Author's Note: I think I just broke my rule about putting an AN at the beginning of the story. Just wanted to say that the story will get slightly more confusing, which was my intention for the beginning. Italics represent... well, randomness. So if confusion is your thing, you're in for a treat! All this will make more sense later. I'm pretty much setting up plot now. Just in case anyone wonders why it is confusing. Oh, and thank you for the reviews!
Mistakes are all mine.
Hallucinogens- Part One
It is a demon's normal instinct to sense surroundings, whether for food or danger. And the older the demon, the stronger they were, the more that they could remember every detail around them. Down to cracks in a floor, water dripping down the side of a glass, hot steam rising from a bowl of soup. They could feel everything, and see the difference between all objects, inanimate or not. But, at the same time, the scolding heat from a pot of water couldn't burn us, just as ice couldn't freeze.
Nevertheless, I hated this place, hated how uncomfortable everything was. The 'wrongness' of it all was unsettling. But I guess that was the effect my captors were going for when they created this room.
That demon, the male demon who had appeared to be the ringleader, was right to call the room a box. Square, about ten feet by ten feet, made of concrete walls that met a concrete floor. The ceiling was the same. A table on the left, metal bed on the right, a thin mattress with white sheets laying on it. The only source of color in this small slice of hell came from me. And, of course, the tiny brown bible with a black cross on the cover. The small book sat lonely on the desk, pitifully begging to be picked up and put to good use. Whoever put this place together was a sadist. Actually, I was almost certain all demons were sadists. With Ciel being the exception.
Then again, he had poured hot tea and food on me time and time again, so I could be wrong about the sadism.
Ciel. The name filled me with anger. Not directed at the boy, but rather at who had separated us.
I couldn't really feel him anymore. The contract that kept us linked while he was human, and later when he became like me, was fading away. Or perhaps it was already gone. A ghostly feeling, that's all I felt when my senses searched for his soul. Locked away in this bland room with nothing and no one, I would surely go mad.
I looked down at my sore hands, glaring at the cuts and bruises spotting my knuckles. I had done my best to escape. The only entrance was a large door, made of the same metal as the table and bed. My punches against the thick slate were useless. My kicks powerless. Even as I hit harder and harder, it didn't budge. I gave the walls the same treatment, but nothing changed. Not a scratch was formed.
And now, I sat still against the wall between the bed and table, staring at the door. The metal was dull and boring. My clothes, still the same butler design I've worn for the past years. The only difference is the lack of gloves and pocket watch. My knives were gone as well. I take off my jacket and lay it down besides me. It is torn, with blood and dirt embedded deep into the fabric. Useless now. I loosen my collar as I inspect the bed.
Four legs stick out the bottom, screwed into the floor. The posts are two inches in diameter, the same thickness as the top of the bed itself. The mattress is a good six inches thick though. I am tempted to rip it open, sort through the large cushion's insides to find something useful. Something to get me out. But I am doubtful of the contents it might contain. Upon inspecting the table, I discover it is screwed to the floor in the exact same way. Standing up to pace the small length of the room, I try to think of a plan.
"There is no handle on the door," I speak to myself slowly. "There is no visible lock. It is completely blank. All the walls are a light grey. You would think everything is being illuminated with a bright light... but there is no visible light source. The desk and bed are connected to the floor. There is a single bible and mattress as well." I glance at the bed, my eyes wandering over the pale white sheets. Sighing, I lay down, rolling onto my back to stare at the bland ceiling.
"...The bed is comfortable."
"Sebastian, I'm thirsty." He sits up in his bed, dark hair falling in his face. With a sigh, I move from where I stand. Ciel has asked for me to watch over him tonight, something he has been asking rarely as of late. He hates being dependent, and rather than think of me doing a lot of his work, he thinks of me as a tool. He thinks of me as a sword, something that can be controlled by him. Me dependent completely on him, not the other way around. I'm fine with it, because at the end of day, I still get his soul. He will be mine, he IS mine. But for now, I abide to his every wish. I prepare him tea.
"It's late, young Master. You should try to sleep."
"Shut up." His voice is drowsy, but he still talks in a commanding tone. Luckily for him, I have hot tea nearby for this exact situation. Even though he doesn't ask for my presence nowadays while he slumbers, he does on occasion wake up. I fill a cup, dripping in warm milk, some honey. When I first served him like this, he brought up the fact that it could make his teeth rot, especially so late at night after his teeth had been brushed. But I feel nostalgic. So, I serve the warm beverage, watch him drink it slowly. He questions with his eyes, wondering why I have served him this drink. I offer no explanation, and stand as a silent statue in the dark room. He finishes the tea quickly, handing me the cup. I take it, placing aside on a tray. He lays back down, burying his face in the pillows and sheets, burrowing himself into sleep. Sleep, for me, is a luxury. An activity I participate in rarely, except in cases where I need to pass time. Briefly, I find myself thinking, can demons sleep for centuries? Eons? Most likely.
Could they sleep through death? While worlds changed and crumbled, could they remain unconscious? Could they sleep while their own bodies burned?
'M'aidez' was scrawled in messy writing in messy letters on the bottom of the bed. Upon closer inspection of the room, I realized that I had not seen this before. This silent message, probably meant for whoever found themself in here. A silent message, most assuredly to me. Yes, definitely for me. I was meant to come across it. I run a finger lightly over it, wondering how it escaped my sight earlier. Thinking of what it meant. If I was correct, it was French. Why a human language was written in here was beyond me. Why not in another tongue, a demon tongue? I run my hand over it now. The letters are the size of a nail on a toddler's pinky finger, someone must have been hard-pressed to get these words out. The metal is so strong, not even I can bend it. Of course, I'm not supposed to be able to break it. If I were able to, it would defeat a part of the purpose of why I'm in here. Locked away, without a source of entertainment, not a soul to talk to.
"M'aidez." I had visited France before I met Ciel. Only once. I had been in Paris, though I hadn't been on the run that time. I had been in a contract. A girl, named Moira, who's wish was to get her sister rich. A simple contract. Moira, only seven years old. The young had better souls, full of innocence, clean, pure, with the determination and willpower of an adult. Weak, yes, but they could want and crave. That particular contract had taken an hour to fulfill. An hour for Moira to revel in the fact that she had bought her sister happiness in the form of money, not realizing she had also summoned pain with her own death. And after I consumed her soul, she never had the chance.
M'aidez, the words the girl had screamed and called out to summon me. I had head those words many times, in many languages.
I wonder who had been in this small room before. By human standards, it is a bedroom. A bed, a table, if sorely cheap. But not my room. This place couldn't possibly be mine. Because I will get out of here. If I could leave it so carelessly, with no attachment to it, then no, it isn't mine. I refuse to say mine- it is just a room.
The door has the smallest space under it. I take the time to try and hear something, or someone, from the other side. It is silent, an ominous call. The demons here must trust it to hold me, to have no one keep watch. But no one wants to keep watch for eternity.
Sebastian. I can picture my Master calling me perfectly.
Sebastian. I can picture him on the other side of the door.
Sebastian. Where is he, right now? Is he still alive? Our souls are supposed to be connected. I can't feel him though. Can't I?
But I really don't care. Yes, we had been through a lot together. But, when I escape, if I have to leave him behind, I will. No second thought, no doubt. Better that way, really.
Besides, he is most likely dead by now. Tortured to death, of course. A demon's specialty.
But no, we'll kill him. That's what the demons said. Were they really followers of the spider demon? Spider demon... I avoid saying, even thinking the name. I hate it, hate him.
He throws the food at me, eggs nearly hitting my black uniform. I dodge it, with a bit of effort. He is a challenge. I like challenges, but even I must admit he is annoying. The situation is annoying. Tedious. Ciel's soul isn't the same, because ofnthis demon. This Claude Faustus. He is acting like a child.
But so am I. Every glare, every snarl, every object and taunt thrown in his direction shows how truly low I've come. I blame him. A blame Ciel as well. I blame humans.
Dueling, dodging knives and spears. Running, jumping, thowing, rolling. Finding Ciel, blood dripping from his hand. Exhaustion weighing him down, his weak hits on my head, my chest, as I pick him up like a doll. But that's not one of the moments I most hated.
It was after Ciel stabbed Faustus' master. It was that moment, when Claude grabbed at Ciel, and MY master hit him in defiance. Blood from Ciel's cut, smearing on the spider demon's cheek. Blood, which Claude licked slowly, a random act. An addiction, formed deviously. He had to have my master, after just one taste.
In a way, I won. Claude never got Ciel.
I lost, because neither did I.
I drum my fingers on the table. I'm in... the sitting room. I think. It looks like a sitting room. I glance at the back of my white glove, inspect some dust on the back. A smudge of dark grey. Frowning, I look around, trying to remember why I'm here in the first place. Everything looks old, dusty, dark. This is not the Trancy manor. It doesn't look like the Phantomhive manor; Ciel wouldn't put up with this disorder, this uncleanness. And yet, here I am. No, this can't be the place, the extravagant home built of danger and ambition, one of the wealthiest homes in all of London, the home that I was supposed to keep clean. But here I am. Everything smells musty, thick, the chair I sit on creaks with the slightest movement. Holes sit in fabric, an old tea set lays on the table, dry and brittle. I look at my fingertips. They have been covered with something dark, dust and whatever else has set itself on the table. I pull my hand away.
"Master?" I scan the room, but there is no trace. No noise comes from the hallway. Whispering, heard from far away. Or perhaps it is just the wind. I move to stand.
"Please, sit Michaelis. My Master will be here shortly." Claude is there, pouring tea in the cup. I frown, sense the... off-ness of the whole situation. The wrongness. But I can't tell what is wrong. Instead, I remain sitting.
"Where is Ciel?" I ask automatically. I must know where he is, for it is my duty as his butler. There is something else I'm forgetting, something at the back of my mind-
"With Alois, of course." He keeps on pouring the tea as he answers, his voice apathetic. But there is a hidden message in his voice. He thinks I'm crazy. Also, wasn't the cup empty before.. dirty? It was. And yet, there it is, clean, shining. I should be alarmed... besides, as a demon, I don't drink tea. As a demon himself, Claude knows this.
"Where are they then?" I ask, watching dark brown liquid fall down, down, into the cup, splashing when it hits the bottom. I can smell, smell the leaves, smell the dirt from which it grew. An earthly smell, foreign, even after all the years I've been here. I... shouldn't be here. This place, this life, something is wrong, everything is wrong. I try my best to stay still, remember what is wrong. What was I doing last? If I'm here, then I was originally with Ciel. I stand.
"I'm going to find Ciel. My master might need me."
"Your master?" Claude watches me carefully. I hesistate, glaring, finding his presence irritating. He moves closer. "Ciel is my master."
"I beg your pardon? Ciel is my master." I say sharply. Claude steps closer, while I stop. He isn't- no. Ciel is... my master? Someone's master? No, he is no ones... because.. he is-
"Where is he?" I demand, stepping away. It was, is, wrong for me to be here. For some reason... he steps forward again, not giving me an answer. I can't remember where Ciel is supposed to be. Or why on earth I'm here. It angers me, all of it. It is frustrating, not knowing anything, this confusion, suffocating. And I can't concentrate.
"I think you should sit down, Michaelis," he speaks in a low tone while stepping away, his stance changing. He is waiting for me to calm, but ready to attack if needed. I wonder why, when I realize how crazy I look. But I feel crazy. I turn to the door carefully, walking away from him. I expect him to attack, but no such thing happens. The carpet, thick and clean, stifles my footsteps. I listen, but no move is made from the demon still. Walking away from him, waiting, for Claude to move but, he doesn't, of course he can't, he is dead-
I pause, realizing what is wrong. This isn't real. Alois Trancy is dead, Ciel is captured, and Claude Faustus is dead, I know because-
"I killed you," I hiss, turning, but falling-
-onto the floor. I am on the cold floor again, the cement hard under me. It hurts slightly, and I'm reminded that I haven't had a soul in so long. Stiffly, I push myself up, my cuts and bruises protesting. Standing, I look around the small cell, bed in order, desk clear, door still massive and unmoving. But nothing else. No hint of any other lifeforms, no voices from outside. Silence, deafening and cold. Frowning, confused, I try to think; had I fallen asleep? I have no recollection of it. I can't pass out, it should be impossible... then again, those demons effortlessly knocked me into unconciousness. So it could happen. I sit on the edge of the bed steadily, tired and anxious. I shove down the panic, which is useless. Panic is something I haven't felt in a while. Actually, I haven't really felt anything in a while. Only hunger.
I am very hungry. Was the other poor soul hungry? The one who wrote the message? M'aidez. Help me, for I am hungry. I glance at the door. I am determined to get out. I will not be stuck here forever.
I will escape.
M'aidez.