Author's Note: Closing in on the dramatic finish. Calm before the storm now. Next chapter, the big battle!
Ciel and Sebastian 10
"How soon before we can expect a counterattack?" Ciel asked as he sat in the living room, loading his revolvers with hollow-point bullets, a bespoke order that had been acquired through black market connections in Europe. The bullets, although ordinary in appearance, were designed to expand on impact, doubling the diameter of the wound inflicted and cause damage equal to that of a shotgun at close range. He wanted to rip Winslow apart in the most brutal and ungentlemanly fashion possible. It was exactly what he deserved. Sebastian, busy sewing chainmail inside one of his master's waistcoats, considered briefly.
"In all likelihood, Lord Winslow will attack under the cover of darkness, when there is less chance of him being identified by public conventions. He will likely do the same when sending his contacts to attack the Funtom Company and the manor."
"Do we wait for him or just go ahead ourselves?" The boy inquired whilst spinning the now full barrel of his colt. He snapped it into place with a lithe flick of his wrist, approving of the weight and balance.
"It depends on how dirty you wish your hands to get. If we wait, attacks on the manor and company will take place and the outcome will be mere damage to property. If we attack, I would imagine more than Lord Winslow and his demon would be buried."
Ciel turned his head and rose to his feet at the same time before crossing the room to the table his butler was working at. "Explain." He said, still holding the colt loosely in his hand.
"Lord Winslow will be preparing for his war at home, like we are. However, I can't imagine he and his bodyguards occupy that house alone. Likely he has an army of servants to tend to the needs of his estate, innocent bystanders in a conflict they have no real stake in. If we were to surprise him, it would mean bloodshed on a far larger scale than perhaps we would like. That is what I meant by how it depends on your hands and how much blood they can take." Sebastian said glancing up from his sewing to look in the boy's eyes. Ciel conceded the point and understood the advantage of letting the aggressor to come close.
"So, we should wait for him to come to us. I suppose it would make a better story to Her Majesty, to say that he attacked us and we were forced to kill him in self-defence. At least then there would be no questions why I did not take him alive."
"That would certainly be the most intelligent course of action to take, befitting of your reputation as a master strategist." The demon said with a smile whilst continuing to sew the chainmail into the back of the garment. Ciel rolled his eyes.
"Oh, do shut up with your fawning, Sebastian. It grows tiresome after a while. How long before my waistcoat is ready?"
"It is ready now, Young Master." Sebastian said standing up and holding it by the shoulders. Ciel turned his back to the demon and extended his arms. After guiding him into the waistcoat, the butler offered caution. "I must warn you, in order to ensure a bullet will not mean your death, I have been forced to make the chainmail extremely thick and therefore extremely heavy. You may struggle with the added weight…" Ciel smacked his hands away to end his patronising speech. He felt a stone heavier, but not yet taxed by the added burden.
"I'm not as feeble as you think, Sebastian. Despite your efforts to mollycoddle me to the grave, I have been engaging in a strength regime in recent months. I am more than capable of handling this minor inconvenience." The boy said haughtily whilst buttoning it up. Sebastian smiled.
"Ah, yes. I have witnessed your forays into the gymnasium on the occasions I pass by. You seem almost consumed by training your legs to grow larger."
"Elizabeth said she liked men with muscular legs. I am merely trying to please my fiancée." Ciel replied taking control of his revolver again and returning to his chair. "Have you warned Tanaka and the company headquarters to expect possible confrontation and violence in the near future?" The boy asked as he sat down. Sebastian drew up alongside his chair and nodded.
"Word was sent last night, Sir, before our evening's fun began. They will be prepared."
"Good. The Times has publicly linked the establishments burned down last night to Lord Winslow and alluded to the idea he had knowledge of what occurred there. That should help force him into the limelight for all the world to see." Ciel mused setting his revolver down next to its brethren.
"And how much did you pay The Times for the privilege of shaming Lord Winslow?"
"Enough to make them swallow their fear of crossing a man as powerful as him. How many children were rescued last night?"
"Forty-one, Master. They are being cared for in safety."
"Good. How many children are outstanding?"
"At least two dozen. Due to the time elapsed between their adoption and now, it is reasonable to assume they are either adults or dead at this moment in time." Sebastian said without emotion. His master responded in the same detached manner.
"I see. There are still several hours before dusk. I suggest you spend them fortifying the house. Although I do not mind bloodshed or destruction, I would prefer to not be forced into finding another London residence."
"Very good, Sir."
Across the city, Harold Winslow was preparing to wage war against Ciel Phantomhive. The man was being watched closely by Harlow as he sharpened his daggers in the dying light of the setting sun. Harris was elsewhere.
"You don't have to do this, Sir." The blond behemoth said despite the pain talking caused him at the moment. Winslow smiled and shook his head.
"There is no longer a way around Phantomhive and his dog. With the brat digging in his heels, the only way to get what I want is to go through him." The old man replied firmly. He heard Harlow draw closer.
"But this is only London. You could go to India and still have all the power and wealth you desire without any complications." The servant said in a slightly more desperate tone of voice. Again Winslow shook his head.
"You just don't understand, lad. I made a deal with Harris, one that is very specifically worded. Fleeing would break that deal. If I were to run away, he would kill me anyway. Besides which, I don't want to admit defeat to that smug little bastard. I either die trying to win everything or I die having brought this nation and its sovereign to their knees. I don't want to wait for Death to drag me to Hell, I'd much rather go there on my own terms."
"We could always kill Harris. If we did, you'd be free."
"If Sebastian Michaelis, a demon we know to be incredibly powerful, could not kill Harris, then we stand no chance of doing so. I'm trapped, Harlow. I have to take my chances in a fight with Phantomhive. It's the only way I will ever see another sunrise."
"But we don't have to retaliate immediately! We could wait and plan…"
"We could. But if we did, that boy would have enough time to manoeuvre. If Phantomhive's enemies let him breathe when holding the upper hand, they inevitably end up floating in the Thames. Right now, we are on even footing, but if I were to delay my attack even by as little as a few hours, the momentum would swing to him. Once there, Phantomhive would not relinquish it. So it has to be tonight."
"Sir…please don't go."
"Spare me your sentiments, Harlow. I'm a wicked old man who deserves a fate like this. I won't recant and I won't beg for forgiveness or understanding. Cowards do that. I am many things, but I am not a coward." Winslow said deeming his current blade was sharp enough to puncture a growing boy's skull with enough thrust. He turned to find his servant bordering on the verge of tears. The old man sighed. "I have done unspeakable things, without guilt or hesitation, but even I am stunned into silence by my ability to bring you to tears." Harlow hurriedly rubbed his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Sir. My weakness is a disgrace to your service. It shan't happen again." The younger man said trying to hide his anguish. Winslow smiled at him.
"Your only weakness is loving me like a father, just as mine is loving you like a son. But it is the only weakness I am loathe to correct. Your company has lightened an existence spent languishing in the dark and for that I am truly thankful. That is why I wish you to leave London, so you may have a happier life, free of my corruption and vice." Harlow looked mortified by the suggestion. He shook his head.
"I can't leave you, Sir, not when you're preparing to risk your life for your dreams."
"My dreams are not those of good, honest men, by which I mean they are not YOUR dreams, Harlow. You deserve to have your own aspirations and not be shackled by my wants and needs." Winslow said with a sincerity he rarely showed anybody. Harlow was one of the very few exceptions.
"But I'm your servant, Sir. My entire purpose in life is to serve you."
"But I never asked you to be my servant, boy. I sent you to the finest schools in the country so that you could do whatever you pleased. I was overjoyed to no end when you were accepted by Oxford for your degree. Once you completed it, I was almost certain we would part ways and you would find your own way in life. Your decision to drop out when only six months from completion…"
"You were gravely ill! I had to come home!" Harlow interrupted fervently. The old man dismissed his concerns with a hand gesture.
"My health was of no concern. Your studies were top priority. I could never be angry at you, but I came closest to being so when you left Oxford and elected not to return upon my recovery. If I have to order you to leave my service and never return, I will do so."
"But I owe you everything. I wouldn't be here without your kindness." Harlow responded. Winslow sighed. Ah yes, his 'kindness'. He had found his servant when Harlow was a boy of no more than seven or eight, working in one of his rival's brothels in Europe. The boy was a kind of waiter there, serving the clients drinks as they took little girls' virginity. They hit and beat him constantly, despite his efforts to be good. Before burning the place to the ground and killing everyone inside, Winslow was offered a drink by the boy. He was told if it was not to his liking, he could thrash him as hard as he wanted. Winslow found the brandy provided to be excellent. So he took Harlow with him. He had doted on him ever since, despite continuing his evil practices. He was immensely proud of having never raised a hand to Harlow during the last twenty years. The boy had been nothing but lovely.
"The only thing you owe me is the opportunity to live a full life. You can't do that if you stay by my side. You simply can't. I am selfish and self-absorbed, but I will not keep you here for the sake of my ego. Why else do you think I had Harris imitate your appearance so exactly? It is so when the time comes for me to draw my final breath, the last thing I see is your face. It is the last thing I ever wish to see on this earth. He is my way of keeping you by my side whilst letting you leave to pursue your own dreams." The man said with a small smile he hoped would ease Harlow's pain somewhat. The younger man mustered a weak smile in reply.
"Very clever, Sir."
"Not really, lad, sentimental in all truth and a bad thing to have in my particular line of work, but I will be glad of it when my time comes. I expect you to pack your belongings and be out of the city before the night is over. I have arranged for you to have lodgings in Cambridge for the foreseeable future. You will also have access to your trust when you arrive, just give this letter of consent to the bank manager and a sizeable fortune will be yours to build a new life with." Winslow said passing the man a sealed letter with his family crest. For a moment, the old man feared Harlow would refuse to take it. But eventually he did, placing it inside his coat pocket.
"Where will I find you when all this is over?"
"Abney Park I should think. My mausoleum should be nearing completion now. I'll be ready to take up residence shortly." Winslow replied without any kind of humour or fear. He had always enjoyed walking through Abney Park Cemetery and viewing the graves of his vanquished foes. It only made sense that he should join them there to bask in their misery for all eternity.
"So, this is the last time I will ever see you again?" Harlow said, his voice reedy and his eyes once more threatening to unleash emotion in its rawest form. The old man nodded his head.
"I would think so, yes. I won't be teasing you this time with my death. No more last minute reprieves."
"Then would you let me?"
"It's only fair I do so, my son, it's only fair." Winslow said opening his arms to meet his servant's inevitable embrace. Harlow immediately lunged forward and held the old man against his chest in a tight hug before sobbing softly into his shoulder. Winslow reciprocated his actions as best he could, given his advanced years and frail condition. He ruffled the boy's hair affectionately and offered up his most soothing voice. "Thank you for your love, boy. It has meant the world to me. Everything will be fine, lad, everything will be just fine."
An hour later, Harlow was gone and Winslow had watched the sun set on the horizon, plunging the house into darkness. It was time. He sheathed all six of his knives and went to the parlour.
"Come to me, Harris."
He heard regular footsteps approaching him from the dark. Red eyes glowed as the footsteps grew louder. A moment later, the entire room was illuminated by three dozen candles and the demon stood before him as a perfect homage to his son who was now speeding away to safety. Harris' features remained impassive as he spoke aloud.
"What are your orders, Sir?"
"Take me to Phantomhive. It is time to end this game of ours."
"Yes, My Lord."