my memory still drifting through my head. I have been sitting for awhile now. The sun is now low on the horizon. Pinks and oranges grace the clouds. A few birds fly towards us to roost in the trees behind us.

"More tea, my Lady?"

"No thank you, Angelo. I believe it is time."

"Very good, my Lady."

He takes my empty teacup and sets it on the table. He takes off His jacket, which He folds neatly and sets on the table. Next comes off His gloves, which He sets right on top of His jacket. As He tunes up the gramophone I unpin my hair so it falls upon my shoulders.

The music starts off soft, slow. He... no. Angelo. Angelo walks around my chair and offers His hand for a dance. I accept it. I have been waiting my whole life for this one dance. The last dance I shall ever have. A perfect Dance of the End.

I asked for this dance as my final request. At those last moments my old Master took his final breath. It wasn't an order, Angelo could have refused. But He didn't. I let Him choose the dance. The music. I knew why He chose the Tango. It was the perfect choice for this moment. A chance to savor all the flavors of our journey together. It's going to be the perfect dance.

I let Him lead me to the center of the cliffs. Our dance floor. The tempo of the song changes slow to fast, fast to slow, and back again. It's a very beautiful mix.

The perfect blend of sorrow, shame, passionate anger, rage. I tear away from Him only to be forcibly twirled back into His arms. The flow of our bodies brings in fragments of memories.

'A soul seasoned by sorrow and hate make for a wonderful meal. A soul who feels all of these emotions, touched by darkness yet able to stay pure through it all, is a rare delicacy indeed.'

'Are you calling me a delicacy?' I teased.

'Yes.'

That is why he chose this dance. This music. To help me remember. To season my soul a little more before devouring it. By now one would be having second thoughts. Wishing for more time on this world. Longevity. My life should have ended that night four years ago. I am content with my time.

I have lost loved ones. Their funeral was very beautiful.

I have lived both poorly and rich. The mansion was huge! So much room, so many clothes. Do people really live like this every day?

I have traveled across the country. 'Welcome to London... His estate is 10 kilometers off the west end... The town of Salsbury is famous for their dutch danishes.'

I have slain my enemies. The sword stuck into his rib, I could not pull it out on my own. The smell of burning flesh. Warm blood splattering my face. My hands drenched in blood.

I have had my revenge. Angelo made sure of it. We tracked down my old Master and his little organ selling ring. Made them pay. He even helped me enjoy the little things. A walk through a lush garden. The ocean breeze on my face. Afternoon tea with its perfect pairings of small cakes or biscuits. A lunar eclipse that reminded me of my own heart. I have no regrets. Not only have I survived with Angelo's assistance. I have LIVED.

I let my memories overtake me, synchronized with the very movements of our dance. I feel His growing hunger behind those deep green eyes. He is savoring the moment, like I am. Enjoying the movements of our dance. Every dip down, every twirl, His left hand in mine, His right hand moving from my waist to my arm in time with the music.

The end is coming, I can feel it. I am breathing heavily now. We've danced so long sweat is forming on my brow. I close my eyes. I don't need to see anymore. I trust Him to guide me through the rest of the steps.

I am trembling now. Not out of fear, but from the pure thrill of knowing what is coming. I am excited. Pure, simple delight courses through my veins at the thought of my own death.

As the song comes to completion, Angelo dips me down a final time. I lay here, draped over His arm as silence envelopes the cliffside. Our clasped hands drift down until they settle over my sternum. Though my eyes are closed, I can tell the evening has fallen upon us.

His breath is slow, even. I smile. Even though my eyes are closed, I know that his eyes are no longer that deep green I have come to know. I can see them in my mind, a sparkling and brilliant red, like moonlight on a red river. I smile. I can feel his breath upon my lips. It's time. Before the searing pain rips through my body and tears me apart into black oblivion, I say the only thing left to say:

"Thank You, Angelo."