"Hello Jeremy, it's been a long time." Smirks Ciel

"Earl, do you know this old guy?" asked Lau suspiciously.

"Old guy?" questioned the man called Jeremy, slightly offended.

"Yes." Replied Ciel, to both questions

"Well then everyone, call me Jeremy." He introduced, maintaining his usual politeness.

"You're a priest?" asks Charles

"You expect me to believe this suspicious guy? The thirteenth man is the only one without an alibi for all three murders!" accuses Carl. "It's got to be him!"

"That deduction is complete nonsense, Mr. Woodley." Retorts Jeremy.

"H-how do you know my name?"

"With those rings it was perfectly obvious. A diamond that large..." And while all the formalities were taking place, Selima was nowhere to be found. Alette had no concerns, in fact she barely noticed her absence. It was Jeremy who noticed her, a flash of crimson in the rain. She stood, staring down at her wedges, curly hair matted and forming a curtain around her face.

"Hey there she is!" called one of the intruders, pointing out the cerise woman. He charged her, while his comrades chided him for not waiting for them. Beneath her hair, she smirked a little, and stayed perfectly still as the man approached her, weapon at the ready. He had pocketed his handgun, and pulled out a switchblade. He had broad shoulders, and pale skin that was dotted with sweat, stubble and rain. She was very analytical; this man was obviously very naïve to the way of the Vamphinas and to the ways of murder. One did not simply charge Selima Lovelace and live. To the normal eye, she did not move and the man may have succeeded, and for a moment the man even believed he had prospered. But then he felt a white hot pain emerge as blood leaked from his abdominal region. He places a hand on where the cut is, and is surprised to feel his own pulsing organs, ready to spill out. His intestines were slippery and the smell of agony and death was upon him. He screamed out, but his coworkers had already gone to plan b, they were reforming, leaving him behind. This could be happening. He had so much left to live for; his own vital fluids poured out, he coughed some up, he felt it forming a puddle around him. The pain was excruciating, he screamed out.

"You're creating a disturbance; my mistress need not know of your presence. Don't you know how to die quietly?" sneered Selima. She put a foot to his head, creating a muddy footprint.

"Please, god, no!" he pleaded. And those were his last words. She crushed his skull like a melon, blood splattering all up her leg and over the ground. It took no effort at all for her. She whipped around to find all four men left, pointing their guns at her. She smiled, winks at them then flips over with ease; she was very flexible. Everyone watches how quick she moves with awe, and with fear. Two men and a woman fire at her. Bullets whiz past her twisting body. And she lands behind a woman with strawberry blondish hair. It was rare to find a woman in this industry, so they must have been getting desperate. She places a sharpened knife to her jugular.

"Please, don't cut me!" she whimpered, tears beading up in her eyes.

"Okay." Agrees Selima and for a moment the woman relaxes. Until she feels two long clawed hands, take her by the face softly, and snap her neck. The sound was sickening, causing even the men to flinch. She drops to the floor like a rock would sink in water. Three more left. She had malice in her eyes, and larceny of life in her heart. This was her element. She, a younger demon, had less control than Sebastian. She still loved to rip into souls, to tear apart human beings.

"This woman can't be human…" screamed one of the man, firing off a few rounds at her. She grabbed them out of the air and chucked them forward, piercing the man's heart. He fell to the ground as well, blood pooling outward, staining the mud and

"Not human you say? I'm simply one hell of a bloody good maiden." She retorted, smiling malevolently. Before she could even so much as look up, she was grabbed by the shoulder. This man was burley with brownish hair and tan skin. Obviously not from London. His fist rocketed toward her but she bent backwards, almost in a bridge position. She shot herself forward, head-butting the man, drawing blood from his now broken nose. He yelled out a string of swear words, calling her a few choice vulgar terms. "You need to wash your mouth!" she exclaims, grabbing a fistful of his hair, flipping him down and shoving his protesting mouth into a tarn of muddy water. He gurgled and choked, inhaling the water into his lungs until he eventually lost consciousness. Drowning was one of the worst ways to go, she knew. The man fell limp in her hands, and she dropped him like a child bored with a doll. She turns to see the last man in the distance, just breaking through the trees that outlined the forest. She takes to the trees, and waits patiently there until the last man with hair like shredded paper and grey eyes like the moon ran past her. She sprang onto him, the man collapsed to the ground, not sure what had happened. A knife protruded from his chest, he stared at it in horror, abhorring the woman that would be the end of him. She took out the blade and thrust it in once more, then again again and again. She vented her anger, her sorrow and loss into each thrust. It wasn't fair after all. Life had taken something precious from her, now she would take something from it. Rain poured down on them, as she climbed off the dead man, she could see red, everywhere. She wanted to cry, to scream, to fall to her knees. But instead she let the rain wash her clean again, and trudged on.

"That's my girl." Muttered Jeremy.

"What was that?" snapped Ciel, irritated.

"Nothing." He smiled.

"And that's everything that has happened between the first murder and your arrival." Announced Ciel.

"I see. That is quite intriguing. First, may I examine the bodies?" Ciel looks surprised, what was he playing at? "They speak most eloquently, and they tell nothing but the truth."

"Well then, let's go down to the wine cell-." Begins Arthur.

"Stop." Instructs Jeremy.

"Hm?"

"Move each individual body to a separate room. The scents of a murder offer important clues. If the victims are kept together, the smells will mingle." Arthur took vigorous notes on what the wise man inferred. "The smell of wine is especially strong in the cellar. If I have to use my nose, I'd rather only smell the mysteries."

"Very well. I'll have the rooms prepared." Agrees Ciel. Alette nods, crosses her legs and glances at Selima, still sopping wet. She nods, a look of determination on her face. Jeremy turns around and is captivated by the woman. She stares at him, a look of confusion etched into her nearly flawless face. Something about his eyes made her stop and stare, it was like she had seen them before. It made her chest ache, she knew it was not possible. She had seen them before, it seemed like. He gives her a wink and she shakes her head in dismay, trying to think clearly. She descends into the wine cellar, still pondering the mysterious man.

"Surely you can't expect a woman to lift those bodies by herself." Patronizes Jeremy

"I'm sure you'll find my butler is more than capable of performing all the tasks a man can." Replies Alette.

"Meanwhile, would you mind if I change clothes?" questions Jeremy politely.

"Reverend I believe my dead butlers clothes might fit you." Alette thinks this is a rather morbid thought, especially since Sebastian had not been dead twenty four hours. How would her butler feel about it? She may only be a butler, but with everything she had went through Alette thought it was only kind to consider her thoughts and feelings as well. "I'll take you to his room."

"Well then." Started Jeremy, clasping his hands together and smiling reassuringly. He seemed like a man to be trusted, at least he had the credibility. "Why don't you show me the victims in the order they were killed?"

"Then we should start with Lord Siemens." Articulates Arthur.

"I'm going too!" booms Charles. Everyone is silent as a mouse as Jeremy examines the first stiff, cold body.

"This chest wound seems to be the only external injury." Notices Jeremy. "One thrust with a sharp blade." He pulls out a gilded pocket watch with care. Selima stands in the hallway, inspecting his every movement. Something was off about that man. Something different. She could see it in his eyes. "It seems our man was quite a vicious drinker."

"How's you know that?" inquires an incredulous Charles. He sensed that something was up.

"Lange pocket watches are quite valuable, but there are scratches all around the winding mechanism. To do something like this, you'd have to be an absolute boor or a drunk." He explains. "And this overbearing scent of alcohol…he was drinking strong liquor up until the moment he-."He stops mid-sentence, and looks up straight at Selima.

"What?" asks Ciel

"It's faint, but I smell of the ocean."

"The ocean?" asks Arthur, making sure he had heard correctly.

"Ah yes, Professor. Do you have a handkerchief?"

"Oh yes, here you are." Arthur digs in the pocket of his copper colored pants to pull outa wrinkled but folded handkerchief. "WAIT A-." Jeremy dips the handkerchief in the man's saliva and sniffs it. Arthur is thoroughly repelled.

"Thank you very much." He hands over the moist towel cloth to Arthur, who merely stares at it in revulsion. "I believe Mr. Phelps was next." They exit the first room and as they head toward the next, Jeremy trails behind them, next to Selima. He snakes his old, wrinkled hand Into her soft smooth ones. She looks at him, the nerve he had! But there was something that tugged at her heartstrings, something that made her want to keep holding on. She then felt repugnance with herself, the man she cared about deeply was dead and here she was, holding another man's hand. They arrive at the next room and she slowly, almost reluctantly pulls her hand away, pained by her conflict.

"This is the only instance where the killers method differs. I believe the wounds on his neck indicate he was injected with poison. I'd like to see the room in which he was killed in."

"Of course, Selima, lead the way." Instructs Alette. Selima is calmed to be relived of the old man's presence next to her. She needed to examine him, but how could she when he kept trying to make a move on her?

"With his keen observation skills, Jeremy might pick up on something we missed." Realizes Arthur as the ascend the cobalt colored stairs, clinging to the railing carelessly.

"Huh? The old guys not following us." Comprehends Charles. Selima turns around to see, he is quite correct.

"Jeremy?"

"Ah, my apologies. Let's keep moving."

"This is why I can't stand old guys." Mutters Charles

"You had your own handkerchief?" Arthur shouts, irritated. Selima enters the room, Jeremy smirks at her. Like he knew something she didn't. She was usually the one giving that look, so this is how the young mistress feels. She hated being on the receiving end of that look, it really was quite annoying. He looks away from her, and uses a magnifying glass to examine the area in question. Again, something about the deep red of his eyes catches her off guard.

"There seems to be more than one killer in this case." Deuces Jeremy.

"He really is amazing!" compliments Alette

"So it's true then." States Ciel, turning toward Alette.

"Lord Siemens killer should be easy enough to catch, but apprehending the one who killed Mr. Phelps might prove difficult." Jeremy acknowledges. "To avoid further casualties, we should catch the second killer as quickly as possible. At any rate, no human could leave in this storm." And then he looked straight into Selima's eyes, and smiled. Alette's heart beat quickened a little. He knew.