Ciel and Sebastian, His Butler, New World 6
Friend and Foe
Ciel had listened to the particulars of the investigation as Sebastian had outlined them. The demon's sentiments on his return from the reaches of Filly's subconscious were unreadable. The boy was not interested in the case at present, nor what such archaic methods of communication said about the traditions of the Library order. All he was concerned with was ensuring his host never saw the light of day again.
"How do I rid myself of your urchin friend? He cannot be allowed to undermine my authority on a daily basis. It is intolerable to be tethered to such a dirty creature of the slums." Ciel said wrinkling his nose at faint overtures of raw sewage he could still smell on his bare skin. Red eyes said nothing.
"At present I have not formulated a solution to that problem. Extraction of the host soul is impossible since it will kill the body. Containing the host mind is equally dangerous: the only way you can eliminate Filly's consciousness is to fully consume his soul with your own, fuse them as it were, but with yours as the solitary mind." Sebastian said as if such drivel were obvious. The boy narrowed his eyes.
"How would I achieve that?"
"I have no idea. A demon may consume a human soul because it has none to be corrupted by ingestion: a human soul consuming another human soul offers no guarantee of the consumer's personality remaining intact. There is always a chance eating the other soul will merge the two separate identities into one, distorting past, present and future endeavours and driving what is created to madness." This could only prompt Ciel to roll his eyes in frustration.
"So, am I to understand that as a demon, your mind is essentially indestructible?"
"Not indestructible, merely incorruptible. My personality cannot be altered in any way. I have been the same since time began and I will never change."
"Then explain your attachment to me? Surely that is a personality change?"
"No, simply activation of traits that lay dormant. I have always liked small, vulnerable mammals such as cats, admired them for their sleek veneer and unusual grace. Until I met you, I never thought such traits could be found in a human contract. You were a small and vulnerable animal when I met you, aesthetically pleasing to behold certainly, but with a curious natural dignity that bellied your physical frailty. I was fascinated by you from the start, if displeased by your initial clumsiness and stupidity. Now you are perfect, a cat in human form." This went beyond cheek or the fringes of good taste. To compare him to a cat, appraise him on equal footing with such loathsome vermin…the boy could barely contain himself to reply at all.
"That is absurd, even for you. I need a solution to this problem. I will not share indefinitely."
"I have no intention of letting you do so. I will find a solution. In the meantime however, let us utilise him as necessary with our investigation."
"Do you like him, Sebastian?"
"He is not entirely without merit. During your absence, he proved himself to be very capable."
"That is not an answer to the question I asked. Do you like him?" Ciel snapped. He was not jealous of Sebastian lavishing attention on that slum rat. Far from it. He was merely angry the demon felt he had leave to evade such a direct question. Sebastian offered a brief nod.
"Yes. He reminds me of you." The boy scoffed.
"That's funny. I rather think he is like you: a puppet-master who is eager to see me dance on his strings." The demon's ever-present smile finally vanished. He almost appeared upset by this analogy. Ciel watched this very human reaction in incredulity. Sebastian was actually concerned.
"I do not want you to perform, Ciel. I want you to be happy." The demon said. The boy was not in a forgiving mood. He let out a dismissive sigh.
"You are doing a poor job thus far."
His companion did not try to mend broken fences with eloquent prose this time. This time the boy was subjected to something new. Sebastian got up from his position on the other sofa and took a seat next to the boy. Ciel eyed him with suspicion as arms began to close around his back, trapping him in the hollow space of the demon's body. The arms tightened around him, forcing his own body flush against Sebastian's and his forehead to press on the demon's still chest. He could now see nothing but the fabric of his companion's cable-knit sweater, smell nothing but the shroud of death that permeated every inch of Sebastian's being and hear nothing but the blood pounding rhythmically in his ears. Here he was, in the embrace of death itself, and could feel nothing but…serenity. He wanted to be repulsed by this display, abhorred by its emptiness, but was not. All he felt was safe. He closed his eyes and sank into the darkness without regret. The arms tightened their hold further, squeezing him firmly.
Ciel lost track of how long the demon persisted in his embrace. But when it was over and the arms released him, the boy regarded his companion in silence for several moments. "Is that supposed to absolve you of poor stewardship?"
"No. It is to remind you of my devotion. You are the reason I refuse to move on with my existence. I am a demon. It is in my very nature to consume and seek out another meal. I am a predator, not a person. And yet you are still here, a mouse who lives in the jaws of a lion." Sebastian replied. He placed a hand on the boy's cheek. "I will find a solution. I promise." Ciel could feel the cold and unnatural texture to the demon's skin as the hand remained on his face. It was like pressing against a tombstone in the depths of winter. It was oddly comforting too.
"Do you expect gratitude?" The boy asked as the hand too persisted in its action.
"I expect you to see I am sincere. That is all I want, my little lord."
"Touching me does not increase your sincerity in any way. It only makes you seem desperate." The boy told him but without his typically sharp tone. His companion's smile returned. The demon had evidently heard the lack of hostility that kept them distant drop away. Ciel felt himself tense as it dawned on him Sebastian knew that he was contented by such behaviours. The demon knew his weakness, had seen his enjoyment of such intimacy. It was dangerous.
"Then you may consider me very desperate indeed." Sebastian said before hugging his companion again. Ciel offered no objection. He closed his eyes and fell into the dark realm again. It was warmer this time, an even more inviting sanctuary to retreat to. The demon relented faster though. They were one for only a few seconds. The boy could not recall an embrace that gave him such peace, except that of his physical death. He nodded in agreement.
"Woefully desperate I would say. I am not weak or feeble, you damn cur."
"I never said either of those words, Ciel."
"You compared me to a cat and called me small and weak."
"No, I called you small and vulnerable."
"Explain the difference."
"Weak implies failure on your part. Vulnerable implies failure on the part of the world around you. I think we can agree you have never failed yourself, but the world has failed you…until my arrival."
Ciel was unconvinced of the demon's distinction between the two terms. However, they had danced around these issues for what had now been more than a century. He was not eager to retrace old arguments concerning his physical frailty, especially not with a creature as overtly powerful as Sebastian. The demon had pledged to give him permanent ownership of his new body. That was good enough a promise to dismiss this line of conversation and the strange feelings of affection the boy was beginning to experience for his companion. Ciel placed a hand over Sebastian's and gave it a solitary pat.
"I…appreciate your…devotion. Perhaps it is best if we addressed the particulars of your investigation. Sentiment is something neither of us express well. Please show me the photograph of the note." The demon inclined his head.
"With pleasure."
Ciel regarded the message and its hallmarks again on Sebastian's smartphone before taking a shower using carbolic soap in the hopes of eliminating the stench. When he returned to the living room, fully dressed in a cashmere sweater and flannel trousers, he was ready to work on the problem. Sebastian had spread various papers on the coffee table relating to the mysterious order they were seeking and freshly brewed Assam tea for one. As the demon opened his mouth to offer some greeting, Ciel left the room. He returned a moment later with an extra cup. Sebastian raised his eyebrows in surprise as the boy poured another helping from the ceramic teapot and pushed it in his direction.
"Why a quill? Why not a pen? It's not like the message is written on parchment or anything fitting for the implement." The boy asked as he sat down opposite his companion. Sebastian nodded in agreement.
"No. And, for such a modern invention, this Library order has odd anachronisms: an archaic writing tool dipped in blood then applied to common stationary paper. It is terribly inelegant."
"And stupid. Has the camera caught the alleged perpetrator yet?"
"Not yet. The only movement has been that of a rat colony."
"Describe the bottle to me. Any hallmarks or notable features?" Ciel said sitting back and crossing his legs. Sebastian took a sip of his tea.
"It is of Victorian origin, likely an early nineteenth century gin bottle judging by the type of glass and general shape."
"And the rope holding it in place?"
"I did not see the rope. The ease with which Filly untied it suggests it was low-quality braided rope from a hardware store."
"It all seems a very contrived method of communication. Do you believe it to be genuine or some elaborate hoax to send us chasing shadows?" The boy asked reaching for his own cup. Sebastian's expression was one of amusement.
"The lengths they have gone to in order to conceal this message and its initial location suggest it is a genuine message."
"And the message conveys the idea there are fourteen targets for assassination and whoever is orchestrating them has successfully dispatched half their list already. This really bad prose they have written the message in, an imitation of Victorian poets? Is this whole venture some neo-Victorian nonsense, a romantic view of an age that did not exist?" Ciel postulated whilst briefly pawing through the strewn documents. They were annotated photographs of the dump sites and employee records of the victims themselves. Nothing jumped out at him.
"That is certainly feasible. During a review of the victims so far via social media, I have found certain links between them that are not obviously apparent." Sebastian said indicating his closed laptop that sat amidst the chaos of papers and tea. The boy's interest was piqued. He leant forward.
"Such as?"
"Instagram posts show them all wearing similar Victorian-styled garments at a function entitled 'Festum Victoriana'." Ciel did not need the translation: Victoriana Festival. So, links did exist.
"Can you ascertain when these photographs were taken, where?"
"They are all time-stamped. Dates range from 2005-2007 and the images themselves were uploaded in December 2011." Ciel raised an eyebrow.
"All of them?"
"Yes, all of them. And all at the same time."
"How many images are there?"
"One from each."
"Show me them. This must be some kind of coded message." The boy said sidling onto the seat next to the demon as the laptop was opened up. They both took sips of tea as the desktop loaded. A minute later, Ciel was scrutinising the seven images as they sat side-by-side on the monitor. None of the garments being worn were originals. The boy could tell that just from the missing details such as pockets and the correct number of buttons. The poor stitching on the seams was a mere bonus. They looked to date from the 1830s since they greatly resembled the clothes worn by the older members of the gentry. Fashion disasters aside, the fact they all stood alone in the picture and had adopted the same pose of their left arm crossed over their chest as if preparing to bow was quite telling. "Perhaps a pledge of allegiance?" Ciel mused aloud taking another sip.
"Yes, maybe even an oath of loyalty to the order itself. This could be their initiation picture."
"And the photographer, some sort of prominent figure within the order. Perhaps the leader themselves. How did you find these images?"
"They had been deleted from the profiles, but not thoroughly enough. I recovered them using a software programme that reverses such a process."
"A lack of computer knowledge and skills might be the cause. It would fit an individual or group who try to enact older methods of living and working. Do we have a location for these images yet?"
"I have researched the festival and found that it takes place right here in London, the Gawain Theatre near King's Cross Station to be exact. Fortunately for our requirements, the latest iteration of the festival is scheduled for next Friday. It takes place every year on January the twenty-second." Ciel could not help his eyes widening at the mention of this date. He took a moment before articulating his concern.
"The day of my death?"
"An unusual coincidence, at best. You and Her Majesty Queen Victoria died on the same date, approximately eleven years apart." The demon replied genially whilst draining the last of his cup and setting it down. Ciel grimaced.
"And they celebrate the Victorian era, on the day it came to an end? That is somewhat macabre, isn't it?" The boy said mirroring his friend's actions in finishing his tea. Sebastian nodded.
"Yes, I thought so too. We should attend."
"It is not a private affair?"
"No. Anyone may purchase a ticket to the event. I have already paid for two of them online."
"Does it detail on the website what activities take place at this festival?"
"There are many exhibitions depicting daily Victorian life, simulated Hansom cab rides, food, drink entertainment, arts and crafts and of course, photographs."
"Anything…occult?" Ciel asked. He hoped not, but with an order this shadowy and apparently conceited, it almost seemed a prerequisite they should claim a dark force as their power. Sebastian smiled.
"Not that is advertised."
"Do we not have any other leads to pursue in the meantime?" The boy said, not particularly thrilled at playing musical chairs with Filly for the next week. Sebastian gestured to the laptop screen.
"We can investigate possibilities why all seven victims posted their respective images simultaneously and what the significance of that date almost five years ago means. There may be clues to trace other potential victims before time expires." Ciel regarded the demon in suspicion. It was disconcerting to hear an immortal talk of time running out. It made him think he was making more than a generalisation on the subject.
"Whose time?" He asked. Red eyes returned his gaze with their usual opaque nature. The demon's smile widened ever so slightly.
"No-one in particular, merely time itself."