My shoes clack on the polished floor as I made my way through the bodies of the chattering nobles. My heart was pounding from encountering Flor and that other butler earlier, that it made me wonder.
Was his butler…?
I shook my head, navigating the waters of this party to catch the sight of the familiar, bubbly blonde. "Lizzie!"
Lizzie turned around before her lips curled into a smile. "Rosie! I'd thought you had gone home!" she exclaimed, running up to me and grabbing my hands before her expression turned apologetic. "Oh, I'm so sorry about Ciel. I thought he would be a bit nicer."
Just the mention of the taciturn little earl that spoke like royalty irritated me. He reminded me of an imp if anything, but he and Lizzie were obviously close. "I'm sure being head of the household does that to a person," I said, biting down any vile words that would come up.
Lizzie smiled. "You're ever so kind."
Not really, but she didn't need to know that. I forced a smile in spite of my mood. "Speaking of Ciel, where is he?" I asked. Lizzie's green eyes sparkled as she pointed to where Ciel was currently speaking to a few noblemen. Most likely people who aid in supplies or some such with his company, important people.
I walked over to him, feeling strands of my hair come loose from my bun, as I got closer. He noticed me, I knew, because his eye caught sight of me before he politely excused himself.
"May I have a word with you? Privately?" I asked, not caring about how upfront it was. I never cared about image when out in public. Ciel nodded briskly as he led the way to the hall, out of earshot of any lingering, nosy nobleperson.
"What is it?" he asked, gripping his walking stick. "Last I recall, you were about to leave."
"You have one as well?" I didn't ask in a hushed voice. I leveled my gaze to his, crossed my arms.
"What are you going on about?" Ciel's tone was biting, his brow drawn, his eye seeming cold. It was an intimidation tactic, but I was far from intimidated. I answered him, my voice just as cutting. "You know very well what I'm going on about: your butler, your personal butler, the one who greeted my maid and I. He's one of them, isn't he?"
I saw the surprise in his eye before it iced over once more. "I haven't any idea what nonsense you are spouting. You know you sound quite mad."
I tried not to growl.
"Them"was what I referred to what Flor truly was, what she called herself. After seeing her with that butler from earlier, I was positive that he was one as well. Ciel knew that, he had to have known that much. Why was he trying to make me out to be mad?
My hand shot out to seize his wrist—he was a delicate little thing, I was undoubtedly stronger. "Where is it?"
"Release me at once."
"Where is it?"
"What are you-"
"Your goddamned mark, Phantomhive! Where is it?!"
A panicked expression cracked through the cold façade and as soon as it had, a gloved hand wrapped around the wrist of the hand gripping his. "Beg your pardon, young miss," spoke a smooth, cold voice, "but please refrain from placing a hand on the young master."
My eyes flickered to the face of the butler from earlier—Sebastian. His entire demeanor was professional, yet there was an underlying terror I sensed within him. He was one of them and I could see past that handsome, human disguise.
I suddenly couldn't breathe, my lungs squeezing together, my throat constricting. I was drowning, suffocating, couldn't break free-
"Please refrain," spoke an equally cold voice, a voice I recognized, "from laying a hand on my mistress, Michaelis."
Flor was at my side, her arm going around me to hold me close. Anger radiated from her, so palpable, I could taste it—metallic like blood. I knew her eyes would flash a deeper, darker crimson—a rare occurrence, but a testament to how grievous an offense one committed to either her or I. In this case, this butler placing a hand on me was by far the most grievous of offenses that anyone could commit.
When I raised my eyes to her, Flor's hair framed her face to give her anger an almost dignified air. However, her eyes were as deep crimson as I had thought, her teeth slightly bared as Sebastian released my wrist and I released Ciel.
"How can this be?" muttered Ciel, his eye on Flor. "She's like you, Sebastian?"
"I'm nothing like him," Flor spat before her attention turned toward me and her expression and demeanor changed. She was tender. Loving. "Forgive us, Lord Phantomhive, but my mistress is quite exhausted and it is time we take our leave." She curtseyed before she swept me away in the directions of the door.
"Whatever were you thinking, young miss?" Flor chided me as soon as we were in the carriage. "You cannot just blatantly demand someone to show them the mark of their contract when there are people around. It jeopardizes the fact that he and you could be tried for worshipping devils."
"I didn't worship any devil," I muttered, crossing my arms. "I knew his butler had to be one the minute I saw you both in the hallway afore."
"Ah, so you did overhear." Flor shook her head as she undid my hair from its bun, running her fingers through the knots.
"You both know each other," I told her. "Though you won't tell me how, I know you both are the same thing."
"We aren't any such thing," said Flor briskly before her tone softened. "Young miss, we must be careful about the things we say. You realize I only-"
"I know." Of course I knew. The terms of our contract, the mark imprinted onto the small of my back, an intimate location that no one will see. I knew.
Flor sighed. "Young miss, how much have you deduced by now?"
"Between you and the butler? You both have a sordid history and you refuse to divulge it to me." It was true. Anything personal in Flor's past as one of them would be locked up tighter than anyone in the queen's dungeon.
But the way the butler looked at Flor when she intervened with he, Ciel, and I—I may be naïve and inexperienced, but I could see that the sliver of the past meant something to him and it pertained to Flor and her hatred for being one of them. It was silent the rest of the way home and by the time we've arrived, Flor had decided to whisk me inside by carrying me like the child I was in her arms.
The night had always posed as dangerous. My eyes adjusted to the darkness long ago after I had taken my bath and Flor had given me tea to soothe my restlessness, so I could sleep.
But I couldn't sleep.
My thoughts were sticking, unsticking; the frivolity of maintaining image of the proud Samuel line as being the only one left as heir and the sheer horror of how the role was thrust upon me. It was as though it was a disease, some unnamed disease and it ate away at my insides before attacking my flesh.
We had lived in a time where we were ignorant in that frivolity, thinking solely for ourselves. My parents, brothers, and I. We lived for ourselves and for the proud family name. My brothers were betrothed to some noblemen's daughters from some families that were just as privileged as mine. My parents were about to betroth me to some son of a businessman. Things were going well for us.
Then the terrible, awful thing happened. It happened at night, when we were vulnerable, and everything that was ever normal for my family and I was torn to pieces. In one night, everything was destroyed. I was the unfortunate witness to the most horrific of all and I remembered screaming for God to help us, to send an angel to smite the wicked.
No angel came. No hand of God was brought down.
Just a silhouette of a dark creature with wings, glowing red eyes and dripping fangs. It had let out a maddened roar and wrought vengeance for me without my even asking it to.
At the same time, I heard something beneath the madness of that creature's shrieks. There was pain, there was agony. There was something rooted inside this creature that would destroy it if it didn't draw blood and violence.
As soon as it was done, the creature came into the faintest sliver of moonlight that beamed through the windows and my eyes had widened.
She was covered in blood, but she was the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. But she was the embodiment of the darkness roiling inside of me, of the agony, of the anger, of the sadness. She spoke in a strange language, but when I didn't understand, she spoke in English.
"You summoned me," was what she said.
I couldn't understand what happened next. But then, I had realized I had somehow entered a contract with this dark being and she became someone I absolutely trusted.
The devil did have a golden-hearted monster among his ranks.
It was the thought of mad people; people in the asylums. I wasn't like them. But sometimes, it felt as though I was.
When morning broke through my windows, Flor had entered my room after knocking, bringing in a tray of my small breakfast. "You have a guest, young miss," she said. "She is waiting for you downstairs."
"She?" I tilted my head before sipping my tea. Flor nodded.
"All right. Let me finish and we can head down," I told her and Flor bowed.
"Yes, young miss."
After I finished my breakfast and Flor had aided in putting me into the suffocating dresses I always hated to wear, I walked downstairs with Flor trailing behind me like a guard dog. As I entered the main entrance, a young blonde, looking no older than one of my brothers, stood. She was dressed in a light blue gown, a pearl necklace hugging her pale throat. She wasn't followed about by a personal maid, which was strange to me. Her attire was well enough where she was of noble class, yet something seemed off about her.
Her eyes—the color of sapphires—sparkled briefly as she curtseyed. "Lady Rosemarie. I don't know if you remember me," she said, her curled, blonde hair falling over her bare shoulders.
I certainly didn't remember anyone like her. "Forgive me, I do not."
She almost looked hurt, but masked it easily. "I was betrothed to your brother Zane," she told me, her voice soft.
That's when it hit me. I remembered the blonde girl who joined on mother's and my outings and occasionally strolled about with Zane, the less conventional with women of my two brothers. He was always shy around her, she around him, but they were perfect for each other.
Oh, I remembered her now. I remembered the girl who was to be my sister before the terror happened.
"Charity," I whispered.