...wow this update just totally slipped my mind. BUT I remembered! And so we have chapter 8! Forgive my headache - cons and schoolwork don't exactly mix well, for the record.
*headdesk* I feel awful about this chapter. It just makes a part of me die a little inside because of the character I switch into a new role in this story. He's too cute! Okay, you probably know who I'm talking about at this point (or you will once you start reading!), though. I grovel for your understanding - I hate adding OCs. It even killed me to add Jenny Knoll in there (no pun intended). And she wasn't even ALIVE in the story! So this was probably brought on by my need for a character to fit the part, and he seemed to fit the bill nicely.
I'm not going to ramble here. I'm really not. I'm not even going to ramble about rambling. I'm going to be so concise, so coherent, that you will finish these ANs with a clear knowledge of what lies in store for you this week, without knowing any spoilers for the chapter or the story. this you will do, and you will do easily and happily. for I am not going to ramble. In any way. I am not going to take up your time any more than I must to have you read this chapter. I am going to write so clearly, so thoughtfully, that you will feel that every word I am typing here is completely relevant to my quest to steal your soul, which you will not know about because you will be so enthralled by the words themselves.
Enough with this. Insomnia does me no good. READ ON!
The Undertaker's Apprentice
Ciel opened his eyes and sat bolt upright. The first thing he noticed was that he was not lying on the street anymore, but was instead in a bed covered in blankets. He also noticed that someone had bandaged his head, which was throbbing terribly from the blow earlier. Ciel looked around his new surroundings.
The room he was in was small, big enough to fit the bed, a splintery dresser with a lamp sitting atop it, and a chair. A window next to the bed allowed a view onto a street, not a very crowded street save for the few men and women bustling to and from their homes and jobs.
Ciel got out of bed and looked out the window. It was night, the smog in the air blocking the stars and blurring a hazy moon. The shops lining the street were what looked to be small boutiques, selling clothes and jewelery and trinkets. It looked to be a neighborhood in the West End. Something in his stomach tightened; he was on the other side of London now, in a completely different part.
Ciel tried the door, only to find it locked. "Odd," he muttered to himself, "What kinda 'otel locks in its guests?" After working on the doorknob for a while with no progress, the boy resigned himself to sitting on his bed and waiting for someone to open the door.
He did not have to wait long. After a few minutes, Ciel heard a tinkering of keys from the other side of the door, followed by the door being opened. A boy who looked to be a little older than Ciel poked his head into the room. "Oh, you're awake!" the boy said, smiling and coming the rest of the way into the room, "Sleep good?"
Ciel shrugged. "Good enough."
The boy took a seat in the chair. The moonlight reflected oddly off his blond hair, and his green eyes shone with a happy welcome. He wore an assortment of pins and clips in his hair. "I'm Finnian, by the way," he said, "but people call me Finny. Pleased ta meet'cha!"
"Ciel," Ciel introduced himself. After the incident with Sebastian, he had become more careful about giving out too much information about himself. Speaking of which, he needed to get going! The longer he stayed here, the more likely it became that Grell and the Undertaker would find him! "Where am I?" Ciel asked, anxious to be on his way, "Thank ya fer helpin' me with my 'ead, but I really 'ave ta go. Ya know any drivers who'll take me ta Merton fer two pound?"
Finny shook his head. "Sorry, that's a ways away, an' no one's going ta take you out there for two pound." Ciel noticed his accent was broken, like he was forcibly trying to rid himself of it in a short amount of time.
"Well, e'en if ya dunno where ta find one, I need one. I'll be goin' now," Ciel said, pushing past Finny and stepping toward the door. He was about to reach the door when Finny grabbed his shirt. Ciel turned to fix him with a cold glare from his cerulean eyes.
Finny flinched under his stabbing look, but he did not let his grip slacken. "You can't leave just yet," he said, mustering up enough courage to look Ciel in the eye again, "Master Hammond hasn't talked to ya yet."
"Master Hammond?"
"Yeah," Finny said, loosening his grip a bit. When Ciel did not make a move to leave, he dropped his arm to his side again. "The Master runs the house here an' takes care of us."
"Us?" Ciel asked slowly, not sure where this was going. He suddenly recalled that Finny had not yet told him where they were. "Ya never answered my question," he stated, looking down at the blond boy, "where're we?"
Finny stood up and stepped around the boy and out the door, motioning for him to follow. "Let's go talk ta Master."
Ciel followed Finny out of the room and down the hallway, cautiously looking around for clues as to where he was. All he knew was that he was in a strange hotel of sorts in West End. He was suspicious, but he couldn't do anything about it. Even if every instinct in his body was telling him to get out of there.
Finny led him down a flight of stairs and around a corner, where he knocked on a door to the right. A man with a neat haircut and a clean white shirt opened the door and let them in. Ciel and Finny took the seats in front of an old desk as the man sat down in his seat at the desk. He raised an eyebrow at Finny.
"What are you doing here, boy?" he said, voice sharp and stabbing like pins, "I said I wanted to talk to the newcomer, not you. Get out!" He waved toward the door.
Finny lowered his gaze. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," he murmered as he stood up and exited the room.
The man turned his attention back to Ciel. "I'm Charles Hammond," he introduced himself, "You will address me as Master Hammond or Master, understand?"
"Only if ya tell me where the bloody 'ell I am," Ciel hissed through clenched teeth, getting more and more frustrated with each evasion of his questions.
"You're not going to get far with an attitude like that," Hammond said, relaxing in his chair and ignoring Ciel's threats, "You'll never pay off your debts."
"Since when do I owe ya anythin'?!"
"You don't owe me anything," Hammond said, sighing, "Well, aside from those bandages."
"Then who do I owe? How much do I owe 'em?! Where'm I?!"
"You are at 19 Cleveland Street, boy," Hammond said simply, "the brothel."
Ciel's stomach felt like it had dropped through the floor. Had he just said the brothel and Cleveland Street? This was a disaster! He'd ended up in just the place he had been running away from! And all because those guys from earlier had knocked him out and brought him here! Ciel fought the urge to jump from his seat and run out of the room; he could not let Hammond see how frightened he was to be here.
Instead, he sat back in his seat and looked the man in the eye. "'ow much do I owe those prigs who brought me in 'ere?" He was surprised at the evenness of his voice.
Hammond laughed. "You're a clever one, boy," he said, his eyes betraying an underlying threat that Ciel could not place, "I get the feeling I'll make lots from the likes of you. What's your name, boy?"
"Ciel," Ciel said, his voice turning to ice as he said it. He could not—would not—betray any sort of emotion in front of these people while he was here. Any reaction they got would hinder his release or would be used against him and for their benefit.
"Ciel," Hammond said, trying the name out for himself, though on his lips it just sounded vulgar, "Isn't that a girl's name? Why's a boy got a girl's name?"
The boy remained silent. He was just poking fun at him, trying to see what he was like. How far he could push him until he reached his breaking point.
"Hey! I asked you a question!" Hammond said, "Answer me! I don't like it when the boys don't answer me!"
Ciel still said nothing.
Hammond's eyes were blazing now. He leaned across the desk and burned his gaze into Ciel's face. Ciel only looked back at him with dead eyes. Hammond struck him. "Speak!"
Silence.
The man finally gave up and sat back down. "Have it your way," he said, sneering, "You won't be seeing much pay until you start acting like you want it, though! Get up!"
Ciel stood, turning toward the door. Hammond called for Finny, who opened the door and led Ciel away. The two walked the corridor in silence for a while before Finny spoke up.
"So 'ow was the Master?" Finny asked, "not too harsh, I hope?"
Ciel shook his head, keeping his gaze fixated directly in front of him.
Finny smiled a grim smile. "Sorry 'bout this," he said, "Master says that anyone who feels like fighting doesn't get paid. An' for what we do, I'd like to make sure I'm getting compensation," he added with the faintest hint of disgust.
The two reached the door to Ciel's room. Finny looked at the boy, a sad pity beginning to show itself on his face.
Ciel felt the need to retch. "Don't," he seethed, "show me pity. I don' bloody want it!"
Finny shook his head and dropped the expression. "Sorry. Jus' that… you're one of the youngest we've got now. How old're you?"
"Eleven."
Finny's green eyes grew wide. "Eleven?! How'd a little kid like you get mixed up in all this?!"
Ciel shrugged and pushed past Finny to his room and sat on the bed, the mattress creaking under him. Finny sighed in empathy. "It's okay if you don't want to talk," he said. He flashed a smile, even if it was forced. "If you need anythin' at all, jus' ask for me!" He closed the door, leaving Ciel to his thoughts.
Ciel balled himself up and laid his head on the mattress. He tried to think up a plan to get out of here, but came up with none. The window outside wasn't near any rooftops for climbing, and he'd be caught if he tried to run away through the house. He hugged his knees to his chest tighter. "Guess I got no choice," he breathed, his heart accelerating as the fear escalated, "I got ta stay 'ere 'till the Undertaker comes ta get me."
Ciel shut his eyes tight at the thought. The Undertaker would find him here, buy him back, and take him back to the shop. A safer alternative to where he was now, but not where he wanted to be. He wished in vain for a certain person to come save him, his frightening crimson eyes glowing beside Ciel as he would walk out the door, free.
*weeps* I'm sorry Finny! I'm sorry I have you as a slightly depressing yet sweet character and threw you into this mess! Ahem, moving on to the next chapter. Next week is Thanksgiving (woohoo food!), so I will update that Friday as usual. November 27, be there or be square!
