CHAPTER 7
Ciel wiped his tearstained cheeks for the umpteenth time – actually he was quite sure he'd scrubbed his skin raw – with the sleeve of his poorly buttoned shirt, yet the throbbing pain would not leave him and large teardrops continued to roll down his pale face. It had burrowed into his small chest, like an accursed claw gripping his heart, poisoning every breath he took. It was so bad that the young earl didn't even bother to conceal his discomfort.
"Now what?"
The petite butler could not say out loud 'now what', because in truth it was so ridiculous and just plain stupid that he wouldn't have dared spit it out even had he been all alone in the room. And he was sure that Sebastian's other servants would have found it either quite perplexing, or it would have amused them to no end, much to his humiliation. But Will was glancing down at him questioningly, even with a shadow of concern, and so he knew he had no choice but to offer a reason for his current predicament.
"Master got really angry with me yesterday…" he sobbed, sniffing loudly, "And he said he would feed me to his crows…"
"Hah! Did you hear that, Es? So that's why he keeps those shitty crows after all!" Will laughed, reaching out to ruffle Ciel's hair soothingly.
The minion sighed. "Poor master, he's really deluding himself that his crows would actually make the effort to rip flesh from bone when they are fed sweet corn every day. That's sad, really," she observed amused. "But if it makes him feel better…"
"Whatever, I guess… so does he want any breakfast?" the curly servant wanted to know.
"No, he's gone out early today," Es said."But we won't dwell on that, we've got work to do – the job begins today"
Will scratched his head. "You mean us going after that Faustus fellow, eh?"
"Master has a very complicated and 'subtle' plan for it that I don't quite understand," the minion explained, sipping on her dark beer. "But we'll just take it step by step and bottom line is that tonight we're going to a party!"
"We… you mean all three of us? Or is master coming too?" Ciel asked, his interest suddenly picked by the news. Was he really going to see more of Underworld beyond the demon's gloomy castle? Not that he expected the rest of Underworld to be any better, but he was still curious.
"But we've got nothing fancy to wear!" Will exclaimed with dismay.
Espiritus rolled her eyes. "Of course master won't be there, he hasn't the slightest intention of helping us – the only moment when you can be sure that master is right beside you, or right behind you, is when you speak ill of him. And we'll get us fancy clothes, don't fret… we'll go out into town and shop at Mrs. Clapper's!" she stated with a wide grin.
Her butler's eyes went wide with wonder. "At Mrs. Clapper's? Does that mean… could it really be that master's left you money for it?"
"He's left shit! You see," the minion explained, digging into her wardrobe and pulling out an old travel cloak which she assessed rather displeased, "master doesn't really understand that - unlike him – we cannot make things appear out of the blue, and generally 'make a whip out of shit' like he does. So of course he's left us no money, no clothes, no shit. But we're going to get us some money regardless…"
Ciel quickly forgot about the pain that strange dream had caused him as soon as it dawned on him that a much bigger problem was now looming. Claude Faustus, the demon butler of the Trancy household? Oh hell! And apparently… Sebastian has bought me not because he needed a butler but especially for this job…What the hell is he thinking!? Me and these two, capture Faustus? But how could we, he's a demon! And also… what was that he said about the contract…?
"Tell that old fart to take out the carriage before I get really angry and something bad will happen to him!" Es told Will, who had failed to persuade Mr. Jones, since the damned hunchback had a habit of 'never going down without a fight'. And that applied to each and every small thing his job as the Black Crow's household footman required of him.
"Es, I was wondering," the young earl asked, a bit unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to know, "what did master mean about bringing Claude Faustus to justice for breaking the contract? And the… Council? How exactly does all that work?"
"The Council is the authority of the Underworld. Among its numerous duties – which I'm not really aware of – the Council regulates and supervises all contracts formed between demons and mortals. The breach of such a contract constitutes an offence as per the Council's laws and is punishable. Faustus had a recent contract with someone named Alois Trancy, but he breached the contract by killing his contractor before the fulfillment of his obligations. And now the Council wants him"
"What?" Ciel blinked, quite confused. "No, that's a mistake! See, I knew Trancy, he was my arch enemy and he died because… well… actually because I fought him and stabbed him. Um… he didn't die right away, but I'm sure he must have died because of that wound I dealt him, it was quite serious!" Or maybe I shouldn't have said that? I probably just made a horrible impression to her… he wondered, a bit too late.
But if the minion was impressed one way or the other, she did not show it. "Well, as much as I hate to steal your glory, the Council says that Alois Trancy died at the hands of his demon contractor, and they must know better… otherwise they wouldn't be out to get him," she said neutrally. "Anyway, the Black Crow household serves the Council, so this is our job, might just as well get to it and-"
"You getting into the bloody carriage or what? I don't have all day!" Mr. Jones sullenly interrupted, perched up onto the front seat with a whip in hand. The young earl stared at the old carriage presented before them – it was old and unkempt, the black paint dried and badly chipped, making the coat of arms which had once adorned the doors almost undistinguishable.
"Um… what's this?" he asked, pointing at the fading golden lion holding something like a shield between its mighty claws."I thought our coat of arms should be… a crow maybe?" the boy assumed.
"Pffttt… we don't have a coat of arms," the minion replied, pushing him inside. "I don't know what the hell that was, the carriage is stolen," she added serenely, as if it were the most common thing in the whole world.
"Eh? D-does master know about… about this?" Ciel stammered, utterly mortified at the idea. Just what the hell was going on in Sebastian's household?
"Ciel, our master is a demon," Will intervened, "he doesn't bother much with ethics and stuff. In fact he doesn't bother much with anything that he doesn't personally need, so we just had to make do. The two horses are ours though…"
"What about my clothes? Are these stolen too?" the boy asked morosely, pointing down at his body.
"Huh…" Will scratched his head, assessing them thoughtfully. "Sorry mate, don't remember, it could be I guess… fine stuff like that don't come cheap. Don't have to feel bad though, it's not any of our fault – the bloody Council is to blame for everything, some tight fisted bastards they are! They sit like fucking leprechauns onto pots of gold, but they pay master very little for his job, so he pays us shit in turn. Makes sense that we should manage a bit on the side…"
Ciel curled up in one corner onto the hard, cushionless seat, and wrapped the old, ancient looking travel cloak around his body tighter, pulling the dark hood all the way down to his mouth. He didn't want to see or hear anything more, and he clearly did not want to think about how they were going to get fancy clothes for the party. The earl chose to ignore the other two servants' conversation for the rest of the way into town, terribly disgusted by their dishonest ways.
He wasn't awfully surprised though, Sebastian – the demon Sebastian - was clearly unconcerned with 'ethical issues' and it only made sense for his servants to be a bunch of shameless scoundrels. Will looked like a fine fellow, a tad clumsy yet kind hearted, and Es could have passed for a pleasant young lady, but their appearance was clearly deceiving. As for Mr. and Mrs. Jones, they clearly belonged into some sinister fairytale with evil witches and wicked wizards, they were so horrible that they even seemed unreal. And the traits of the servants spoke tons about the traits of their master, he pondered.
Now, Ciel had always known that his butler was a demon, and that much had always been quite obvious, at least to him. But while it had been obvious through all the great things that his skillful butler could accomplish, it had not been obvious in any bad way. Sebastian had even asked his young master to refrain from beholding his true form, which he had himself described as 'disgusting' and 'unsightly'. And all that had reduced Sebastian's demonic nature to a rather abstract notion in the boy's mind. He had known that his butler was a demon who would eventually devour his soul, but just knowing was quite different from actually seeing. While Sebastian still chose to spare his servants from the sight of his true form, that was quite little solace, seeing how he didn't spare them of anything else – including doing his dirty work. Hell, they probably deserved it, but the more unsettling thought that suddenly came to Ciel's mind was that maybe – just maybe – he deserved it too…
"Here it is, 'The Mad Hound'! That would be the owner, eh?" Mr. Jones announced, as the carriage eventually stopped. "Can I get a pint or two? Haven't in a while you know, my throat's all dry and that damned hag watches me like the vulture she is!" he asked hopefully.
"Alright, but hurry up old man, because it might get ugly later on," Es said, and the earl finally pulled his hood back to see where they were.
The carriage had stopped on the side of a muddy, grim looking back street – or at least that's how it looked like – in front of a filthy looking tavern. A pompous and ornate iron plate which had become indecipherable with rust hung above the entrance, lightly swinging in the harsh wind. Mr. Jones jumped down with surprising agility for one as crippled as he, and darted inside eagerly, slamming the cracked door in his wake, while Es dug under her seat and pulled out a long wooden box, containing several metal rods of various lengths and girths.
"W-what are these?" the young earl asked, a cold shiver making its way down his spine at the sight. He suddenly had a very bad feeling about this.
"See, those 'fine gentlemen' in there wanted to gamble with me and Will a while ago, because they thought they could fuck with us, but they lost royally and have yet to pay what they owe. So this is collection day," the minion stated. "And these are just in case we encounter any… difficulties"
"WHAT? But-… You can't just go in that tavern and start a fight!" Ciel protested. "What about master? Wouldn't that… destroy our household's reputation or something?!"
The minion laughed. "If anything, it will consolidate it! Folks only learn the hard way around here, and they've got to learn that they can't mess with us, or they'll keep trying to trample over us again and again. Come now, you two, we're wasting time!"
The air inside the tavern was foul with the stench of stale beer, pipe smoke and something that could hardly qualify as food, but the place was quite full. The three servants made their way through the multitude of customers squeezed together on wooden benches around the cramped, stained tables, and reached the large counter in the back. A group of five men stood a bit on the side, enjoying their drinks, and Ciel recognized one of them to be none other than Mr. Krech, the oaf who had failed to pay the Undertaker for the coffin.
"There they'd be, those bastards…" Will whispered, and Es motioned to Mr. Jones to take his two pints of beer outside, for safety. The maneuver did not go unnoticed by the dubious group, who had been watching them ever since they'd set foot inside. Oh hell! Just when I thought I couldn't possibly get any lower… the earl thought, averting his gaze away from them and hoping he'd not be counted together with the other two servants.
"What do you know, I didn't think I'd see you fine lot around here anytime soon," one of the oaf's companions pointed good-humored and the others burst into laughter as well.
"Your eyes are not deceiving you, good sir," Espiritus replied graciously, "so pay us what you must and we'll be on our way, quietly and without a fuss. Don't pay us and there will be trouble…"
"Trouble, eh, little lady?" Mr. Krech intervened. "What are you going to do, smack us with your embroidery kit?" he laughed, and this time a roar of laughter filled the room.
"Do you want a piece of me, you bloody bastard?" Will shouted, letting one of the metal rods slip off of his sleeve and into his ready hand. "Because you will get it right away, I've been waiting for this!"
The man laughed again, shaking his head and sliding the long cloak off his broad shoulders. "You've got some nerve there, lad, but no. I'd have a piece of him though, y'all know how they say that the body snatchers' dead things can't be fought by no mortal and shit! Well that's bullshit, and I'll prove it to you! What do you say?"
Ciel did not understand right away why everyone had suddenly fallen silent and why they were all staring at him of all people, until the truth eventually hit him. Hard. OH HELL! I am the body snatcher's dead thing… oh no! Now I'm done for!
"I say you're some cowardly shit who would rather fight a dead little boy than handle a real man, but have it your way, sir, "Espiritus shrugged. "Don't complain if he breaks all your bones though…" she added with a malicious smirk.
"There you go, mate, the distinguished Mr. Krech here is looking for it," Will said, shoving the rod into the earl's cold and sweaty hand. "Indulge him!"
"No… no, I…" Ciel shook his head weakly, mortified. "I- I can't… fight…" he whispered, almost inaudibly, glancing up pleadingly at the minion who had perched herself up the counter to get a better view of the action, but in reply she only pointed to the skull shaped earring bud in his ear and grinned again.
'Well, milord, I'm afraid that your little body may be cute and dainty and all, but it is quite useless. Therefore to prepare you for the purpose I have to make some improvements…' the earl remembered, but he seriously doubted the effectiveness of the shinigami's work, seeing how it had caused more bad than good until then. He swallowed hard, assessing Mr. Krech's stout frame, and took a deep breath. He's going to kill me…
"Come on then! Come on an' get it, ye dead thing!" the oaf spat, readying his bare fists.
Distract him. The boy tore the old cloak off his shoulders and threw it in the beast's face, momentarily blinding him. Now swing! The metal rod was weighted for a brief second in the small hand before Ciel leaped forward and hit the man over the head with all his strength. Mr. Krech stumbled a bit, but his large arm moved swiftly to clear his view and his fist collided with the boy's face, sending him tumbling backwards onto the floor.
"What you've got, bitch? What you've got? Bring it on!" the man shouted, covering the spectators' frantic exclamations, while Ciel examined his now blood coated fingers in somewhat of a fascination. His nose was clearly broken but well… it wasn't that bad. It didn't hurt all that much either… He stood up abruptly, retrieving his weapon, and walked towards his opponent determinedly. Mr. Krech swung again, hoping for another easy hit, but the earl dodged it quickly, helped by his smaller frame, and delivered a heavy blow to the side of his knee. The ruffian let out a scream as his leg gave out, his weight being forced down onto his other knee. That's when Ciel hit him again over the head as hard as he could, before dropping the rod and head-butting him square in the face, in a sudden surge of violence.
Mr. Krech dropped face down on the floor like a big sack of potatoes, and his petite opponent was preparing to slam his boot into his skull in earnest, when Espiritus stopped him. "Ciel! I think you've got him, love…" she said softly, and everyone except the debtors' group laughed again, and despite the sheer horror of what he'd just been through, a sly smile crept onto the young earl's face.
Wiping off his bloody nose again, the boy had a sudden idea of how to get the accursed Undertaker as well into some much deserved trouble. He stooped and forcefully grabbed a fistful of the man's hair, yanking his face upwards. "Oh and Mr. Krech, Undertaker says – next time make sure to pay what you owe him too, or else there'll be more of that coming your way…" he drawled into his ear, before letting his head drop back onto the hard floor.
"That went rather smoothly, I expected it to get much worse. Honestly I didn't think that shit Krech was the best they'd have. Now we can get ourselves some fancy clothes for the party!" Will pointed, genuinely excited. "Did you know that Mrs. Clapper…"
Ciel tuned out the rest of Will's ranting and dropped back onto the backrest of his seat, holding his face upwards and pressing it with a handkerchief, because his nose had started to bleed again. How bothersome! He felt tired and slightly dizzy, but also prey to some peculiar excitement – after all, he'd kicked that oaf's ass. Apparently the Undertaker wasn't that stupid and he'd indeed done some improvements… how interesting!
"I see that you've had a productive day, and it's not even noon yet…" The young earl very nearly jumped off his seat when he realised that his demonic master had popped out of nowhere right next to him.
"Oh milord, it wasn't a big deal, we have just collected some old debts," Es explained. "They were long overdue… and necessary, if I might add"
Sebastian laughed softly at the phrasing, half turning to assess the state of his petite butler. "Oh, you 'collected' alright…" he observed as he took the dirty handkerchief from Ciel's hand and replaced it with a clean one, which he pulled out of his pocket. The boy felt his face slowly but steadily heating up as accidentally on purpose his master's thigh was pressed against his and he relished in the warmth radiating from the demon's hand, currently pressing onto his nose with the piece of cloth. Yet those marvelous fingers never touched him.
"So how much did you make then?" the demon wanted to know, much to the obvious displeasure of his other two servants.
"Two hundred…"
Sebastian sighed, continuing to dab at Ciel's face ever so gently, and he shook his head. "Well, you know I don't approve these things… I might have to-"
"Three hundred." his minion admitted with a scowl, and the master smiled. "That's one hundred and fifty for you and all shall be forgiven…"
"As for you, little mongrel," Sebastian said, turning his attention to his former contractor, "it appears thus that you are not without some skills… I have to say that I'm quite surprised…" He drew even closer to the boy, and Ciel began experiencing an uncomfortable and unfamiliar tightness in his lower regions, all the more since the demon's nostrils suddenly flared as he inhaled the scent of blood and a look of utter confusion passed on his features for the briefest moment. "But alas, you are a tart…" he then said with a smirk, and the next second he had vanished into thin air.
"AHHHH he said that again!" Ciel shouted out loud, tears already stinging his eyes from the cruel insult, and couldn't refrain from slamming his fist into the seat where his master had sat just before. "He called me a tart! What the hell?!"
"The fuck with what he said, he took half of our loot…" Will pointed morosely.
To be continued…
