My feet unlock suddenly and send my straining body sprawling. My hip hits the hardwood and explodes with pain despite the substantial cushion of my layered skirt, and my cry is so filled with terror and desperation as to double my horror.
I'm the fly, I'm the fly, I'm the fly . . .
"Ninety-two . . .Come now, Mary Sue. Surely, you don't plan to simply surrender to fate. But, then again, I'd expected you to punch Harold Doyle's ticket to Hell long ago. And where is he? Why, he's molesting my mistress with his bloodshot eyes and foul breath in the billiards room. Ninety-one . . ."
Get up! He's a demon. So what! Kill him. You can kill him if you just. Get. Up!
"Ninety . . .how terribly pathetic. Eighty-nine . . ."
I scramble upon the floor gracelessly, my knees sliding every which way behind the slippery silk of my skirt. With a yowl of frustration, I reach for the leg of the wingback chair I nearly tripped over earlier and drag myself close enough to climb painfully to my feet.
"Bravo! Well-done. Eighty-six . . .I'd run now, if I were you, Mary Sue. Eighty-five . . ."
"Sebastian? Have you seen my eye patch?"
"It's on the table beside the lamp, Darling. Eighty-four . . ."
"Lord Phantomhive!" I yell out desperately as I stagger toward the hallway. "I believe you intended to offer me a position within your employ several years ago," I glance over my shoulder, only to see Sebastian's amused expression. He drops me a wink and continues to count. "My skills are innate. Sharp as ever. I'm only here because I'd hoped we might resume the conversation my father so rudely interrupted on your birthday. Do you remember?"
"Seventy-nine . . ."
"Stop counting!" I shriek. "Ciel!"
"My apologies, Lady Blackwood, but due to a current business arrangement, I'm afraid I'm no longer at liberty to resume our conversation." Ciel's silken voice sounds somewhat distracted, and I hear him mutter a curse beneath his breath. "You see, I'd intended to seduce you off into a vacant bedchamber after our dance, and then devour your soul. It sounds crude, but, in my defense, I was naïve, starving, and Sutcliffe had promised to stop hitting on my man for a month if I offed you. Sebastian? My shoes?"
"Utterly hopeless," Sebastian sighs. "Beneath the wingback. Whatever would you do without me? Seventy-five . . ."
"I should never hope to find out. Mary-Sue?"
"What?" I gasp, my heart hammering in my throat. My left hip throbs excruciatingly, and my leg feels like tingling jelly.
"Seventy-four . . ."
"Out of respect for my lovely wife and her woefully poor judge of character, I'd advise you to return to the ballroom. If you surround yourself with people, you might buy yourself more time than the seventy-three seconds of life you currently have left."
"Seventy-two . . ."
"Then, of course, I am a demon," Ciel chuckles, his humor freezing like ice against my spine. "Sebastian never betrays his word, but there's nothing stopping me from snapping your neck before you even reach the hallway."
"Young Master! Seventy-one . . .rest assured, I will protect you from Lord Phantomhive, Mary Sue. But I do suggest you run, now. Seventy . . ."
They're going to kill me. The certainty destroys my last thread of false bravado and I lurch toward the doorway with my good leg, dragging my increasingly lame one behind me.
Run. I can't run. I can't . . .
I burst out into the hallway, Sebastian's caramel-coated call of "Sixty-nine" chasing me into the moonlit corridor where I freeze with panicked indecision. Ciel's right. I should drag myself back to the ballroom, shrieking for help as I go. I should scream my fool head off about soul-sucking demons, not because anyone will believe me, but in the hope they'll procure a doctor who might ensconce me in the relative safety of an asylum.
I don't want to die . . .please . . .
But I can't . . .I can't force myself to pass the door behind which I hear that damnable butler call, "Sixty-six . . ." Instead, I turn toward the French doors which lead to the terrace. Gripping the wall for support, I shuffle down the hallway, each step tortured and much too slow.
At last . . .the door handle feels like promise in my hand, and the cool night air invigorates me as I throw myself outside. A set of treacherous marble stairs leads down into the dark gardens, and I've never been so grateful for my height and the flat-soled shoes it forces me to wear as I am right now, gripping the handrail for dear life and hobbling down each slick step with all the grace of an elderly cripple.
"Fifty!" Sebastian jeers from the black depths of my terror.
I stumble onto the stone path that leads into the dark gardens, lurching dangerously to my weakened left now that I've nothing to support myself. My hip screams, shooting pain to my toes and clear up to my jaw. Surely, it's broken—cracked, at the very least, and I so desperately need to put distance between myself and the demon who counts down to my last, after which he intends to eat . . .
Calm down, Mary Sue! If you have any hope of surviving this night, you must keep a clear head!
A plan . . .I need a plan. It won't do to stumble off blindly into the gardens, especially when it's vital I make every excruciating step count. I know these grounds. I've played here as a child on several occasions. If I remember correctly, this path meanders through one garden to the next and will lead me around the whole of the manor. Honestly . . .I'm probably less than two hundred yards from the front door!
Lizzie, I think as I shuffle to the place where the stone path splits and choose the trail leading toward the front of the manor. I have to find Lizzie. She has some sort of power over them. That devil of a butler sounded hell-bent on pleasing her. He'll leave me alone if she demands my safety, and why wouldn't she? Of course she will. We were very nearly sisters, after all . . .
The night is cool, but sweat runs down my clammy skin in rivulets and my gown becomes heavier with each pain-filled step, further bogging my infuriating snail's pace. The path leads me into a copse of small trees, and although their foliage creates a dense umbrella over the walkway, blocking out the moonlight and rendering me nearly blind, I'm grateful for the support of their narrow, smooth trunks. I pull myself from one to the next and focus my mind on my goal, allowing an image of Lizzie's face to distract me from my agony and terror.
Who would have thought there would ever come a day when you'd be so desperate for the company of Elizabeth Midford? The thought strikes me as ridiculously funny. Laughter rumbles up from my chest, harsh and hard and more than a little hysterical as I relinquish the trunk of the last small tree and stumble into a moonlit clearing decorated with clusters of rosebushes, a wide, white gazebo at its center. The path, now dotted with footlights, leads straight to and then around the fancy shelter—the inside of which is queerly black as pitch . . .so dark, I can't see through to grounds beyond.
My laughter dies in my throat as suddenly as it began and the hair on the back of my damp neck stands on end. I freeze, the urge to scamper back into the darkness of the trees nearly overwhelming . . .and yet, I'm so close. Beneath the heady perfume of the roses, I smell faint traces of roasted meat. Music drifts thinly on the air, mingled with tinkles of laughter. I hear the roll of carriage wheels and the whinny of a horse. The front of the manor is just beyond the copse of trees standing at the far end of this clearing, and my paralyzing terror is utterly ridiculous. If I were to scream right now, someone would most certainly hear me.
No, I don't think they would hear you, Mary Sue. Not if he doesn't want you to be heard.
"No," I whimper, my voice nothing more than a pathetic, futile quiver. The sound of it both terrifies and enrages me.
I have not given up, Goddamn it! I will not simply lie down and die! I will not cower in the woods like a useless little girl. I will not!
"Lizzie!" I bellow at the top of my lungs, lurching forward along the path, my eyes glued to the black interior of the dreaded gazebo. "Elizabeth Midford!"
"That would be 'Lady Phantomhive,' to you," the demon's silken voice streams through the darkness. "Please address My Lady properly, if you must address her at all."
"Lizzie!" I screech. My left leg collapses. I crumble to the ground, wailing with pain and defeat as I watch Sebastian's long form emerge from shadows. "Lizzie! Help me!"
"Now! That will be quite enough of that, I'm afraid," Sebastian says calmly as he steps out upon the walkway. He shakes his head minutely and regards me with a pitying expression. "We wouldn't want to cause a scene, now, would we?"
"You!" I screech as I futilely attempt to pull myself upright. "You stay the hell away from me! Lizzie!"
"Shh. Sweet, sweet Mary Sue. Hush now. I don't intend to hurt you," Sebastian croons as he strides toward me. The footlights along the stone walkway wink out as he passes them, and the opaque darkness seeps out from the inside of the gazebo, covering the gardens like a blanket of shadow. "You're wounded, sweet lady. You must conserve your strength. Screaming will never do."
His voice caresses my mind in the most soothing manner, and my whole body relaxes as my terror melts away. I look up into his warm, cherry-wood eyes so filled with benevolence, and feel tears of relief fill my own.
"There now. That's my good girl." He sweeps down upon one knee before me and smiles. "No need for tears, my sweet. All is well. Your pain will be gone very, very soon. Nothing will hurt you ever again."
Warmth blooms in my chest and drifts through my body. I turn my face against his soft, white-gloved thumb, which caresses a tear from the bridge of my cheek. "Do you promise?" I whisper.
"You have my word, Sweet Mary Sue." His arms sweep beneath my knees and shoulders, and I'm suddenly floating weightlessly from the ground, the pain in my hip nothing more than a dull ache as he cradles me against him like a delicate child. "I never lie."
I lay my head against his shoulder and breathe in his warm, spicy-sweet scent. He smells so good, like fresh mulled cider, and I feel so comfortable and protected in his arms, I feel so cherished and safe . . .I need fear nothing, I need want for nothing ever again because I am his, and everything is so very nearly perfect, so very nearly right . . .if not for that incessant little whisper in the back of my mind, that annoying little niggle of ridiculous warning . . .if only it would just shut up . . .
"Your hip," Sebastian murmurs against my temple as he carries me into the gazebo, "does it still pain you?"
"Of course not," I answer. How could anything pain me when I'm with him? Such an odd question . . .
He stands me gently on my feet, steadying me in the circle of his arms for moment before dropping them and taking a step back to gaze upon me with appreciative eyes. "Ah. You're so very appetizing, Mary Sue. Such beautiful turbulence. Such enticing darkness."
Heat stains my cheeks. "You flatter me."
"Not at all," he smiles. "Ever since our eyes met earlier this evening, you haven't been far from my mind."
Another bright bulb of warmth blooms within me. "I thought I'd imagined your attention . . ."
"And I was certain I sensed within you a deep desire to be the woman in my arms." Sebastian trails the back of his white-gloved finger down the side of my cheek and sends tingles of electricity sparking all the way down to my toes. "Was I mistaken, Mary Sue?"
My face burns. I shake my head. "I would have given anything to . . ."
"Would you still?" Sometime during the my last breath he's closed the slight distance between us, and his soft lips ghost over the tip of my nose as he asks, "Would you sell me your soul for a dance, Mary Sue?"
That annoying niggle tucks hard at the back of my mind, insists loudly that there's somewhere I need to be very far from here, far from him . . .
"Mary Sue," he breathes, and the world brightens with his eyes, which shimmer with warmth and desire.
"No," I whisper, my arms floating up to encircle his waist. It's a brazen move to be sure, but I tingle from head to feet with delight. "I'll require a kiss, as well."
He chuckles softly. "Most certainly. A kiss so long and deep it will quite steal your breath . . .but after our dance, My Sweet."
Closing my eyes, I tighten my arms around his trim waist and nod my agreement. "Shall we make our way to the ball . . ."
"Mary Sue?" An incredulous, high-pitched voice pierces through the night and shatters my perfect world. My left hip explodes with agony and my leg buckles. Sebastian's arms close around my waist, keeping me upright. I shriek with pain and terror, and struggle against his hold, a wave of nausea rising within me as the events of the last hour slam through my mind with vivid clarity.
Demons!
"Sebastian! What in the Hell do you think you're doing? Unhand Lady Doyle immediately!" Lizzie's approaching voice ricochets like a whining bullet through my spinning head.
"Insolent, undisciplined brat," Sebastian mutters. "How many times have I warned him about sharing certain bodily fluids with humans? She should have been as deaf to your caterwauling as the rest of them. A shame."
"Sebastian!" Lizzie bellows, much closer now. "I told you to let her go!"
"As you wish, My Lady," Sebastian croons, and then drops me. I hit the floor with a spine-shattering thud which simultaneously steals my breath as it wracks me with pain from neck to tailbone.
"Oh my God! Mary Sue!" Lizzie cries as she bursts into the gazebo. She starts to crouch, but then thinks better of it, smoothing her hands over the skirts of her gown as she straightens and stares down at me with an expression of horror and disgust. "Oh Sebastian . . .she's a bloody and broken mess. What have you done to her?"
"He . . .He's a . . .demon," I rasp. "Lizzie . . .please . . ."
"She acquired her injuries herself," Sebastian says, staring down at me with a wry smile. He steps up beside Lizzie and wraps his arm around her trembling shoulders. She presses her lithe frame against him gratefully, and allows him to enfold her within his embrace.
"Her hip was shattered during a nasty fall sustained while attempting to flee a sitting room where I caught her spying on a nobleman, her mind and heart intent on blackmail," He explains, while his thumb gently strokes Lizzie's shoulder. "The state of her gown and skin are attributed to those thorns and branches she snagged upon in the gardens."
"I don't have to ask upon who she was spying, or what she witnessed," Lizzie lifts her cheek from Sebastian's chest, and pouts up at him. "I smell him all over you. Not that I hadn't guessed exactly what was going on when I couldn't find hide nor hair of either of you . . .and after I asked him to please refrain from engaging with you alone . . .Paula is beside herself, heartbroken at your absence, Sebastian, and I . . ." She pounds a small fist against his chest and chokes out a sob.
"Oh . . . My Lady," Sebastian murmurs. He looks down into her tear-filled eyes with the intimate attention of a lover, his expression the perfect mix of compassion, regret and concern. "Please . . .please don't . . ."
"Lizzie!" I croak. I manage to pull myself up on one elbow "He lies . . .he'll make you feel . . .get away from him . . .help me . . ."
"Oh, shut up!" She snaps, whipping her head to glare down at me, her eyes glittering cold. "I told you to stay put, didn't I? Ciel has always told me you're much more trouble than you're worth and I was foolish for insisting there was good in you, that you were simply lonely and misunderstood. You have no idea the trouble I've gone through to keep him from ending you the way he did your awful father. Did you hope to repay me with heartache and humiliation?"
"Wha . . .?" I collapse onto my back, gasping.
This isn't happening. This can't be happening . . .
"Well?!" Lizzie demands shrilly. "Answer me, Mary Sue!"
"My Lady," Sebastian purrs. "If I may . . ."
"No. You. May. Not." Lizzie yells, punctuating each word with a sharp jab of her perfectly manicured finger to the center of Sebastian's chest. "I hope you enjoyed your little tryst with my husband tonight, because it was your last. Aside from upsetting me terribly, just look at the trouble you've caused!" She stomps her foot and waves her hand in my direction. "I'm done asking, Sebastian. I'll have to issue an order. He'll not be allowed to touch you without my express permission."
A look of abject horror flashes across Sebastian's face, but he recovers quickly with an expressionless nod. "Of course. He is your devoted servant, My Lady, as I am his, and therefore we will both humbly acquiesce to your every command. However . . ." He cups her face gently with one hand, the other stroking the small of her back as he stares intently into her eyes. " . . .we've discussed this before, Elizabeth. Remember, he is so very young. He's not yet fully learned to bridle his power. Please, for your sake, consider all potential consequences of denying him. . .outlets before you issue your order. Even when kept well sated, I know the ferocity of his lust frightens you."
"Not so terribly much," she says weakly, her lower lip trembling.
"You're both such terrible liars," Sebastian chuckles. "I think you'll find him exceptionally gentle tonight, however."
"Do you expect me to thank you for fornicating with my husband without me?" She pouts.
"Never. I only ask you keep my influence in mind while you're enjoying the rarity of his most tender affections," Sebastian croons. He brushes a kiss across the tip of her nose.
"How tender?" Her arms twine up around his neck and she presses herself flush against him as she touches her mouth to his.
In a broken heap of pain, I lie quite forgotten as Ciel's butler gives Lady Phantomhive an intimate oral demonstration of her husband's impending gentle kiss . . .a kiss that will apparently cause her to moan lewdly and rut her hips against his person like a bitch in heat.
Perhaps it's my multitude of broken bits or my likely internal bleeding which numbs me, because I can't muster the least bit of shock or surprise at the sight of perfect little Lizzie shoving her perfect little tongue down the throat of the hired demon help. I do, however, feel a rising swell of anger. How dare they forget me!
"Lizzie!" I yell as another voice calls the same name in tandem. I twist my head toward the sound and see Ciel striding down the moonlit path, his eye glowing rosy through the dark.
Uh oh! Caught! I think, and giggle inanely.
"I knew you were going out for dinner, Sebastian, but I didn't expect to find you supping on my wife," Ciel says as he strides into the gazebo. He stares down at me. "Why are you still breathing?"
"Psst!" I spit through my teeth, laughing. I feel funny. Like I had a little nip or five of Harry's brandy. "Your butler's diddlin' your missus. And you. And your gardener, prob'ly. Do you have a dog?"
With a wet resounding smack, Lizzie releases her liplock on the butler and exclaims, "Ciel, Darling! I hope you're not jealous! Sebastian was simply trying to convince me not to . . ."
"Oh, but I am jealous, My Dear," Ciel interrupts. He prods my good hip with the toe of his shoe. "Insanely. I fear I shall have to punish both of you quite thoroughly. Later. Sebastian, why is this creature laughing like a mad hyena?"
"I believe she's slipping into shock, Sir," Sebastian regards me indifferently, his arms still wrapped around his master's wife, who clings to him like a burr. "Her injuries are quite grievous."
"It's well past time to put her out of her misery then, wouldn't you agree?"
"Ciel, no!" Lizzie cries, burying her face against Sebastian's chest and clinging to him tighter. "Please don't kill her, Sebastian! I know she's terrible, but couldn't we take her home and . . ."
"And what?" Ciel huffs. "Cage her in the cellar? She's a noblewoman, not a stray cat. I know you've always harbored an asinine fondness for her despite the fact that she obviously loathes you, but even you must have some limit to your idiocy, Elizabeth!"
"Young Master," Sebastian says lowly, shaking his head in slow warning as Lizzie chokes a muffled sob against his lapel.
Ciel rolls his eyes. "I'm sorry, Dear One," he says with silken sincerity, prodding my hip once more before he turns and walks over to the couple. He places a gentle palm against his wife's back. "I beg you forgive my harsh words. I just had the most discomfiting conversation with Mr. Spears, you see, and . . ."
"There are reapers here?" Sebastian demands. Lizzie's head pops up from his chest and she pushes from his arms to Ciel's, her face unmarred and quite lit with excitement.
"Grelle?" She squeals, throwing her arms around Ciel.
"Yes," Ciel nods. He locks his gaze with Sebastian's. "Spears, Sutcliffe, and Knox. It seems Lady Doyle's particular brand of whimsy inspired an impromptu death-list half a mile long. Again. And your name was on it, again, My Dear." He presses a kiss to Lizzie's upturned brow. "So you'll forgive me, I hope, for my rash of temper."
"My name," Lizzie whispers. She presses herself against Ciel and turns her head to glower down at me.
"What are their intentions?" Sebastian asks.
"They've agreed to let you have her, if you take her tonight," Ciel strokes his hand protectively over Lizzie's hair, and presses another kiss to the top of her head. "It seems she's a rare wildcard amongst human souls in that she's nearly devoid of humanity. They don't entrust Hell to hold her."
"They're afraid I'll take over!" I cheer. The gazebo spins a dizzying whirl, and I suddenly understand with absolute clarity, "You people are fucking insane! Demons, Reapers and Death-lists, oh my!"
"Her injuries are fatal, then?" Sebastian's eyes rake over me doubtfully.
"No," Ciel replies, "But Spears said she's suffered him so much overtime, he's quite inclined to turn a blind eye."
"Ciel," Lizzie whimpers. "Is there truly no other way? Perhaps we could . . ."
"My Lady," Sebastian reaches out and strokes her cheek, and Lizzie turns her imploring eyes from Ciel's face to his. "Please . . .allow My Lord to escort you back to the ballroom and do your utmost to erase this bit of unpleasantness from your mind."
"I would enjoy nothing more than to waltz with the most beautiful woman at the ball," Ciel agrees. "Come dance with me Lizzie. Make me the envy of every man in the room."
"Oh, Ciel." She gushes with delight. Her eyes flash down on me for only an instant before she nods up at him enthusiastically. "Yes. Let's!"
"Bitch!" I bellow, but my voice is little more than a rasp. "Don't you dare leave me . . ."
Sebastian waves his hand in my direction, and although I'm still yelling, my voice carries no sound at all.
He needn't have bothered. Clutching Ciel's hand, Lizzie turns to Sebastian without sparing me so much as a glance. Bouncing up on her toes, she brushes a kiss to his lips. "Don't be long. I shall tell Paula you'll be joining us directly."
"Of course, My Lady." His eyes raise and lock with Ciel's. "My Lord."
His lord drops him a wink and then gives a gentle tug to Lizzie's hand. "I do believe I hear the orchestra tuning up. Let's make haste, Dear."
"Oh! Yes. We'd best hurry!" Lizzie bolts toward the gardens, dragging Ciel behind her out of the gazebo. "Goodbye, Mary Sue!"
A volley of curses and insults erupt soundlessly from my throat as I flop onto my stomach and attempt to crawl after the retreating couple. Bright stabs of blinding pain reward me for my effort.
"My . . .you appear to be experiencing a great deal of agony, Lady Doyle." The demon's voice shimmers warm down my throbbing spine, dulling my pain as it flows. "My Young Master was quite right. It's beyond time I put an end to your anguish."
"No," I breathe, my voice audible once more. I collapse, panting. The wooden floor of the gazebo feels blessedly cool and damp against the side of my face. "Shut up. Leave me . . ."
"Now, now. You know I'm not going to do any such thing," Sebastian croons just above my ear. The gazebo floor falls away from my cheek, and, just as I register hands gripping my waist, I find myself upright and staring straight into his crimson eyes. "I believe I promised you a dance."
"No . . .don't . . ." My attempts to tear my gaze from his are as futile as my weak struggles to escape his embrace. "Don't toy with me, demon."
"Very well. If you're certain you desire no recompense, I've no objection," Sebastian smirks. He tilts my chin up toward his lowing face.
The kiss. He's going to kill me with a kiss.
"Wait!" I blurt. "There is something I want . . ."
"I'm afraid we're quite out of time," Sebastian's voice drips with mock regret, his words tickling like feathers against my lips.
"Harold. Make it look like he murdered me. See to it he spends the rest of his miserable existence rotting in a dank cell," I demand in a rush. "His life for mine."
"Done." Sebastian smiles, his eyes brightening from crimson to flaming violet as they burn into mine. "His life for yours. And what will you demand in exchange for your soul?"
"Nothing," I bite with all the malice welling within me. "You can take my soul and choke on it, you miserable piece of filth, for you shall never, ever have it."
Sebastian's smile broadens, revealing two rows of sharp, glittering fangs. "I believe I will truly enjoy your slow dissolution into oblivion, Mary Sue." He chuckles. "Such spunk."
Before I can suggest he bugger himself, his mouth closes over mine. His hot tongue plunges through my parted lips and straight down my throat, gagging me as it closes off my windpipe. I fight frantically against the assault, clawing at his chest, his face, ripping at his hair, adrenaline coursing through my blood and limbs as pain from my bruised spine and broken hip explodes continuously, blinding me with bursts of scarlet-streaked white light.
Can't breathe, can't breathe, can't . . .
Somewhere in the quickly approaching distance, a woman's voice rasps, "you must save the babe."
"Don't listen to her," My father's voice commands. "Destroy that thing right now, if it will save my wife."
I feel my lungs expand and draw blessed air, cold and harsh and stinging, and then I understand as the sound of my own first wail rings through my ears the sensation is naught but a memory.
And so it goes, one breath bleeds into another, one sensation into the next; light spills into the darkness, blurry images which slowly sharpen into sensible focus . . .my life, relived moment by moment with vivid clarity, each detaching from cell and fiber with exquisite shredding pain as he tastes and savors and loosens it from its moors with his ravenous tongue.
At long last, I see his eyes . . .elliptical pupils laughing within dancing, violet flames . . . flames which flicker and dim with each slowing thud of my heart until the dark edges of the world encroach over my vision like a narrowing tunnel, shunting me back into the nothingness from which I came.