How do you freak out your doctor? Ask them about how opium affects people, what tries to be passed off as the "good stuff," and external signs of internal bleeding. I think I said, "It's for a story, I swear" at least four times.
What better place to start their search for Chinese tar other than Chinatown? The Earl and his Butler traveled by foot to better search for the familiar trappings, a splash of red paint, the billow of a satin curtain. All around them hunched tradespeople peddled their wares and the nose hair-burning stench of dried and salted fish polluted the air. It was very much like what they had seen in London, except for two peculiarities: aside from opium dens being completely legal, so, too, was prostitution. These ladies touted their fleshy product in many shop windows, no different from storefront mannequins. There were even men, shaven completely of body hair, most wearing half-masks and all with luscious, curling manes. Earl and Butler carried themselves as they did back home, long strides and stony faces, giving only an occasional glance to some break in pattern.
It wasn't long until they saw a scarlet awning ahead of them, two softly lit electric lamps in the wide window. "Yao Ming's Palace" was painted on the inside of the glass, below it a stenciled pipe whose smoke curled into a fire-breathing dragon. Without a word spoken between them, Sebastian opened the door for his Master and followed in his steps.
The den was close quarters and most everything very low to the ground, the tables and couches barely reaching Ciel's knees. Orange drapes shimmering with gold were slung across the ceiling and boxed in by crimson walls. It was actually very pretty, though the customers were anything but. Many smokers lay as still as the dead, having hardly enough energy to lift the pipes to their lips. Others fidgeted and scratched and twitched, looking more like an outbreak of lice than human beings. One of these unfortunates shot up from his place and crawled to the Earl on his knees. The haggard man grabbed hold of the boy's arms and threw his head back to look up at him. Desperation broke his words apart like glass.
"The spiders, the spiders, they're hatching from our ears, all over the floor. Can't you feel them crawl?" A bead of sweat fell from the tip of his nose and pooled above his cupid's bow. "Let me pick the nasties from your skin." He pinched together his thumb and forefinger in an effort to remove the imaginary infestation. After Ciel failed to force him off with his cane, Sebastian intervened. He pulled the assailant up from the floor by the collar of his shirt, but before the Butler could push him away the man jumped back on his own.
"Get thee behind me, devil!" he screamed with bulging eyes. He crawled on to his sofa and scratched at the red wallpaper, burrowing away like a mole. He whispered repeatedly under his breath like a mantra, "Get thee behind me, get thee behind me... thee behind me... behind me..."
The foreigners pressed on.
At the back of the house a small man weighed his product with the use of a golden scale. Ciel could see the counterweight; an iron figure in the jackal guise of Anubis*. The Earl rang the handheld service bell, its simple ping a hellish shriek in the drug induced silence. A few dreamers cried out in fright but the drug lord turned calmly. He was a tiny man, even shorter than Ciel, with a yellow silk robe and matching cap. His brown skin was pulled taut over his bones and shone like a new penny. When he smiled, half of the teeth in his mouth were missing, the ones he still possessed being stained and rotting away.
"Why, hello, dear friends!" His Chinese accent was so heavy it was almost laughable, like he was putting on a character. "Two pipes or one to share?"
"Neither," Ciel refused, cringing at the man's latter suggestion, "we will take our purchase home."
Ming's eyes opened further so the whites around his black irises were visible. "Oh, I would not recommend that! On the other side of that door-" he pointed to the entrance with a sharp and flaky fingernail- "it is illegal."
"We are very experienced with transport," Sebastian smiled.
Ming grinned, a filthy sight it was, really, and bowed his head. "Then I will cater to the gentleman's preference."
"I am no gentleman," Sebastian said humbly. "Merely one hell of a butler."
Yao Ming stooped beneath the counter and brought out a latch-closed wooden box. He placed it before his customers and asked, "How powerful do you wish?"
The Butler passed him a few coins of American currency. "What will this afford us?"
Ming licked his chapped lips in an odd display of gratitude and removed from the wooden box a smaller porcelain one. It was pink and green and after Ming handed it to Ciel, Ciel decided to inspect it first. Good thing, too. The "opium" was reddish and harder than a rock. He snapped the lid shut and put the box back on the counter.
"Although I'm unfamiliar with American money, I do believe that I paid for something more quality than this. Sebastian." Ciel waved his hand and the Butler removed the coins from the countertop. "If I wanted Dragon's Blood," Ciel continued, "I could have gone to the magic shoppe in the Quarter. Not interested. Good day."
He and Sebastian walked away briskly.
"Wait! I give you special offer!" Ming called them back.
"I don't work with swindlers," Ciel said without turning around.
A sound was heard like the rustling of a rabbit in the brush and suddenly Yao Ming stood before them. He wagged his clawed finger at Ciel.
"You are connoisseur! For you, I have treats in the secret room. Come. Come with me." He lead the two away from the entrance, turning every now and again to wave them on. He pulled aside a beaded curtain for his best customers to step through.
The secret room was nothing but stacks of imported crates reaching up to the ceiling, all disguised as containing coffee, tea or fruit. The box Ming fetched was marked as dried durian, which incidentally, was exactly what he reeked of. From inside of it he pulled out a polished tin. He held it between his palms and to his chest ceremoniously before removing the lid for Ciel's approval.
"Last night's shipment," Ming said. "Very fresh, very potent."
"How potent?" Ciel asked.
Yao Ming leered. "Enough to make your body go limp as a rag doll."
The contents of the tin were authentically poisonous- dark brown and sticky as a toffee in your pocket.
Ciel nodded. "Hmm... We'll take 10 grams, then. Thank you."
"And I thank you." Ming bowed and lead the way back to his countertop scale. As he weighed and packaged the opium he said, "It is not often that I meet foreigners with such fine taste. From where do you sail?"
"London," Ciel answered.
"Ah, yes," Ming nodded thoughtfully. "I know London well. Many times I have done business there."
Ciel and Sebastian must have shared the same thought for they looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
Yao Ming came out from behind his post to hand off the drug to Ciel. He ogled the little Lord again and asked, "Are you certain you would not like to sample this here?"
"We are very certain," Sebastian said, coming between them. "Thank you again, sir." Sebastian took the miniature porcelain chest from Ming, placed it inside his coat and lead Ciel away by the shoulders, all of this very fast.
Once outside, Ciel said to his butler, "You don't suppose-"
"Best not to think on it."
"You're probably right."
From Chinatown they snagged a carriage to the outskirts again, ready to pay the Coroner a little visit. The residence was chilly as always, though they noticed that the poppies out front were missing their bulbs, the stems like headless spinal cords sprouting up from the grave of a garden. They walked up the stairs together and it was Sebastian who easily knocked with the heavy gryphon. Like the first time the Coroner answered immediately. It was strange that he who rejected all (living) company should welcome it so quickly.
"Oh," came the agitated voice behind the gruel coloured eyes, "it's you again. Do you have another appointment?"
"No," said Ciel, "but I do have something you want."
Sebastian withdrew the opium box from his pocket, really a sweet little thing, a crane painted on its lid with feather fine strokes, and held it before the open slot. Pale eyes shone afire and the door was furiously unlocked. The Coroner stood in the doorway, shaking as though half frozen, and his hand shot out like lightning. Of course, the Butler was much faster than he.
"Ah, ah, ah!" he scolded as he held away the box. "Take back those grabby hands."
The Coroner did just so and stuffed one of them under his arms. The other he used to wipe his running nose. "What do you want?" he asked.
"Information," Ciel replied.
"Of course you do," sighed the Coroner after a moment. He was still a little longer and, after looking up and down the street, he allowed the visitors into his home. "Come in."
The air was thin and dusty and just as dark, aside from the oil lamp in the sitting room. Something that he was breathing in made Ciel sniffle and cough. Not long after the perpetrator ran over his shoes and brushed its head and back against his bare legs.
"purr... purr... purr..."
"Ah!" Ciel covered his nose and mouth.
"That's Farina," said the Coroner as he walked away. "She's very affectionate."
Sebastian's eyes twinkled as he mouthed the cat's name. He kneeled down to push it away from the Master, stealing a few sneaky pets before it scampered off. Ciel sneezed and scratched his calves with the heels of his shoes.
"Ugh, flea bitten beast!" He wiped his reddened nose and walked after the Coroner.
They were lead to the sitting room and Sebastian learned what Ciel meant by "all the morbidity going on in there." The room was like an archeological exhibition with all the bones and dehydrated or preserved remains it held. Sebastian smiled at the skeletal company. He quite liked it.
"So." The Coroner faced his guests and rubbed the backs of his arms. "Information, huh?" His eyes darted back and forth from the Butler to the box of opium.
Sebastian chuckled. "I suppose you'll be wanting a sample before you enlighten us."
"Please." Sebastian had hardly finished his sentence before the Coroner started begging. He sniffled and scratched his neck, though Ciel was sure it was not because of the cat.
Sebastian looked to his Master who nodded in assent. The Butler held out the box and it was painfully obvious that the Coroner focused all his energy on appearing as collected as possible in the midst of his withdrawal. He opened the box, almost dropping the dainty lid, and a gasp escaped him.
He cleared his throat to calm himself and said, "I see you found Yao's joint."
Ciel was pleased with the decision he and his Butler had made. "Are you familiar?" he asked, satisfaction in his voice.
"I am," the Coroner said with nostalgia, "but it's been so long since I could afford it."
After pinching off a piece of tar he began his procedure. He moved quickly but with all the skill of a spider making its web. He turned his back on his company, but not out of modesty; he was too far along in his addiction to be delicate enough for embarrassment. He turned only to retrieve an ivory pipe from the ebony cabinet behind him. It was an incredible length, nearly two feet total, and he handled it just as Ming had, with pomp and circumstance. He placed the opium in the bronze bowl and the Butler graciously provided a lit match. Before long, it popped and sizzled and the Coroner dragged on the pipe as though nursing for the first time. Instantly his eyelids dropped like anvils and he leaned against the cabinet to keep from collapsing.
"Does it meet your standards?" Sebastian asked sweetly, his tone as toxic as the drug.
"Yes," whispered the Coroner, slinking down into an armchair. "Thank you."
"That's good to hear," said Ciel, "because I have some questions for you."
Another long, gracious drag. "Ask away, Earl."
"Were you asked to change any details pertaining to the murders at La Luxure Royale?"
"Yes."
"Did those details include their hometowns and cause of death?"
"Yes."
"And who asked you to do that?"
The Coroner laughed, his face slackening enough to make him look like an entirely different person. "Who do you think, Beehive?"
"Phantomhive."
The Coroner nodded though Ciel was very sure he wasn't listening fully.
"And why did Inspector Edwards ask you to hide this from us?"
Puff of smoke. "Dunno."
"Hmm?" Earl and Butler asked together.
"I just said," the Coroner repeated with emphasis, "I don't know."
"He never told you why?" asked Ciel.
"Not once."
Sebastian joined the exchange. "So, all he had to do was ask you to cover for him? You never needed a reason?"
"He didn't give me a choice," the Coroner explained with a lazy look at the Butler. "He knows about my... little habit, you see, and the dabbling in my own production of it, so it was either do what he said or live what's left of my pitiful life behind bars."
"So you know nothing of his motives?" asked a disappointed Earl.
The Coroner was unsympathetic. "No. Sorry." There was a short interval of quiet as the Coroner smoked before he said, "Why are you asking me anyway? Sounds like you already knew."
"We had a strong suspicion," Ciel clarified. "We didn't know anything for sure. So. Might we be allowed to see the bodies now?"
For the second time, the Coroner chuckled. "Again? How many times do you need to see them?"
Ciel's heart pounded and he looked at Sebastian who looked back at him. The Coroner noticed their shared gaze and tapped the side of his nose.
"You really should tell your butler to ease up on the eau du toilet." He stood up, moving like his blood turned to molasses. "If it smells like anything other than embalming fluid down there, I raise my own suspicions."
Ciel was annoyed, to put it gently, that Sebastian could be so careless about the covering of his tracks, but he didn't think it necessary to scold him for the everyday task of completing his toilet. After all, it had never offended his own nose, so why bother? Also Sebastian was shamed enough- Ciel could see it in his lowered eyes.
The Coroner set his finished pipe on the table and slumped out of the room. "If you want to see them, come with me." Ciel went after him and Sebastian followed stiffly.
The way to the morgue was lit with a dripping candle, its wax melting on to the Coroner's fingers, and the man hardly seeming to notice or care. With the use of a little silver key around his neck, the Coroner unlocked a group of cubbies and pulled from the wall five fresh bodies. Ciel shivered and realised then the reason for the peculiar storage of the cadavers. The bodies were kept cool deep in the earth, just as certain foods are kept from light and warmth to prevent them from going rancid. He did notice the distinct lack of rank odour so it must be a very useful method. Ciel fancied that this is what it must look like under the earth's crust, layers and layers of decaying bodies, thousands of cities erected on piles of bones. Though he did not suppose all corpses to be so prettily attired.
"May I ask you a question this time?" The Coroner spoke to the Butler.
Sebastian nodded. "Go ahead."
"What were you even able to find? It's not like you could have unlocked these drawers."
Ciel answered for Sebastian. "He only meant to read their post mortem clean up. We were suspicious really because of what I had found. The hospital in Sheffield had burnt down before Smith had been born in it."
"Ha!" The Coroner burst out with a laugh. "So it ended up being my fault anyway. Ah, well. What're ya gonna do?"
Ciel stood by Sebastian who was surveying their greying, frigid skin.
"What happened to them?" Ciel asked.
"Ruptured organs resulting from a splintered rib," the Coroner answered. "Ruled homicide."
"Any idea what could have caused it?"
"I normally see this kind of injury from rigorous activity or a fall," said the Coroner.
"A fall?" Ciel asked.
"Yes. And the strange thing is," he stepped forward to look closer at the bodies, "they really were found in their beds. Maybe they could have been moved there after being hurt somewhere else, but no one saw them leave after they retired so logically that can't be it."
"Logically, no," Sebastian contemplated. He had unbuttoned one of the body's shirts and resolved to ask, "Is there powder on all of their chests?"
"Yes, there is. They all had internal bleeding."
"May I remove it?"
The Coroner shrugged. "Sure, go ahead." He was much more agreeable under the influence.
Sebastian used the napkin in his breast pocket to wipe their skin clear of make up.
"Did the Inspector ask you to cover these wounds?" Ciel asked.
"Not outright," said the Coroner, "but he did say to make them look extra nice if I wanted to stay a free man."
The Butler had finished cleaning the bodies and turned his full attention to one cadaver in particular.
"Who is this man?" he asked the Coroner.
"That is Monsieur Dubois," he answered.
"And when was he killed?"
"He was the last one."
Sebastian pointed his brow. "Huh..."
"What is it?" Ciel asked him.
"The splotches on this man's chest are far more severe than the others."
Ciel took notice of the disparity. It was true. The full surface area of Dubois' barrel chest was dyed with hideous rainbow bruising, red and green and blue and yellow and purple.
"I noticed that, too," agreed the Coroner.
"Does it mean anything?" asked Ciel.
"Not necessarily," the mortician shook his head. "Some people are just bleeders."
Sebastian did not seem satisfied with that explanation and so he dug deeper.
"Have you inspected the bones?" he asked.
"You mean incision?" the Coroner asked. "No. It was against the family's wishes." He rolled his eyes. "Catholics."
"Do you think this is important?" asked Ciel, picking up on the Butler's idea.
"A wound this vicious? Yes, I believe it is. Look at how clean the other afflictions are." Sebastian waved his hand towards the bodies. "Precise, pristine, quick. See how little they bled?" This was also true. The bruising on the others were barely flowering roses on their breast. "Their hearts stopped beating almost immediately," Sebastian explained. "This fellow here suffered a great deal before his finally ceased to pump." The Butler directed his next question to the Coroner. "May I put him on the operating table? I don't mean to cut him open."
The Coroner nodded and helped Sebastian transport the body as well as his drugged limbs could. They placed Dubois face down and Sebastian removed the clothing from its upper half. He poked around the ribcage and the man's bones moved like fish under water, rippling his wrinkled skin like waves. Ciel flinched but did not look away.
"Did you explain the increased severity in his wounds to the Inspector?" Sebastian asked the Coroner again.
"I did," he replied, "but by the time this one came in, he didn't want to hear about them no more."
"That seems to be a reoccurring theme for him," Ciel mumbled. Then he raised his voice. "So in short, this could possibly be ruled as a copycat killing?"
The Coroner pushed his fingers through his hair and said, "If this were going to a court of law, the wounds are different enough that you could make a case out of it, yes."
With that, the Englishmen concluded their interrogation of the Coroner. The cadavers were dressed and locked away and the Coroner lead his visitors back up to the sitting room.
"Thank you," Ciel told him. "You have been very helpful, sir."
"Don't mention it." The Coroner waved his hand but then became very somber. "No, but I'm being serious- don't mention it."
"You can trust us," Ciel smiled. "Goodbye." But just as he and Sebastian were ready to leave, they were called back.
"Actually!" said the Coroner. "I should tell you both something." He hesitated as though something he feared was holding him back. "... The Inspector... He's on to you as well."
Ciel's face became dark. "What do you mean?"
"When you first asked him for my permission to see the bodies," he said, "is when he told me to change their histories a bit. He told me, 'The new guys will be coming to see you tomorrow. Change this and that.'"
Sebastian chuckled. "So he's been suspecting us for as long as we've been suspecting him."
"And I told him that my lab had been invaded. By you."
It was silent.
"Ugh, is there anything else you need to know?" By now the Coroner's high was fading fast and he was starting to twitch and sniffle again.
"No." Ciel paused in contemplation then repeated himself. "No, I think that will do."
"Great."
Using more force than necessary, the Coroner guided them out with both arms and slammed the door shut behind them. As they stood on the porch, Ciel could see that the Butler was lost in thought.
"What are you thinking about?"
"I'm thinking that we need to move fast."
"Why?"
Sebastian shook his head. "Something isn't right here. I smell danger."
"Danger for who?"
"I'd rather not wait to find out." He started walking forward and pulled Ciel gently alongside him, bending down to speak softly so they might keep the conversation just between them. "My Lord, do you think you could bring on a vision by command?"
"They aren't my memories, so I don't think I could."
Sebastian thought for a second and sighed. "I think a reconciliation is in order."
"With whom?"
"With Artemis."
Ciel wrenched away his arm and sped ahead. "Oh, g-d, Sebastian."
Sebastian followed quickly after. "He got you in touch with Nadège the first time. Who can say if he can't do it again?"
"And how shall I get him to help me?"
"Play the part," Sebastian smiled. "Surely I don't need to tell you that by now."
Ciel flagged down a carriage. "The part of what?"
Sebastian helped him inside. "The doting friend."
Earl and Butler settled in across from each other. "Ugh, I hate that part."
"Oh, but you're so convincing."
Ciel debated his options silently. He seemed to be struggling with them, knowing which one he would prefer and which one would actually bring results.
"Where to, my Lord?" asked the driver from his post.
Ciel grunted and stuck his head out of the window. "La Luxure Royale," he told the driver. The carriage started into a steady pace. Sebastian smiled at Ciel in his usual way as they bustled along.
"What?" Ciel practically growled.
Sebastian shrugged. "Nothing, my Lord. I am only grateful that you should listen to my request."
"And what, pray tell, will you be doing with your time?" Ciel questioned. "He's not going to want to discuss these things with you around."
The Butler held his chin and pursed his lips. "That is true," he thought aloud. He brought down his hand again and looked cooly out the window. "No matter," he said. "I'll do my own poking around. There must be something in that cigar lounge that we missed."
This time, the duo decided, they would be sure to catch the entertainers on the fly, before they took to the stage. Maybe it was bad protocol to involve civilians in an official investigation, but the Earl and Butler had never much been for proper protocol anyway. The sun had just started to set and the doors only just opened when they prepared to politely ambush the performers of La Luxure Royale.
*Anubis is, among many things, the guardian of the dead. One of his jobs is weighing the deceased's heart on a scale, to determine how bad (or good) of a person they were.