The dull scenery of London passed us by as though it was a cinematic record, the grey clouds casting a shadow over the town and its people. Falling further back into the leather of the carriage, I began to pick at my nails in a bored manner, trying to pick the remaining dirt from underneath the skin. A small smile was plastered on my face, and it was completely genuine; the consequence of my current situation. It would be nice to finally get out of the Manor – not once during my stay had Sebastian given me any tasks that involved me leaving the premises, though he was right to be cautious. He probably thought that I would run off again, just like I did the last time we had met. Talking of the mysterious butler, he was currently sitting up at the front of the carriage, directing the horses towards our destination, though he was doing so with an almost painfully slow speed, I was actually tempted to shout at him to hurry up.

After my little outburst of excitement back in the kitchen, it was clear that the Undertaker and I were acquainted – I reckoned even Ciel could figure out that much. What I was mentally debating, however, was whether Sebastian had figured out exactly how we were acquainted, as I had indeed mentioned so before. And, judging by the frown he had given me when assisting me in preparing the horses, and the tediously slow pace with which he was driving, I could only assume that he had actually figured out my little riddle. That was just going to add to the fun of this entire situation.

A forced and fake cough drew me away from my sly thoughts, and I looked up from my nails to see the Earl sitting across from me, frowning slightly, though I had no idea why. Sometimes, I wondered if that was all the muscles in his face knew how to do – scowl and frown. Not once had I seen him smile, and I was really beginning to wonder of there was something genuinely wrong with the boy. Though, my heart could reach out to him somewhat; he did have to live in house filled with three utterly useless servants and a demonic, idiotic excuse for a butler.

"So… Miss Mandetta…." The Earl spoke, his words falling off of his tongue in a slow drawl, as though he was testing the metaphorical waters of wherever this conversation was going.

"Yes?" I replied, crossing my arms over my chest and turning my head to face him. Now that I was in close range with the young entrepreneur, I could see that upon my first impression, I had been ever so slightly wrong. It was true, he was a boy who could be no older than thirteen, but by looking into that one, deep blue eye of his, I could actually see the faint glimmer of pain and anguish inside his soul that had attracted Sebastian to him in the first place. There were a few crease marks on his face, lines that should not have been there until he was much, much older, and his hair although ruffled, did not come off as childish in any way. Though these were small, even miniscule details that no normal sighted person would notice, I was able to pick them up as though they had been pointed out to me previously. In fact, now that I truly saw him, I did not see a child. I saw a young man, trapped inside the body of a minor. Though I had no clue to as what he had gone through in the past, or what had made him appear this way, I knew that there was definitely more to him than met the eye.

"I was simply wondering…" His voice snapped me back to the reality of the carriage, and, blinking, I returned my attention to him. "I mean, if I may inquire…. How exactly do you know Undertaker?" I could tell by his voice and the pauses he took between words that he felt uneasy talking to me, though I could not blame him; the last time we had personally spoken, or been in the same space together without Sebastian being present, I had in fact tried to kill him. It was only natural he would still be suspicious of me. Of course, if I wanted to play my cards right, that was something I was going to have to clean up, and the best time to do it would probably be without Sebastian nearby. To simplify it, that meant right now.

"Mr. Phantomhive, I can assure you, you do not need to fear speaking to me. I only tried to kill you because it was my job to do so, not because I had anything personal against you. There is no need for you to fear for your life – I am not about to pull a knife on you and slit your throat, trust me. Me being both caught and identified by my target automatically eliminates the contract – usually, after our first appearance, if we are discovered, another one is usually expected, making our jobs a lot harder. The only thing I'm missing out on by not killing you is some petty gold coins; nothing as drastic as for me to want to still murder you. Besides, knowing that Sebastian is your protector is enough for me to want to say away from those kinds of thoughts in the first place, so please, relax. No harm will fall to you by my hand, I can assure you."

It was true, those probably weren't the best choice of words; maybe they were a bit too blunt, if the expression of both horror and surprise on Ciel's face was anything to go by. In my defence though, I had never been good at comforting people, or saying things in a soft and gentle way as to not upset anyone. The rules I had lived by required for me to forget those who needed comforting, for they were the weaklings in this world and would only drag me down, and the second was to always say things how they are or were – to never deceive people when there was no point in doing so. The Earl may have been but a child, but as I said before, I could see the maturity in him that someone of his age shouldn't possess, and that made me treat him like an adult in ways of explaining myself. Whether I had made the situation more or less awkward was unimportant to me, as I had also spoken the truth; I had no personal quarrel with the Earl, and after his hospitality and, I had to admit, tolerating nature towards someone of my character, I would not dream of hurting him for the sake of a few measly coin.

"Yes…Well, quite." He replied, clearing his throat and biting his bottom lip, unsure of what to say next. "Well, would you care to answer my question?" He shifted in his seat, stretching his legs out slightly, as I could only assume that they were cramped from disuse. A smirk crept onto my lips at his question, the expression on my face becoming one of fond memory.

"Ah, yes, I shall." Gracefully, I crossed my legs, placing my right one over the left, and pacing my hands on my thigh. "The Undertaker and I knew each other some time ago, many years before you were born, though I met him long before that." Choosing my words very carefully, I knew that it was possible Ciel did not know of Undertaker's true purpose or origin, so I would try my best not to reveal it, just in case. "A lot of the bodies of my victims went to him, as you can imagine – and that was what caused me to meet him in the first place. You see, as I was planning to do so with you, I always use weapons on my victims that cannot be traced, so that the death looks natural, such as a highly soluble poison." Ciel's eyes flickered with fear for a moment, before they returned to normal. "However, on one of my more violent contracts many years ago, I was actually attacked by my target. Not because I was trying to kill him – he simply suffered from a long history of unprovoked violence, most of which he took out on his wife, who he was also cheating on with various women, and who was the one who had organised the contract in the first place. The set up for the elimination was a gala; my aim was to seduce the target, escort him to his room, pour my little concoction into his nightly wine, and no one would be any the wiser." I paused, taking a breath, and allowing my memory to recollect. It was then that I noticed Ciel was leaning forward slightly, interest sparking in his eyes and hands set comfortably on his lap, taking pleasure in my suspenseful story as a child his age should. Smirking, I leant in towards him also.

"However, not everything went according to plan…"

The music from the ballroom filled the air with its enchanting melody, the many men and woman inside chattering needlessly into the night. As the many highly trained and impeccably dressed musicians played, bodies twirled across the floor in a sea of graceful moves and well-known nobility. As the feet of the dozens of dancers paraded around quickly on the marble floor, my own silk clad feet were creeping across the ground at a slow and leisurely pace. The subtle yet elegant ruffles and frills of my shimmering black dress sat snugly upon my flesh, my corset protruding my bust far more than any normal article of clothing ever would, which meant that the eyes of many men were fixed on my form as I moved silently across the room. A master-crafted wig adorned my head, replacing my abnormal white hair with cherry blossom red, the disguise piece just one or two shades darker than my lipstick. Charcoal black powder dusted my eyelids, and as I passed just one of the many large mirrors of the manner, I realised that I quite simply looked like a high class escort. Though that did not deter me – from what I had read from my contract briefing that was how this man liked his girls.

Wasn't he going to get a surprise when he met me…

Smirking at the very thought of what would occur later tonight, I turned to scan the crowd of dancers and spectators, and though it took me a few seconds to find my target, find them I did. The clicking of my leather heels against marble echoed throughout my ears, and as I neared my victim, it drew the much needed attention I wanted to receive. A man adorned in fine clothing that glowed gold in the candle light focused his gaze on me, and a smirk appeared on his lips. A cane rested naturally in one of his hands, though I knew from both his physical age and appearance that it was simply for decoration – or to use as a weapon on lowly peasants who came knocking at his door. He was fairly young, I guessed twenty five at the most, and that also led me to the conclusion hat that was why he was continuously cheating on his wife – the man was probably forced into some sort of arranged marriage in his teenage years. The various women around him stared at me with narrow gazes; it was clear that they were annoyed when he stopped fussing over them and instead chose to look at me. With a smile so sweet it could give you a cavity, I glided over to the man, before curtsying in front of him, making sure to bow low enough for my cleavage to be shown off to his disgusting, roaming eyes.

"Good evening, My Lord." I said kindly, putting on the soft and dainty voice I had practiced for so long. It seemed to have the effect I was after, as I saw the look the man gave me, the glint in his eye evident from where I was positioned. "I simply wished to congratulate you on hosting this magnificent ball; it really is quite marvellous." Again, I stuck with the incredibly feminine voice, giving me the aura of a young, innocent lady. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing out loud.

The man, who studied me for a few more moments before replying, seemed to like the little act I was putting on so far. He leant down slowly, taking my small hand in his, before placing a soft kiss on my knuckles; sucking on the flesh as he pulled away, though this ungracious act did not go unnoticed by me.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss...?"

"Catherine, My Lord. Catherine Burgess." Again, I curtseyed.

"Please, call me Richard, Miss Burgess. Formalities are so boring, and I can't help but think my name will sound rather scrumptious rolling off of your tongue." He raised an eyebrow suggestively, though be it but an inch; however, it was more than enough for me to notice it. Whilst my insides churned at his expression, on the outside I giggled in the most childish way, forcing heat up to my cheeks as much as I could. The Lord, Richard, took notice of this, and seemed to be pleased with my reaction. This much I knew from the next words he said – they practically dripped with seduction.

"Well, Miss Burgess, may I ask why you approached me alone? Surely your husband would not approve of you greeting a Lord by your lonesome?" And this was where it started; always with the casual flirting. Without even thinking I knew exactly what he was trying to do, and whilst I would never fall for men like this, or be even slightly impressed with them, my cameo, Catherine, would. For the next god knows how long, I was not Esmeralda the assassin, but Catherine, the industrialist's daughter who possessed innocence that could rival that of an angel's – and I had to act as such.

God, it made me want to vomit just thinking about it….

Adding the touch of giggling again before I answered seemed to please the Lord more. "Hehehehe…. I am not married, My Lo- Richard." An eyebrow raised on the man's head. "Nor am I betrothed. I have yet to find a man that can satisfy my ongoing…..needs." Making sure to put as much emphasis as I could on that last word, I dropped the act for a moment, hoping my target would take the bait. And he did.

"Oh, really? Well, I am sure there must be a man out there somewhere who is suitable for your desires. He may even be in this very ballroom – you never know, my dear." It was at this moment in time that I noticed the women around him had wandered off in search of new men to flirt with and draw attention from, obviously seeing they were not going to get anywhere with the young Lord preoccupied with me. This gave me slight relief, actually. It meant we would be able to slip away unnoticed. Taking our isolation as my cue to start my proper work, I moved closer to the Lord, making sure to twirl a strand of hair between my fingers as I did so. The man did not back away fro my advances, and neither did he show any signs of discomfort at my actions. The fact that he was so willing to let a young woman offer themselves to him made me want to kill him right there and then, but I held back my urges to completely disembowel him. That would not be wise – I wouldn't get paid if that happened.

"Oh, but Richard," I purred, pressing my smaller body up against his, to which his response was to slip a hand onto my clothed waist. "The only man in this ballroom that even sparks an ember of interest in me is already taken, much to my despair." Feigning sadness, I stuck out my bottom lip in both a playful and seductive manner, trying to hide my disgust at what I was doing, but I continued to remind myself that it was all simply an act I was putting on; none of it was the real me. At least that allowed me to remain attached to some of my dignity.

"Well, my sweet Catherine," The hand that was perched on my waist moved to nestle on the bump of my hips, drawing me in closer to the warm body of the married man scheduled to die. "I'm sure that with some sort of…. Persuasion, that any man would be willing to give you the attention a woman of your beauty deserves." I could hear the innuendos in his words as clear as day, yet I had to pretend to be oblivious to them, which was a rather difficult task when all I wanted to do was beat him to a pulp for treating me as though I could not possibly have a brain or any intellectual thoughts inside my head whatsoever. Pulling back, I cocked my head to the side, pretending to be confused by his words.

"Persuasion? What kind? You mean, like a business deal?" Richard, the disgusting pig who had his hand curled around my body, laughed loudly, but not loud enough to draw attention to where we were both standing in the shadowed corner of the ballroom.

"No, my sweet Catherine, I speak not of business deals. But, if you would permit me to do so, I could show you some of the persuasive techniques that I have picked up over the years?" His grip tightened on my small frame, silently suggesting that I only really had one option. Trying not to gag at what I was doing – which was practically offering myself to him on a silver platter – I gazed up at him in mock innocence.

"Really? I would be most honoured if you would pass on your skills to someone such as me." A rather creepy smile crept over his lips, and I tried my best to hide the shudder that crawled down my spine. Leaning in close, he whispered in my ear his reply.

"It would be my pleasure…"

Ciel sat with his hands on his knees, back hunched over as he leant towards me, looking just as a child should when engrossed in a story they enjoyed. For a second, I could see a hint of childish curiosity in his eye, before it was quickly masked by genuine confusion.

"So, what happened next?" He asked, pushing some of his navy coloured hair out of his eye. My only reply was a smirk.

A tangle of limbs and clothing burst through the door to the Master Bedroom, followed by several gasps and moans. Richard's arms were wrapped tightly around my back, which was becoming barer by the second as my dress began to slip from my shoulders where his nimble and experienced fingers had tugged the strings loose. Lips mashed together, I forced the bile back down my throat as his tongue forced its way into my mouth, the taste of expensive wine and liquor dripping onto my taste-buds. It was only when he released me to shrug off his jacket that I caught my breath, subconsciously drying the dripping saliva from my lips whilst his eyes were downcast as he fiddled with his shirt buttons. Taking an extremely quick glance around the room, my own eyes locked onto a tray that held two crystal glasses and what appeared to be a bottle of red wine on its gold surface. When the Lord in front of me came at me again, I placed a long finger to his lips, before cocking my head towards the location of the alcohol.

"Why not have a drink first, My Lord," I purred, batting my eye lashes in his flustered face. "I've heard it can… heighten the experience." Stepping away from him, I walked over to the liquor, swaying my hips all the while. My hands found the crystal glasses, and soon, my soft hands were pouring the crimson liquid into the gorgeously decorated pieces of glassware. Double checking that there was no way for him to see my action, by way of mirror for example, I quickly looked up only to be met with a plain wall. One of my hands subtly slipped down the front of my dress and my fingers curled around a small bottle hidden between the folds of fabric. The material of my clothing was so thick that my target had not been able to feel its cold form when our bodies had been moulded together as we came crashing upstairs, nor had he been able to dispose of my clothing quickly enough for it to be discovered. Quietly forcing the cork out from where it was embedded in the glass, I began to pour the liquid into the glass on my right, thankful that the wine was so strong that the colour would not be distilled by the poison. Yes, things were going smoothly.

That was until a pair of hand wrapped themselves around my waist.

"Stop teasing me my dear, I've waited long enough. A simple drop of alcohol will do nothing to compare to the pleasures I can give you when you are fully sober. Let me demonstr-"The hands around my waist collided with my own, hitting the bottle withheld in my fingers. I could feel Richard frowning with confusion from behind me as he pulled the bottle from my grasp and removed it from my sight. My ears picked up the confused humming noise he made as he studied the bottle. Twisting my head to the left just enough to be able to see over my shoulder, I took in the sight of him holding the bottle up to the light. Cringing inside, I watched as he placed a finger to the rim of the bottle, spinning it around the edge before gently placing his damp digit between his lips, tasting the mixture carefully – only to spit it out harshly a second later. Unfortunately, such a small quantity of poison would not be enough to kill him.

My throat went dry as a pair of darkly gleaming eyes raised from the floor to meet my startled face, and a shiver ran throughout my veins, causing my limbs to lock up. Never before had this happened to me. I wasn't trained for this. And it was all going so smoothly, too.

Richard laughed, albeit rather darkly, as he stood up to his full height. Raising the bottle once against to the light, he turned to fully face me, a look of pure malice on his previously lustful face. He began to stalk towards me, and instinctively, my hand drifted to my thigh.

"Oh, my dear, was that nasty concoction for me?" He took my lack of speech as an answer, though I expected the terrified expression on my face was evidence enough of what my intentions had been, now that my plan had wrong. "It was, wasn't it? And I expect that my nasty bitch excuse for a wife put you up to this, didn't she? Oh, you poor little thing, getting sucked into a broken marriage like mine; though your very goal was to simply damage it more." He was now standing in front of me, and whilst I was flush against the wall, my hands gripping my dress, ready to run, he simply reached up and brushed a strand of stray hair from my face. "You know, I pity people like you, Catherine. Actually, I bet that's not even your real name is it?" His hand that had removed the hair from my face cupped my cheek softly, his eyes baring into mine, and shaking me to my very core.

In all honesty, I was absolutely terrified. Despite my Vampire instincts, I found that that side of me had complete shut down in surprise; for now, my brain was telling my body that I was just as vulnerable as any normal human. This had never happened to me before – everything always went well for me. Not once had I ever been caught out, and it wasn't something I had been trained to expect, either. Especially not when I had been doing this job for a good few years now; this sort of thing wasn't the norm for The Silencers. Getting caught wasn't something that happened every day to us, and more importantly, it wasn't something that happened every day to me. I was completely out of my comfort zone.

"But, your real name doesn't matter, not anymore." His hand slipped from my cheek, to wrap itself securely around my neck. The sudden pressure on my windpipe caused me to choke, and my sudden sign of weakness only made Richard smirk more, his teeth gleaming in the candle light like fangs – oh, how ironic. My fingers clawed frantically at my dress, pulling at the various frills and ruffles, my painted nails grasping at the material in both shock and pain, raising it higher. Whilst my right hand fiddled frantically with my dress, my left tried to pull Richard's grip off of my reddening flesh. "None of it matters any more – when I'm finished, no one will be able to recognise you. It's hard to put a name to a destroyed face."

That was when he took the first swing.

And when I took the fist stab. Literally.

His fist froze inches from my face, stuttering to a halt before it could come smashing into my facial features. A strangled sound escaped his throat, like a gurgle, salvia and a red substance falling from his mouth, dribbling down his chin like oil. The previously iron-like grip the bastard had on my throat loosened incredibly quickly, his arm falling to his stomach to clutch at something, and it was soon joined by his other hand. If only he had paid more attention to what my hands had been doing, instead of what his hands had been busy with.

Underneath the many folds of my dress, undetectable by both sight and touch just like the bottle of poison had been, was a hidden dagger, strapped into my garter as though it was a sheath. Though I doubted I would ever need to use it, it had always been a safety precaution for me, and tonight, my paranoia had finally come in handy. Whilst he had been preparing himself to hit me, Richard had failed to notice the fact that I had been ruffling and pulling at my dress – he had probably assumed that it was an action caused by fear, just as normal fidgeting is caused by anxiety. But oh, how wrong he was.

What his hands were grasping at was the blade handle that now protruded from the depths of his stomach, and what appeared to be gallons of blood was beginning to leak through his clothes and drip onto the carpet, staining it the most gorgeous shade of red. Richard's eyes flashed from his stomach to stare back into my own. Without so much as frowning or changing my expression in the slightest, I twisted the knife sharply to the right, causing his body to jolt. The life in his eyes ebbed away as I looked on into them, not flinching once. When his body slipped off of the knife, I stood motionless for a few seconds, staring off into space, and then at the body resting in a mangled position on the now drenched carpet. Wiping the edge of the blade on the folds of my dress, I then lifted my skirt and replaced it back where it had originally been hidden; sandwiched between the material of my garter and my smooth, pale flesh.

Trying my best to catch my breath, I leant against the wall for support, my head rolling back to stare at the ceiling. My breathing came in rushed, ragged clumps, my lungs struggling to completely fill themselves with air due to the damn corset of my dress. Again, another reason I hated these damn feminine pieces of clothing. My gaze wondered back to the body of the Lord on the floor, and I rolled my eyes, cursing. What was I going to do with that? I couldn't just leave it here. My contract had been official messed up, what with the fact there was now an obvious weapon wound on the body. The contract specified sneaky – a-get-in-get-out kind of kill. I already knew that my payment would now be terminated, no matter what excuse I gave, so the best I could do now would be to make the death look convincing in some other way, aside from my now wasted poison. Speaking of which, I stumbled over to where the bottle laid, the adrenaline rushing through my veins making my movements clumsy and messy. Bending down, I grabbed the empty beaker, and then snatched my purse from where it lay on the floor where I had dropped it when we first entered the room. Stuffing the bottle inside, I looked around desperately for something that could assist me. The moonlight cascaded onto the body, lighting up the bloody mess like an unholy beacon. Glancing out of the window towards the glowing source of light, I was struck with a rather ingenious idea.

After regaining my breath and sense of awareness, I made my way back over to the liquor, and grabbed one of the crystal bottles. Uncorking it, my hand allowed the glassware to tip towards the floor, and more specifically, the body sprawled across it. The liquid stained the flesh of my attacker a sticky ruby colour, and when I bent down to pour some into his mouth, I though it such a waste of perfectly fine, expensive alcohol. After making sure at least a few mouthfuls had leaked down Richard's throat – the autopsy would now prove he had alcohol in his system, making my plan all that much easier to complete – I walked calmly over to the window, and, after picking the lock with one of my hairgrips, opened the door leading out onto the balcony. Letting my gaze flicker down below, I saw exactly what I wanted to; a group of stone statues set out amongst the greenery. At least now, when they found the body, they could assume that the wound had been caused by him impaling himself on one of the sculptures, for a large amount of them carried what were supposed to be spears or swords. I was starting to pick things back up now.

After rustling the bed sheets and knocking a few things over to add to my 'drunken accident' cover up, it became apparent that there was only one thing left for me to do – get rid of the body. Feeling sick to my stomach that I had to touch this pathetic excuse for a man once again, I stooped to a crouching position, and secured my hand around his shirt collar. Now that I had recovered my senses, and the fact that I had now returned to my comfort zone, my vampire strengths had returned to me, and in one easy movement, I lifted his disgusting body off of the ground, holding it a little bit higher than my own head so that his feet did not drag along the carpet; I did not wish to leave nay traces of a struggle, or, if I could get away with it, I would like to leave no traces of me even being in that room.

A few strides later, I stood on the balcony, Richard's body dangling over the side, his glassy eyes looking at me in an expression of eternal shock and pain. Smirking to myself, I actually began to speak to the corpse.

"Oh, Richard dear, it appears you've gotten yourself into quite a conundrum." He did not reply to my words. "I should thank you, actually – it is not often that a contract becomes so interesting and…. Intimate." That one word left my mouth through gritted teeth, and I spat at him, though I knew he could not hear nor feel my words or actions. An estranged chuckle left my lips, and the muscles in my hand flexed, letting the body drop to the ground twenty feet below. Deciding not to give that fool the good grace of having my eyes follow his last movements, I heard his form collide with at least two statues. Smiling, I went to reach for the golden door knob, before I heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and a voice calling out to someone.

"Richard? Where are you? You told me to meet you during the speech your wife is doing; you promised we would have our fun then." The female voice whined. Noting that it wasn't the voice of the Lord's wife – probably just another one of his concubines, my mind concluded – I cursed violently under my breath. Hitching my dress up around my knees, I turned to face the window, and took a run up. My heeled foot used the railing to get a little bit more height, and in one graceful leap I was soaring through the air, landing near the gates leading away from the estate into the fields that surrounded it a few seconds later; after all, I could hardly walk back to town using the streets in a tattered dress covered in blood. As I went to jump over the high iron fence, I heard a high pitched scream come from the bedroom I had just left, and risking a single glance back, my eyes spotted the silhouetted figure of a young woman flailing her arms around on the balcony, obviously concerned with something. A genuine smile graced my lips, and wanting to leave on a good note, my feet led me away from the scene.

Ciel was silent as he stared at me, the tale I had spun him obviously entrapping his mind. I did not know whether he was still coming to terms with the gory terms with which I had described my method of killing, or the grisly image of the monster inside that my feelings portrayed; either way, he was speechless, and from what my instinct was telling me, that was unusual for someone such as Ciel. After a few moments of peaceful silence – Ciel still blank as a piece of fresh parchment and I smirking like a successful conman – the young Earl sat back and puffed out a large sum of air, and this just caused me to smirk more.

"Well, Miss Mandetta, that was a most interesting story – impressive, I will admit."

Chuckling, I shook my head softly. This seemed to catch the attention of the boy, as he arched an eyebrow in question. "What? Are you mocking my reaction?" He said harshly, returning to his cold and cool demeanour. Again, I shook my head.

"Of course not, Mister Phantomhive; it's just the fact that, well, that is only half of the story – and seeing your reaction to that, I'm wondering just how impressed you will be when it comes to the next part." Ciel cocked his head to the side, frowning slightly, obviously puzzled by my words.

"What do you mean, Miss Mandetta?" Brushing a few strands of stray hair from out of my eyes, I cleared my throat before continuing.

"When I returned to The Silencer's, they told me that not only had I compromised the mission, but had also possibly endangered the organisation from being a little bit careless."

"Really?" Ciel asked, folding his hands in his lap. "How so?"

"Apparently - and this was unbeknown to me at the time – Richard, the Lord that I 'took care of', only ever drank the wine from his personal cabinet before having intercourse." I did not fail to notice the almost invisible blush that crossed the boy's cheeks at the bluntness of my words, and that caused me to smile. "Of course, when they found the body covered in wine and with the alcohol possibly in his system, they were confused as to why there was no female companion nearby, as they would usually be when he was intoxicated. Naturally, when they found not a single trace of a possible lover nearby, they assumed foul play was the cause for the man's death; not the accident I had wanted them to think was the cause. And that meant rumours, whispers of murder – which naturally meant my lack of discretion was noticed, and bought up frequently by my superiors. In short, I almost got in a lot of trouble."

"Finally, when a few select people began to mention our name, my superiors decided it was time to step in. They wanted the body gone, and replaced with a professionally designed decoy that was alcohol and knife-wound free, but that contained a failed heart. The police had not yet come to hear the mortician's verdict, and neither had the funeral arrangements be made, which meant very few people had seen the body. They were; the wife of Richard, the woman who wanted her 'fun' and found him dead, the doctors, and the mortician. As I said before, the girl and the doctors had only seen the blood on the outside of the body – not on the inside – and the mortician had not dissected the body yet. The organisation thought that we could possibly save ourselves if we did a swap, as when the verdict was given by the mortician, it would turn out that Richard had most probably had a fit, what with the knocked over furniture and split alcohol. He lived a wealthy lifestyle, so such a thing was not commonly unheard of. It was more likely to be believed than what I had originally gone with, anyway."

"So that was our plan; switch the old body with a fake one that would make the death appear far more natural and less suspicious than what it had first appeared." I finished my little explanation speech, and took a deep breath, letting my tongue and mind relax for the moment. Ciel had sat patiently across from me all the while, and for that I was grateful; at least he was being moderately polite towards me, even if it was forced.

"Well, for what I've seen and heard of you before, that sounds pretty simple for someone of your skill." He said, using his gloved hand to motion to my sitting form; his action caused a smile to cross my lips.

"Why, thank you, Ciel; I appreciate the compliment." He smiled gently at me. "But I'm afraid you are mistaken. It was not simple in the slightest." His smile turned into a subtle frown, and he sat back in his seat.

"Why was that?" He asked, tapping his fingers against the leather seat of the carriage of the carriage.

"Oh, that's an easy question to answer." I replied, laughing. When I saw that he was thoroughly confused, I spoke again. "The fact was, Ciel, I had to steal a dead body from a mortician, and normally, this would be no big deal – a mortician does not usually have any attachments towards his 'customers'." Straightening the creases out in my dress, I continued with a small chuckle.

"But the mortician I had to deal with did have a special connection with his customers. I mean, you've seen Undertaker Ciel; you know what he gets like when you interfere with one of his guests. Imagine the reaction he had to me stealing one of them!"

A/N: I am incredibly sorry for not updating for ages – I've been extremely busy with academic work and haven't had time to sit down and write for couple of hours. So I decided to make this chapter twice as long as normal to make up for it. In case anyone got confused, the acrylic text symbolised a flashback, and it will throughout the rest of the story. I'm pretty sure the whole of the next chapter will be a flashback, as I really want to go into detail about how Esmeralda meets Undertaker, and this will probably be the case for whenever she is introduced to a character that she is already familiar; remembers, she's been around for a long time!

Reviews are much appreciated, as it doesn't take long to just write a few nice words, and they give me inspiration to write sooner. I will try to update more frequently, but I am also starting a Rise of The Guardians Boyfriend Scenarios Fanfic alongside this main story – it will only be for a bit of fun, but check it out if you want.

Thanks for reading!