Chapter Twenty-One
His Cousin, Fraught

She was going to lose.

Felicity was good. It wasn't just that Elizabeth was exhausted and aching and sore and bleeding and everything else. Felicity was good, and Elizabeth had a hunch in the back of her mind that even if she hadn't been torn up and tired, she would be having trouble with this woman. A lot of trouble. Even with the weight of her legs and spine – and that must have been a lot, even if they'd been made of lightweight metal – she was fast, and she moved like the knives were extensions of her hands, exactly the way she was supposed to. Some elements of her style reminded Elizabeth of an angry Edward; other parts were completely alien, almost balletic, as she spun and lunged with her daggers. The blade gashed along Elizabeth's right shoulder, and she let out a shocked sound, more out of surprise than anything else – the pain wouldn't come until later.

The automata were avoiding them. In the room where Sebastian was being kept, she could hear crashing, but she wasn't paying attention to that at the moment. She was trying to keep Felicity from gutting her. Elizabeth parried and lunged, but the daggers were there to meet her, and she barely had time to duck before one of them sliced through her throat. She could hear Snake snarling something behind her, and Colleen screamed, she couldn't tell if it was in rage or in pain, but then her focus narrowed again and there was only Felicity as the girl slid forward, past Elizabeth's guard, readying the knives. She lashed out with the sword, and Felicity yelped as the blade ran across the unprotected skin of her wrist, forcing her to drop one of the knives. Elizabeth kicked it away, under the bench, and wished very much that her pistol wasn't useless.

"Bitch." Felicity spat, and Elizabeth snorted. Her arm was trembling. She wouldn't be able to hold a sword much longer.

"That's really not very nice, Fee."

Felicity gritted her teeth, but she didn't lunge forward. Instead, she stepped to the side, and Elizabeth mimicked her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Colleen lunge, and pierce one of the automata through the throat before flicking the sword down and stabbing it in the heart. Snake was nowhere to be seen.

"Pay attention," said Felicity, and Elizabeth started paying attention just in time to smack the dagger away from her heart. It glanced across her ribcage instead, tearing the fabric of her dress. The whalebone corset caught most of the blade; still, it felt like someone had opened up a tear in her skin made of fire, and she grit her teeth to keep herself from screaming. She'd fought with her mother and brother and father for years, but never with unguarded blades.

There's something else to add, she thought, blearily, her head spinning as she twisted out of the way and hit Felicity in the back with the edge of her blade. Felicity screamed, spinning, and it was the first real hit that Elizabeth had scored, other than the little pinch on the wrist. I don't like pain. I don't like pain at all.

Neither did Felicity, by the look of it. She glared at Elizabeth, looking like she would like nothing more than to flay her alive. Blood ran down her fingers to drip on the floor. But she didn't attack; she switched her knife from hand to hand, careful to stay out of reach, and said, "You should never have come here. Why do you have to ruin everything?"

"I don't have to explain myself to anyone, least of all you!"

Elizabeth lunged. Fee skipped back, out of reach, and vaulted onto the table, and Elizabeth swore under her breath before following, seizing her skirts in her free hand and using a nearby chair as a stepping stone. Colleen and Snake were fighting back to back, and when she attacked again, she saw a flash of movement from inside the prison room. Ciel came crashing out, Theodore hot on his heels. Felicity's head snapped around, and Elizabeth took advantage; she pushed off into a perfect lunge, and her sword pierced flesh, pushing forward, forward, forward, and Felicity screamed as the blade slid smoothly through her shoulder. It put her in range. Fireworks went off behind her eyes as Felicity wrenched back and backhanded her, and Elizabeth hit the table hard enough to send echoes through her skull. Her sword was gone. In Fee's hand now; the tip pricked her throat, and Felicity snarled, pressing the wound with her free hand. The dagger was in her reach, but her head was spinning and something was squashing her chest, she couldn't breathe, and Elizabeth stared up at Felicity.

I lost. She thought, and for some reason peace spread through her, cool and calming.

Elizabeth closed her eyes.

The Director had lied. It wasn't just Latin and holy water; it was a damned cage inscribed with runes and prayers and who knew what else. There was a complicate seal carved into the floor, too, with a small circle in the middle where Sebastian was standing. Ciel had no idea what would happen if he stepped out of that circle, but somehow he doubted it would be good.

Despite reading everything he could find on demons, which was, admittedly, very little, he'd never heard of anything like this before: a cage and a seal that could keep a creature as powerful as Sebastian locked up for hours was completely outside of his realm of understanding. There was even a line of salt outside the bars, and he made sure to drag his feet through it as he went to the bars, trying to find a way inside. There was no door, not that he could see, and no other opening besides the thin spaces between the iron rails. He scowled at Sebastian. "Consider yourself fired."

"Considered, my lord." Sebastian stayed absolutely still, his face flat and unemotional. "And rightfully so. I apologize. A butler truly worthy of the Phantomhive family would never have been caught by so feeble a trick."

"Oh, shut up, Sebastian," Ciel said, and grabbed the bars, shaking them lightly. They were definitely fixed into the wall, too deep for him to really do anything about it, but he was still wondering how they had managed to get him in there in the first place.

Sebastian must have guessed his thoughts. "They removed the door after I entered, my lord."

"Brilliant," said Ciel, and swore under his breath. "Bloody brilliant—"

"We thought so, yes."

He knew who it had to be before he turned around. There was no one else in the building with that Texan drawl. Parker uncrossed his arms, standing loosely, balanced, his center of gravity placed low to keep his feet flat on the ground. Ciel could feel his pistol creasing his pocket, cool metal and death, but if he dropped his hand to grab it now that would give Parker an opening. He offered a grimace of a smile. "I have to say, this isn't exactly how I thought we would meet."

"Me neither." His eyes were flat, like emerald glass. "Step away from the cage."

"I would, but actually, the thing in the cage belongs to me." Ciel lifted an eyebrow, tense, waiting. Parker was coiling, like a snake about to strike. Almost there. "You've been keeping stolen property."

Parker didn't speak. His eyes didn't flicker at all. He just attacked, sudden, a rush of raw power, and Ciel had to skip to the side before the Texan's fist landed in his face. He jumped back again when Parker turned on his heel and spun into a roundhouse kick, his boot nearly clipping Ciel's nose. I was right, he has been trained. In the cage, Sebastian made a disgusted sound, and Ciel wondered if it was because Parker was attacking, or because Ciel would have to defend himself. Either option would have irritated him.

He ducked another punch, and swept Parker's feet from under him, or tried to. Ciel barely rolled out of the way again before Parker put him in a headlock, and irritation built up in his throat like acid. Fine. He wants to play? This sort of situation was precisely the reason he'd had Lau find that teacher for him, after the Campania. He'd been without Sebastian, even if it had only been for a little while, and being reduced to shooting randomly into a pit of living dead waiting for the butler to show up had not only been completely nerve-wracking; it had frustrated him endlessly. The fact that Lizzy had been there too, her eyes wide as plates, had only made it worse. Promising to protect someone and then being unable to do it…

He shook that idea out of his head, rolled backwards out of Parker's reach, and sprang back to his feet, setting his hands in front of him, palms out, waiting. Parker paused, studying him for a moment. There was a flicker of dawning comprehension in his eyes. Ciel shifted back, out of reach, turning slightly so that his left eye, his blind spot, was made useless. "Why so dedicated, Parker? All tangled up with Lizzy, no place to go?"

Parker grimaced, but didn't move. Then something made him smile. Ciel scowled. "What?"

"Nothin'. Just…you won't shut up about your precious cousin." His voice went taunting. "Something I don't know, Phantomhive? Is little Lizzy keeping you up at night?"

Fury, hot and thick, dropped through his stomach like lava. Ciel clenched his fists, and snapped his foot out, nearly kicking Parker in the face. When the man ducked, he struck again, and his fist clipped the man's jaw just as something hard hit him in the stomach, fisting in his jacket, pulling him closer. Theodore grinned at him, and there was blood on his teeth as he said, "She's good at that, isn't she?"

"Shut up." Ciel heaved his feet off the floor, planting them both into Parker's stomach and pushing off. He felt all the air being pushed out of the Texan as he flew back, skidding across the floor to nearly hit his head on the wall. He slid out the door instead, and Parker took a few stumbling steps back, coughing, he scrambled further out, to get more room. Parker came barreling after him, and damn the man, but he was strong; his fist snagged Ciel's cheek, and his head snapped to the side before he slammed his palm in an open-handed slap across Parker's face. It was cheating, by all the standard rules, but he wasn't exactly an honorable fighter in the best of circumstances. Ciel would take what he could get.

He wasn't quite sure how it happened. One second he was winning, it seemed like, and the next, Parker had hit him in the head with the base of something hard and wooden, and he found himself whipped around. There was something sharp at the base of his throat that burned across his skin when he moved. He stopped moving. Typically, if something hurt, it wasn't the best idea to keep doing it. Parker stayed still, though; he didn't cut his throat. Ciel swallowed, and his adam's apple bobbed against the blade. He could feel blood running down, soaking the collar of his shirt. "What are you waiting for?"

"I don't want you dead quite yet. See, you have something I want, Phantomhive." The knife was cold against Ciel's skin as Parker leaned forward, pitching his voice low. "I want your demon."

"Can't have him." Ciel said, "Sorry," and then he drove his elbow back into Parker's stomach and ducked. The knife went wide, flying from Parker's fingers and clattering to the floor as Ciel scrabbled back out of reach. Someone, a woman, screamed. He ignored it, turning to stare at Parker, waiting for another attack, but Parker wasn't moving. At this angle Ciel could see his nostrils flare and his eyes widen and all the blood drain from his face. When Ciel finally remembered how to breathe, he looked too, and the bitch was holding a sword on Elizabeth.

It wasn't just fury that avalanched through him now. It was panic. Pure and simple. The panic he'd been trying so hard to avoid by driving her away; the utter terror that drove every clear thought out of his head, the desperation, the silent promise. You are not going to die. I will not let you die. Ciel dug his hand into his pocket, his fingers closing around the cool metal, and before Parker realized he'd even moved, he'd pulled out of reach, aimed, and fired.

The gun went off close to her ear, or maybe it was just echoing around the chamber; she wasn't sure. Something sharp slipped against her collarbone as Felicity staggered back; she'd dropped Elizabeth's sword. A fresh crimson blossom of blood opened on her other shoulder. There was another bang, and she spun wildly to the side, blood slipping down the side of her face. She hit the table harder than Elizabeth had, and her eyes closed. The second bullet had just clipped her. Elizabeth rolled onto her back, turning her head slowly to see Ciel turning back to kick Theodore in the stomach, forcing him away. Someone brushed her face; Snake, crimson matting his silver hair on one side. He touched her head, and then studied his fingers. She could tell, even in her blur, that they'd come away red.

"We have to get her out of here." Colleen said, and she was streaked with blood too, but it didn't seem to be hers. Elizabeth took a breath, trying to inhale, but her corset, twisting in the back, was squeezing her too tight; she caught Snake's hand, squeezing, trying to tell him, but black spots began to burst in front of her eyes and she couldn't speak. She was gasping when Colleen rolled her over, unbuttoned the dress, and slit the cords on her corset, and blessed air flooded her lungs again. Elizabeth coughed, trembly, and looked at Felicity again.

"Is she all right?"

"What does that matter?" Colleen said violently, driving the dagger into the table, and for once, Elizabeth was inclined to agree with her. This girl was going to kill me, she thought, staring at Felicity. She was going to cut my throat.

But you set William Bardroy free, didn't you? Interesting choice for someone such as you to make, don't you think, if you're so proud of your loyalty to the Zodiac.

Bard, she thought, and decided. "Give me your jacket." She said to Snake, and he stared at her for a long moment before she snapped, "Now!" It was torn and ruined, mostly unusable, and it smelled of blood, but she folded it up anyway and pressed it against the shoulder wound. Fee's eyelids fluttered, and Colleen swore.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Be quiet for a second, Colleen!" Elizabeth glanced back at Theodore and Ciel; Ciel circling, trying to take Theo off guard, Theodore trying to get to his sister, and she shouted, "Ciel, get Sebastian out!"

Ciel looked at her, his eyes narrowing, and in that instant of inattention, Theodore blasted past him. He stopped three feet from the table, trapped by Colleen; she was holding the sword in both hands, the tip pressing against his heart. "One more step and I spike you, cowboy."

"She needs a doctor." Elizabeth said, and slipped off the table. Her knees were shaking so badly she nearly collapsed; Snake caught her and drew her arm over his shoulders, and Emily nudged her cheek, tongue flicking out to taste the blood trailing down her jaw. She was suddenly very dizzy. "She'll need a doctor, Theodore."

Neither of them moved. Theodore didn't bother to look at Colleen, he just stared at Elizabeth, his eyes burning in his face. Snake's fingers tightened at her waist, and she squeezed his shoulder. Emily hissed. "Colleen, let him past."

"But he's—"

"Do it," she said, and it was must have been the blood on her face and soaking her arm, or the fact that her voice was so hoarse, or that she nearly lost her balance again saying it that made Colleen lower the sword. She stepped out of the way, and Theodore broke for his sister, checking her pulse, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Then the door creaked, and for the first time since she'd hit the table, she heard it. The ticking. More automata; they leaked through the door, spreading in a small phalanx, staring blankly with their glass eyes. Colleen turned to look at her, panic flickering in her face. "Elizabeth…."

The question was plain in her eyes. What do we do? Ciel had vanished again, probably back into that room where Sebastian lurked. Colleen passed her sword to Snake, who held it awkwardly in one hand; she stole the other one off the table. Neither of them offered one to Elizabeth, waiting for instructions.

She closed her hands into fists. Five. Ten. Fifteen automata, and more marching in, standing ramrod straight, watching and waiting for orders. "I don't know."

"We can't kill that many." Colleen said, and her eyes fixed on one of the women in the front, one with dirty blonde hair. Mollie. Elizabeth gritted her teeth and stood up straighter, but her rib cage protested and she cried out, softly. That seemed to be a signal. As one, the automata stepped forward, and then again, and they were marching, slowly, across the room. There was a burst of voices from inside the prison room, and then another series of gunshots, one-two-three, but that meant nothing really. Whatever was trapping Sebastian, if it had kept him locked up this long, it would be a while before he was out, and they had very little time.

"Did either of you find the door?" She asked, desperation clouding her thoughts. Colleen nodded, but her face was grim.

"It's locked."

Damn it. She glanced at the door, once. No sign of Ciel or Sebastian, and who knew how long it would take to break Sebastian loose? She reached forward, pulling away from Snake and taking Colleen's sword. She pressed the bag with the Chinese puzzle box into her hand instead. "Go."

"I'm not leavin' you here!"

"Just go, both of you!" She didn't look at Theodore or Felicity. "Get out of here, both of you! We'll be fine," she lied, and both of them saw it. Colleen's eyes darkened. Snake looked stricken. "Pick the lock, get out of here, we'll be right behind you."

"No you fecking won't!"

"Shut up, Colleen, and just do as you're told for once! Get out of here now!"

"Stop tryin' to be so damn noble, you stupid mollisher!"

"For God's sake, Colleen—"

"What about Smile?" Snake asked suddenly, the first thing he'd said since they'd broken him out of the cell.

"Ciel can take care of himself." Elizabeth glanced at the door again, without thinking about it, before she took the other sword from Snake, ignoring the protest of her arm. "Please. Just…go. Please."

Colleen opened her mouth to keep arguing, but another voice cut her off, male, unfamiliar for a moment. Theodore.

"Stop!" Theodore said again, and it wasn't directed at them. It was at the automata. The machines rattled to a standstill, waiting for more orders, but he didn't give them. Instead, he pulled his jacket off and wrapped it around his sister, pulling it tight across her bleeding shoulders. Theodore lifted Felicity up into his arms, and her head rocked against his shoulder like that of a small child. He watched them for a moment. His lips were pressed into the thinnest of lines. She felt hot and then cold, and finally pain began to leak into her, slowly, the way water will dribble out of a tap, into her shoulder and her side. Her head ached. Elizabeth held her swords up, ignoring the fact that her elbows were trembling and her arm was screaming now, whining at the weight. Theodore shook his head slightly, and broke the gaze. "Get out of here."

The tips of the swords hit the floor with a clang, and Elizabeth stared at him. "What?"

"Go!" He dug through his pocket, pulled out the keys, and tossed them at Snake, who caught them automatically, his eyes wide as plates. "Get them—" Theodore jerked his head at the half-closed door "—out too. I can hold them off for a few minutes longer."

"Theodore." Her heart twisted in her chest. "Why?"

His hands were occupied with Felicity. If they hadn't been, she was certain he would have reached out and touched her. He said nothing, only looked at her, eyes burning in his face, and Elizabeth stepped forward and pressed her palm to his cheek. It left a bloody mark there, like a stain. He leaned into it, never looking away from her, never speaking a word.

"Thank you." Elizabeth hesitated, pulling away, her nails scraping lightly against his skin. "Be safe."

"This won't happen again." He said. "I don't want to ever see you again, Elizabeth."

She nodded. He held his sister closer, and then, finally, he stepped back and walked away. The automata followed him out. One closed the door behind them with a soft click. It had barely shut before she dropped the swords, and Colleen caught her before she hit the floor. The Irish girl took over. "Open the door, snake-eyes. We'd better get before that bloke with the specs comes back and all merry hell breaks loose."

Specs. Ronald Knox. Elizabeth leaned against the table, adrenaline fading. God, how she hurt. Colleen collected the swords without a word, stealing Elizabeth's belt and tightening it around her own waist before sliding them back into their slender scabbards. In the side-room, there was a final gunshot, and then a screech of metal, and Ciel was the first one out. There was blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth and a bruise swelling on his cheek, but other than that he seemed mostly all right. Except for the blood spattered all up his sleeves, Sebastian was as impeccably coiffed as always. He was walking a bit oddly though, stiff. Her innards clenched at the sight of him. He caught her looking, and smiled, his eyes gleaming under long dark lashes. What keeps me from killing you now, my lady Elizabeth?

Felicity had called him a demon.

"We should go." Ciel said, glancing at her and away, and he was suddenly pale. Maybe it was all the blood. "The reapers are here for a reason. We shouldn't be here when they start to work. Can she walk?" He asked Snake, pointedly keeping his eyes off her, and Elizabeth scowled.

"She can walk just fine." She only had to take a few steps before her knees gave out, though, and gloved hands caught her, gently. One of them brushed against the cut in her arm, and she yelped. Sebastian.

"I think it would be best if she were carried, my lord."

"No—" she said, and terror clutched at her, tearing her throat with its claws. When she tried to wrench away, he dug his fingers in and held. Pain lanced through her arm, and she had to close her eyes and grit her teeth to keep from crying out again. None of them noticed; Snake was working on the door, Colleen was watching him, and Ciel was staring at the other door, waiting, as though the automata were going to come back.

"Noted." He said, and waved his hand in a dismissal. Elizabeth barely had time to squeak before Sebastian had swung her up, and he was carrying her the way he always had when she'd been young and stupid, one arm around her shoulders, the other under her knees. She opened her mouth to scream, but then his eyes found hers, and they were exactly the color of fresh-spilled blood.

"Go to sleep, my lady," he said, and there was something in his voice relaxed some twist of horror, deep inside. She felt herself falling away, and alarm made her eyes go wide. He stared, his eyes wide and unblinking and hypnotic, and darkness crept in across her vision. Her eyes were closing. "When you wake up, everything will be better."

Demon, she thought again, and then the world vanished.

She was asleep.

Upstairs, Ronald Knox was waiting.

They'd already collected a fair share of souls, mostly from the automata that Phantomhive and his demon had destroyed. There were a few more down in the tunnels still, but those could wait until later. There were a few more names in the book that he didn't quite recognize, ones that didn't gleam with the knowledge of the first half-death, and Grell was more interested in watching those than anything else.

It took a long time to find the right room, and even longer to find a way to eavesdrop without being noticed. Finally, they broke in through an upstairs window and watched from the second floor of the library, Grell with his arms resting on the railing, his finger tapping at his cheek, Ronald simply waiting, his arms across his chest, watching the Zodiac coo over the broken girl on the desk. Felicity Parker's name wasn't in the book; her wounds were only superficial at this point, though it looked like the bullet wound in the shoulder had gone through a tricky bit of tissue. Wouldn't be easily repaired. She was still unconscious. Her brother was sitting by the head of the desk, stroking her hair, watching the rest of the Zodiac pace and quiver and mumble from underneath his eyelashes. There was a man with black hair sitting next to him, not looking at anybody, just holding Felicity's hand and caressing it with his fingers, lightly. Grell sighed, watching Parker.

"I'm not one to go for humans very often, dear, but he has a certain ruggedness about him, don't you think? I could just tear him apart."

Ronald lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. It was the best way to deal with Grell's ramblings. "If you say so."

"I do. Just look at that jaw." Grell leaned forward a little bit, his hair slipping out from behind his ears, masking his face. "Already all bloodied up too. It isn't fair to torture a woman this way, it really isn't."

Their voices were too low for anyone downstairs to hear, but Ronald checked anyway. Then he checked his watch. 3:41. Three minutes left. He tightened his grip on his scythe, stroking the handle with his thumb, absently. Downstairs, one of the Zodiac turned, and said, "You said you were knocked out, Parker?"

Parker didn't say anything for a long moment. He kept his hand on his sister's forehead, his thumb rubbing her uninjured temple. Then he lifted his head, and if there was anyone with murder written into his face, it was that man sitting down there in the half-light with his bruised and broken sister lying before him, asleep. "They're gone. That's all that matters. They're probably on their way back to London right now."

For the first time, the older, dark-haired man holding Felicity's hand stirred. He looked up, staring at Parker, and Parker stared back, daring him to say something. He didn't. Shirakawa muttered in lilting Japanese before dropping into the nearest chair, running his hands up over his skull. Beddor was already sitting, and he was quaking with nervousness, his eyes flicking from Parker to the dark-haired man and back again, waiting for something to happen.

"We should have left a stronger guard!" Collins bellowed, and he snarled a swearword. Cutter winced, rubbing his sore head. "This is ridiculous! Do you have any idea how much work I've put into this project – how much work we've all put in – and it's blown by one stupid little boy and his tart of a fiancée?"

Parker looked back at his sister, and said nothing. Ronald thought he saw the man's hand clench into a fist against his thigh. The dark-haired man shifted again; he let Felicity's hand slide out of his as he stood, and suddenly, there was a shattering noise. It made Grell jump. One of the wineglasses on the table had exploded, and now the smooth dark liquid was spreading over the papers, staining the pale carpet. Collins abruptly fell silent.

"All the work you've put in?" The Director said, and his voice was lower than it should have been. The windows began to rattle. Grell looked up at Ronald, and his eyes were gleaming with excitement. Two minutes. "All the work you've put in? You've spent a year of your life working on this, if not less than that, Leon. A year. Do you know how long it's taken me to develop this project? Do you know how long it's taken me to get this far?"

Collins had to have been over six foot, weighing more than two hundred pounds, well-muscled and brawny. He took two steps back and tripped over an ottoman, and there was nothing but pure dread etched on his features at the sight of this slender, womanish man standing over him. Ronald blinked. When had he moved from behind the desk, anyway? "I—I'm sorry—"

"Fifty years." The Director breathed, and Collins choked. Blood bubbled at the corners of his mouth, traced down from his eyes and nose and ears. Ronald looked down at his notebook. Collins, Henry. Cause of death: internal pulverization. Cutter Manorhouse, Dorking, Surrey. 3:44 A.M. April 12, 1890. "More than fifty years since I started work on this, and you idiots ruin it in three stinking hours."

Ronald felt it vibrate through his senses when Collins' heart exploded. The name in his notebook began to glow. First death complete. Beddor was hyperventilating, his eyes enormous, hands clutching at the arms of his chair. Anderson stood up, ready to run, and then he choked too, and began to bleed. Anderson, Jeremiah. Cause of death: internal combustion. 3:44 A.M. Cook, too, and Langston, Gillian, Davies; one by one they fell, gasping and retching, to the floor, and there were little vibrations again, again, again as their hearts burst. Petrovsky, the Russian, didn't move until the last body stopped twitching; then he stepped to the side table and poured himself three fingers of brandy. His hands were cool and still, his accent clipped. "It's so messy."

"I should kill you too, you bastard." The Director said, and his voice was deeper, hollow, echoing. "You're the one who let her rummage through the house."

"You can't kill me." Petrovsky said, and took a swallow of his drink. "You need me for the operations. For your blasted soul collecting. Director. If you're going to kill anyone it should be Cutter and the Parker boy. They're the ones who failed tonight."

The Director stared at him for a long moment, and Ronald double-checked his list, but there was no Petrovsky, Cutter, or Parker on the page tonight. There was, however, a Beddor. The man quaked when the Director turned to him, and he fell on his knees. "I'm sorry, I didn't know what she would do, she was just a friend of my daughter's, I'm sorry—"

Beddor, Damian. Ronald read as the Director reached forward, smoothing his fingers over Beddor's forehead before clenching the man's skull in his long-fingered hand. Cause of death: blunt-force trauma to the cranium. 3:45 A.M.

The skull made a wet splatting sound as the Director crushed it in one hand. Beddor fell to the floor, and blood seeped into the carpet. The room smelled wet and coppery now, flush with the scent of blood. Nathaniel Fotheringhay was in the corner, quivering, his eyes enormous at the sight of all the bodies. Shirakawa hadn't looked up once through the slaughter. When he finally did, he cast a disgusted look at Fotheringhay. "Can't you kill him too?"

"Felicity's fond of him." The Director said, but he stepped across to Fotheringhay anyway. He trod in part of Beddor's skull as he crossed over the body. It squelched. He bent down, and seized Fotheringhay's chin in one hand, turning his head to face him. "You won't make this mistake again, will you, my pretty boy?"

Fotheringhay whimpered, and began to cry. The Director stared at him for a long moment, and then patted his cheek, leaving a smear of blood on his skin. "Besides, I can't kill Cutter. He was one of the first in our little party, just like you and Shirakawa, Petrovsky. I'm loyal to those who are loyal to me, don't you remember that?"

"What about the boy?" Petrovsky grunted, and the Director turned, smiling. For some reason, that, out of everything else, sucked the blood from the Russian's face.

"Don't ever ask me to kill the Parker children, Vladimir, or loyalty or not, I will destroy every last part of your body and rip your soul apart."

There was a long moment of silence before Petrovsky nodded, and inhaled the rest of his brandy like a man who hadn't seen liquid in months. The Director turned, and without bothering to wipe his bloodstained hands, he lifted Felicity up into his arms. Parker stood too, and went to Fotheringhay, slapping the man's face lightly to snap him out of it. "Come. We should get young Fee to a doctor before she loses much more blood."

Cutter grunted. "Now what?"

"Well, that's simple, isn't it, darling?" said the Director, and this time when he smiled it was warm and bright. "We track the boy down again, and the girl who slipped in here so nicely – so polite, wasn't she, Theodore, like a trained kitten – and we tear their hearts out and make them into some of my pretty, pretty wind-up toys. Won't it be glorious to see the Phantomhive dancing on a string?"

Parker pulled Fotheringhay to his feet. "What about the demon?"

"I keep him." Grell stiffened, and if Ronald hadn't seized the back of his coat he was certain that his partner would have lunged off the balcony at the threat to his precious demon. Though he rather supposed Grell would be more upset about not being able to kill Sebastian himself after…whatever it was Grell wanted to do to him. Nobody downstairs noticed. The Director hummed under his breath as he carried Felicity out of the room, trailed by the five remaining members of the Zodiac. Grell waited until they had closed the door before turning to Ronald, and his eyes were shining behind his half-moon glasses.

"What a glorious man to kill, don't you think?"

"Glorious is one way to put it," Ronald agreed, and heaved his scythe up into the air. "Let's get to work, then, shall we?"

Grell laughed, and the sound echoed over the mechanical roar of his scythe as the two leapt down and began to collect their souls.

A/N:

So, Theodore and Ciel battle, Sebastian's free, Ciel protects Lizzy...I liked writing this chapter. :)

It'll probably be a few more days before the next chapter. My semester starts in two days, and I have to write like crazy in order to catch up before I get loaded with a crapload of history homework. TT^TT I love you guys, and thank you for always being so wonderful! I will try to have the next chapter up by the 20th.

Surri-chii: It's okay, sweetie! I love your reviews, but I understand if you're busy. :) And I'm not quite sure how I came up with the story to be honest; it's folding out in front of me like a blanket, and I'm just detailing what I see in the weave. Would be the best description, I think.

Aizawa Li Syaoran Vessalius: No, no LizzyRonald here. :) I've marked it as a CielLizzy story in the summary for those who were worried. It will end up that way. Eventually. XD *diabolical laughter*

Nobody Important: Holy crap. Are you psychic?

Sunshine: I think she's calling him Ciel out of habit. :) She probably hasn't worked that out yet.

Katie: OH. MY. GOD. I. LOVED. YOUR. REVIEW. AH. Just...you're beautiful, dear. Also, yes, we will see jealous!Ciel again. :D

OveractiveImaginer: Actually, the Campania is part of the manga, so I really haven't spoiled the anime for you. XD Don't wory.

KMoche: Thank you for your confidence in me, dear! I hope to fulfill your expectations.

4u: Felicity has issues. These issues will be explained.