This was another difficult chapter to write. It was like trying to get the last bit of toothpaste out of the dying tube. You know it's in there but it- just- won't- come out! It's been a while since I wrote from Sebastian's perspective, and when I did do that it was almost always violent. Chill, solve-the-riddle Sebastian is new territory for me. Hope you like my first attempt! :)
Earlier that evening...
Sebastian laughed after the Master slammed shut the carriage door, his response to Sebastian's answer to his silly question (that went, for a refresher, "Will you be lonely?" To which Sebastian replied with, "No.") For one who claimed to care not a whit about the feelings of others, he sure reacted strongly to them. The coachman knocked on the window behind Sebastian and the Butler turned to him.
"Where to, sir?" asked the driver.
"The police station, if you please."
The driver gave no response to the strange request and drove on. Sebastian thought to himself as the carriage twitched and jumped. The Master had ordered him to compile a list of suspects and motives, but try as he could, Sebastian could think of none. It most likely was a grudge, but until there was solid proof of who these men really were and what they came from, it was impossible to say who could be holding it. The Inspector could be merely jealous, or he could be covering for someone. The Coroner as well had evidence that he was attempting to hide, but for whom was he working? Himself? Another? Ciel persisted in his suspicion against the burlesque dancer, but aside from his grievances against men, Sebastian could not see how it was founded. Though really, all of this could be unfounded as not a single so-called suspect had something obvious to be gained from these deaths. The carriage came to a stop in the middle of Sebastian's thought, and he hopped out to pay for both his trip and the Master's.
He handed his due to the man holding the reins and said, "There's an extra nickel in there if you forget our faces."
The driver counted the coins and looked up at Sebastian with puzzlement. "I'm sorry- have we met, sir?"
He and the Butler shared secretive smiles and the driver went about his way. Sebastian breathed in deeply and exhaled with relish. Ah, New Orleans. No questions asked. What a wonderful city.
The windows of the police station were mostly dark, excusing a few. Sebastian thought about casually strolling inside, but remembered that without the buffer of the Young Master he would not have the secrecy to maintain their cover. Besides, he much preferred to do things his way. He snuck around the building until he found the Inspector's office.
He hid behind a mulberry bush that sat directly in back of said space. The window was slightly open and Sebastian could hear the man yapping away on the telephone. He laughed and sighed and exclaimed. It did not sound like a very serious conversation. Sebastian slowly pushed his head above the line of shrubbery just so his eyes could peer inside. Edwards sat at his desk, busying himself with the laborious occupation of picking his teeth.
"Tsk, tsk." The spying demon shook his head. "The devil makes work for idle hands."
Though it was a something he was admittedly rusty at, the Butler sought to make use of an old trick of his. Maybe the inherent magic of the city would lend him its enchantment. Sebastian cleared his mind and stared at the Inspector without blinking until unimportant surrounding details became dark. He focused on small things to work his skill- the golden pinkie ring on a liver spotted hand, blue pinstripe trousers that were hemmed just a bit too high, the tip of a shiny red nose, shaped not unlike a squash. Shortly thereafter, Sebastian saw with another's vision, breathed another's breath.
Edwards' eyes glazed over and he spoke robotically into the transmitter. "Sorry to cut this short, but I've got to check in on the other men on duty. Goodbye." He hung up the phone and spoke out loud instead of thinking. "Right about now seems like a great time to pour a hot cup of joe." He stood and walked as though half asleep to the door. In the same sloppy way he began to move through the hallway but again he spoke aloud to himself. "Closing the door behind me would be an excellent idea." His body obeyed the command and his alligator shoes shuffled away.
Sebastian sprang back into his own body. He pushed his chin to the right with his right hand- crack. He pushed it to the left with his left hand- crack. Inhale. Exhale. Such an underappreciated and underutilised form of demonic manipulation. Not as visually impressive as full body possession, but Sebastian had long outgrown all that showy magic.
"That ought to keep him busy for a few minutes," he said. He pushed the window open a little farther and climbed inside.
One would think that if an officer of the law was keeping late hours, it would be because they were hard at work. Especially in Edwards' case as it was his newly assigned mission to uncover the histories of five individuals. And yet despite all that, his desk was clear of any kind of paperwork, save for a large book with a wordless cover. Whatever was holding his attention, it was not the Royale. Perhaps he was only keeping up appearances by working so late. Sebastian opened the book, which was deep green and cloth covered, and learnt that it was an appointment book. It held many names, among them being his Young Master's (which Edwards had somehow managed to spell incorrectly) and another odd name that was repeatedly written- Mortimer. Now, the Butler was normally not one to pass judgement, but it sounded like a morbid type of name for a morbid type of person. Considering his short list of suspects, Sebastian made a mental note. Back to business.
Without too much hassle, he found the files of the murdered. Reviewing the information, each had been killed on different days of the week. And looking at the times, they hadn't even been docked in at the same hour, though their deaths were all estimated between midnight and three. Sebastian searched for any other pattern, perhaps a clue in their posture or signs of a struggle, but he could find nothing. There had to be something else other than what he knew. Leaving empty handed was never a habit of his, however, and so he copied the dates of death into his personal notebook. He sighed. Whatever solid evidence there was, it wouldn't be found here.
In another office four doors down from Edwards', a man waved both hands, splay-fingered, in front of the Inspector's face.
"Hell- O-ooo," he said for the third time.
Edwards jolted like he had awakened to an alarm. "Huh? What?" He looked around with jumpy eyes. His coworker put a hand on his shoulder.
"Benny," he said with a little shake of his head. "I think you were sleep walking."
"Sleep walking," Edwards repeated to calm himself. "Right." He didn't remember getting to this office. He didn't even remember leaving his own. Is this coffee mug full of just sugar?
"You should go home," cautioned the friend as he also noticed the sugar-filled mug. He took it away from Edwards.
"I will. I'm just going to... grab my coat." Edwards left the room slowly, bursting with painful embarrassment.
He returned to his office, retrieved his coat and his keys. Damn. He had never fallen asleep on the clock. Must be working really hard. He smirked, a sort of smug, self-satisfied gesture, and switched off the lights before heading home.
Sebastian stood on a street corner while devising a plan. He could think of one more place where he may find some clues, but the Master would be sore at him for going at it alone. Still, the Butler hated to give him an unimpressive report. First looking around for any witnesses, Sebastian transported himself to the nightclub. His fellow tailcoats posted on either side of the entrance recognised him at once and, with a knowing nod, gave him access to La Luxure Royale.
Immediately upon entering, Sebastian could sense the Young Master- he was directly underfoot with his little expedient coven. Sebastian could smell the smoking spices, hear their chanting. He smiled and wondered if Tristan or Artemis or whatever they went by would be able to pull it off. Without asking for anyone's permission, Sebastian walked up the stairs to the room where Jacob had said the first victim was found, room six. Keys were unnecessary so the Butler let himself in.
The room looked untouched. There was even a slight impression in the rumpled sheets where the body had been found. Sebastian was more thorough that time around, shuffling through drawers (that were empty aside from a few shirtsleeves stinking of body odour), checking between sheets and mattresses (in which he found nothing, though those were also smelly), even feeling around the walls for a piece of loosened carpet or wood. The scavenge was unfruitful and he may have given up entirely had he not seen that little book sitting unopened on the chair by the window. He realised then why he hadn't paid it any mind the first night- it was a bible. Small, royal blue, leather bound. Had it not been for a triangle of paper projecting from its pages, he would have assumed it was just a worthless holy book and not a missing puzzle piece. Sebastian walked to the chair and picked it up. As he flipped through the pages, he saw various kinds of scrap paper- programmes, menus, tickets from the law. On each was written a diary entry, stuffed between the pages of holy scripture like a recondite journal.
"Now, why document simple thoughts in this way unless there was something to hide," Sebastian asked the empty space around him. He made himself comfortable in the plush armchair and read through the entries.
The first few detailed nothing but nights of debauchery. Actually, most entries detailed nights of debauchery. But one stood out as being different from the rest. It was dated a few days before the first murder and read in this way:
"What a sick turn of events- the boys are back together again! As we sat together, Yves with his fancy snuff boxes and Benjamin smoking his ubiquitous cigar, it's almost as if we never left each other. What mischief we shall stir up this time around! Though I admit I am a little afraid, what with the memory of our fallen friend. I mustn't say anything, however, else it will be just as before."
"Just as before?" Sebastian said. He read on. More drunkenness, illicit drug use, frivolous copulation, erotic dreams featuring a certain sexually unavailable burlesque dancer. "Ah, here we are."
"So. There it is then. Whatever has been done cannot be taken back. But the boys are banging at my door for more merrymaking. I hope they will boost my levity."
This was the final entry.
"Hmm." Sebastian closed the bible. "Very intriguing." He went back through and removed every loose leaf page. He would not expose the Young Master's juvenile eyes to all of the notes of course, but he couldn't leave them behind. After setting the bible as he had found it, he left the room and shut the door behind him.
He made to leave the club, as he felt he had done all he could do on his own, but the bolted door leading to the third floor caught his attention. He moseyed towards it, the closest the Butler came to being uncertain. The fastened lock spread across the double doors was like ivy cast in bronze, equally pretty and intimidating. Suggesting that customers avoid the third floor was one thing, but strictly forbidding it was another. What could be hiding up there... Sebastian's gloved hand hovered over the substantial lock, eager to explore the rooms beyond, but to his utter surprise it did not yield to his will. It couldn't possibly be the result of feeble folk magics, as he saw a small pouch stuffed with herbs hanging from the lock. Perhaps he was only distracted. He tried again, making positive that his power was fully charged before imposing his tricks, but again the lock held fast.
Then he felt it.
That tingling sensation just under the surface of the skin that precedes gooseflesh. There was a distant roaring in his ears like a storm ridden sea or a caged beast. Sebastian placed his entire hand on the lock and it grew molten hot under his fingertips. He smiled.
"Ah. There you are," his eyes burned brightly, "Mistress. Won't you let me in?"
The lock grew hotter still and singed through his satin gloves, leaving small holes ringed with toasty brown. He struck the tips of his fingers against his thumbs and put his hands by his sides.
"I understand," he spoke intimately, "why you would not care to entertain a fiend such as myself. But I will be getting up there, one way or another." Pause. "Perhaps you would oblige my Young Master." The roaring subdued to the sound of the hollow of a seashell, echoing the might of the ocean but more pensive. Sebastian smiled and lowered his head. "Think on it." He reached into his coat to retrieve a fresh pair of gloves. "If you do change your mind and let us in," he said idly as he swapped glove sets, "we can forget about this whole clothing burning incident." The roaring increased again and the Butler laughed under his breath. "Perhaps not. I bid you goodnight, my lady."
With that he turned from the door and, as luck would have it, he was summoned. Because a good challenge is given to provoke him, Sebastian vanished on the spot to boast his power to the apparition, paying no mind to anyone who might see him. Or rather, knowing that no patron of the Royale would believe their bloodshot eyes at this late hour were they to see a man suddenly appear from nowhere. Besides, he was eager to fetch the Young Master to learn of his night's high jinks. Hopefully his time in the circle was better spent than Sebastian's time reading through amateur amatory texts.