A/N: On to chapter four my dear readers! I hope you've all been doing alright. I mean, it ain't Friday yet, but oh well (T v T). A great big hug to all those who followed and/or favourited: Deux-solitaire-loups, iidony, silentraven98, and Millianna07!
One great big 'thank you' to my beta, who's constantly helping me polish and ameliorate my writing and is just all-around supportive! The sweetest and a brilliant human being!
As always, read and review if you feel it's merited!
Chapter IV: That Rabbit, Impounded
"Nothing is more despicable than respect based on fear." - Albert Camus
"Sebastian, bring her a towel," the young noble eyed the dripping girl from his seat, "she'll ruin the carpet."
A peculiar sight had greeted the child early that Tuesday morning. Sebastian had brought him tea and subsequently dragged a pitiful-looking Miss Hargrove along with him. Though the strangest—and most disturbing—aspect was the broad smile on the butler's face. It was a genuine show of teeth; not the stock close-lipped quirk of the lips he usually wore.
The young lady looked half-drowned, and her wet clothes hung sadly on her shivering frame.
Just what nonsense had the fool stirred up now?
As she was pulled forward by gloved fingers, the girl bit down on her tongue. Discomfort bordering on pain travelled through her upper arm. It was far too easy to imagine the sturdy digits digging into her skin as claws. Was this how it felt to be carried off by a large bird of prey? Only to then be dropped into its nest for its young to feast on...and then join the sun-bleached bones of previous victims that already decorated the lofty roost.
"Yes, young master," the contract butler nodded and headed for the door.
As soon as his touch left her skin, the girl released a breath she'd been holding since the brute had hauled her into the ridiculously large manor house. Her body continued to shake nonetheless. Whether it was due to hypothermia or complete and utter terror.
Or from stifling the impulse to ram the fire-poker up the blighter's swallow-tailed ass.
It was no exaggeration to say that the little creature could feel the blood rushing through her veins and the throb of these under her skin. A sudden and potent hostility burgeoned inside the girl—directed at the human child sizing her up from his desk.
He had been under the pseudo-parenting of a demon for far too long. To sit so calmly with a stranger in a closed space. Just how untouchable did he believe himself to be?
Ah, ah, ah, Reason tutted at her, look at him. He's only a boy—a boy masquerading as a grown-up. Besides, we both know who got you into this mess. Or shall I remind you? Her rancor withered. Focus on something else for the moment, won't you?
Exhaling through her nose, she shifted her attention to the room itself.
The unhappy guest felt out of place in the earl's study. Not that it was a foreign sentiment—in fact, it was perhaps far too familiar. Standing in her soaked stockings and water-logged boots, her gaze skimmed over the luxury displayed within that one room. Delicate wallpaper, glossy bookshelves, and expensive baubles winked at her wherever she cared to look.
"Excuse me."
She scrambled away from the abrupt baritone voice beside her. He'd popped out of nowhere; she hadn't even heard him. The butler draped a towel over the chair he'd situated across from his master. An amused sneer was thrown at her when he moved away and she clenched her teeth in turn.
The boy raised an eyebrow at the panicked display. This had been the reason Sebastian had been absent the entire night? A quivering maid?
"...Earl Phantomhive," she did not even bother with a bow, "Why am I here?" Her voice was soft and dead. She was certainly worse for wear compared to the day before. What exactly had the idiot done to the woman?
"Have a seat," the earl gestured with a ringed hand. His one blue eye trained on the two adults' silent exchange in curiosity.
"Thank you, but I'd prefer to stand." It was best not to give the butler a chance to corner her again. Her body was still sore from being slammed against the ground like a sack of dirt.
Her words were short and crisp, but her voice was soft and dead. It was not the gentle if hesitant tone she'd used the day before. With one look at the butler's thinly-veiled amusement at their guest's nervous body, Ciel's mood soured. Bloody demon. Clearly, her lack of cooperation was his fault.
Wonderful.
Silver eyes kept a steady watch on the towering man-servant. She'd taken note of the exits when the brute had none-too-gently hauled her through many, many hallways. There were plenty of windows from which to jump from—should this grinning maniac lunge for her throat.
The boy waved a hand, signalling Sebastian to serve him his tea, "Suit yourself."
When offered a cup, she declined. If it were drugged she would smell it, and though she could imagine the warm teacup in her hands, she was not in the mood to accept anything from them. Especially when they'd botched everything up.
Michaelis was not the only threat gnawing at her mind.
Oh no, no, she was simply that lucky.
As the senior servant poured the tea, his eyes took note of the thin fog-like presence that clung to the girl, swaying gently and dissipating in the air. Humans, of course, wouldn't be privy to it, but how he'd been unaware of it before bothered the shadow. It was unremarkable, but somehow she'd been able to hide it. Perhaps the weakness of its nature was the cause.
By contrast, mortals could very well sense the black mass that loomed over him, yet all it took was a few carefully chosen words and they were quick—eager even—to forget the sudden chill in their bones.
The captive sighed, "Your lordship, I beg you, do believe me when I say I am no serial killer. I have no desire nor reason to go about amputating random ladies' limbs. It was not me who committed such crimes." What in blazes did they think she'd do with the random body parts? Build a snowman?
Going from appearance alone, the Watchdog would be inclined to believe her.
She was not imposing—in any sense of the word.
Pale grey eyes accompanied a washed-out complexion. They reminded him of the tinsel one threw out after Christmas. Black hair and a flat expression only cemented her listless demeanour. All in all, it was as though someone had forgotten to colour in a sketch and had merely added a smudge of cranberry to the mouth as an afterthought.
But he'd learned well enough with his aunt not to bet on innocence before guilt.
"Then why did you run? An innocent would have no reason to seek an escape at such hours, wouldn't you agree?"
"Indeed. Then, pray, what business is this affair of yours, considering your noble status? You are not of the Yard. Furthermore, with a servant so...perturbing, how could I not feel threatened? The Leather Apron killed hundreds and was never caught, and status does not make one exempt from murderous impulse."
Ciel leaned back, "Hm."
"There is one problem." Sebastian's eyes gleamed, "You are no simple human."
"...I would not broach that subject. Given how sensitive it is to both parties, mister butler." Her glare was rendered useless when she squeaked out a sneeze. A chagrined blush stained her face at the butler's poorly hidden sneer.
Ciel leaned forward, lacing his fingers together, "How much do you know?"
"Please, sir." A quiet sigh followed the girl's tired plea.
"I will not ask again, Miss Hargrove."
"I did not kill those women." She refused to budge.
The lad eyed her coolly, "Say I believe you. Even so, it's still quite clear that you know far too much for a simple maid."
"Earl. I couldn't care less about what you do here, or who you do business with. That is no concern nor even the slightest interest of mine. I simply wish to be on my merry way and forget this whole ordeal ever graced my consciousness." Her lips thinned at the boy's unwillingness to compromise. This stubborn little arse…
Honestly, she was amazed. Children were one of her soft-spots, even naughty ones had their funny charm, but this one kid was a tad obnoxious—and that was being kind.
Who had been sacrificed for this painfully young boy to summon a Hell-Dweller of all creatures? Or worse yet, who had he sacrificed?
"Oh, pray tell, what might you be implying, miss?" Sebastian smirked as he placed a cup of fragrant tea on the desk.
Her eyes drifted to the boy's silk eyepatch and then the man in black; a grim confirmation clear in her gaze.
The demon gave a low hum of acknowledgement. So she'd known after all.
A lone blue eye narrowed upon her, "You knew." He raised the expensive bone china to his lips, "How long?" It was a demand.
"Does it matter? What you do with your life is no affair of mine. How many times must I repeat myself?" No matter the fact that the tot was off his trolley.
Because dealing with devils was a rigged game where the sole winner was always the delighted creature who'd swindled you out of your own corpse. Humans liked to think themselves as steadfast in their objectives...but she, of all, knew how deeply ingrained change was to the species.
With time they could transform in ways one could never predict. For better or for worse.
The Phantomhive boy grew more and more impatient, "What are you?"
"..."
"Either you tell me of your own free will, or Sebastian will extract it from you one way or another. The choice is yours."
"Then you'd be risking your only lead, wouldn't you?" she raised her eyebrows at him. It was a face she'd used on the Anslow children when they would stir up trouble and then think themselves crafty enough to pull the wool over her eyes.
"Is that a threat?"
"No, a simple observation, your lordship. I apologise for my tartness, but I do not appreciate being treated like a common bandit and then expected to play nicely." There was no other way for her to stand her ground. What with the sight of her trembling from within the confines of the towel she'd taken from the chair. Little did they know, however, that she'd stopped feeling cold long ago. "A noble like yourself understands the concept of dignity. Unlike the half-hour gentleman you've got skulking about as your butler."
Sebastian observed their verbal tug-of-war.
Well, the girl had certainly become more talkative with the whelp, now hadn't she? The contract butler prided himself on drawing information out of these weak animals with little trouble, so having this human spawn apparently fair better than he was quite displeasing.
The boy's icy tone drew her attention once more. Apparently, he grew as frustrated as she did.
"Seeing as you're my only lead, as you have stated, you will not step one foot out of this manor."
Silver eyes regarded the earl calmly. How was she to give him the information he so desired without digging her own grave? The answers he sought were closely intertwined with her privacy. Something she guarded fiercely. And yet, as long as the butler stayed unaware of what she was, she was somewhat safe. In the most ironic sense of the word. Perhaps there was some way to buy herself some time.
"I'm willing to tell you about the possible culprits," she held up her index finger, "for a price." When Ciel opened his mouth to speak she cut him off, "However, I expect to be treated like an employee not a hostage during my temporary stay here and for the matter of my...kind...to remain untouched."
"Anything else you'd like to add?" Ciel laced his fingers together as he gave her a hard stare. His brow was pinched; irritated at being interrupted.
"Yes," their guest glanced at the male devil, "an apology from Mister Michaelis would be...appreciated."
The look on the demon's face was priceless, to say the least. Though being as quick as he was, he wiped any trace of surprise from his sharp features.
His contractor considered her offer. The mean look in the boy's eye alerted her of how very little the child liked the demon in his service. If anything, he appeared to find it funny—the idea of making his butler humiliate himself, or simply put, place him at a human's level.
"As long as you provide me with useful information," the boy swirled the tea in his cup, taking a sip, "your privacy remains yours."
She nodded.
"Very well, it appears we have a deal." Ciel agreed with a faint nod. Then turned to his butler, "Well? Go on, Sebastian."
The girl felt her mood improve. Maybe the little ankle-biter wasn't so bad after all.
Sebastian stepped toward her, pressing a hand to his chest. A simper was directed at her, displaying a set of healthy gnashers.
"It is only proper that it is done with the utmost transparency. Being that the case, might I know to whom it is that I am to express my deepest regret?" His human guise was wonderfully fashioned for its role. And the deadweight he carried within his ribs, beating beneath bone and sinew, was as empty and grasping as they came.
Her nose twitched. Well, that satisfaction was short-lived.
The lengths to which this demon sought to commandeer the situation in his favour were unfathomable. Pernicious and self-serving—the lot of them.
Demons never gave their names so freely. He was testing her. Though if she were of his kind, he surely would have known by then. The lack of a soul would have been a dead giveaway. And grim reapers were obvious if you knew where to look. Spectacles, chartreuse eyes, and the stench of death and decay were all tell-tale signs of a soul harvester in your midst.
One glance at her new master, and she knew he expected an answer to the swindler's artfully pushed proposal.
Ah, well, it didn't matter.
For as clever as the young Watchdog was, the little creature knew when she was being lied to. And those two meant to keep her there, poking and prodding the girl until she had no secrets left to keep. There was no way he'd keep an unknown variable in his own house. But she'd danced to another's tune before, and was not keen on giving such a performance again.
Never again.
"Sybil." The young woman exhaled, "Sybil Vane."
The girl's grip on the towel tightened like a vice and the words tumbled out of her mouth like a curse.
. . .
"I didn't know you had a sister, Sebastian." Bard took a drag from his cigarette.
Said butler blinked slowly.
"I beg your pardon?" His brow furrowed faintly in confusion. Just what drivel—?
He was already running behind schedule after the girl had taken longer than expected to change into her uniform, which she had conveniently packed in her Gladstone for her little escape from London.
Fortunately, the second he had stated he would dress her himself should she waste another second of his time she was out the door. Disgruntled—but that was of no importance to him.
He was as displeased about this as she was. They both knew he wouldn't think twice about snapping her little neck should she get in the way of his payment. And that was the least of it.
Now there they were, three steps into the servants' hall and he was met with nonsense. Where would they even get such a ridiculous notion?
"Finny saw you two out in the garden, yes he did." Mey-Rin chimed in with a nod as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
Sybil and Sebastian turned to look at the beaming youth.
"I got up early to check on some baby birds I found yesterday, and I saw you two playing in the snow!" Was he referring to the incident where the little urchin shoved ice down his collar? And here the demon believed he'd learned all there was to know of these dolts only to be once again mesmerized by how soft-headed they were.
Then again, if they did not bat an eye at his daily superhuman feats, then they would believe anything.
Bard gave the girl a once over, "I mean, the hair definitely looks similar. But ain't she kinda small to be related to him?" Other than the dark hair, the two of them didn't quite resemble each other. The senior servant was sharper, broader, and simply larger in general than the new girl. There was also her skin, which had dark-coloured dots here and there. Kind of like a dalmatian.
"Yes, yes, you're quite imaginative, Finny, but we are not siblings. Miss Vane is—"
"—his cousin."
"Cousin?" the sniper asked with a curious tone.
The demon fixed the young creature with a silent look. Just what did she think she was doing?
"Ho ho ho." Tanaka chuckled into his cup of hot tea. The old house steward watched the younger servants from his seat at the table.
"Y-Yes, second cousin once-removed to be precise." Stepping forward with a polite smile, she inclined her head tentatively, "...It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Sybil."
"It's wonderful to meet one of Mr Sebastian's relatives, yes it is!" Charmed by the soft-spoken newcomer, the housemaid clasped her hands cheerfully.
Meanwhile, the outsider was sweating bullets. Mister Michaelis would throttle her, but she'd seen an opportunity and she'd damn well taken it. Earl and butler had decided her being a survivor of human experimentation would be a good fib to tell the group of private soldiers—what in fresh Hell did that even mean—to explain her presence. However, she'd realized that something so extraordinary would inevitably justify and even obligate her to display inhuman attributes or skills.
Not to mention, if she was some sort of rescue, why would she ever want to leave the earl's side? Her 'saviour'?
Oh, but a relative? An unfortunate change of circumstance to a young girl with nowhere to go would be far more subtle...and not an outright lie. Furthermore, maids could leave employment for one reason or another: marriage, an ill family member, etc. Endless possibilities really. Even if it made her insides squirm uncomfortably to have to acknowledge him as kin—especially out loud.
"Wait, so, why haven't we heard of you before?" the blond chef frowned with a crook of his eyebrow.
"Mister Michaelis is a rather private person, as I'm sure you've noted." Sybil looked up at the demon with a tiny smile, "It runs in the family, I suppose." Sweet mercy, she could feel bile rising in her throat. "Actually, we ran into each other in London just a few days ago. I was dismissed by my master due to them moving to the country after a family tragedy and I hadn't even gathered my bearings when we happened to cross paths."
Sebastian was not used to being pulled along into another's story-telling. Yet there she was, cleverly painting him in a favourable light. Should he refute her story, he'd be met with a few problems. Surely, the servants would be thrown into disarray and the private scene Finnian had unknowingly stumbled upon might be interpreted differently. Had she come up with it just like that?
Thus, the black butler gave her tit for tat.
"Yes, I'm afraid you were quite distressed. No one would give you work, and knowing you'd squandered your savings in drink and an attempt to take to the stage, I saw it best to avoid worrying your poor mother."
It took all her willpower not to drive her little boot into the butler's shin. The acting pipe dream she could handle, but saying she was an alcoholic? Her nose twitched.
"I'm sorry, Sebastian. I didn't mean to be a burden, truly. I just...after father—after he—I thought—" The little creature bowed her head in shame. The hurt in her voice was so palpable that even Bard gave the small lady a pitiful look.
"That's alright! No one's a burden here. We're happy to have you with us, miss!" Finny piped up with a bright smile.
"I'd beg to differ," came the demon's flat reply.
Red eyes narrowed slightly at his 'cousin'. Said 'cousin' who could feel the man's gaze burning holes into the top of her skull. He really didn't expect her to shut her mouth and take it, did he? Sybil wasn't dumb enough to try anything, but like Hell she'd let him use her as his verbal punching bag. Not when she could get something out of it.
"Hell, I've been looking for someone to have a drink with around here." Bard ruffled her damp hair. Though he backed off with a grin when Mey-Rin swatted at his shoulder.
Needless to say, the earl's newest addition hadn't expected such...whimsical servants when she'd heard 'private soldiers'.
The lively conversation was interrupted by the loud clap of the butler's hands, "Everyone, your attention if you please." Fixing them all with a measured gaze he continued, "This is Sybil, please do your utmost to help her adjust and inform her of the way things are done here."
"Yes, Mister Sebastian!" cried the trio of servants.
In seconds, they descended upon the now smallest servant—eager to ask questions. Sybil's cheeks quickly turned red, nervous and overwhelmed from the attention. Wide grins graced the Phantomhive servants' faces, gushing over the mousy girl. How could someone like Sebastian have such a timid relative?
The butler's voice cut through the room, "Now, if you're all done making small talk, perhaps you'd be so very kind so as to get back to work?"
In a matter of seconds, Finny and Bard scrambled out the door before they could give Sebastian a chance to exact his righteous punishment on idling subordinates. Sybil noticed her fellow maid stayed behind and perked up.
"M-Mister Sebastian, I could show Miss S-Sybil around the manor—if it's alright with you!" the far-sighted woman asked with a blush.
A blush that felt like a slap in the face to the silver-eyed maid. Lips pulled into a grim line, the girl felt a migraine coming on, she has a crush on the blighter, doesn't she?
Blooming Hell.
Checking his pocket watch, the man in black nodded. "Very well, please see to it that she familiarises herself with the grounds and have her help you with your chores," he smiled at her with practiced poise. One that grew wider when he caught the unimpressed stare of his newest underling who had carefully positioned herself behind Mey-Rin and away from him.
As if that was of any use.
"If you'll excuse me," he made for the door. Pausing for a brief moment, the demon spoke over his shoulder, "I trust you will behave yourself?"
"Of c-course, Mister Sebastian!" The taller woman squeaked with a salute.
Unsmiling eyes followed his back as he left in a swirl of coattails.
The warning shot hung heavily in the air.
. . .
Click
Sybil leaned her back against the door and exhaled. At eleven o'clock the servants had retired for the night, and the young maid hadn't felt quite so drained in a very long time. The work itself was easy, compared to her time as a maid-of-all-work for the Anslow's the entirety of chores didn't fall on her alone—child-rearing included. Though that hadn't been an issue.
It was the socializing that had whittled away at the creature's energy.
However, once she'd been alone with Mey-Rin, she'd felt more at ease. As the number of strangers dwindled she felt less on-edge. They'd spoken very little during her tour around the Phantomhive manor. Sybil had decided that Mey-Rin was rather easy to get along with. Which made her at least try to make small-talk with her new coworker despite how much she cringed at meaningless chatter.
There was also the fact that despite being terribly far-sighted and clumsy, the Chinese maid carried guns under her abundant skirts. She could hear the sounds of fabric rubbing against leather and metal. Not that she'd told the other woman.
Her eyes flitted about the ceiling in thought. A sniper seems to be the most likely case, she tilted her head to one side.
That would account for the long-range weapons and the issue with her eyesight. Her skirt length and boots were also adept for fighting, preventing any sort of encumbrances should she need to climb to take down targets. The sheer amount of layers would also conceal any bulges that would indicate that she was armed.
"Neat."
Crossing her arms, the earl's sole lead moved away from the door to have a good look at her temporary lodgings.
It was cold and damp, which was nothing new for the servants' quarters. She had a simple cot, a wardrobe, and other necessary amenities. Moonlight poured in through the single window, throwing shadows around the little cupboard of a room. It was better than the workhouse by a long shot.
Except, of course, for the fact that there was a leviathan enclosed in the opulent cage. Or at least that was what the child mistakenly believed as he slumbered in his bed.
Her shoulders tensed.
No...they were all tip-toeing about in the beast's artfully disguised maw where fangs shined like fine marble pillars.
A veritable nest of teeth.
That single thought alone broke the dam. Hot tears dripped down her face, leaving stinging tracks. Pressing cold fingers to her lips, she smothered any sob or whimper that could escape her spasming lungs. She slid down the wall, curling into a little ball, as though the stone under her feet might devour her out of mercy.
Sybil buried her face into her skirts, clutching at the fabric with trembling hands and white-knuckles.
There are foul things out there, Kit—far, far worse than I.
Ones that will make you wish I'd left you to waste away...buried in the bones of that house.
You shall see, though for your sake, hope you do not.
The gravely sweet voice in her head made hatred and something more murky swell in her chest. Lifting her head, her eyes winked in the dark like needles.
No.
Slowly she wiped the tears with the sleeve of her uniform. Dark locks framed her face as her lips pressed into a foreboding line.
There was a reason she was allowing them to cow her like this.
Her skin stings from the icy winds and her wet livery.
The butler's grip is steady and firm, as he carries her over his shoulder like wounded game.
But Sybil suspects he isn't the tiniest bit concerned that she might try to run.
He'd caught her, hadn't he? In his mind, that was proof enough of his superior skills. Demons were proud creatures, and for his breed in particular, rightly so.
She'd been thrown around like a raggedy-ann doll and stepped on. And she was scared—she still is. So nauseatingly terrified, the little creature has no clue as to how she's managed not to throw up.
He treats her no better than an animal. A being meant to die sooner or later. The small creature wonders if he's aware of the clear access she has to the base of his skull. A wound to the spinal cord could surely buy her the time to run. He wouldn't die, but he could probably feel pain. And she's tempted to. Fear and instinct urge her—to stab the broken glass into the arrogant bastard and watch the brief flash of surprise in his eyes as she feels the jagged edge sink between bone and cartilage.
But she won't.
So she slides the shard back into her sleeve and instead readies the snowball.
For she must be even smaller and insignificant than a speck of dirt on his shoe.
Leaning her head back against the cool wall, Sybil stared at the ceiling once more. This wasn't the first time she'd found herself in shackles, and this time, they were only metaphorical. As long as she had her sanity and a will to live, no one could keep her from her freedom. Not even demons. She held up three fingers; grey eyes settled on the first.
Learn the layout.
Sybil closed her eyes and smiled—lowering the digit.
Well, Mey-Rin had taken care of that, now hadn't she?
...
The prey tests its new cage.
A/N: 'Half-hour gentleman' : A man whose breeding or manners are only superficial. (1870)
Reviews~!
Manon: Merci, ma amie!
Deux-solitaire-loups: Thank you! Yes, it's quite murky for now, but it's all part of the fun. Glad to have you along for the ride:}
Blue Backpack: The truth of the matter is that Sebastian's just that good. Yana has clearly shown us time and again that the butler is nothing more than a mask-a role he plays. Still, people are hoodwinked by that handsome face and smooth speech. I love their dynamic, but I myself simply don't see them in that light. Toboso-sensei and Editor K tend to refer to their relationship in familial ways-albeit a twisted one-and they certainly act like it. They seem to trip each other up like siblings, but at times there are also rather parental moments too. Okay, this got really long. Thanks for the feedback!
James Birdsong: Success:D
Guest: Not to worry, I can take some constructive criticism (ask my beta). Thank you for being honest! I really loved that original chase scene, but I have something better planned for it;) Aw, that's very kind of you! Still, I hope this chapter was to your liking, and if the story is simply not to your taste anymore, that's okay too! Have a great day!
Aleta Wolff: It appears the Phantomhive butler has indeed caught the target! LMAOOO Now that's going to be a real rollercoaster! Yes, the violence wasn't so intense, we have to work up to it! Same, I think it's interesting to see Sebastian act out. Yana did say that Seb's two joys are cleaning and killing, so...(O w O") Hope you enjoyed this chapter.
Millianna07: Instantly irked by him sounds more like it! Or just plain terrified. Yesss, that is the question, now isn't it? Let's just say, we'll be baking these two...for a good while. Thank you so much, you're too sweet! I'm glad to hear that as I tend to fret about clarity for the readers (though my beta is a godsend, no joke). Cheers:3
Aservis Roturier 3: I cannot put into words the depths of my gratitude for this shred of pure mercy you've gifted me! Also, excuse me while I fist pump in triumph. Okay, I'm back. Can you imagine what went through his head when he felt the ice though? Not to mention, has anyone actually ever touched the nape of his neck? How's that for a first, eh?
Sure, he dropped her on her ass right after, but I'd call that a win for Sybs!