A/N: A review asked if this was set in the modern era. In my head, yes it's set in modern day. But I've thrown in so many traditional Victorian things (e.g. corset, invitation by notes etc) that you can easily read this as though it's the 19th century. Whichever you prefer :)
Enjoy.


CHAPTER SIX

AUTUMN P.O.V.

Everything is completely black. I'm not sure if the room is dark or if my eyes are shut. Or if I am dead.

At first, I worry. Is that it? Is that all my life had to offer? If I could cry, I would. I'd be drowning in my tears, if I had any. If I had any breath left, it would be shallow; the signs of a panic attack. If I could feel my body, it would be shaking. And it would be cold. Cold and stiff. Dead.

I'm not sure if I feel this way because of my meds or the stress or if I was drugged. Or if this is the side-effect of dying.

Then again - if this is my ending - at least it's not painful. I've always prayed that when my time comes, it will be easy. No agony, no nonsense; just a clean finish. So as I'm lying in this darkness, I feel an overwhelming sense of relief.

I start to relax. I decide it's actually kind of nice; this darkness. Sometimes, it feels good to lie in the dark, completely cut off from the world. You can close your eyes, pretend you're not on this godforsaken planet, and just be yourself.

But for some reason, I just can't quite feel completely content. It's like when you're just about to fall asleep, but there's an irritating noise keeping you awake. There's an irritating noise right now. It's a voice, and it's repeating four words in an endless cycle: you can't die yet.

I strain to think. What is it? What is that nagging thing in the back of my mind, preventing me from ending? My head throbs, but I carry on trying anyway. Even if it kills me.

Oh! A weak little memory has dribbled into my head: Lord Trancy. But that little drop of a memory is enough to flood my thoughts. Lord Trasncy is still alive. What about my revenge? I can't die! I have to rid the world of this sick old man.

But how?

Something inside me deflates a little. How am I going to get my revenge? It's too late now. I'm dead. Surely, I'm dead.

Maybe you're not?

It's a whisper of a thought, but it echoes against every wall of my skull. It gives me hope. If I'm still alive, I can still get my revenge. I can still banish Lord Trancy from this world.

Then again...Even if I am alive, I'm practically a vegetable. My body is useless, that much is clear. I've got to use something else. Or...Someone else.

A light bulb seems to flicker in my head: Sebastian.

That's right. Sebastian must be close if I'm dying, right? He'd want to take my soul. The contract said that - in return for my soul - he was to help me carry out my revenge on the people that ruined my life. Lord Trancy is one of those people. He'll kill him, right? Of course, I'd rather do it myself...But beggars really can't be choosers.

So I start to silently call him in my mind, because if I have a voice, I can't use it. I know it will be in vain, but it's the only shred of hope I have left.

Sebastian. Sebastian. Sebastian...


SEBASTIAN P.O.V.

I stand in the corner of the ballroom, taking in every little detail of the scene before me.

It is a rather ordinary occasion. Most couples are dancing gracefully across the floor, whilst others are simply mingling in groups and sipping champagne. I sip my own drink too, just for aesthetics.

It has been twelve minutes since Autumn left with Lord Trancy. I can already hear a few ladies gossiping about their disappearance. I can't help my own mind from concocting its own ridiculous ideas either. Most of those ideas involve Autumn's death.

Relax, I try to tell myself. She will call you, like she said she would. All she has to do is remove her eye patch and order me there, and her situation is solved. She knows that.

But there's something nagging at me, right in the back of my mind. And there's a distinct tingle on the back of my hand. The hand with the Contract Seal. That can't possibly be a coincidence, can it?

I sigh in frustration. Something is telling me she needs help, but she told me to stay here. Although... I think slyly, that wasn't an actual order. More of a request, really. I smirk, place my champagne on the sideboard, and head up the grand staircase.

.

It doesn't take me long to reach the door to Lord Trancy's bedroom. Using my demon-sharp hearing, I stop and listen.

"Mine...All mine. That beauty...It is simply exquisite" I hear the old man say, as clearly as though I were next to him. For some reason his words make me angry. She's not 'yours', I glare at the door. Perhaps such a look will penetrate it and reach him.

Apparently not, because I can hear the sick little creature mumbling even more disgusting comments. "Such a delicate physique...And the skin! It feels so good beneath my fingers..."

I grit my teeth and suppress the urge to vomit. Then I realise: I can't hear Autumn. She hasn't said a single word. Shouldn't she have slipped him the poison by now? What the...

Sebastian.

Her voice edges into my mind, calling my name. It's not the usual summoning; that usually floods my brain and stops me from doing anything else until I am by her side. No. This is weaker...a whisper, begging me to come to her. I could easily ignore it, if I wanted to.

But I don't want to.

I burst through the door, blowing the hinges in what I hope is a graceful manner. The room is filled with candles of different shapes and sizes. They cast an eerie glow over the bedroom, silhouetting the giant bed.

A low growl escapes my lips when my vision quickly adjusts to the scene in front of me. Autumn's unconscious body is entrapped beneath Lord Trancy's. Her hands are tied to the headboard and her eyes are shut. I can easily smell the drug soaked rag, lying beside the door. Bastard.

Her body is covered only by her undergarments. The corset remains intact, but her breasts have overflowed it, being played with by the old man above her. He hasn't even the decency to stop upon my entrance.

I force an air of calmness. "Ah, good evening" I say nonchalantly, "hope I'm not interrupting anything" I throw him my brightest, fakest smile. His eyes are finally on me.

"What do you want?" he practically growls. My crimson eyes narrow slightly.

"That's not a particularly polite manner of speaking" I point out.

A low growl escapes his throat, "Just answer my question, I'm busy."

"I'm here," I motion to the lifeless body below him, "for her."

The old man snickers, stroking Autumn possessively. "Well, she's mine." he says darkly.

"That" I say, "is where you are wrong."

With inhuman speed, I am behind him on the bed, his neck in my arms. I could break it so easily: just a twitch of a muscle and he's dead.

"What? How...How..." the wart infested man mumbles incoherently, his pathetically human mind still trying to catch up with the situation. How weak.

Lord Trancy's hands claw at my own in a feeble attempt to escape. But there is no escape. This is an old, frail man up against a demon.

I continue talking as though we are discussing the weather and not his death. "I have heard about your sins, Lord Trancy. And I'm afraid that now, you are going to repent."

"Who in the devil's name are you?" he cries, one hand tearing at mine and the other clutching my Lady's dress. I smile at the irony of his question.

"Why," I smirk, "I am simply one hell of a butler"

And with one sharp flick, his neck is broken.

I sigh, "I'm ever so sorry my Lady, I understand you wished to do the honours yourself."

Autumn remains motionless, still out cold from the drug soaked rags. I sigh, what an inconvenience. With delicate hands, I work her clothes back onto her frame, reapplying a dose of modesty to her little situation.

I'm about to pick her up bridal style and make an exit through the window but...Something stops me.

Sinful thoughts creep into my mind, but I can't help it. I'm a demon and she is something of an exquisite meal. 'Meal'? That sounds so cruel. I do not wish to be cruel. It is simply part of my nature. Much like you cannot help being human.

It sickens me that the last (and perhaps only – aside Alois) person to touch her lips was a sick, twisted paedophile. Now, I simply can't leave it like that. It's like letting a swarm of flies sit on the biggest, juiciest peach.

So I lean down and place the lightest of kisses upon her lips. They're warm, but not moist. I don't think Lord Trancy had enough time to touch her there with his slug tongue. Well, I best make it a good kiss...just to make sure. Check properly, you know?

My tongue runs across her lips, tasting. I'm ashamed to say that my heart flutters. Flutters? I'm a demon, for Christ's sake. But I like it. It feels good. She tastes good too. More than good, actually. She tastes of vanilla, and a hint of something floral. Delicious. I can't taste the saliva of another though – her lips were untainted. Well, I smirk, it was worth checking, no?

And then I lean in and whisper into her ear. "Next time, my Lady, you shall be conscious." My smirk widens. Yes, I congratulate myself; you are one hell of a butler. And one hell of a kisser, I bet.


Voilla :) I hope you enjoyed that - sorry if some of my writing is a bit dodgy, I'm in a rush because I'm about to go away for a few days and I still havn't updated D: But here it is! Thank you for your awesome reviews, they make me happy :3

~Ched.~