This chapter was especially fun to write. I think after having Ciel alone for the last few chapters, I missed writing the back-and-forth between him and Sebastian.
Ciel never felt more infantile than when he was clinging baby sloth style to the narrow middle of his Butler. It mattered not notch that no one could see him because he would remember. Oh, well. Whatever must be done to win, it can't be helped. All around, Ciel heard the clickety-clack of shiny heels striking the cracked floor. Every so often, an elbow would jab him in the temple or along his spine. Sebastian did his best to avoid such occurrences, though. Ciel could tell by the way he side-stepped and twirled on the balls of his feet like a danseur. In hindsight, there may never have been a more peaceful jailbreak in the entire history of the world, which is most likely why Sebastian was stopped just before he had made it clear out of the exhibit.
"Well, good evening, sir."
Ciel had to stifle his gasp in Sebastian's chest. It was Green. 'Please be careful, Sebastian,' he thought.
"I am not sure that I have seen you here before." Green sounded both cordial and suspicious, that peculiar juxtaposition that was always present in his manner of speech.
Sebastian's diaphragm vibrated as he spoke. "How can you be so sure? I am wearing a mask."
"I believe that I would recognise such an impressive stature." There was a small pause before Green continued his interrogation. "Are you enjoying the show?"
"It is quite intriguing." Though it sometimes annoyed Ciel to no end, he was mostly impressed by Sebastian's ability to answer a question without actually answering the question. "Where do you find such stunning actors?"
Green laughed. "Ah, here and there," he said airily. "The majority of them came here out of curiosity."
"And the ones who did not?"
"My, my, you are full of questions!" Again, Green's voice took on a contradictory tone. Though he laughed, there was a fine layer of poison coating his words. Green's ability of avoidance rivaled Sebastian's own for he said, "I see you are empty handed. Did you not treat yourself to a drink?"
"Oh, no." Sebastian kept one arm around Ciel's back while he, presumably, waved the other hand in the air with an affected casualness. "I am not one for drinking."
"Oh, but I insist!" Ciel felt Green's elbow brush against the top of his head as he touched some part of the Butler's upper body. "We have an extremely elegant vintage red tonight. Would you not like to sample a glass?" Sebastian hesitated for only one second before Green said, "Of course you would! Tonight is a night for indulgence! I will be back in a tick. Then I would love to speak with you further." Green's footsteps clip-clopped away. Ciel waited until their sound mingled deeply with the others before he squeezed Sebastian's sides, much like he would a horse to command it to run faster. The Butler understood and strode from the room at an alarming pace.
At a certain point, Ciel was released from his woolen cocoon. He stumbled backward and was hit by a chilling air that made his bare skin prickle all over with painful little mounds. He took in a breath and said, "Do NOT accept drinks from that man!"
Sebastian removed his mask while laughing. "You would know that, sir?"
"Yes, I would!" Ciel gathered his willowy fingers into little fists and hurt his heel after stomping on the ground. "Where the hell were you and why did you not come to me?"
"I never left from my station outside of this building," the Butler answered. "I was waiting for a signal. I did not receive one."
"Sebastian!" Ciel tried to keep his voice low, so his angry words pushed out of him in raspy outbursts. "You heard not a word from me all night! Did you not feel it necessitated to see that I was safe?"
"No." Sebastian shrugged. "I knew that you were fine. You are perfectly able to defend yourself, to a point, using your wit. I've seen you do it before."
Ciel crossed his arms. "I suppose I should be flattered by that but I'm not."
"Forgive me, sir."
"No. Now to pull the curtain on this production. Sebastian." The Butler came to attention and stood at the ready for his command. "I do hope you still have a hold of Green's scent, because I need you to locate his office."
"Yes, my Lord." He lifted the Young Master into his arms and set off through the levels of the warehouse, traveling with frightening speed.
Outside of a shabby door, he gently lowered Ciel to his feet and asked, "Why must we stop here?"
"There is a book that I saw Green writing in when I first entered this place. I want to know what information it contains."
"As you wish."
The door was locked, as doors tend to be, but like that had ever stopped the partners in grime. As though there was no such precautionary measure to protect the office from intruders, Sebastian turned the knob and pushed it open. The inside of the room remained unchanged, save the ghostly embers in the hearth that cast off a grazing of orange light and a new tea stain on the rug. Ciel made his way over to the desk and began rifling through the drawers. Not a one was locked, or rather the locks were so old that they were completely rotted away and non-functional. Sebastian locked the door behind them and stood closely by, laughing quietly.
Ciel looked up calmly, though he felt anything but after all that the evening had put him through. "Might I ask what you find to be so funny?"
"That costume is truly becoming on you, my Lord," Sebastian smiled. "You look like a Grecian mime."
"I... ugh!" Ciel made a noise in his throat that scratched his vocal chords roughly. "I am not even going to bother with you anymore. I've gotten what I came here for." He withdrew the large book that he had seen Green scribbling in the previous evening. "Let's take it to the Yard."
"You do not want to see what is inside it first?"
"Sebastian!" Ciel pretended to be shocked. "You want to snoop around in others' personal business?"
"A bit."
"So do I." Ciel plopped the book down on the desk's surface and Sebastian used his supranatural* command over fire to light a nearby oil lamp. At first glance, the book seemed to contain nothing but financial recordings: ticket prices (which were ridiculously high, nearly five pounds per person**), production expenses, damage repairs. But as the pages were turned, they revealed more ominous findings. There were photographs of each actor, their name, the theatre from which they came, the date they went missing. Even Simon's likeness and personal details were among them, though Ciel did not recall ever sitting for a photograph. In addition to the actor's information, each security person had their histories documented. It did not surprise the Earl and his Butler in the least to see that the vast majority of them were ex-convicts, having either escaped from prison or been bailed out by a "friend." Ciel did not see Reggie among them. He could not imagine, though, that the oaf was ever a functioning member of society.
"Quite the cloak-and-dagger operation, that Green is running," remarked Sebastian. "Look here." He pointed to a long list. Ciel inspected the list in question:
- D. Hudson, Leeds: Jan- 3, '79
- S. Smith, Sheffield: Mar- 4, '80
- J. Speck, Derby: Apr- 2, '80
- R. Weyerbacher, Birmingham: Jun- 2,'80
The list ran the length of five pages, traveling halfway down a sixth.
"Good lord," Ciel said under his breath. "There is ten years of kidnapping documented here."
"A month here, a month there... I suppose it is a record of how many actors were duped, in what city and in what year" Sebastian observed. "I would not consider the names to be affiliates. They may just be a record of his pseudonyms so he does not use the same name twice."
"How many from London this year?" Ciel asked.
"... Hmm, there is not an official number as of yet," the Butler answered. "I would think they wouldn't record their captures until they have relocated. There is a tally going, however."
"One, two, three, so far," Ciel said. "So that would be Richard, Abrahm, and myself."
"Is Abrahm the boy who started singing?" The Butler asked suddenly.
Ciel quickly lifted his head. "How did you guess that?"
"Recalling the list that Her Majesty gave you," Sebastian said, "the youngest actor to go missing was Abrahm Myles from the Ice Block. He did not look much older than the Young Master and there was an obvious sense of comradery, as he was clearly trying to comfort you. The obligation he felt may stem from you belonging to the same theatre company as he."
"I wouldn't call it comradery," Ciel said. "Or obligation."
"Perhaps not on your end. But you do owe him a debt of gratitude."
Ciel wavered before saying, "Well, I think ending this 'play' will be gratitude enough."
"That it will be."
"Now that we've satisfied our curiosity, let's get this to the Yard." Ciel gathered the book to his chest. "Perhaps it can be of some use to them."
Just then, there was a group of hurried footsteps outside of the door and quiet growls of agitated conversation. Ciel did not need to make a command to spur the Butler into action. Sebastian extinguished the oil lamp, pushed Ciel underneath the settee and hid himself in a space between a bookcase and the wall. Ciel held his breath as the door flew open and a group of men burst into the room. Green's was the first voice he heard distinctly.
"I KNEW it!" He spat. There was no contrast of humours in his words then. He spoke with pure rage. "I knew there was something strange about that boy! Now he's gone! And I bet he slipped away right under my nose. FUCK!" Something slammed heavily on the desk, mostly likely Green's fist.
"Oh, come now, David," a languid voice consoled, "relaaax. He couldn't have gotten far."
"For his sake, he better not have," Green snapped. "And don't tell me to relax. I am relaxed."
"How about you have a smoke?" The lazy voice said. "Soothes the nerves."
"NO!" Green shouted. "When have I ever said 'yes' to your goddamn opium? That's right- never! So stop asking me already!"
"Suit yourself." The sluggish man sat upon the settee, right above Ciel's head. The cushion beneath him sagged dangerously low, and though Ciel was not being crushed, there was only about an inch of space between it and his skull. There was the sharp flicking sound of a match against a matchcover followed shortly after by a relishing exhalation.
"Wait a moment," said a third voice. "That boy... is he the same as the one we saw at the ice cube or whatever it was called?"
"Yes," Green said impatiently.
"Eye patch? Quite short? Skinny?"
"Yes."
"And he disappeared, you're thinking, with an older man in all black?"
"Once he was gone, so, too, was Simon."
The man above Ciel's head began to laugh, the cushion beneath him jumping slovenly in time with his guffaws.
"And what are you laughing at, Lynch?" Green snarled.
"You have been sniffed out by the Queen's watchdog, you have!" the man said.
"What the bloody hell does a dog have to do with this?" Green demanded. "How high are you exactly? Samuels, what is he on about?"
"What our dear friend means," said Samuels, the third voice, "is that there is a certain family trusted by the Crown to police the Underground and eliminate anyone who may pose a threat to the Queen. This family is known as Phantomhive. From what I recollect, the boy's parents were killed some four years ago, and he has since filled the shoes of his late father. I've heard it said that he travels with a tall butler everywhere he goes."
"And how exactly," replied a frustrated theatre master, "does my playhouse pose a threat to that old lady in the big castle?"
"The boy named Richard," said Lynch, who did not even try to hide his amusement, "is Her Majesty's kin. A great nephew, apparently."
"Well, a big fat, bleedin' THANK YOU for telling me that ahead of time!" Another object caused a great noise. It sounded like Green had swiped his desk clear of its ornaments.
"We didn't know that he was royalty," Samuels defended. "I only saw it in the paper less than a week ago."
"Still." Green sounded slightly more collected but still inflamed. "These things must be brought to my attention." He sighed heatedly. "Had I known... had I but known that the boy was being watched so closely, I never would have approached him."
"Pfft! Sure, you wouldn't have," Lynch mocked.
There was a deadly silence. Ciel could hear his heart thumping against the threadbare carpet.
"What was that, Lynch?" Green said. His voice was so quiet it verged on a whisper.
The stupid man above Ciel did not seem to notice that he was getting himself into trouble. "Well, damn, David," he said. "Your obsession with handsome young men is hardly unknown."
"I would not call it an obsession," Green adopted his signature tone. "It is merely an appreciation."
"Riiight," Lynch said. "So you have never been inappropriate with any of those boys?"
"... Define 'inappropriate,'" Green said.
"Well, that little song bird has always been especially wary of you."
"Abrahm? He's a timid boy. He's wary around everyone." Ciel's stomach turned. Abrahm...
"Sure thing." Lynch then added under his breath, "Sodomite."
There was a shuffling sound of foot falls rushing towards the settee. The weight of Lynch left his seat and the cushion sprung upwards. An opium laced cigarette fell to the floor and hissed as it singed a hole into the carpet.
"What did you call me, Lynch?" Green asked venomously.
The response came out in croaked syllables. "Nothing! Nothing!"
"You did not make a nasty little aside just now?"
"No! No!"
Green's laugh was joyless, deep in his throat. "You lie."
The choking became more intense. "Stop!"
"Stop? You want me to stop?"
"YES!"
"That's funny! Because I want you to stop as well."
The agonising noise continued longer than Ciel thought he could stand. After a torturous duration, a heavy thud, like a sack of potatoes being dropped, sounded next to Ciel's face. Through the scantest bit of space between the sette's skirt and the floor, Ciel could make out the dark cloth of a velvet coat and locks of thin brown hair.
"Good Lord, David," Samuels said with absolute bewilderment. "Y... you killed him."
"Oh, please." Ciel saw the very bottom of Green's boots move away from the fresh corpse. "The man had nothing but enemies. He would have been killed sooner or later. But back to business." He cleared his throat. "This Phantomhive. Is he really a threat?"
"Er... yes." Samuels attempted to lift himself from his horrified stupor. "Once engaged, he never loses a game of fetch. His victims hang in the gallows or they are never heard from again."
"Shit." Green thought for a moment. "Well. We have no time to waste then. Let's pack up the boys tonight. I have a contact up north who owes me a favour."
"... Yes..." Samuels seemed doubtful of escape.
'As well he should be,' Ciel thought.
Samuels continued, referring to Lynch's body. "But what about him?"
"It's not a problem at all," Green answered incredibly easily for one who just murdered another. "I'll have my brother take care of it. But we must leave now." A drawer was thrust open and Ciel's heart stopped. A pause followed in which Ciel thought Green would set the whole room aflame but... nothing happened. Instead, he heard a chortle and a sigh. "Ah. Quite the clever little devil, that Si- I mean, Phantomhive." The surname sounded like a detestable contagion when spoken by one such as he. "Well, if that is the game he wants to play, then I suppose we have to follow his rules." The drawer was gently closed. "Come, Samuels. Let's teach this pup how to play with the big dogs." Two pairs of footsteps treaded out of the room and shut the door softly.
"Young Master." Sebastian's sudden whisper in the darkness made Ciel near jump out of his skin.
"Ugh, Sebastian! You gave me a fright!"
"I do apologise, my Lord. But I thought it might have been more startling if a corpse suddenly stirred, so I felt I should make my presence known to you before moving the body."
"Oh. Right then."
The body of Lynch was pulled clear away to allow Ciel plenty of room to free himself without coming into contact with it.
"Well. You heard him, Sebastian," Ciel said. "He thinks he is going to beat us? It's time he learn whom he is dealing with."
Sebastian's sharpened eye teeth glowed in the dark as he grinned. "Yes, my Lord."
* "No, suPRAnatural. It's like a whole 'nother level above suPER." Points if you know what movie that's from :P
** With all the inflation that was going on during their time and now during ours, the disparity between Victorian monetary values and our own is incredibly confusing to me. From what I've been able to gather, though, is that in the latter half of the nineteenth century, a pound was worth about a hundred times less than what it's worth now. So five Victorian pounds would be about five hundred current pounds, or eight hundred dollars.
