Chapter 6: Star Light, Star Bright

"Faerie might be beautiful, but its beauty is like a golden stag's carcass, crawling with maggots beneath his hide, ready to burst."

-Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

Ciel's cane rapped against the cobblestone streets of London with his butler, dutifully, trailing behind him. The young man's gaze drifted past eager shopkeepers and all their tacky trinkets displaced through glass windows. He saw wind-up tin soldiers, spinning tops, knucklebones*, and tottering wooden horses and other toys fit for children to play and imagine and pretend to be whatever they wished to become. But then he saw the same toys in the same windows in the same spots they were originally placed, for a few weeks now. And this disappointed him, greatly.

No wit, no originality, no creativity. It was in Ciel's opinion that novel ideas for games and toys were becoming scarce, while farfetched and second-rate ideas consisting of passing fads and gimmicks increased exponentially. Which were being used up in abundance. Ciel lowered his gaze towards a glass display, furrowing his brows rather unpleasantly.

Why would any child want to play with a stuffed cabbage-looking doll with a carrot for a nose? Of course, it's accessories consisted of a miniature wheelbarrow and a miniature toy rabbit. An ugly miniature rabbit to be precise. Ciel tilted his head to the side. He examined the rabbit and thought that it has a hungry look in his eyes. And it was looking directly at the doll's carrot nose.

A quiet laugh escaped Ciel's lips.

"What do you find amusing young master?" Sebastian asked.

"That businessmen should give creativity a rest and leave it up to artists to create good toys for a change." It's not a very good idea for adults who have forgotten that they were once children to make toys for children. What will they sell next? Junior shaving cream packs or make your own tie kits? Ciel looked back over his shoulder and commanded. "Buy one of these will you."

"So, this trinket has peaked your interest after all?"

"On the contrary," Ciel said. "I feel sorry that this company will soon go out of business. One sale may boost their morale in their dark days to come."

After a rather odd toy was purchased, Ciel huffed to himself, somberly. He amusingly imagined that there was actually a toy company that proved to rival his own. Out of all the toymakers in England, wasn't there at least one to rise to the challenge? Really. How hard was it to procure an endlessly growing empire of bestselling toys beloved by every child in the English speaking Common Wealth?

He held a stuffed animal in his hands. It was a duck with a ribbon tied around its neck. This one was far less repulsive than the other. Which was definitely a compliment by the Earl of Phantomhive. Ciel handed it to Sebastian, unamusingly.

These habits have weaved their way into Ciel's routine. He would regularly walk around the streets of the city, of the shops and plazas and stores without buying a single thing. Or buying several odd things. He'd let his eyes wander and explore what new treasures made their debut in the market. He would scope out the competition. He would gather new ideas. He would (sometimes) knockoff ideas that he thought he could execute more efficiently that his peers. And he did execute them, gloriously.

Bestsellers. Crowd favorites. Iconic mementos forever to be held in one's childhood memory.

But there were also times, without thinking of the market, of the competition, sales, prices and who's selling what in where or when. He'd just shop. Shop for himself or for a laugh or window shop. Although, his favorite time of the year to browse past stores and displays was during Christmas. Every store has its own Christmas tree, but not one would look the same than the shop next to it. Candles and ribbons and tinsel and gingerbread cookies adorned these festive trees. There was never a single frown that gazed upon these beautiful spectacles. Christmas time was really the most glorious time of the year.

But the time of the year currently would not be called spectacular in the slightest. Ciel was caught in the peak of spring. Instead of being met with the scent of gingerbread cookies mingling in the air, he was met with pollen, thus worsening his allergies in this dreadful season.

"Another tissue sir?" Sebastian said, offering some from his coat pocket. Despite his reverent sniffling, Ciel weakly shooed them away. Only to take one several moments later. Just in case.

"Are all of today's products in the carriage?"
"Yes sir, you managed to clean every toy out from every toy store this morning. I can already hear the cries of thousands of disheartened children ringing in my ears."

Ciel held a tissue to his nose and blew a storm. Well, for Sebastian's information, Ciel donates many of these proceeds (toys) to Queen Victoria's Children's Hospital. The Earl of Phantomhive was capable of performing many charitable acts, contrary to the disbelief of practically anyone who has ever met him. Ciel Phantomhive does have a, decently, good heart. Plus, the Scotland Yard tends to get off his back when he does such saintly deeds. Only for a bit though. Batting his pretty lashes will only get him so far. That's why it was best to donate regularly to various charities, rather than all at once. It really does make him look more genuine.

"Where are we off to next, My Lord? The candy emporium? The carnival? Or the Queen's zoo at The Tower of London where you and Miss Elsie escaped to not so long ago?"

Ciel did have a pleasant time with Elsie at the zoo, maybe he should ask her to go with him again. As an apology to make up for his impudent behavior at Cottingley Meadows. He still can't get over how he mistreated her at the river…or how that gigantic man in the fairy outfit carried him out of the river. Ciel might as well have drowned in that river from sheer embarrassment! Especially since Sebastian won't let him live it down. Poking fun at the young Lord whenever they pass by displays of fairy dolls and frilly pink tutus. For bloody sake, Ciel is the laughing stock among the Phantomhive servants!

Ciel coughed, once. "Let's make our leave, shall we. After all Dr. Sullivan has been waiting long enough."

"Yes, My Lord."

Off they went. Pulled by a horse drawn carriage filled to the brim with a mountain of toys, one stuffy young master, and a butler with a new-found hobby (gossiping about Ciel's most embarrassing moments) that keeps him constantly entertained.

"My Lord, should we tell Dr. Sullivan of your fascinating encounter with that lovely Cottingley fairy that saved you from drowning in the river?"

"Cease your nonsense."

Sebastian smirked and looked out the window. He made up his mind that he'd tell Sieglinde Sullivan anyway.

Madame Dauphine straightened the tie around Tommy's neck, snugly.

"Madame," Tommy squeaked. "I can't breathe."

"And have clients think my employees are bumpkins from the country who can't dress right. I won't allow that." She gave one good tug and Tommy knew that if he was going to keep his job, he had to give up breathing altogether. "There, you look sharp as an arrow."

Tommy gazed up at his boss. She wore her hair up in a bun with round spectacles over her eyes. Tommy noticed, a little enviously, that she also wasn't wearing a tie. Madame Dauphine is the proud manager and owner of Capital London Banks. She has recently, out of the goodness of her heart, apprenticed Tommy into becoming a banker. This was his first day on the job working at the desk.

Tommy inconspicuously loosened the tie around his neck, right when Madame Dauphine's head whipped towards the chiming of the bell attached to the front door. Tommy thought, is he were to untimely pass from suffocation, he would look very spiffy in his casket. Tie and all.

An elderly man wobbled into the bank. He wore a black overcoat with a top hat and a gentle wrinkled smile on his face. "Good morning," he said.

Madame Dauphine peered down at Tommy with a hawk's gaze. Oh, he was supposed to reply in return! "Good Morning Sir! How may I help you today?"

"I would like to make a deposit into my account."

"And what is your name?" Tommy scrolled over to the cabinet, while his hands grazed over files with hundreds of names.

"William Townsend." The man slowly reached into his pocket, to obtain his purse. His hands were shaking as he placed one coin then another down on the wooden desk. "one, two, three…." The man mumbled, counting each and every coin. "four, five, six…."

Tommy heard the clock tick on and on and on. By the time the main reached the 37th coin, Tommy was fast asleep, already counting coins jumping over fences in his head.

"thirty-eight, thirty eight, thirty nine….oh drat!" The man laughed. "I seem to have miscounted my coins." He folded his wrinkled fingers in and out of his palms. Contemplating on what to do next. Counting was hard work.

"It's quite alright sir, if you would allow me to assist you-

If only the man had a proper working hearing aid then maybe he would let Tommy help him. "Excuse me, while I recount them. One…two...three…four…"

It took four hours. Four hours to deposit one measly purse of coins. Nonetheless, Tommy thanked Sir William for choosing to come to Capital London Banks and internally hoped that he wouldn't come back again, or at least come back with a working hearing aid. Madame Dauphine praised Tommy's work as acceptable, not exceptional. Even though that's that he was hoping for. It was no longer necessary for her to watch over his every move, so the Madame retreated to her study to finish her own work, and left Tommy alone at the front desk. Surely, he was capable of handling any customer that walked through the front doors, right?"

The bell chimed.

Tommy sat up straight and pretended to look busy at his desk, to which in fact he was doodling on a piece of parchment paper. He was drawing Elsie…or a creature that resembled a human being. Tommy had a multitude of talents, sadly none of them fell into the category of drawing or painting. But he missed her already. She consumed his mind and heart and now on every spare piece of scrap paper. Tommy sighed and tucked the drawing into his desk drawer and greeted his customer just as Madame Dauphine made him practice in front of the mirror, repeatedly. Make sure to smile, showing a bit of teeth, but never the gums. It became obvious that his boss is a stickler for details.

"Good morning Sir! How may I help you today?" Tommy said, smiling. Showing a bit of teeth and no gums. Goodness, his cheeks were sore from practicing in front of the mirror so much. He apprenticed as a banker, well, to learn how to become a banker! He already knew how to smile. Elsie taught him that.

For a moment, Tommy lost his breath entirely. And not because of his tie (even though it was still very tight). No, the man who entered the bank was caught in the rays of the sun, it shimmered off his skin and his golden hair. And his eyes glimmered like the precious emerald ring adorned on his finger. The man was unearthly beautiful.

The man looked around the interior of the bank, not taking notice of the boy behind the front desk. Tommy spoke, pleasantly. "Are you here to make a deposit or a withdrawal?"

As the man walked up to the desk, Tommy noticed that his shoes were laced with gold thread. Finally, the man spoke with a thick Gaelic accent. "I'm actaully here to make an account myself."

"Of course, Sir." Tommy said. "Is it your first time in England?"

"Oh, what a bright lad you are. How did you know?"

"Y'see I have family members in Scotland with the same accent as you do." Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, laughing. "My family is originally from Edinburgh, but my father migrated to England when he was 17 years old with my mother."

"Govoriš li gelik?"*

"Odrastao sam slušajući to!"* Tommy replied, smiling from ear to ear.

A gleam of light shined within the man's eyes. He shook Tommy's hand, wholeheartedly. "I have yet to meet another man from my homeland. To be honest, I feel quite like a stranger in this land of yours. Everything is so different from back home, it's difficult getting used to the changes."

Ah, so it was this man's first time in the city too. Tommy sympathized with him, internally. "Tell me about it, this is my first time working in London city." Tommy said, shaking his head. "It's very different from the Cottingley Meadows. I'm still trying to get used to all the noise from the trains and factories (and his boss, but Tommy, like a gentleman, left that out of the conversation.) Which part of Scotts do you come from?"

"I was born in Dál Riata*, but I have spent the better majority of my life living in Aberdour Castle in the village of Easter Aberdour of Fife."

A castle! This man was gorgeous and grew up in a castle! Was Tommy speaking to a member of the royal family!? Well, Queen Victoria does have a long, extended family. It was possible that he was speaking to a duke who was 11th maybe 10th in line for the throne. And the castle name did sound very familiar to Tommy, he'll have to write home to his father and ask if the Queen has relatives living there.

Tommy coughed. It didn't matter if was a speaking to a man in line for the throne, a devilishly charming person, or if they happened to be one and the same. A customer is a customer, and all customers are treated equally and fairly. Tommy dipped his quill pen into a well of black ink. "Let's start by making your account. And your name would be…"

"Rowan Merowech." The man said, "but my stay in England is sadly limited and my departure cannot be postponed. I only have thirty days until I return home. Will my account be nulled after I leave?"

Tommy was thrown a hard-hitting question. He was about to panic and go running upstairs to his boss, but Madame Dauphine always said to never look confused in front of a customer. It was important to make the customers feel safe knowing that their money is safe in Madame Dauphine's, ugh, the bank's pockets. Ah Yes! Now he remembered! "Bank policy states that all accounts will stay functional as long as they are active at least once within a year's time span." Phew.

"Good. I do plan on returning after my thirty-day leave." Paper's were drawn, an account was made, and Tommy did not mess up by spilling ink on the previous customer's charts and he didn't have to profusely apologize for it either. Everything was going well.

Rowan made a small deposit of 5 pence into his account but stated that the rest of this deposit would be shipped privately to the bank within the coming days. Tommy had no problem with that. After all the paperwork was finished, the two young gents chatted for quite a bit.

Rowan harped, with a tart expression on his face. "You say you are from Cottingley? Tell me, have you really seen one of these 'Cottingley fairies?' That is all I have been hearing coming out of this country. The English don't really believe in these tiny, dainty winged creatures, do they?"

Tommy was silent for a moment. Perhaps Rowan wasn't really from Scotland, lived in a castle, or was 11th in line for the throne of England (Tommy's imagination added that detail), maybe he was actaully an undercover spy from the Scotland Yard sent by the Queen because Tommy insulted her massive breeches on more than one (hilarious) occasion, and that he was partly responsible for the entire fairy hoax to begin with. Elsie was doing her part back in Cottingley and it was Tommy's obligation to protect her too! "Ah, I just started working in the city right around when the first fairy sighting occurred." He laughed a genuine laugh. "I've just seen pictures of them in the London Gazette. But seeing a real-life fairy in person would be a once in a lifetime event. I'd probably faint on the spot. Hm?"

Rowan looked down and lifted a hand over his lips, hiding a smirk. His shoulders quivered, slightly. The man was laughing!

"Did I say something funny? Right, I guess I really shouldn't keep my head in the clouds when I should be working. I can't imagine what my boss would say to me." Tommy couldn't imagine what Madame Dauphine would do to him, if she found him chatting idly, instead of managing people's money. Tommy gulped, nervously. She'd most likely tighten his tie around his neck one last time. At least Elsie would leave fresh flowers on his grave…

"Excuse me," Rowan choked down laughter, and wiped a lone tear off the edge of his eye. "Amongst all this idle fairy talk in London, I haven't been able to find the one thing I solely came to England looking for. Do you mind if I ask you for assistance? I don't trust any of these English fellows."

"Not at all! I'd be ashamed of myself if I couldn't help you." Tommy was already thinking of popular destinations a tourist like Rowan would want to visit. He was more than eager to give a few suggestions.

Rowan leaned his elbows onto the desk, towards Tommy. He motioned for Tommy to lean in closer as well. To which Tommy naturally did. Rowan looked into the young boy's eyes, the ends of his lips curled into a smug smirk. "Do you know where I can find myself a girl?"

There was no way Tommy could help him. The boy's face flushed a brilliant shade of crimson red, drastically. "A-a girl!? I don't think I can help you with…umm…"

Rowan immediately burst into a wave of laughter. "I'm only joking. I just wanted to lighten the mood. Sorry to unsettle you lad."

Tommy's heart felt as if it was about to jump out of his chest.

Rowan tapped his knuckle against the wooden desk. A vibration that Tommy could feel through his own fingertips. "It was a pleasure meeting you lad, remember that my deposit will arrive in a few short days."

"Yes Sir, I will keep a watchful eye out for it. Thank you for the business. Please come again."

The bell chimed as Rowan left the bank leaving behind a very unsettled Tommy, who was still trying to catch his heart rate. Tommy leaned back in his chair, rolled his hand through his hair and sighed. He really wondered if he was cut out to be a banker. He wondered if he could settle into this kind of profession. The first day did go well. Rowan was a pleasant customer, but what if he dealt with unpleasant customers? Well, at least it was better than working in the fields. He wouldn't be able to earn enough money to buy medicine for Frances. That's what Tommy was going to do. He was going to work hard and earn as much money as he could and become a successful banker. Then he will be able to buy top quality medicine that the upper class uses for themselves. Surely, there would be medicine that could cure Frances' consumption.

He'll surprise Elsie with a wonderful gift.

Rowan asked about finding a girl. Tommy hummed happily to himself. Probably dreaming of marrying Elsie in Windsor Castle. When he becomes a successful businessman, he will be the perfect husband for Elsie. They'll live in a wonderful apartment, he'll take care of her parents, and Frances will be healthy and go to school, maybe even college. Frances did say she wanted to study folktales and mythology.

As Tommy was happily day-dreaming about his future, he forgot to take out the drawing he made of Elsie this morning! It was better that Madame Dauphine didn't find evidence of him idly wasting time.

Tommy opened the drawer.

Then he closed it.

Then opened it again.

He shifted through papers and rummaged through quill pens, frantically. He pulled out a tin thimble from the drawer and looked at it questionably, before placing it back inside. But more importantly, where was his drawing he made of Elsie? He remembered putting it in this exact drawer before he talked with Rowan. The drawing had to be here somewhere, he was the only one to touch the desk today anyway.

A voice called Tommy beckoning him, quite loudly, to the second floor. Tommy immediately straightened his tie, just how Madame Dauphine liked it, barely being able to take in oxygen. He thought that it wasn't a problem at all, the drawing was most likely still in the bank anyway. He will find it in no time.

Rowan held unto a piece of parchment paper, with a drawing of what looked to resemble a human being, that was in the amateur banker's desk. He was able to wisp the paper out when he tapped on the desk, by switching it with an item of equal value. A tin thimble.

The drawing itself may be tacky, but he was able to sense quite a bit of energy emitting from it. He grazed his thumb over the drawing and beckoned the ink to illuminate the image of what truly lied in the boy's quill when he first drew it.

Ink shifted and moved and aligned where Tommy's heart truly lied. It only took one swift of his finger to transform the sketch into a masterpiece. Rowan's eyes gazed upon the same girl he has seen in all the newspapers floating around London. He believed her name was Elsie Wright.

Tommy did help him after all.

Rowan found his girl. He was sure to properly thank Tommy, a kin from his homeland, the next time he sees him.

Rowan stuffed the drawing of Elsie into his suit pocket, and he stared towards the wide-open sky. A sea of endless blue, a sea for endless flight. The spring wind began to burst through the cobble stone streets. Intertwining between carriages and stalls and all the people around them. Hats of old men toppled off their heads and unto the stone pavement. Newspapers flung out of the hands of young sellers. White sheets of black ink took flight in the sky. Rowan stepped into the wind of a country he knows little of, and let it carry him through the crowd. Unnoticed and unseen.

It only took one step through Sieglinde Sullivan's lab to convince Ciel that he has truly entered a mad house. Why does the Queen take an interest in such questionable people? Sullivan was the most questionable out of all of them.

Ciel looked up at the ceiling, shocked. "Why in the bloody hell are you dangling from the ceiling!? Come down this instant!" The young lord shrieked. It has been a few years since Ciel has seen Sullivan and all her wacky inventions she has been creating. Apparently, Sullivan has created an updated version of her biomechanical legs that allow her to transverse across any surface, including the ceiling. There would never be a plausible reason as to why she needs to transverse across the ceiling, but if it was in the realm of possibility of creating a machine that could allow her to do so, it was only her right to create such an invention. She was Queen Victoria's top scientist in all of England.

"Ciel!" Sullivan exclaimed, happily. "I wasn't expecting you until another hour or so. Now that we are on the subject, what do you think of my newest invention? Impressive, no?"

"I think it is ridiculous!" Ciel said, blushing. It didn't help that Sullivan was wearing a dress, from which Ciel received a very unnecessary view of her southern necessities.

Sebastian leaned into Ciel's ear and advised cautiously, "My lord, I suggest that you do not stare so noticeably at a Lady's you know what. And if you must, I advise that you so discreetly."

Sullivan gasped and quickly shifted her dress, "you pervert!"

"You just noticed now!?" Ciel yelled in return.

Just then, Wolfram entered the lab, enraged. With a cleaver in hand, "My Lady, I heard you scream! What bastard must I slaughter for you!?"

Ah, it seems that Wolfram's English has improved greatly. Marvelous.

Then the cleaver dropped the floor, leaving a massive dent, as Wolfram realized that these two gents weren't the average of the mill street bums. They were his friends. Ciel Phantomhive and his butler, Sebastian Michaelis.

"Welcome friends," Wolfram said, with glittering eyes. "We have been expecting you."

"Your attitude changes swiftly," Ciel mumbled. He could still see his reflection off the cleaver. It gave him the chills.

"My Lord," Sebastian interrupted. "Might I remind you that we are strictly here for business, and not to become enthralled in any distractions. Remember that you are engaged to Elizabeth, but your heart has taken a recent liking towards Miss Elsie. And now with Miss Sullivan…This is quite the problem we have here." The butler contemplated, oh so seriously.

"So, he likes threesomes." Sullivan suggested, mischievously. "I've never taken Ciel as the scandalous type." Ciel was much too introverted to partake in such acts, but it was always the quiet ones that surprised everyone.

"Yes, it is quite scandalous," Sebastian said, making himself quite comfortable in a lounge chair as Wolfram poured him a cup of tea, hold the cream. "Recently the Queen has commanded the earl to find a fairy and thus spiraling a whirlwind of spontaneous and hilariously embarrassing mishaps between my lord and Miss Elsie Wright."

"Oh my!" Sullivan and Wolfram said in unison.

"Indeed," Sebastian said, sipping his cup of tea. "You wouldn't believe what happened just the other day in the Cottingley meadow river between him and Miss Elsie." He was itching to tell another breathing soul, as the servants reactions back at the manor have simmered down about it.

"Ah! Tell me!" Sullivan squealed, hiss steaming out of her nose. God, she hoped it was something steamy. Wolfram nodded his head, eagerly. For he too was interested in the Earl of Phantomhive's scandalous double life. He always knew there was something fishy about the young master. The eyepatch really tipped him off.

Ciel roared, dumfounded. "Will you cease talking about me as if I'm not even in the room!?"
Sebastian turned his head, minimally. "Oh, my lord, you're still here? Why don't you go play with the toys in the carriage?"

Sullivan was shocked, but it was the euphoric kind that sent chills through Ciel's spine. "Ciel, I didn't know how bold you are, bringing your toys out with you into public."

On the opposite spectrum, Wolfram gave a grave look. A look that spoke entirely for itself. A look that said, I have lost every ounce of respect for you, Earl Phantomhive.

"Sebastian!" Ciel said, flustered beyond belief. He was as red a ripened tomato. "I order you to end this conversation now!"

After several moments of whining and complaining (mostly by Ciel) and straightening out the circumstances of his most embarrassing situations (begrudgingly by Sebastian) they have finally arrived at their reason for visiting Dr. Sieglinde Sullivan. Which is of the upmost urgency. First, Ciel asked Sullivan if she was willing to meet with a friend of his, for his friend has a younger sister who is diagnosed with consumption, better known as Tuberculosis. It would help him a great deal if she could assist in anyway. Sullivan happily agreed, despite the fact that the disease was prominently fatal and not much could be done to cure those who have it.

Ciel coughed, "Her majesty the Queen, has written to me of something peculiarly strange happening across the country."

"Yes," Sullivan nodded. "All of these patients were sent to the hospital, but not one of them were ill in the slightest. I've checked their vitals, blood levels, and physical conditions. They are as healthy as can be."

"As healthy as they day they were all reported missing."

Sullivan nodded, gravely. "I have one man waiting in the other room. You should see him for yourself to get a better picture of what's going on."

Wolfram led them to a separate room, upon entering Ciel saw a middle-aged man sitting in the corner staring out of the window. When he caught sight of Sullivan and the others, he rose up from his seat and spoke hurriedly. "Please, you have kept me here long enough. Let me return back to my wife and child. I have no business being here."

Ciel remembered the list of missing persons sent to him from the Queen. This man's name is Peter Gruvik, and he has been missing for 2 years. "Peter Gruvik," Ciel said. "Your file tells me that you are a carpenter, and a well one at that."

"Aye," said Peter. "My father taught me the trade and I intend to pass it on to my son as well."

"Are you aware that you have been reported as a missing person by your wife when you failed to return home one evening on August 19th, 1891. Where have you been all this time?"

Peter look baffled, and infuriated. "No one in this room has any common sense, I've been telling you over and over again that I start my day when the sun rises and end when it sets. I have never abandoned my family, not one single day. This is madness! And it is still 1889!"

"And you're right. The day you were reported alive, the first thing you did was return back to your home as your routine dutifully followed. Isn't that correct?"

"Aye! I did. Just as I do every day. No exception."

"And whom did you find in your home upon your return?"

"My wife and son, and a strange man I did not know. Naturally, he intruded upon my house and my family and it was only right that I knocked him out of it." Peter reasoned. "I was protecting my family!"

"Within reason," Sebastian said. "But within the 2 years you have been reported missing, your wife has remarried and her name in the registrar no longer goes by Maria Gruvik, but by Maria Merrit. Taking on her husband's last name."

"I am her husband!" Peter roared. "I have never left! I'm telling you that I haven't." The man's form sank down to the floor, sulking bitterly. "I don't understand what's happening. I just want to go home to my family, but they look at me as if I were a ghost returning from the grave."

Ciel kneeled in front of the sobbing man, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I will do everything in my power for you to return to your family, as it once was. I know what it's like losing loved ones precious to you. But you must answer our questions to the best of your ability, so we may make that dream of returning you home hasten."

The man's sniveling face looked up at Ciel, even though all he could see was a giant blur.

"You wouldn't want your son to grow up without his own father, would you now?"

Peter shook his head, feverishly.

"Good," Ciel said. "Tell us in as much detail as you can remember of the day you disappeared."

The man sniffled his last sniffle and told the story of his life. Hoping that someone can help him. It was a day like any other. Peter woke up when the window tapper* tapped his window, and he awakened promptly, like he always does. His wife woke up the same time he did, but his son slept in, as his school day doesn't start until seven in the morning. Peter shined his black boots, then his son's shoes as well. It was always best going to school wearing a clean pair of shoes. A routine Peter does every morning for his sweet boy. He packed his lunch of boiled eggs and milk and made his way to his shop and worked as he has always worked.

But when it was time to leave for home, something peculiar happened. It was unlike Peter to take a short cut home, but something prompted him to go through the meadows. This path was obviously the less taken kind, mounds of uneven soil, roots protruding in all directions, and blankets of wild flowers stretching on for miles. But Peter decided to take the short cut anyway.

It was when his feet began to ache that he thought it was best to return the way he came and walk on the road he always takes. But then, he heard music! Music playing in the meadows, out in the middle of nowhere! He recalled the fiddle and drums and flute being played. It was such a strange occurrence indeed! But he came this far on his journey and it would have been a pity not to listen to music for a while longer. The sound was enchanting, the sound was invigorating, he never felt so alive as he did in those moments as he has listened to that music!

So, Peter sat down under the shade of an old oak tree and closed his eyes and listened to his heart's content.

And when the music stopped playing, Peter returned home. He thought only a few minutes passed, but it stretched out to be 2 whole years.

And peter wasn't the only one to suffer from the same circumstances. Men and women, young and old, (although there was an abundance of young, beautiful girls from the missing persons list), said they were under the same conditions. Living their lives one minute, then disappearing without a trace the next. Only to return many years later. Hearts enthralled by music, pulling them into the woods when they went to listen. There was even a little boy about the age of 8 who was first reported missing by his parents 10 years ago.

It was strange for all of them, for none of them have aged a single day. That little boy who was 8 years old when he disappeared was still 8 years old when he was embraced in this parent's arms after 10 years. In his parent's arms who have aged, over the span of a decade. A young girl, 14 years of age, was reported missing 25 years ago, yet here she stood, untouched by time.

Sullivan saved the best for last, for one patient was isolated from all the rest. She was the odd ball out of all of them. This girl was reported missing by the Scotland yard, she was actaully reported by a local farmer after he saw her trying to steal one of his cows off his land.

Ceil gazed upon the young maiden, her hair was tangled in a mess of fiery red knots and her face was covered in freckles while her eyes were as blue as the ocean waves. She wore the strangest of clothing. A smock made of wool and sheep's skin, with a leather belt tied around her waist. A small satchel was attached to it, with a silver medallion sewn into it.

The young girl bellowed deep within her lungs, in a tongue Ciel was not familiar with. "Na bi a 'tighinn nas fhaisge!Ma tha fios agad dè tha math dhut." The girl was scared and frightened, she said as she held a stone carved knife in her hands. Directly at the Earl.

Ciel really didn't need Sebastian to translate for him, for it was plain that he was being threatened. For, this happens on multiple occasions, not that the Earl could fathom why…He considered himself to be delightful company. He thought to himself, as he was being pointed to with a knife.

Sebastian intervened, seizing the knife from the girl. Gripping it in his hands. The butler spoke, unperturbed. "My lord, she says that if you come any closer, you would surely regret it later."

"Thank you, Sebastian. I really could not guess her motives at all. I was utterly left in the dark." Ciel deadpanned. "Now release her (and take the knife away) for you're frightening her with your ghastly presence."

"Diabhal!" The girl shouted angrily at Sebastian.

"Oh," Sebastian mused, intrigued. The girl cursed him for what he was. A devil. "You're very clever."

Wolfram spoke, amazed. "Mr. Michaelis, you understand what she is saying? I've never heard of such a language before. You truly are a man of many skills."

Sebastian tugged on the edge of his glove, then thrusted the knife into his coat pocket. Out of reach from the girl. He turned back to his young master and spoke nonchalantly. "My Lord, our feisty girl here is speaking a dialect from the country of Scotland. Gaelic. But," Sebastian thought. "This vernacular the young woman is using sounds rather outdated." Outdated by at least a few hundred years.

"She's from Scotland?" Ciel said. Then he looked at Sebastian with a stern look in his eyes. "Ask her what happened on the day she disappeared." Well, more like on the day she stepped into Great Britain.

Sebastian asked the young maiden, but his only response was a rather unpleasant curse in the young girl's native tongue. And she topped it all by spitting a big one in his face.

Sebastian pulled out a tissue from his coat pocket and wiped his cheek. "…She said nothing of importance."

The girl huddled back into a corner, knees curled against her chest. Mumbling softly in an ancient tongue no one knew. Speaking in a tongue that no one understood. Everyone in the room looked at Sebastian, waiting for him to translate.

"Well," Ciel spoke, "what is she saying now?"

Sebastian's lips parted into a cold smile that of a black crow. He held the silver medallion from the girl in the palm of his hands. He slipped it into the shadows of his pocket. "Again, nothing of importance. She just wishes to return home."

The carriage bumped against a stone, but the horses managed just fine. Ciel rested his chin on his arm as he gazed out to the window. He turned to his butler, untroubled.

"There's some information you are withholding from me. Spit it out."

Sebastian lifted his eyes and spoke, boldly. "I am not necessarily withholding any information, it is a more of a passing fancy of a memory I remembered from long ago when investigating the patients today with Dr. Sullivan. That is all."

"Hm? If this 'passing fancy' will help with the case, then it is considered vital information and may shed some light as to why all these missing persons throughout the decades are appearing now all of a sudden. Go on."

The demon smiled a wicked grin, not one that could phase the young master of course. But knowing Ciel was accustomed to a demon's smile was a frightening thing indeed. "In all my years of living amongst humans, this isn't the first time I've come across persons wisped out of time, only to step back in without being affected by the passing of it."

Ciel arched his brow, intrigued.

"Over the millennia, humans have called this phenomenon by different names. One name that proceeds the others is 'spirited away.' Mortals are pulled out of the human realm and placed into another."

"And how do you know this?" Ciel asked. "Is this a common practice among demons, or grim reapers perhaps?"

Sebastian laughed, mockingly. "My kind, even the ladder, doesn't revel in absurd practices. I don't enjoy the company of humans."

"Neither do I."

"Yes, I am aware. Your social skills are envied by all English gentlemen. But," Sebastian mused. "This race of creatures tends to spirit away humans to their realm out of sport and amusement. I have rarely encountered such creatures, since our two races don't get along…and have different views upon mortals."

The carriage hit another bump and Ciel was growing restless. "And what are these creatures?"

Sebastian leaned back in his seat. The smile upon his face vanished, just as the day fades into night. "They are known as the Fae. And I despise every last one of them."

Slivers of moonlight peaked through the dark and bleak clouds that endlessly filled up the sky. It was half past nine at the Wright home, all the windows were dark, except for one on the second floor. And laughter could be heard from the inside. Elsie sat on the edge of her sister's bed, reading Frances a bed time story. A story overflowing with marvelous misadventures of would-be heroes and scandalous escapades of dangerous heists.

There was one dimly lit candle on the vanity. It flickered red embers and cast shadows throughout the room. Elsie, magnificently, read the story of the boy that never grew up. She was reading Peter Pan. And she just got to the most exciting part, where Peter enters the nursey in search of his shadow.

Frances always enjoyed the story the best when Elsie acted it out, rather than just blandly reading lines. Frances giggled at Elsie's acting, her sister put on an excellent one woman show after all.

Elsie wrapped a beige shawl around her shoulder with a red feather placed behind her ear. She squatted in the floor, puckered her lips to the side, and squinted her eyes surveying the bedroom. She was channeling her inner lost boy.

Elsie rubbed her hand against her chin, "My shadow must be here somewhere." She jumped to the toy chest and peeked inside. Then snapped her finger, crossly. Her shadow wasn't here!

Frances laughed merrily underneath the covers of her blanket, kicking the ends of it with her feet. Elsie smiled. She rushed over to her sister's side and stood straight like at arrow with her hands on her hips, as Peter Pan would stand. "Have you seen my shadow Wendy? I seemed to have misplaced it."

Instead of helping a lost boy out, Frances crossed her arms and snubbed her sister. "I have not seen your shadow, and it is certainly not here. And I am not Wendy. I am a pirate!" Frances plunged a wooden sword out from beneath her covers and straight through Peter's heart. (Technically beneath her armpit, but the details aren't important.)

Elsie, dramatically, staggered to the floor. Utterly defeated. Wendy has betrayed Peter Pan! Of all the catastrophes to happen in the world, this was the most devastating!

It was common knowledge that stories performed by Miss Elsie Wright and Miss Frances Wright were prone to major and minor changes from the original plot line. Such as, a pirate disguised as Wendy betraying Peter Pan by stabbing him through the heart. A minor change according to Frances's opinion.

Suddenly, the window burst open, curtains dancing wildly as the night winds scavenged furiously through the room. The candle light roared ablaze then vanished quickly by the cold wisps of the midnight hours. The room was basked entirely by the crescent moon light. The moonshine cast the room in a bright, white glow. Elsie rushed to the window, her feather was tossed out behind her ear. She slammed the window pane shut and locked it tight. Then sighed when the room returned to the calmness it once was.

Frances peeked out from behind the covers, a smiled tugging at her lips. "That was exciting! Can you open the window again?"

"No," Elsie breathed, tucking strands of loose hair behind her ear. "I think that was mother nature's way of saying that it's time to go to bed."

Frances whined in retaliation but yawned just the same. Her eyelids were heavy, and her bed was warm and cozy. But before Frances was about to dream of fairy tales and pirates and finding Peter's shadow. She had to make a wish.

Frances's nightly wishing routine consisted of her gazing upon the first star she sees in the night sky of Cottingley, but tonight the fog filled the sky and she could not see any stars. She worriedly wondered if her angel wouldn't be able to hear her wish, but Elsie said otherwise. For angels always lend their ears to those who deserve to be listened to. That France's golden heart was brighter than any star in London's sky. Frances clasped her hands together and prayed, "Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might. Have the wish I wish tonight. Dear angel, please help mother and father be happy again. Father is always sad when he looks at me and I can hear mother's tears when she thinks I'm asleep. Please angel, please make them happy again. And I promise to be a good girl and I know I have forgotten to say my rosary every day, but I will from now on. Thank you."

Elsie embraced her sister towards her chest. Her lips quivered, but it was too dark for Frances to see.

"Did my guardian angel hear my wish?" Frances asked.

Elsie choked on her own voice and her breath hitched. Until she collected her thoughts and her mind and her heart. She gazed down upon her sister's pale and hollow cheek bones and frail limbs. Frances was losing was becoming thinner and thinner as the days progressed. I will not lose you. You will be well again. And we will all be happy once more. A tear rolled down her cheek, "Yes, may you know deep down tonight that everything hereon will be alright."

Frances smiled a gentle smile and both sister's fell asleep in the other's arms.

As Frances fell fast asleep, Elsie awakened, troubled. There was a single chill running down her spine.

Elsie's gaze crossed over to the window and the sound of wind rushing and thrashing against it. She heard the aches and cries and shrills of the night wind. Pounding against the window, begging to come in. Or it was the one begging her to come to it. To open the window, open the shutter, gaze into the black void that consumed the night.

She found herself there. Tendrils of the wind wrapped around her hair and arms and chest. Embracing herself in the nightfall's cold embrace. Staring into the night consumed with nothingness. Black and lifeless.

Something beckoned her to take a step forward. To jump.

To jump into the dark void that ravaged through the night.

Music began to seep through her ears. How lovely and pure and beautiful it sounds. She leaned forward.

The wind howled and roared and cried for her to jump into its welcoming embrace.

And she did just that.

Notes:

Knucklesbones is a game, which is basically equivalent to jacks.

'Govoriš li gelik'= Do you speak Gaelic?

'Odrastao sam slušajući to'= I grew up listening to it.

Dal Riata was a kingdom that included parts of Scotland and Ireland.

THANK YOU FOR READING CHAPTER 6! SOOOOOO The man who turned the book into gold from the previous chapter is finally revealed. His name is Rowan and he might be much more than what he says he is XD Elsie and Ciel didn't spend time together in this chapter, but I have a lot of stuff planned for them for the next! And missing persons that are untouched by time are returning to England!? Should people be celebrating...or worrying? What do you think is going on? XD I've been busy with school, but I hope to update frequently this summer, so don't forget to add the story to your notifications so you know when a update comes up XD Did you like reading the chapter? :D I'd love to hear your thoughts! I'd also like to thank God of Twilight, fiction, silverdoutrane, BBFan, Cutie Bunny, Queen-Afiya and James Birdsong (I remember you from reading my Clamp School Detectives fic! Thank you for supporting me again ;A;) Thank you to all of you! Your reviews motivate me and fuel my writing *cries tears of joy* I hope you all continue to enjoy the story! See you next time! Bye!