Oh good gracious. I'm such a terrible author if I can't even properly update a story in six months. I feel terrible D:

It's not really my place to say what exactly has been keeping me away from writing, but essentially a great deal of things, nothing very good - some things I'm not sure we've gotten over, happened to myself and my family all at once and, honestly writing, as much as I love it, wasn't really my top priority. I know I should have at least posted a note, however it sort of slipped my mind :S. Regardless of that, I constantly feel so guilty about not updating, especially as I hate it when stories aren't updated myself. Eh, I'm such a hypocrite.

I can't apologise enough!

Slight language warning for beginning and ending of chapter, nothing too big, but still.

Music for chapter: cymbeline, by Loreena McKennitt.

Here is a small fact: You are going to die

- death, the bookthief.


Death was walking the streets.

Perhaps that fact was entirely unrelated to the events of the following half-hour or so, perhaps not, either way it was the first time in decades that the heart of London was almost entirely still, and thus, the perfect time for the perverse hands of fate to begin the very long undoing of one particularly unusual resident of 1887 A.D.

The quiet clack of heels against cobblestone broke the silence of the quiet night, followed shortly by quiet, breathy humming.

Claudia Cotton was hungry, cold and fairly pissed-off. And anyone who had ever come into contact with Claudia knew that the above combination meant trouble; trouble usually inflicted upon anybody in a five-mile radius. Or her brother, if he were around, which, luckily for the unsuspecting residents of White Chapel and surrounding areas, meant that the majority of them would live to see another day.

Abruptly, Claudia stopped walking, and rubbed her arms to fight down a shiver, she huffed irritably and turned on the spot to face the street she had come down. "Are you coming or not, dimwit?" she hissed icily, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

She was met by silence for a moment, and so she squinted down the street, past the lights cast by the gas lantern, back into the darkness, expectantly.

Soon enough, another figure, puffing vigorously seemed to melt out of the shadows, he stopped as soon as he came into sight, placing his hands on his knees and huffing for a couple of moments before looking up and glaring at Claudia.

"Eff you Claudia," he snapped, before leaning over and puffing again.

"It's your own fault for being such a good for nothing slob, idiot," she replied with evident distaste for the boy's general existence.

"Claudia –"

"Jude."

They glared heatedly for some time, before the boy sighed heavily, and walked up to meet her. He was about half a head shorter than her, with dull grey eyes and a mop of unruly black hair, he was also clad in black and grey, as though dressed for a funeral.

She, on the other hand, was far more striking. Sharp, slightly feline features, brilliant blue eyes graced her face, and an impossibly straight black cut hung down past the small of her back. She too, was dressed as though in mourning,

Although the appearance of anyone on the street during the turbulent past few weeks was strange, stranger still was the fact that both of them were children. They couldn't possibly be any older than twelve, maybe fourteen, and certainly that was no age for anyone to be out on the streets at midnight, and yet, there they were.

Claudia scowled at the boy, before reaching out and twisting Jude's ear sharply, "You're too human for your own good brother," she snapped critically, and then turned sharply and began to walk away, "now hurry up."

Jude winced, rubbing his ear and muttering, "as if that's my fault, stuck up whore."

"I heard that."

"Good."

They walked briskly in silence for a while after that, Jude occasionally stumbling to catch up with his elder sister, to which he would earn a critical frown and a couple of holier-than-thou insults in his direction.

The trouble with being more human than you'd like to be, thought Jude, is that everyone looks down on you, and blames everything on you.

"I'm hungry," he whined, but Claudia ignored him as a couple of distant shouts broke through the quiet night. "Finally," hissed Claudia, grabbing Jude's wrist and breaking out into a sprint.

Agility isn't too good either, he added as a side note, as they swung around a corner into an alleyway. A stray cat yowled in protest as the two children sped past with a cold 'whoosh'. Jude winced as his feet squelched in something suspiciously like clay - but worse smelling - and then swore as he nearly hit his head at a sharp corner.

Eventually, they stopped. However Jude, being 'too human for his own good' and also still in a foul mood, was entirely unprepared, and ended up knocking them both to the ground.

"Get off me you idiot!" Claudia screeched, knocking him violently to the side, "my god, you're hopeless!"

"It's not like I want to be here," he whined, pushing himself up onto all fours miserably, "you dragged me along because you can't do it on your own and all I want to do is have dinner, or something but no, I'm out here on a wild goose chase looking for Jack-the-bloody-ripper," the final words he snarled out, getting onto his feet and swinging a punch at Claudia, who dodged it with graceful ease.

"Quiet," she snapped, and peered around suspiciously, "police could still be hanging around."

"So what," he grumbled, "we haven't done anything, and besides that we'd get away before they could even see our faces."

Claudia glared at him, and twisted his ear again, "So," she said over his piteous yelp, "they'll end up looking for us for ages, and we won't get a chance to find the reaper."

Jude sniffed.

Claudia glared disapprovingly at him for a long while, but fearing he would become painfully loud, she sulkily ventured down the closest, darkest, alley she could see and after a little sniffing around caught several mice and rats.

With terrified squeaks on the vermin's behalf, she broke their necks one by one.

"Here," she muttered, tossing five to Jude, "fresh and raw. Just how you like them."

Jude grinned hungrily.


I am no good at telling how much time has past without the use of a clock or calendar, and I am far too proud to ask someone what the day is for fear of seeming ignorant. And so, as days bled into weeks at the Phantomhive residence, I found myself becoming gradually more antisocial, hiding away in the library with only a skull for company, ignoring the dizzying speed that time seemed to be passing at.

I spent the time pouring over books of the occult, which are by no means in short supply for the Phantomhive family, watchdog business and the occult seem to go hand in hand. I had hoped to find at least one article on enchanted jewellery, but alas, even fiction would have been more helpful than what I had found so far.

However, I refused to believe I was trapped in the past. And I was certainly not going to stay put without a fight.

Since the 'party' I had hardly interacted with any members of the household at all, save for Maylene, who always brought my meals up to the library when I refused to make any other appearances. At first, that had surprised me somewhat, as I had assumed that was Sebastian's job, but after the initial shock, I was more than pleased to have as little contact with the demon as possible, and aside from that, I much preferred female company as opposed to egotistical monsters.

Bard and Finny seemed nice enough, but I felt that making more connections than necessary would result in disaster at some point in time or another, and so I politely informed Maylene that I had much studying to do, and so I probably couldn't socialise with her friends very much.

In fact, the longest I had been outside the library aside from night time, and small walks about the garden to stretch my legs, was when the bizarre little tailor from London, whom everybody had quite forgotten, had shown up a week after the party with far more then ten dresses, and a glowing disposition as he insisted I try every single one on for the household.

To say the least, I have never been quite so embarrassed in my life, and if nothing else, the whole incident encouraged me to spend more time hiding away.

"Now," I murmured quietly, flicking through an old bestiary bemusedly, "demons, demons, demons, ah! Here we go."

I skimmed the article quickly, but it held nothing I didn't already know, and certainly nothing I wanted to know.

I continued flicking through the book half-heartedly. I was so certain Sebastian had something to do with me being here, he certainly identified the cause of my travels quickly enough, he had an incredibly high and mighty temperament that suggested to me that although he was only a butler, he had complete control over the situation. He was also a creature of the occult, and my ring was an object that had recently become of the occult, and well… he was a monster, a soul-eating monster. I couldn't think of anyone more suspicious than that.

I continued to flick through the book with little vigour until a chapter piqued my interest, 'Trí Dé Dána – the three gods of craftsmanship '. Anything about craft could possibly be helpful, and aside from that, I was sure I had heard the term before from my grandfather (who was, in his old age, a very imaginative storyteller).

I began to skim the article hopefully, but was interrupted by the creaking of the library door.

I looked up with a smile, expecting to see Maylene with a tray of food or a message of some sort. However, my smile fell quickly as Sebastian stepped into the library.

"Miss Skye" he said in his usual, falsely polite tone of voice, "the young master is making the trip to his townhouse and requests your presence."

I nodded, putting the book on the table beside me, "when are we leaving?"

"In precisely fifteen minutes, you will need to bring enough belongings for the trip also, as we may stay for several days."

A scowl crossed my face before I could stop it, "well, thank you for giving me time," I snapped irritably as I stood from the armchair.

Sebastian's expression did not change, instead he nodded in acknowledgement, and then left before I had the chance to react.

"Some courtesy they have around here," I grumbled childishly, picking up a pile of books to take along for the trip, "Yorick, despite the fact you are dead, and thus, utterly useless - I place you in charge of my research until further notice." I declared to the the unsurprisingly quiet skull, and then left the library with a quiet click of the door.

The carriage ride was by no means any better than the last trip to London, my stomach protesting with such hostility that I could only lean into the corner of the compartment and moan occasionally. Thankfully, Ciel was not the type for light conversation, and seemed far too preoccupied with a letter in his hand in any case.

It astounded me just how long it took for horse drawn transport to travel, I could see the countryside with perfect clarity through the gap between the curtains, as opposed to the rough blur that was seen through car windows. In fact, we were passing at such a slow pace, that there was absolutely no mistaking the small old man who had recently proven himself to an excellent tailor sitting at the roadside busying himself with a flute of some sort.

He looked up as the carriage past, and, meeting my eye, even had the nerve to wink.

I squeaked in surprise, and instantly turned away from the window, tugging the curtains fully closed for extra measure. Twice in a month is all well and good, but a third and completely unrelated incident is completely unwelcome.

I won't deny the fact I am often irrational to the point of paranoia. For example, when I was fifteen, I had the misfortune to come across a movie about a murderer that had a day job as a security guard, and choose his victims via security camera. After I had sat through the entire movie with a horrified fascination that often comes hand in hand with horror movies, I found I could never look directly at security cameras, and would attempt to stand at bizarre angles to them in hopes of remaining 'incognito'.

When I was five, my Aunt, Celeste, told me of an old Victorian superstition regarding mirrors and the dead (supposedly, if you look into a mirror shortly after the death of a loved one, you can see them, and they may well try to get out) even now, sixteen years later I have an intense dislike of mirrors, which is hardly helped by the fact I am by no means a pretty face.

All that aside, when your day job often results in frightening situations where someone always seems to be trying to kill you, you don't just pass things off as coincidence.

My little display seemed to have caught Ciel's attention, as he forced his gaze off the letter and placed it onto myself critically.

I pushed my more than likely irrational concerns out of my mind for the time being, and met the boy's gaze with equal criticism.

"What?" I challenged.

He continued to gaze evenly, as though debating whether or not it was worth it to answer my question. Finally he said plainly, "Your eye. It hardly seems like a coincidence."

Instinctively, I raised my hand and traced the long scar down my face, "I'd like to think it is," I said softly, "but honestly, it gets a bit hard to deny the facts however strange they are."

"Explain."

I laughed nervously, "you don't beat around the bush, do you kiddo?"

Ciel began to scowl, "get on with it," he muttered, clearly displeased about he fact I referred to him as 'kiddo'.

"Well, My Aunt, Celeste, she's a bit superstitious you see, always insisted it was a 'family curse' of some sort. I always told her it was rubbish, but still… every Phantomhive since you have had some sort of issue with their eyes," Ciel looked thoughtful, but didn't say anything, and so I continued, "Your oldest son, he loses his eye entirely in a…" I hesitated, because I doubted I should talk about World Wars that had yet to occur so casually, "… a fight. His daughter is born with an eye condition, her nephew loses his on watchdog duty, my Aunt has a lazy eye, and then there's me."

"You…?" pressed Ciel.

Again, I laughed nervously, "oh, it's… it's… uh… It's actually quite embarrassing really."

Ciel said nothing, but his face clearly stated his impatience.

I laughed awkwardly again, "You see… I… Well… I was a bit of a boisterous child… and I was pretending to be a pirate with one of my father's stake knives… and… I… tripped…" I could feel my cheeks burnings. It had been a fun story to tell as a girl, but now, it simply seemed pathetic compared to my other family stories.

"And you call yourself a watchdog." he deadpanned, clearly with little faith in his family's future.

I moaned again as my stomach gurgled unhappily, "no, no look, it's not as bad as it sounds, I'm just not good with social situations, on the job, I almost always do well, I –" however I did not get the chance to finished the sentence, as the carriage finally stopped.

The carriage door opened to reveal Sebastian, "Young Master, it's been a while since you last went out, isn't it?" he asked conversationally, as we both stepped out onto the gravel.

Ciel looked incredibly displeased, "I couldn't care less who sent that letter, I hate being in crowded places." he said bitterly, bordering on whiney, as Sebastian lead us into the house.

Well, to be honest, 'house' would be a complete understatement. The place was just as grand as the Phantomhive mansion, the carpet floored with beautiful velvety materials, flowers adorned almost every window, chandeliers hung from each ceiling we past and the wallpaper was utterly stunning, even the wood of the staircase we ascended was perfectly polished and more than likely of the finest wood available.

Ciel and Sebastian's voices faded into the background as I began to gaze all around me. 'and to think,' I mused somewhat dryly, 'all I got was a lousy apartment.'

Vaguely, I heard Sebastian say , "… We should be able to enjoy some peace and quiet."

"Peace and quiet, huh?" echoed Ciel as Sebastian opened the door in front of us.

However, it instantly seemed fairly obvious to me that Ciel would most certainly not be getting any sort of peace and quiet.

The room was in utter chaos, littered with piles of cutlery, plates and papers all strewn about the room as three people rummaged desperately about.

"Jeez, where do they put the tea leaves in this house?" cried a woman within the room in dramatic exasperation. She was covered from head to toe in bold, flamboyant red, even her hair and makeup was strikingly red.

"It's nowhere to be seen." Replied a man sitting on the floor gazing hopefully into a Ming vase, as though he thought there might be a hidden stash of tea leaves. He was clearly of Asian ethnicity, and even his clothes were traditional, although we were in London, England.

Behind the couch was a very familiar person from a couple of weeks previously. And I have to admit; I was almost surprised to find him with his feet planted firmly on the ground, and no rope around his neck.

Although both Sebastian and Ciel were in front of me, it was very clear that they were both completely caught off guard at their unexpected guests.

It was all that I could do to stifle a laugh.

"Madame Red! Lau! What are you doing here!" demanded Ciel, somewhere between shock horror and embarrassment.

The three of them all stood and turned to acknowledge our arrival, "My! You're early!" exclaimed the woman in red (more than presumably Madame Red) happily.

The Asian man (again, obviously Lau) smiled enigmatically, "Since you have come it must mean –"

" –The Queen's Watchdog is on the move, correct?" finished Madame Red, and almost immediately the tension in the room seemed to rise.

For a beat, there was silence, and then Madame Red, looking at me for the first time, exclaimed, "And who is this? You didn't tell me you had another guest!"

I opened my to explain that I was Ciel's 'sister' recently returned from France, but Ciel cut me off saying, "She is a servant of her majesty, and is currently going under the guise of an older sister returned from her studies in France."

I blinked in surprise, why was the sudden change of identity necessary, exactly? However Sebastian stepped back and said quietly, "Madame Red is the Young Master's Aunt."

My mouth formed a small 'O', as I desperately tried to recall ever hearing of a Madame Red at any point in the past, but I quickly recovered and waved sheepishly, "My name is Skye, a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh no," she gushed, although she turned away to continue rummaging about the room in search of tea leaves, "the pleasure is all mine."

After a silence of the slightly awkward kind, she turned back "Now, Ciel, where do you keep the tea in this place?"


Jude Cotton licked his fingers thoughtfully, as his elder sister Claudia skulked moodily around the corners of the alley way they stood in.

"Claudia," his said, through a mouthful of dead rat, "how will you know when you find what we're looking for?"

Claudia turned sharply around and glared pointedly at Jude, "I'll know what I've found, because I'll have found it. Dimwit," she snapped, and turned her attention back to skulking around.

Jude nodded to himself for a moment, downing the last rat – which he mournfully noted was not quite so fresh as the others, "but how will you know if that's what you were looking for?"

"Ugh, honestly, and you call yourself a cambion, use your brain for once – I'll know if what I've found is what I was looking for, because I know what I'm looking for. So shut it."

"Whore."

"Dimwit."

Both the children scowled at each other briefly before Claudia suddenly cried out, "Ah-ha! Found it." And proceeded to pull at the air as though it were made of cloth. To Jude's utter surprise, the air responded to Claudia's touch as though it were indeed made of some flimsy material.

"How did you learn to do that?" he whispered in awe, leaning in to get a better look.

"God you're brainless Jude, how do you think I learnt it? From that fool Peter? Really," she muttered, rolling her eyes for the umpteenth time.

Roughly, she latched onto Jude's wrist and pulled him towards the tear in the air. "Oh come on you idiot," she hissed at his protesting shout, "We don't have enough time for you to stand around moaning. We have a reaper to find."

"But why," he moaned piteously, "do you have to find the reaper?"

If Claudia ever answered, Jude would never know, because at that instant, it seemed as though the world around him rushed by with a sudden, angry 'voom!' and in doing so, tried to drag his insides along with it, and yet, almost as soon as the 'voom' had begun it finished, and he found himself stumbling along behind his sister as he tried desperately to blink the flashing lights out of his teary eyes.

"Excuse me," snapped a slightly bemused voice from somewhere in front of him, "Children are not permitted to be within the library, who are you, and how did you get here?"

Blinking desperately, poor, tired, Jude finally managed to allow his eyes to adjust to the lights around him, and found himself facing a reaper of the stuck-up, bookish variety with short black hair and an increasingly frustrated facial expression. Moreover, he was no longer standing in a damp, dark alley somewhere in the vicinity of Whitechapel, but in an impossibly large room, which – much to his alarm – was filled entirely with books. 'A library' he scowled inwardly, and considered for a moment whether there was a chance he could go back through the hole in the air before it was too late.

"That's hardly important," said Claudia uncaringly, her voice bringing Jude back from his brief revere, and before the reaper could say anything more she intervened with an "I, and my brother, have information in regards to one a.w.o.l. Grell Sutcliffe, and we shall relay this information in return for a favour."

"Oh yes?" said the reaper, clearly stressed and bemused at the sudden bizarre appearance of two children the library, "and what might that favour be?"

Jude noticed forlornly that Claudia's disposition seemed to become all the more pleased at her small triumph, and he wished, not for the last time, that he knew what exactly was going on around here, and why he had to be born into such a ridiculous family.

"We would like you to relay a message to the eldest female in the company of one Ciel Phantomhive," She declared, a smug grin sneaking onto her face.

"And what would that message be?" groaned the reaper, rubbing his temples frustratedly, "I hardly have time to be doing this," he moaned, "so make it worth my while."

"Tell her: 'Amelia is coming to get her'."


Oh, hello pathetically undramatic chapter ending, how are you today?

If any of that makes sense to you, I applaud your perception and possible psychic abilities.
Any way, things are still very tumultuous around here, so it might take a while for me to get back into the swing of things. I'll edit the past chapters for sure, and I promise under no circumstances will I abandon this thing. **

A thousand more apologies! D:

ciaos for now.