The Yard contacted Ciel with the confessions of those two men; the men that had killed the noble; the men who had committed the crime that Eleanora had witnessed: the men who had started it all. Sebastian couldn't help but hate them. If it hadn't been for them, Eleanora would never have lef—no, they never would have met. That's right. It didn't matter that Eleanora had left. The trouble had started when they had first met. That was it. He shook his head to clear away thoughts of her and tried to put the ring away. It was still evilly lurking in his pocket, despite his numerous efforts to put it away, someplace far, far away where he would never have to see it again. He didn't dare dispose of it permanently; after all, their contract still remained. The rings were a sign of that contract. And the contract must never be broken.
The young Master was calling for him. Some new information about the case. He sighed and put her ring on his desk in his room. He turned to leave, paused, and slipped the ring back into his pocket. He really should get rid of it. He would do it this evening directly.
It was good that the contract only prohibited him from speaking lies, not thinking them, or else he wouldn't have been able to think at all.
The men had said that they had been paid to kill the noble in a bar in the East End. Some hooded man had approached them, bought them a couple of drinks, they had played several rounds of poker (the stranger had lost, perhaps on purpose) and then the man had suggested a way of them making it rich. All they had to do was kill someone and make it look like an accident. Easy-peasy.
The men had said that they had seen the stranger again at that very same bar, talking to some different men, every Monday. Monday was tomorrow. If they had any hope of apprehending the man responsible for the murders, it would be tomorrow.
"But that would mean journeying back to the East End, wouldn't it, my Lord?" Sebastian said tiredly.
"Well…yes."
"If you recall the last time we were in that vicinity, we were woefully unprepared. The only thing that got us through was—" He trailed off and looked away.
"…It was Eleanora," Ciel finished. "She had gotten us in and out. Do you think that we could do it again without her?"
"Certainly. It shouldn't be too hard."
"But you just said that we were woefully unprepared."
"My Lord," Sebastian said, smiling a little thinly, "this bar that the men mentioned isn't as far into the East End as last time. Besides, I'm fully capable of protecting myself—and you," he said as an afterthought.
"What if the reapers come back?"
"They won't come back. The bar will be crowded. They wouldn't dare to make a move." "I hope," he thought, remembering the angelica poisoning.
Ciel thought about it and decided that it would be worth it after all. They got dressed, trying to look as shabby as possible, remembering Eleanora's earlier instructions. They set out towards the East End, but Sebastian ended up carrying Ciel, who was barefoot and very quickly got tired of hurting his feet on the rough ground.
The bar, as Sebastian had predicted, was incredibly crowded. There was a line—or rather a mad throng—pushing to get inside. Sebastian had been able to shove his way through, carrying Ciel, but eventually he had to put him down. There were too many people to carry a child safely.
There was a brawler at the front door, stopping people from entering and shouting a lot. Sebastian and Ciel inched towards the door and Ciel was just about to slip inside when the brawler's arm shot out and stopped him.
"No minors!" the man shouted. "That or they pay double."
"I'm terribly sorry," Ciel said seriously, forgetting that he was supposed to be a ragamuffin, "but this is an emergency; I must get inside…"
Again the brawler stopped him.
"Not without a toll."
"But it's an emergency!"
"Hell if I care!"
The brawler's voice was vaguely familiar. Ciel peeked up at his face and gasped.
"Eleanora?!"