A big thank you to all readers, and especially reviewers (guests) and promocat. you make me very happy.

[A/N 2] * Miroir aus Casis is a French blackcurrant mousse cake. google for pretty images. my local pastry shop sells it, and all my friends and I adore it... very nice.

As you can guess, this one starts out light and fluffy. Then merges into some Stalker!Sebastian-ness.


Chapter Seven

(Ciel)

People think that if they know when they'll die, they can "settle their affairs," and "make peace." Like they'll just sit down and make a list of things they want to do before they croak, do them, and die happily on hospice or in a hospital or whatever. Some people might go that way, but I can't.

Dying without accomplishing the only thing I wanted to keep living for—

No.

I won't cheat Sebastian out of his end of the deal, but if I can just get more time…time to finish this.

I crumple the paper napkin in my hand, wishing that there was someone I could talk to. Serious matters rarely exclude Sebastian though, and there's precious few I could trust the information with.

Bard, Mei-Rin, and Finnian wouldn't grasp the situation. Lau would only echo my words. Alois already knows too much. Who does that leave?

…my aunt, I suppose. My only surviving family. But still…Aunt Anne…

I lean back into my chair, thinking.

Scratch, scratch, thunk. Small noises come from the staircase, the one blocked with a new-ish door fitted with a key supposedly only I have. I get up slowly, treding softly. Downstairs, the doorknob rattles and then the scratching, metallic clink and thumps pause.

I freeze.

Someone is trying to get into my flat. My heart races. Who could have traced me back here? Who wants my information—or just me dead? I curse, wishing that Sebastian were not out sorting a couple of thugs who tried to keep some stolen goods from their boss.

Should I use a gun? It's risky—even with a silencer, but chances are, there'll be more than one, and probably both of them bigger and stronger than me.

I slide up to the door, gun in hand. Cautiously, I put my eye to the peephole. Outside, a dark haired figure prods at the lock with something. I click the safety off.

I take a deep breath and unlock the locks and deadbolt, leaving the chain in.

"Back away, or I'll shoot." I say slowly, keeping the gun trained on the tall, lean figure.

He looks up, startled at the sudden movement. A college student? Or a rich gang member? His dark eyes are wide, and his mouth is open foolishly. He looks quite…stupid.

My eyes narrow at the thing in his hand. I let out a breath…a key. What the hell does this mean?

His mouth is open and wagging before I can think it out. "Woah, is that real? I thought gun control was strict here." The boy laughs nervously. American, maybe, by the accent.

I point the gun down, switching the safety back into place. I doubt he's anything serious; maybe he's here on a dare. And there's no weapon in sight.

"Get away from the door." A second, more authoritative man says. He moves to stand in front of the richly clad boy. "Soma, go downstairs." He orders.

"What?" Surprise and annoyance masks the boy's fear. "Who's that, the cleaning service?"

I stare, incredulous, and close the door to undo the chain. I throw the door open, gun at my side and hands on my hips. "Why were you trying to get into my flat?" I demand, still half sure this is part of some poorly thought out prank. "Who made you that key?"

"Your apartment?" the younger of the two steps out from behind the second. Soma, I think. "But I'm renting this apartment." He points a ringed finger at his chest.

Ignorant and self-assured. Perfect. "Let me see your key." I hold out the hand not holding the gun.

Unwilling to leave things be, the other man speaks up. "Soma, go downstairs. I believe we need to reconsider your rooms." Narrow eyed and dangerous-looking, the man towers over me.

I sigh again and carefully set the gun behind me on a table near the door. "Let me see." I repeat, stepping away from the gun and hands palm out.

Soma hands me the key, already smiling again. "We just got it today."

I examine it, and sure enough, it looks to be of the same make as my own key. On a hunch, I point to the door he's still standing in. We are all near the ground floor now, and I motion at the second door in the main hallway. Soma follows, a confused expression taking over his whole face. I find the door with an exaggerated motion, and insert the key. The door opens. "Your flat. Kindly stay out of mine."

"That's it?" He shakes his head. "Didn't I say I wanted the apartment? The house?" He shakes his head. "No way. My rooms can't be that small."

I scoff. "Our rooms and contract should be the same. What were you expecting? This is London."

He laughs good naturedly, completely unaware of my scoff, at both my and the bodyguard's incredulity. "I didn't look at the price. This is the best location!" He continues to smile broadly, and tilts his head to the side. His long hair swishes a little, and I wonder how much time and care it takes to have a style like that. He stands out, to say the least. Despite my scrutiny, he continues talking. "I guess it's not so different from my dorm, though. Well, maybe a little smaller, but I heard everything is smaller over here." He goes inside, spinning around in the entrance hall.

I turn to go.

"I'm Soma Asman Kadar. This is Agni, a friend of the family. It's nice to meet you!" He calls out, far too loudly. After all this, it seems both forward and polite at once. Too late for propriety, but offered even after a shaky first impression.

I stop and turn to see Soma holding out his hand to shake. Agni, bowing slightly at the waist, has softened his expression. Well.

I look at the outstretched hand, the fancy clothes. Agni is something like a body-guard, but he seems closer to the rich boy than that position alone might suggest. A butler, or maybe even a real personal assistant. Looking at them, it dawns on me exactly why this leaves me short of breath. We're worlds apart in experience, when once we might have been equals. Since that day, my wealth and status have since been revoked. Family ties don't mean much when they're all dead or distant.

Meeting now, we're too different.

I don't take the hand. "Ciel Phantomhive."

I go back upstairs and lock the door. Leaning against it, I hear Soma calling for me to have coffee with him, and Agni's lower voice advising something. I breathe slowly, counting in and out.

It makes me wonder…could I have been like that? An inexperienced, privileged youth, oblivious to danger in front of me? Unassuming. Friendly even.

I pace back and forth on my way to my room. Then I consider brewing a fresh pot of tea, but quickly abandon the idea. Sebastian will be back soon. I only need to wait.

I push Soma and his family friend out of my mind. It's of little importance.

The knocking continues.

"Shall I get the door." Sebastian offers.

"No." I shuffle the documents, wondering why some people can't accept the digital age. This should all be online. "He'll leave eventually." I remain fastidiously at the long table I use as a workspace.

Soma and Agni have stopped by for the umpteenth time in several days, knocking on my door. "Ci~el, have coffee with me. You gotta come out eventually. Let's hang out!" He rattles on. His tone is friendly, even after I've ignored him for days.

He's been more persistent than I would have counted on. I suppose his upbringing didn't teach him about taking 'no' as an answer.

The second day, he was teary-eyed, despondent. "Ciel, I didn't know you'd lost your parents." His empathy is expressed in persistent, slow words. Then he continues in a rather funny display of that brash, know-no-boundaries that I've come to expect from him. "Man! That's rough." Then he tried to embrace me, but I shut the door before he could.

Who'd he ask to find that out, anyways?

Upon reflection, my main suspect is Sebastian.

Meanwhile, the litany of "Hey!" continues. Over that, it's hard to concentrate.

"Why don't you let him in?" Sebastian suggests. "I prepared enough for two guests, and you weren't planning on going to work with me." Words drip off his tongue, warm and sweet as the honey I took in my milk, all those years ago.

Resigning myself to a momentary truce, I let them in. Maybe this rich kid will be useful somehow. Hopefully, a change in atmosphere and conversation will give me much needed insight. Sebastian serves tea and leaves me with the naïve American and his crazy body guard. I sip my tea, wondering if Soma will ask for coffee.

"Aa, tea time." Soma exclaims happily, setting his iPhone on the table. "Milk and sugar, sir?" He grins, imitating a cockney accent.

I roll my eyes. "And when did you get off the boat? I thought you'd been here a while. On a cruise or in a fancy hotel or something."

"Nah. I skipped hotels to experience living on my own." He leans forward, but unlike an excited Alois, his sleeves remain spotless. Alois, I suppose, isn't always aware of his surroundings… "In London!" He continues, still just as happily.

I nod, and take a sip of my tea again. "Why did you come to live in London? Are you an exchange student?" I put the cup down, but rest one hand on it, warming my fingers.

"Nah. Sort of doing an extended vacation, I guess." He smiles. "It turns out that with such cheap rent, my allowance is even bigger. I mean, I could eat out for every meal if I wanted." He smiles and then sips his tea with exaggerated poise. Then he settles into a princely pose again, completely at ease with Agni behind him and the sun on his olive skin.

I raise an eyebrow. Cheap? Even low end flats aren't cheap here.

He begins to fidget as I let silence fall between us. We sip our tea. A minute passes. Finally, he tosses his hair in a show of exasperation I'm beginning to become familiar with. "You're so emo." He blurts out.

I stare.

"But that gloomy expression fits your image." He laughs in my face, apparently unable to keep his less-than blunt thoughts to himself.

Behind him, Agni clears his throat.

Soma goes on, oblivious. "What's going on? Girl problems?" Aha. He wants to advise me…putting himself in a role of influence over me.

I raise an eyebrow, and offer a half smile. He probably can't imagine any bigger problems than that. I smile wide and offer as innocent, carefree of a face as I can manage. "Something like that."

I do need a hold over the demon I contracted. Information about his weaknesses.

Soma leans in again. "The secret to success is charisma." He smiles triumphantly, settling back into his chair slowly. "Charm the girl. Be generous and nice. No more emo gloom." He nods with satisfaction.

"I don't think they'd be impressed with friendly charity." I offer slowly.

Leaning to the side now, he shakes his head. He's very expressive. "Ah, but everyone likes a charmer. You can sweet-talk even an uptight guy if you know what he likes. People like to be given things." He waves one hand in a small gesture of dismissal.

"People are greedy, you mean." This, I know.

"No, no." His expression is more subtle now, a tiny frown crinkling his mouth. "People like being appreciated. A little give, a little take."

I stare at Soma some more, unsure if it's his perceptive genius kicking in, or serendipity. Something about what he said makes me think it might just be what Sebastian is after…

I shouldn't be the weak, pretty doll he expects. He's seen it before, I'm sure. We should come together as equals, or nearly so. He could have anyone at all weaker than him, but he'll not have all of me yet. That's something to tempt him with.

If I can think of something he might enjoy until he really will know me as only a demon can. After that last taste…

"Would you like a piece of Miroir aus Cassis?* Sebastian made it just this morning…" I stand up to retrieve the cake from the counter. As with all things Sebastian does, it's perfect. Chilled and perfectly formed- reflecting the light softly, striped with two distinct, beautiful colors, and topped with tiny berries.

I serve it with a smile.


I'm near dreaming. Dressed in night things more suited for a boy a century past, and should be in bed. Out the window, the night sky spreads out like dark wine spilt over a mahogany table. Stars glimmer dully behind the mist and clouds, barely visible. The air feels cold and clear that the smell of moisture leaves fills the air.

Autumn.

Three months until December and the leaves are already turning. A noise at the Veranda door. Something about the presence; quiet and watchful. It makes me shiver. "Having second thoughts, young master?" His low voice reverberates, breaking the silence.

I resist the urge to swirl about guiltily. "I have no regrets. I will find them and get revenge." My voice is quiet, almost soft—an echo of a boy's darkest wish. "I didn't call you to live a long and happy life." I remind myself as much as him. But even still to die without achieving anything…if I can extend the contract—even by underhanded methods, I would do it in an instant. I didn't make my name by playing by the rules or sticking to agreements.

I wonder if Sebastian knows that? Or is he herding me towards such actions…

I push the thought aside. "I'm going to bed. Go to sleep, or whatever it is you do in the dark." I push past him, breathing in the familiar musk that hangs around him. Something like old wood, or incense, or maybe some kind of fragrance…

The veranda opens up to the sitting room, and I swear I can smell a bit of sweet smoke—like the faint whiff of an extinguished candle flame, or a distant bonfire. I shuffle through the familiar surroundings and go to bed. I lay there for an indeterminate amount of time, and maybe drift off.

I turn about. Listen.

I'm tangled and uncomfortable. There's something. A rustle of clothes in my closet, maybe, or the faintest sound of feet by my bed. Or maybe it's not a sound, but some heavy presence.

All at once, I feel it. Something presses down on me, sending spots of color through my eyes, and I think for a moment that something has touched my lips. Silky cloth now rough by the force behind it, and the world seems smaller. Narrower.

"Bad dreams, young master?" Cool gloved hands stroke my cheek, and I can barely make out Sebastian's fine features back-lit by hall light.

I struggle to calm my breathing, to swallow my cries. I shake my head in fierce denial.

"Would you like some warm milk?" His eyes glint.

I shake my head again, and Sebastian nods, turning to leave. So quick to abandon me after all. "Wait, just…" my words feel thick, like the mud at the bottom of a river. "just stay here a while. Until I fall asleep."

"Of course," Sebastian smiles.

A cold chill runs down my back. Is he here right now? I fight the urge to shiver, or to hit the light on my nightstand. I still my own breathing, listening intently.

There's a creak from above. I swallow.

"Having second thoughts, young master?"

I reach up and touch my lips. Suck on one finger experimentally, and know that there is nothing else there.

So I have to close my eyes. But the air is dry, hot, and I can't keep the dark out from behind my eyes (that won't stay closed) so I wonder at the shape there in the corner. The lack of air returns. The oppression with it. A near dream…now it's all burning my eyes…eyes that are called windows, not doors, for a reason.

Look. Do not touch.

I reach out for a gauze eye patch. I hit a bed-stand that's too close. It smarts. In the gloom, I think I hear someone laughing.

My lungs shirk at the too difficult task of breathing. I can feel every breath, and I notice the hot, sick sensation of too little air in my lungs. Too hot on my tongue, my throat…I spit out the air without a care for proper breathing times, rushing the out and gagging on the in.I frown as I grasp for cooler air to heal my heaving lungs.

The feeling of being watched returns. The undeniable sensation of eyes, of hands of smoke and demon's tongues—

—it doesn't make sense. Dreaming or not.

My eyes flutter shut. Sleep seems as unreachable now as it did when I first awoke. "Sebastian," I whisper. Lick my lips. Touch the gauze to my eye that sees only impressionistic smudges and bright, painful lines.

There's no response.

I look again, and see there's no black menace peering down from the ceiling. No hands grasping at my skin, and nothing on my mouth.

But I'm still drowning in stale air. I cry out again, louder, "Sebastian!"

Finally, the door creaks open. There was no shuffle from the outer room. No bend of floor boards to indicate he was anywhere at all. "Yes, little boy?" No. That's not right. It's my mind filling in for what I think I hear. He said what he always says—young master.

I can't stand to speak. To waste my air on something so menial. But I have to say something, or he'll stare, smiling at me in the dark. "Turn on the light." My voice is quiet. I can't focus the air flow, and the pressure inside is too great to do better.

He does so, and without my having to ask, finds the rescue inhaler in the damnable nightstand. His face is devoid of emotion, and he does not speak.

With one hand pressed to the gauze over my eye, and the other shaking the canister, I shake my head. I don't know what to say.

His smile is too gentle. I'd think it another nightmare, if not for the cool mouthpiece against my lips. He takes it back before I can squeeze it again, and shakes it more effectively.

When I'm done with the medicine, his lips quirk, and a gentle, self-satisfied hm escapes his impartial façade. "Worked up a scare, didn't you?"

I don't answer aloud. I glower. Words wouldn't suffice anyway, even if I could breathe. I take several deep, calming breathes. I realize my heart is faster, all right, and the saline mist or whatever it is seems to be working.

"Shall I turn down the lights?"

I shake my head and fuss with the pillows. After a few minutes of breathing, I manage a bleak, "where were you."

His bow is a century out of fashion, and he inclines his head. "Here, my lord." At my deepened, scowl, he elaborates. "In the flat."

A demon to the very last. He doesn't appease any of my suspicions or deny them. But I can't but trust him. Who else is there?

"Sleep, child." He murmurs. Like the words of a lullaby. I close my eyes. He continues. "Shall I stay with you?"

I shake my head, and think about what it is I've learned. Secret names in the knowing. Hidden worlds of magic and different paths to power…and my aunt walks one of them.

"Leave." I demand, and rustle about for my phone.

He does not sigh, but a smile tugs again at his lips. "As you wish, my lord."

"Quit calling me that." I mutter, but he's already gone.

Knowing what's real and what's not, I feel the sense of dread and anxiety fade at last. I have all the pieces to the puzzle now. A plan of action begins to form…

Someone will tell me about the magical society. I will learn how to discover a name. Then…we'll see about this sharing of power. And we'll see if the devil bends to a sweet word.

If I can learn what he likes, how he likes things, it will lead to knowledge of him, won't it? And then of his name. I smile, and wonder at what we'll do with each other's hearts in hand.

I pull out my phone, and ready myself to get the information I need.


...and this ends the guile. Let Ciel be a little more straightforward, with only a little vaguery from here.

hope you enjoyed this.

Thoughts?