*yawn* morning, dear readers! Hope your Thanksgivings were awesome, and if you don't celebrate Thanksgiving, hope you had a great week! Well, you all know what's happening if you're reading this: NEW CHAPTER! I'd do a celebratory dance, but alas my insomnia is forbidding me from doing anything that would make me any more tired X( It's a really long chapter this week, guys! Prepare yourselves! But it's awesome, so it should be worth your time :D
Something I wanted to add this week: I did a TON of research for this fanfic. I wanted to do a Kuroshitsuji fanfic that was based around a real historical event set in the late 1880s to 1890s, preferably involving the nobility or royalty somehow. So I was doing some research and PLOP! there it was! I found the perfect event for this story: the Cleveland Street Scandal. If you don't know what that was, it was when an all-male brothel got busted by Detective Abberline (yes, Abberline's character is based on this person!) in 1889 London and it turned out Prince Albert Victor, the second in line to the throne, had been a visitor there. Cue massive scandal for the royal family! Even though the prince's involvement was never proven, there were some pretty well-grounded rumors going around London at the time. I must admit, this event really did fit almost too perfectly into what I had been planning for The Undertaker's Apprentice 0_o
So yeah, this story is based on an actual historical event that happened around the time Kuroshitsuji was taking place in London, even if a few years earlier - two or so. Should I have mentioned this earlier? ^_^;
Read on to this unusually long chapter of The Undertaker's Apprentice!
The Undertaker's Apprentice
The Viscount Druitt arrived shortly after dusk. Ciel had no idea of the time, for Hammond apparently did not supply his rent boys with clocks for the rooms. The boy had only just drifted off into a restless sleep when he heard the door click. His eyes snapped open and he sat up with a jolt. His vision fogged and his head pounded from his sudden movement, but that was nothing compared to the fear rising in him as the man stepped through the doorway and shut the door behind him with a faint click.
Ciel recognized the Viscount from the descriptions Grell and the Undertaker had given him. He was tall, with pale blond hair and a graceful angle to his face. He was dressed in the garb of a middle-class man, so as not to draw attention to himself as he made his way here. He walked with an air of one who has been given everything he desired for his entire life, and would expect no less from anyone. His step was unsteady, and he had to lean on the old dresser to keep from collapsing. Ciel did not move a muscle, but stared at him with expressionless eyes.
The Viscount closed the distance between them, his footsteps heavy. Ciel wrinkled his nose as the smell of alcohol flooded his nostrils. "'re you… the new one?" the nobleman slurred, "Ciel?"
Ciel did not respond to him, did not cringe as the Viscount ran his fingers along his face, down his neck, along his collarbone. He could not flinch, lest he anger the Viscount enough so he might leave without telling him anything.
"You're quiet," the Viscount mumbled, his words running together in unusual places, "'ow come?" He was looming over Ciel now, their faces inches apart. He looked as if he was about to say something more, but instead fell down onto the mattress, pulling Ciel down with him by his neck. Ciel coughed from the sudden movement.
Ciel decided this was the time to start asking questions, to avoid anything worse happening. "Sir, 'ave ya 'eard 'bout the poisonin's?"
"Uh-huh," was the Viscount's muffled reply.
The boy paused, unsure of how to proceed. "…ya worried?"
"Why woul'-I be?" he slurred, "Only people ta-get-dead're those girls. They ain' goin' after people like-me."
Ciel froze as he felt the Viscount's lips brush against his neck. This was getting to be dangerous; he needed to get out of here! He tried to pull away, but the Viscount grabbed his shoulder and held him fast. "Were're ya goin'? Don' forget I'm payin' ya."
Ciel tried to pull away again, but his head was beginning to cloud over again. This time, he was sure the problem wasn't the blood rushing to his head and it wasn't sleep deprivation. He eyed the now cold cup of tea Finny had brought him an hour ago; he knew there had been something off when he had tasted it.
His body was weakening, his ability to fight against the Viscount disappearing. At this rate, he was going to pass out before he could get any information out of this man. Not to mention the horrible things that were sure to follow the minute he stopped fighting.
"Sir," Ciel tried, his voice beginning to slur as well, "d'ya know… anythin' 'bout… the pagans?"
"Pagans? Why're ya askin' me somethin' like-that?"
Ciel was about to blabber out some unintelligible excuse when all the alcohol the Viscount had consumed suddenly became useful; the man proceeded to answer Ciel's question without a thought in the world.
"Strange group 'o people, pagans-are. Prayin' ta the devil an' castin' spells. Goin' straigh' ta 'ell."
Something Sebastian had said at their first meeting when Ciel had commented on the pagan religion drifted to the front of his mind: "That would be satanic worship, Ciel. Different. Though to some, not quite different enough."
Just what I needed ta hear from this pervert, Ciel thought. His chest tightened at the thought of the duke; here he was, getting molested by some perverted noble after being mugged by a street gang, and all in an attempt to see Sebastian! "'e probably won' e'en care," Ciel grumbled under his breath.
"Wha' you-say, boy?" Druitt slurred once again. He did not wait for Ciel to answer him, but instead busied himself with the buttons on Ciel's shirt. The boy started to draw back, but he could not pull his shirt away from the man's grasp. His vision started to grow hazier, his muscles beginning to relax. Ciel tried to fight, but it only seemed to invigorate Druitt, making it harder to get away. The last thing Ciel remembered before blacking out for the second time in twenty-four hours was his shirt being pulled off him and being roughly pushed down onto the bed.
* * *
Ciel woke up, once again confused as to what had happened before he had passed out. Only this time, finding out just what had happened was one of the last things he ever wanted to do.
Druitt was gone. Ciel looked around from the bed, morning sunlight teasing his sleep-laden eyes. His gaze drifted down to the floor where, to his deep horror, his clothes were cast all about. Suddenly self-conscious, he quickly jumped out of the bed and dressed himself. He looked back over at the bed, disgust welling up in his gut.
He felt filthy. Ciel knew what most likely happened once he had passed out the previous night, and he had never been so ashamed and… dirty. He was dirty now, unfit to be in the presence of anyone with at least a little self-respect. It was disgusting! He had let the Viscount do all manner of vulgar things to him, all for the sake of finding out information about the murder cases!
Ciel reached for the door and turned the knob. To his surprise, the door opened. Must not be angry enough ta lock me up again, he thought, stepping out of the room and walking down the hallway in search of something to eat.
He did not have to go far before he came across a small room on the ground floor that appeared to be a tiny kitchen. Ciel glanced around to make sure no one was watching him, then ducked into the room. Opening cupboards at random, he looked through the kitchen until he found an apple and a piece of bread. Ciel was about to bite into the apple when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
Ciel froze and dropped the food, too frightened to turn around. Had Hammond caught him stealing from the kitchen?! The boy did not even want to think about what would happen to him if he were caught.
"Hey, don't throw a fit," a familiar voice said, laughing, "Jus' wanted to tell you the Master doesn't like it when we steal food."
Ciel let out the breath he had been holding and turned around, relieved. "G'morning, Finny."
Finny laughed again. "Morning? It's almost noontime! I covered for you so ya could get some sleep—you're new here, after all." He looked quite proud of himself for his generosity, if a bit sheepish.
Ciel nodded a thank you, but said nothing. Now that the relief of not being discovered by Hammond had passed, something else was taking its place. Betrayal. Finny had given him a cup of tea a short while before the Viscount had paid his visit, and that cup of tea had been drugged. Finny was responsible for what had happened last night. Ciel knew it.
The boy shot a look at Finny. Finny composed himself, looking completely serious for the first time in Ciel's memory. "What's wrong?" he asked, "Somethin's bothering you."
Ciel only uttered a single word, but he did so in such an icy, piercing way it might as well have been a razor. "Tea."
Finny raised an eyebrow, confused. He scratched his head. "Tea? What tea?"
Ciel just glared at him. How could someone forget giving him something like that?
Finny thought for a few seconds more, then finally realized what Ciel was referencing. "Oh! You mean the tea I gave you yesterday? That tea?"
Ciel gave a stiff nod.
The older boy didn't seem to understand. "What about it? did I make it wrong? Master always says that I don't put enough tea leaves in it for the amount of water or it's too cold or—augh!" he shook his head, ashamed, "there's always something wrong with what I do, no matter what it is!"
Ciel huffed impatiently and folded his arms. Finny didn't seem to know that the tea had been drugged. Then who had put drugs in his tea? Ciel thought he had a pretty good idea.
"Finny," he demanded. The older boy looked over at him, still embarrassed about the quality of the tea. "Did'ja bring the tea ta anyun before ya gave it ta me?"
"Um…," the boy said, scratching his head again. Ciel rolled his eyes; Finny was not the brightest tool in the shed, but at least his heart seemed to be in the right place. "Ah! I got it! I brought the tea to the Master, because 'e said that you wanted some tea. Then I brought it to you."
Ciel nodded. He had been right; Hammond was behind the drugged tea. Changing the subject to get Finny's mind off why he had asked about it, he said, "Where're all the others? I 'aven't seen anyun else around 'ere."
Finny shrugged. "Most of 'em have day jobs. You know, like paperboys or stable hands. They come 'round here in the afternoons."
Ciel picked up the food he had dropped and set it on a small table, taking a seat. Finny sat across from him. The two sat in silence as Ciel ate, not sure how to continue this steadily more and more awkward conversation. A distant knock at the door made Finny jump.
"What's that?" Ciel asked, noting the surprise on the other boy's face.
"Shh!" Finny clamped a hand over Ciel's mouth, silencing him. "Master told me he might pay us a visit today. We gotta keep quiet 'till the Master takes care of this."
Sure enough, Hammond promptly emerged from his office and made his way to the door. The two boys watched through the open kitchen door as he opened it to reveal a redheaded man wearing a greenish-grey overcoat. He was holding some papers. "Good morning, sir."
"Good morning, Mr. Abberline," Hammond said, welcoming him into the front hall and gesturing to his office. Abberline followed his lead and the two disappeared into the office for their meeting.
"Who's that?" Ciel asked once the door had been closed, keeping his voice low.
"Fred Abberline," Finny said, "a detective. He's had his eyes on this place for a while—he's probably on to us and what's going on here. He's visited before, maybe twice in the past few months."
"'e's a jack, ya say?" Ciel repeated, turning this over in his head. This was perfect! When Abberline came back out of the office, he could go and tell him about what has happening! Abberline would let him off the hook for being mixed up in it if he was the one to turn everyone in, right?
Except… that. Ciel looked down at the browning apple core in his palm. He had no right to think of himself as any higher than the rest of these rent boys anymore, not after what had happened the previous night. If he turned everyone in now, he'd just be shooting himself in the foot, and he'd be arrested along with them.
The boy crushed the apple core in frustration. Was there really no way for him to get out of here?! He needed to get to Sebastian's manor, and fast!
"Hey, Finny," he said.
Finny looked over at him from the doorway. "Yeah?"
"D'ya 'ave any way 'o getting' outta 'ere without Hammond noticin'?"
Finny thought for a moment, then looked at the younger boy curiously. "I don't really have a need for things like that. I've got food and shelter 'ere, along with fairly decent wages. Don't really wanna go running away from that, do I?"
Ciel sighed. Maybe Finny really couldn't help him. He'd have to find a way out of this mess on his own. Getting up from his seat, Ciel began to pace around the first floor, careful to not make too much noise. The first floor of the townhouse was small, with the kitchen, a seating area, a washroom, and a dining room in addition to Hammond's office. It had most likely been a regular house before Hammond had turned it into the brothel it was now.
Ciel turned and made his way into the front hall. His hands were itching to touch that doorknob, his feet aching to run down the street and away from here, and all he had to do was open that door and…
The click of a door opening and the creaking of floorboards made the boy's blood run cold. "Ciel? I didn't hear you wake up."
Ciel shut his eyes tight and held his breath. He heard someone come up behind him and place a hand on his shoulder. "Who is this boy, Mr. Hammond?"
"My nephew," Hammond's low voice responded. Ciel still did not turn around, but stayed stiff under the detective's hold. Should he turn them in right now? Would he be arrested along with Hammond and Finny?
Abberline turned Ciel around and knelt down to eye level with the boy. "How long have you lived here, boy?" he asked.
"I've been 'ere since yesterday," Ciel said, "I'm visitin' my uncle."
Abberline's eyes narrowed only the slightest amount. "Where are you visiting from?"
It was like rotting from the inside out with each word that was spoken. "Wales."
"Your accent isn't from Wales," Abberline pressed.
"Ever been to Wales?" Ciel returned, trying to hide his accent the best he could.
"Not in a few years, but—"
"Things change in a few years," the boy said, "I'm visiting my uncle."
Abberline held Ciel's cold gaze for a few seconds more, but stood up and opened the door. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Hammond," he said, putting on his hat. He exited and shut the door before Hammond could return the goodbye.
Silence passed through the house for a few seconds as the detective's footsteps faded away. Hammond smirked. Ciel could have sworn he heard a split second of a laugh before he held the door to his office open and gestured for Ciel to go in.
Ciel sat in the same worn out chair he'd sat in when he was in this office the previous day. Hammond followed suit and leaned back in the chair across the desk. He stared him down, amusement playing in his eyes. "Impressive acting," he said.
Ciel remained silent and motionless.
Hammond shook his head and reached for a cigar. "Still not talking, huh?" muttered, more to himself than the boy sitting across from him. Suddenly, his eyes lit up with that dangerous mirth again. "I'll bet you won't be able to stay silent when I tell you who came by this morning."
Ciel sat up a bit straighter. Had it been Sebastian?! Had Sebastian wondered where he was and gone to ask where he was?! Or was it—
"Two guys showed up to try to buy you out of here," Hammond said, sounding nonchalant but watching the boy's reaction with measured eyes, "One had silver hair and the other bright red hair. They offered me 150 pounds for you. You know what I said?"
Ciel's heart sank. So the Undertaker and Grell had figured out where he was. That was good, at least until he left here. Only if they had arrived this morning, offered the money, and he was still here, then…
"I refused it, of course!" Hammond said, obviously relishing this, "After all that money you brought in last night from the Viscount, you think I'd sell you for only 150? 'course not!" The man stood up and placed his hands on the desk, leaning forward. "You might've gotten out of here today, if you told Abberline the truth back there," he said, "Good thing you didn't. More money for you and me, and I keep my business."
Ciel ground his teeth together and looked away from Hammond's menacing figure. The air in the office had suddenly gotten too hot, too stuffy. He needed to get out of here, somewhere he could breathe. He stood up and left the office without a word to the man, nor did he wait for a dismissal.
On his way to his room, Ciel passed by Finny. "Hey!" the blonde greeted him, cheerful as if the scene with Abberline had never happened, "What the Master say to you? Good news, I hope, 'cause that was a really good act just then—" Ciel rushed by him and dashed up the stairs to his room. He burst through the door and threw himself on the bed, trying to stifle the terror that was creeping though his chest.
He only stayed on the bed for a few seconds before memories of what had happened the previous night right where he lay flooded his brain. He bolted out of the bed and rolled up in the opposite corner of the room, holding his knees to his chest and bowing his head. "Sebastian where are you?" he breathed, so quiet and fearful he did not recognize his own voice. He stayed like that, repeating the duke's name and swaying back and forth for what felt like hours before he heard a knock at the door. He jumped up and opened the door.
"You feeling alright?" Finny asked, big eyes all concern for the boy, "You looked pretty upset earlier. Is everything okay? Not that it's my place to ask, I was just worried an—"
"What are you talking about?" Ciel snapped, voice cold as frozen metal, "I am perfectly fine. Nothing for anyone to take pity on me for, and nothing to bother wondering about. Now go away and leave me in peace."
Finny's eyes grew huge; the jab had struck home. He stood in the doorway, staring at Ciel in disbelief at the young boy's icy countenance. Ciel shut the door before he could say anything more and stumbled across the room to hold himself up on the windowsill, looking out over Cleveland Street and all the people below, ignorant to his suffering.
Ciel bowed his head again and shut his eyes tight, taking deep breaths. If this hell continued much longer, he would surely lose his mind.
Abberline rocks my socks. Sorry, just had to get that out there :D Now if you shall excuse me, I'm going to bed before my head explodes from the lack of sleep i've been getting lately. Off to sleep until noon, kotobaka is outta here! Next chapter on December 4!