Warnings: a bit short. Unedited…I have been terribly busy. Some language. Not graphic, but some violence.
Disclaimer: nothing owned, nothing gained.
Thank you~ to promocat, satoshi'sbabe, and The Phantom of Fiction! Phantom especially, for finding my typos. XD
Chapter 11: uninvited party guests
(Ciel)
Just before Druitt leans in to brush my hair from my ear, shots are fired. I jerk backwards and to the side without thinking and just barely stop myself from blowing my cover by returning fire.
But I needn't have worried. The shooter, either another cross-dresser or a real girl, has terrible aim.
"Ah, Priscilla," he sighs. "Not now. You'll ruin my party!" He barely raises his voice, like he's merely commenting on bad music rather than a shooting. "The party must go on!" He announces, and this time, his voice rings through the room. Arms out-stretched, he's too easy of a target.
But I don't have time to worry about that.
"You slut!" The woman screams. High-heels and tight skirt or no, she launches herself at me.
The hall erupts into sudden noise, as party-goers pull out guns and trade punches. Who would have thought so many weapons were hidden at this so-called 'classy' ball?
Beside me, a man activates some sort of charm on his jewelry, calling something—a spirit? — to his side. To my right, a woman in a blue dress seems to glow, holding out a bare arm to stop her opponent in their tracks. She moves out of my blind-spot, and it's like she's just a normal woman, just holding her hand out.
I skid, and nearly twist my ankle in my shoes. But Sebastian is at my side in moments, hitting this Priscilla woman on the back of her neck. She falls to the ground. I wonder briefly if she's dead, or been knocked out.
I turn my eyes back to the woman in the blue dress. Sure enough, though her image is fuzzy, she only seems to glow when I look at her through my right eye. Seems that contacts have their benefits after all—I can see through the lens, and maybe see magic.
I glance at Sebastian, trying to remember what he looks like with both eyes. But of course, Sebastian is as composed as ever. He draws my eye, sure, but he doesn't glow, or even have sparks or flickers. Is that a sign of talent or low power?
This isn't what I wanted to happen. We were supposed to get into the special "work groups" where the séances or the trails take place. Now how's that going to happen, with chaos breaking out on the stairs?
Sebastian covers his mouth with one hand. "Might I suggest, my lady, that we leave?"
I shake my head to clear the fuzziness. "What are you talking about? No." I look sharply at the woman who's walking away from the two of us, seemingly unconcerned. "I need to get back to the Viscount—he was going to tell me—"
With a quirk of his lips, Sebastian asks smoothly, "After kissing you?"
Fighting a blush, I don't deign comment on that. "He was going to give me more information."
"Information that you're not under commission to get." Sebastian observes. A bit of coolness has crept into his voice. "What is your desire, Ciel?" he murmurs. "Girls have been disappearing. He seems to be aware of the occult. Is he your latest suspect in a six year old crime, my lord?"
If it were any other time, heat would surely raise a blush. But I'm too distracted to pay his cheek any mind. A plan is already forming in my mind. "Sebastian. Cover me. I need to go upstairs."
Sebastian looks on, impassive.
"I need to go upstairs. Find out what Druitt is hiding…what he's doing upstairs." I fight the urge to purse my lips lest I smudge the lipstick. If I'm caught here…what will he do?
"He's not upstairs, young master." Sebastian points out. "He's over there."
Then I notice that all of those faintly glowing individuals are all heading towards the stage. The stage that Druitt stands on, holding out some chalice inscribed with ruins. He's half singing nonsensical words—some of the people look to be entranced. Others, angry.
"Aleister," someone calls. "This is not the time. Not here.We haven't selected our oracle!"
Scowling, I shake my head. "Whatever he's doing here, he won't listen to me now." I look at the young woman on the floor, knocked out by Sebastian well aimed blow. "He'd liken me with her, and that's not at all favorable…" I murmur.
Looking up again, I see that Druitt is not just standing, calling attention. He has a glow about him to rival any of the other people, but it's concentrated. Not a hazy half-sphere, but concentrated. Very near his heart and the hand grasping that…chalice.
He smiles gently, like a fop pretending to be an angel. "It matters not. We have oracles aplenty amongst us," he gestures, "don't you see?"
The protestor stopped mid-step before he brings a hand to his temple. He shakes his head, mutters something too soft for me to hear, and stares.
Closest to Druitt, the light grows stronger, and the oldest of them, an elderly gentleman, falls to the ground. A strawberry blond teenager bends down to sit next to him. I don't even have time to blink, but then he's moving something bulky forward—a lawnmower? Oh god.—and more people are falling around the area as magical defenses clash.
Druitt lifts the chalice, as if to toast some indeterminate party.
I turn to Sebastian. "Unless you can analyze and tell me exactly how to stop what he's doing, we need to get upstairs." I'll not allow argument, and Sebastian knows it. He merely nods. "Cover me."
I dash about one of the false hedges, hoping that whatever it is Druitt is doing, he'll be too engrossed to remember me.
The stairs are a flash of white and golden decorations, and my ankle twists beneath me when—
—there's a noise like a cannon in my ear, and sudden, searing pain in my arm. Not meaning to, I cry out, stumble, and fall to the stairs. Sebastian's apparently apprehended the shooter, though, because there's not another round.
I bite my lip to keep from sobbing, shake my head to clear it, and inspect the damage. There's a lot of blood. My arm is a mass of fiery pain on top of it, and the dress is covered in red. A wave of nausea goes over me as I try to comprehend the damage done to my body.
"There's no penetration." Sebastian comments.
Through the pain and blood covering my arm, I realize he might be right. I seem to have been shot by an inexpert marksman, or my fall ruined their line of sight. Theses thoughts speed through my fuzzy mind in an instant, and I mutter, "You're so crude…" to Sebastian.
He smiles. "I'm afraid I must insist we retreat, tantalizing library or no."
"If he's not killed by the ritual, you can cozy on up to him again later," Sebastian assures me. Then he clucks his tongue. "My, but you bleed like a stuck pig…"
A familiar voice in an unfamiliar timbre reaches my ears. "And red is so not your color…" but I cannot place it. I'm too tired. Too much sensory input… too much to think about.
My vision reels again, and the whole scene goes black.
My first sensation is the harsh, biting smell of ammonia. "Welcome to the realm of the living, sunshine…" someone croons.
It takes a few moments for me to realize where I am. In a closed vehicle, I think, surrounded by crates of gauze, alcohol pads, (interestingly), baby wipes, and presumably other medical equipment in less noticeable packaging. I'm lying on a portable cot, still in my dress, and in a hell of a lot of pain. "…Undertaker…" I mumble.
"Yes?" He chuckles. "Are you ready to come in to the rabbit hole?"
I sit up. "What happened?"
"Too much stress, and a little hard play, I think." He replies lazily.
I snort. "I was bleeding."
"Not much…" Undertaker drawls. "A few butterfly stitches, and you're all set."
Remembering Sebastian's proclamation about all that blood is sharp in my memory. I glare at him.
Sebastian hides a smile. "I also have a week's dose of antibiotics and pain pills for you. We'll need to make sure it doesn't get infected, but it should be healed relatively quickly. Provided you get enough sleep, nutrition, and don't do anything reckless…"
Undertaker picks up from there. "Yes. I can make a house visit for you, Phantomhive…" he smirks. "How about the day after tomorrow…?"
I don't answer. Instead, I fumble around for my bag—sending pain searing up and down my arm. "This is just a graze?" I ask incredulously. "What the hell does a bullet through and through feel like?"
Sebastian's coughs. "I don't recommend the experience."
While Undertaker purrs, "We can set up an experiment, if you like…"
There. The bag is under Sebastian's care. He's watching me, looking at it, and his eyes practically dance.
"How did the ritual go with the viscount?" I demand. "What was he doing with that cup?"
"Oh…there were quite a few casualties, I think…mostly those who might have spoken out against the dear Viscount, but I think the situation has been clamped down on. Standard police procedure is probably being…carried out."
I shrug. "The viscount. He's been charged?"
"Too early to tell…" Undertaker muses. "Knowing that man, he'll find his way out of any old pinch…it's a shame for it to be any other way…he really is amusing." He tilts his head. "Is he a good dance partner?"
I flush, and remember my ridiculous costume. "Have you taken us home, or do I need Sebastian to?" I demand instead.
"I didn't think it wise to wait by your residence. No, we're very near the park. A hop skip and a jump home, isn't it?"
His eyes…they seem suddenly important. I've seen other eyes just like that…it's an unusual color. I've always thought so, but now, the information comes flooding back.
"There was a man with eyes like yours." I say slowly, gambling on an outright confrontation. "With a lawnmower."
Unexpectedly, Undertaker guffaws. He isn't finished for nearly a minute. "Oh? A lawnmower?" He giggles. "How…inelegant…"
Now that I've mentioned it, Sebastian is watching him just as closely. Like a dog with the scent on him, his burgundy gaze is trained on the Undertaker, and the strange scar on his face. "A Reaper."
"Sorry?"
"Ask him about it when he comes over…" Sebastian suggests. "He might make you do something funny, but…"
"Sebastian's already fulfilled that need for today." Undertaker laughs softly. "It's too bad you missed it, Ciel. It really was a good one."
I look at Sebastian, and then back to Undertaker.
"Whatever. Take me home."
...tbc...
A/N: if you find typos, lemme know. I haven't the time to comb through delicately for another two weeks, but I thought I'd post anyways, since it's been a month. I'll try and make note if I make any significant edits next time. (:
~Encouragement is adored.~ I would love to hear any comments, critique, or otherwise that you have to share. (:
