Kuroshitsuji and all characters © Yana Toboso and SquareEnix

Chapter 4: The Waiting Game

Grell visited with Angelina several times a week over the next couple of weeks. These visits ended up being no more than the casual exchanging of pleasantries and polite conversation over tea, but the two conspirators grew much more comfortable with each other as a result. Grell even allowed the lady to believe that they were equals in some sense, despite the fact that he came naturally from a higher order of being. But by the end of the third week of this, it began to feel like a routine, and he was beginning to grow weary of the monotony of it all. He itched to get to work. It was almost as if Angelina were dallying on purpose, trying to bore him so that he would give up their cause. She might have abandoned it already herself, but she never voiced this to him. Perhaps she had not been so sincere in her agreement as he had originally thought, and wanted him to leave. However, she showed nothing but friendliness and hospitality toward him during their visits, and he wanted to believe that she was not just stringing him along for fun. Without asking her directly though, he would never know.

"Madame, I must ask you something, and please be honest with me." He spoke softly, but his tone was solid.

Angelina looked back at him, a look of perplexed consternation contorting her lovely features.

"What is it, Grell?"

Grell flipped a stray chunk of hair over his shoulder and stepped just a few meters closer to her. He could not tell for certain, but he thought he noticed a passing expression of defensiveness cross her face. He was satisfied with this reaction, though he did not want to frighten her so much that she would go back on her loyalty, or panic and say something she did not mean. She might have done the latter already.

"Do you enjoy my company?"

She gave a light chuckle, and relaxed her shoulders a bit, seemingly relieved. "Of course I do. You don't see me having you thrown out of the house now, do you?"

"No." He quickly flitted his gaze to the floor, pausing dramatically, allowing for some suspense to manifest. "But I am here for a specific purpose, Madame, and for three weeks, you have yet to indulge me. I thought we had a plan."

"Patience, Grell," she said, her voice resolute. She was either truly unafraid of him, or she was doing a good job of hiding her anxiety. He had no way of knowing. "I know that you want to get out on the streets, but there has been no reason to go after anyone in the past weeks. There have been no patients to see me about that type of procedure since Christmas."

Grell gave her a weary sideways glance, adding a slight, impish grin so as to assure her of his understanding. In truth, he was exceptionally irritated. She was merely human. He was not so uncivilized that he could tolerate someone so inferior to his power and abilities dragging him around like a rag doll through the mud. If activity didn't pick up soon, he might have to kill her. She knew too much about him and his kind.

And yet, that was the last thing he wanted to do. She was a special kind of human in his eyes. She was not the average, frail rose petal like so many other human women he'd observed. There was a turbulent madness inside this one, and he wanted, no, needed, to see it.

Grell stared out the window for a moment, pondering, as Angelina, poured him another cup of tea.

"Have you told anyone about me?" he asked finally, a forefinger resting on his lower lip.

"No."

Her tone gave him all the information he needed. He knew then that he could trust her completely. Maybe he could leave her alive after all.

"Good."

He took the cup that she held out to him, and sipped it lightly as he returned his gaze toward the window. It was a particularly foggy winter day, so the sun remained concealed behind grey rain clouds.

"Grell?"

He turned his head to look at her.

"You know I would never betray your trust, as I trust that you would never betray mine?"

She had puffed herself up, like an animal communicating it's dominance over the other. How silly this woman was. It was almost endearing.

"Of course, Madame. You have no need to worry about me."

She nodded, understanding.

Grell finished his tea quickly and made his exit. "Well, thank you again for your hospitality Madame, but I must be off. Duty awaits." He headed for the foyer and grabbed his coat on the way.

"Of course. You've got important things to do. Don't let me keep you."

Angelina showed him out with a pleasant smile. Grell could not help but wonder what that face would look cold and dead and severed from its body. He passed it off as nothing but a silly fantasy though. He liked this woman too much, despite his frustration with her at the moment.

When the door was closed, he made his way to the alley and phased over to the reaper realm.

Grell did not go back to see Madame Angelina for almost three weeks. There was no reason to bother. She had not killed since Christmas, and to his observation, appeared to have no inclination to do so any time in the near future. In truth, he'd gotten tired of waiting, and had ultimately decided to release his hold on her; allow her get on with her life. He trusted that she would keep quiet about his existence, not that any sane human being would believe her if she didn't. For this reason, he felt it was safe to let her go quietly. She had proven her reliability, and gave him no reason to silence her. And so, she would escape with her life. Grell wondered if she knew just how lucky she was for that.

Despite the discontinued visitations, Grell continued to keep tabs on his friend, which is how he knew all of this. He could make himself invisible, and so was able to hide his presence from her. Yes, it may have been a little creepy that he spied on her at home and at work, but necessity demanded it. However, he checked in on her so seldom that at times he forgot about her and their intentions entirely.

By early February, he'd quite forgotten Madame Angelina. That is, until he smelled something rotten one morning while on duty at the hospital where she worked.

"Ciel? Is it really you, Ciel?"

Angelina was shocked and confused as she threw open the doors of one of the private patient rooms. She had not seen her nephew since before his birthday; that fateful day that changed everything. He had turned 10 on the 14th of December, but he'd disappeared that day. Her sister, Rachel, the boy's mother, had invited her over to celebrate not only her son's birthday, but also Angelina's recovery from her accident. She remembered the flames that engulfed the manor as her carriage had pulled up the drive that evening: angry, red, fury, of which she had never seen in her lifetime.

The bodies of Rachel and her husband, Vincent, were recovered from the ashes, but the body of their child was nowhere to be found. She had lost more than just her family that night. She had lost her one true love. But she had lost him long before he died.

"So you were alive all along?" she asked, closing the doors behind her. Her voice grew less frantic the closer she drew.

In front of the large window, a small, fragile looking boy with dark hair sat in a chair, one eye covered with bandages. She thought she she would never see him again, much less in this hospital. Beside him stood a tall, handsome, raven-haired man in a black tailcoat.

"I'm so glad. At least you survived."

She put her hands on each side of his face, tilting it up toward hers.

"Come. Let me get a better look at you."

The boy never said a word. His face was so similar to Rachel's, but he reminded her so much of the man she had loved.

All of the emotions she had tried so desperately to suppress since the fire came flooding back to her. It felt as though the world had come crashing down upon her again, but with ten times the force, hitting her in the chest like a sack of bricks.

It wasn't fair. Everything. Her sister had married the only man Angelina had ever truly loved. At first, she had tricked herself into thinking she could be happy for them, but after the fire, all she felt was deep-seeded jealousy and loathing. Vincent was dead, and her sister had gotten to die with him. It was both tragic and romantic. Angelina despised her sister for it, considered her lucky even, that she had been afforded such courtesy. Angelina had not been so lucky.

One afternoon, she and her husband had gone out shopping for things they would need for their expectant child, when a runaway carriage had hit them as they crossed the street. Her husband had been killed instantly. As for Angelina, she lost the child and her ability to have any more children. Until Rachel and Vincent's death, she had not thought that her life could fall any further into disrepair.

Now, her nephew, the only survivor of the fire, had returned. He did not seem real. It was almost as if he were a phantom returned from the dead.

"Ciel, what happened?"

The boy shook his head.

"Please, tell me. I want to help."

"There's nothing you can do," said Ciel, slowly. "What's done is done." His voice was so frail and meager that she barely heard him.

Angelina took the boy in her arms and held him close in a tight embrace. The man in the tailcoat gently laid a hand on her arm.

"Madame," he said with a smooth, seductive voice. "The young master has had a very long and trying day. He would very much appreciate it if you allowed him to rest."

"Excuse me," she said, defensively inflating herself as best she could. "This boy is my nephew, and I have not seen him in over three months. I think he can abide a short visit with his Auntie Anne."

The man looked to the boy, and the boy nodded slowly.

Angelina visited with Ciel and his new butler for another quarter of an hour or so. She continued to pester him about his whereabouts over the past couple of months, but he revealed nothing. Eventually, conversation turned to prospects about the future. Angelina tried to be optimistic, but Ciel would not hear any of it. It was like the light he carried inside as a child had been put out, and now there was nothing but darkness. Something terrible had happened to him, and she would find out even if it killed her. But not now. He'd already made it quite clear that now was neither the time nor the place.