EPILOGUE "UN" (1)

Rachel Phantomhive cradled her seven year old son in her arms against her chest. He was old enough to stand on his own two feet, but right now he was in desperate need of a caring loved one.

"He won't stop crying, Vincent," she said both concerned and frustrated to her husband, as they stood in the main hallway of the Phantomhive mansion. Even the family dog, Sebastian, a large Russian, blond, long-haired bloodhound attempted to provide comfort to the wailing child by nudging him with his nose, but instead began to whimper himself in concern.

Ciel Phantomhive's eyes were red with tears and the sound of his cries were heard throughout the mansion. The elder family butler, Tanaka, standing next to the couple - who enjoyed spending time with the child, playing with him on occasion and who always had a smile - unfortunately could not help the young boy with this problem. The boy was not sick, but he was sad - very, very sad. And had been for a month.

"We have tried every reputable child psychologist in London, France, and Germany, Rachel," her husband said, "but they all say the same thing: he's crying for Lukas to come home. Twins have a strong bond, Sigmond Freud says. When one dies, the other feels it dramatically. It is best described as losing a limb and still feeling residual pain from the nerves, believing it is still there. He will just have to get over it."

"He's our son, Vincent, have a heart. Lukas died one month ago today during an operation you insisted on."

"Are you blaming me for our son's death, my dear?" Vincent asked coldly.

"No, Vincent. I also thought it was prudent to give Lukas a fighting chance at life. The surgery to fix his face of the deformity would have done this. That old man, Bryon Kelvin, told us everything would be fine-that he knew people who would make Lukas look as beautiful as Ciel. He killed my boy!"

Vincent knew "He killed my boy!" was an irrational statement. "No Rachel, the stress of the surgery was just too great for him to handle."

"That's what Bryon Kelvin told us, but you should not have trusted him. He's sick in the head!"

"Why do you say that? Because he sponsors an orphanage and spends time with children?"

"He's a grown man-"

"He's a caring man, my dear. And it's not his fault Lukas died." Vincent took his son from his wife and cradled him against his chest, hoping to comfort him with his own touch. But the child continued to wail. "We have Ciel to look after now. He is our main concern." He thought for a moment. "Perhaps what we need is a less conventional method of relieving Ciel's mental anguish."

"What do you suggest?"

"I know someone who may help us. He is a member of the Inner Circle, an old friend."

"You disassociated yourself from them over a year ago. They're out for their own agenda, Vincent. They're working towards inserting a new regime to usurp the Queen's authority."

"And as long as I'm alive - and we as the Queen's watch dog's - that agenda will never come to pass. But we need his help now. And he owes me a favor."

The next day, after contacting his friend within the Inner Circle, and now sided with an acquaintance and bodyguard - whom like Vincent was a member of a selected group of aristocratic, trusted friends - Tanaka drove the horse and carriage with Vincent, Rachel, Ciel, and this other person, to a seedy part of London where nobles would never dare to venture. This dank and criminally active area was home to "undesirables". It was a place where people were left to their own devices. It was also so-called the belly of the criminal underworld.

Vincent was reminded of the novel "Oliver Twist," by Charles Dickens, where the protagonist boy came to live in this rank, unruly underworld, abandoned by an uncaring world. The book also surprisingly brought to light the realism of the social depravity of child labor and the social unrest within London in these areas that that had sadly been ignored within the government. And Vincent wondered if perhaps Bryon Kelvin had read this book and it influenced him to take a caring role and to help the lost forgotten children of London?

Brick houses and shops lined the cobblestone streets, occasionally patrolled by Bobbies, English policemen.

These types of places saw the rise of "Dodgers" - seedy, self-interested entrepreneurs - who ran hidden enterprises beneath the law. Gambling dens were widespread here, and they saw underground rings filled with hungry, heated aggressive fighters in fisted combat, along with cock fights and other underhanded dealings. Prostitution also ran rapid here, and there was very little Scotland Yard could do about it. People had to live. Sometimes by any means necessary. And often the Bobbies looked the other way.

One notorious gambler and seedy entrepreneur who frequented these gambling spots was the nephew of Bryon Kelvin, Mathu Kelvin. He was a intelligent man with degrees in literature and sociology, attending the university of Cambridge in London. But he never amounted to his potential. The addictive nature of gambling had captured him and he had nearly blown his entire family inheritance.

But Vincent wasn't concerned with him. Mathu Kelvin was nothing. But he had been known to associate himself with the Inner Circle and had his own inner circle of friends within the criminal underworld. And Vincent had thought about questioning him if he knew anything about the recent string of child kidnappings that were plaguing London as of late, as he appeared to mix with many of the notorious criminals that plagued London. He was known to Scotland Yard, but as of yet was not been charged with a crime.

But there were two such criminals he had spent numerous hours hunting down along with Scotland Yard without success, as the Queen's watch dog. Twin teenagers named Sasha and Samuel Ironstadt. And he did know they were involved in some fashion with the child kidnappings and knew they knew the criminal mastermind behind them. They were also notorious serial-killers who hired themselves out to anyone if their price was met and cared for no-one and nothing, but their own greedy ambitions, murdering their own parents because "they wanted to know what it felt like". They had once told him this during a recent encounter with them in a warehouse on a waft near the Themes River. Here they had a band of children with them who had been sadistically brainwashed to do their master's bidding, even if it meant, in the case of one child, killing themselves to prove a point of their complete loyalty to their programming.

But this issue will be dealt with at another time, he told himself.

Tanaka stopped the carriage in front of a brick layered-shoe emporium, but this was not where they needed to go - and after getting down off the perched seat on the front of the carriage, the butler opened the side door to the vehicle, allowing everyone to step out. Tanaka showed them to a series of stone steps that lead to a shop in a lower, dark alcove, beside the shoe emporium, but was told to stay with the carriage.

"Mommy, what is this place? It smells funny," Ciel said. Obviously the boy smelled the rankness of the area.

"I know, sweetie," she said.

Vincent had thought ahead and asked one of their most trusted friends to come along as protection. This was a place where the unseedy would attack anyone who appeared to have money. Which the Phantomhive's did have. And indeed, they were one of the richest family's in all of London with their company Fantom Co., that manufactured an assortment of goods and services within London's industrial and economic sectors that Vincent inherited from his father and expanded to monumental heights.

With their protection in tow, Vincent, Rachel and Ciel took the steps down to the small, enclosed place, where one wooden door resided. A dim wall mounted light illuminated this place.

"Are you sure this is the proper solution, Vincent?" Rachel asked.

Vincent turned to her. "It's the only option we have left, my dear." He looked down at his son, who wasn't crying at the moment, but had been until late last night before falling asleep. He knew Ciel will continue to cry for his dead twin brother in weeks to come and would be psychologically scarred by it. But he wanted his son to grow up strong, not some blubbering idiot. "I know you don't believe in this…'magic', you would say, but I am told she performs wonders."

"They are tricksters, Vincent. You're a logical man-"

"I am also a realistic man, my dear. I only want what's best for our son."

He knocked on the door, and it was opened by a beautiful young gypsy woman adorned with masquerade jewelry, and wearing a long, yellow dress, that was fitted to her slender figure. Vincent didn't know if the gold and other pieces that she wore were pure or Chinese knock-offs that were apparently flooding the black market, but as she was linked to a certain rich and married philanthropist within the Inner Circle who loved beautiful women, so he wagered that they were probably real…

He sniffed the air and the scent of honeysuckle incense could be smelled from inside her dwelling. He frowned. He enjoyed honeysuckle tea. It was his favorite, second only to Earl Grey. But if what he had planned for his son worked, he could never have it again because the aromatic smell could undo it, according to certain medical journals on "memory triggers" he had read - that certain sights, sounds and smells can have a profound influence on restoring long forgotten memories.

Vincent turned to his protection, a strong, tall looking man with a deep scar across the left side of his face, blinding his left eye to sheer white. He was a posh gentleman in his own rite, but Vincent brought him along because he was also a excellent enforcer. "Vulcan, stay here, and guard the door," he demanded. The man complied, as Vincent, Rachel, and Ciel ventured forth inside.

"Poo! It smells funny in here too," Ciel said, waving a hand across his face, obviously to the heaviness of the honeysuckle incense from burning candles spread throughout the room.

Rachel held his other hand.

"I know, son, but it will pass." Vincent looked to his wife. "Remind me to tell Tanaka to never serve Honeysuckle tea again," he said off-handedly.

She nodded slowly, not sure why. She would ask him about it later.

The parlor of the dwelling was adorned with red curtains, surrounding a red clothed circular table with a crystal ball in the middle, the atypical fortune-teller business frontier. But there was something different about this woman. Vincent noticed she was not only stunningly beautiful, but she also possessed a certain je ne sais qua that struck him that only nobility and highly intelligent people had.

But he set the thought aside for the moment.

"Good evening, Mister -"

"No names," Vincent said abruptly. "And we want this done quietly, as it was agreed."

"The terms were noted to me, my lord," the woman spoke in an excellent, well-educated matter; none of the English, low-brow cockney that less sophisticated British socialites spoke. A rarity, he thought. Perhaps the reason why she was chosen to be his squeeze, Vincent surmised of the Inner Circle member whom was having an affair with her. Well-educated and stunningly beautiful. Much like my own wife, Rachel. "I do not normally do this sort of thing," she continued. "I am mostly a fortune-teller, but I will try."

"We were referred to you by a "friend", because he said that you do this sort of thing."

She nodded. "On occasion. And the price-?"

"Name it." She did. "Agreed," he said without hesitation.

The gypsy looked taken aback for a moment shocked. Vincent knew that gypsy's normally haggled over price, mostly to favor themselves. It was a part of their culture. But he didn't want to get into a money war, so the price she told him was just that. Besides, he wanted this done quickly.

The woman knelt down in front of Ciel and smiled. "Hello little boy, don't be frightened. My name is Savannah, and I will do all I can to help you."

"Help me?" Ciel said, cocking his head slightly to the right. "What kind of help?"

"Your Mommy and Daddy tell me that you are having trouble dealing with…" Savannah looked to Vincent, as if to ask permission to explain it to the child. Vincent nodded. She looked back at Ciel. She appeared to take a moment to word it properly. "…with your brother being gone."

Ciel's eyes began to tear up. He nodded. "Lukas has gone away for a while, but I know he will be back."

Savannah looked to Vincent again, and he gave her a stern stare to "fix" his son.

It had been explained to her that Ciel had been crying for his brother for the past month after it was learned he had died and Ciel was suffering from withdrawal symptoms and was starting to create a make-believe world where his brother had only gone away for a while and will be back later - most likely due to the fact Vincent had not allowed Ciel to view Lukas's body when he was retrieved from an undertaker. Lukas's face had been unrecognizable due to the surgery, and he did not want Ciel's last image of his brother to be this dead, grotesque looking person.

Lukas was buried in the family plot in a far off field on the Phantomhive property adjacent to the mansion, in an unmarked grave for Ciel's sake; his body wrapped completely to mask his identity and hideously scarred face due to surgery, in an attempt to fix his facial deformities brought on by Lukas accidentally sipping some of Ciel's asthma medicine. While Rachel had asthma and passed it to Ciel, Lukas somehow was never afflicted by it. But one day, his curiosity got the better of him, and he wanted to try some of the medicine that helped Ciel cope with it, and he suffered a horribly adverse reaction to it, causing bumps to raise all over his face. But even after the reaction ended, scars left from the bumps remained, giving Lukas a grotesque looking appearance. He was scheduled to have surgery to repair these scars by a competent plastic surgeon recommended by Bryon Kelvin. But Lukas never left this doctor's care alive.

Vincent wanted Ciel to be realistic when it came to his dead brother, but for a child-that was near impossible. Thus, he knew, what he wanted done was the only option.

"I want Ciel to smile again," Rachel chimed in. "I miss his sweet smile."

Vincent chided his wife for speaking their son's name out loud, he did not want what was to happen to make its way to the public and cause a scandal. They had come to this rankady part of town moderately dressed in suited attire, so they would not be recognized - but eyes and ears were everywhere!

"I will do what I can," Savannah said, standing up. "Please, have a seat." She directed Ciel to the chair facing the circular table.

Ciel hopped up. "What is that?" he said, pointing to the crystal ball.

"Something I will use to help you. Now child, look into my crystal ball. And look deeply."

Vincent and Rachel stood on either side of Ciel, as Savannah began.

Her fingers began to dance around the ball's surface and her eyes focused on a single point within the ball, with deep concentration. Soon a speck of light appeared as if willed into existence, and grew, and grew…until inside, it burst into an form of chaotic lightning with bolts of electricity cascading in every direction in a multitude of different shades and colors, changing rapidly, much like a kaleidoscope.

Static electricity? Vincent wondered.

Ciel was mesmerized with it, and he even got up on his knees, leaning closer on the table to it, as if unconsciously drawn to it. "Woooooooow!" he seemed to say slowly, even smiling. Rachel looked at Vincent for a moment and he nodded approvingly. "Look at all the pretty colors, like fireworks…"

Parlor tricks, Vincent thought. But impressive. And seemingly more effective and alluring that a pengillum swinging watch that most therapists used to take a person into a state of unconscious thought.

Ciel looked utterly fascinated at the crystal ball, gazing deeply into it.

Notwithstanding her trickery method, it seems to be working, Vincent thought. Regardless, gypsy's are known to have deep, sinister, unexplained powers, he concluded.

Vincent watched his son's gaze glaze over, blinkingly slowly, as if in a state of waking sleep; much like in a state of unconscious thought. He thought it would be more difficult, seeing a child's mind is less controlled than an adult's, but Savannah appeared to reach his expectations and quickly with her "magic" crystal ball.

The gypsy looked to him as if to confirm he wanted this done. There was no turning back, no reverse switch.

Vincent nodded.

She turned back to Ciel, and began to speak very soothingly. "Now repeat after me, child. And take heed of my words. And believe them as if they are your own thoughts." She paused a moment, as if to allow Ciel's brain to ready itself. "I have no brother."

"I…have…no…brother," Ciel repeated slowly, he blinked glassy eyes.

"There is no Lukas Phantomhive."

Ciel hesitated a moment, as if his brain was trying to comprehend the incorrect information.

But then he repeated it.

And believed it.

Vincent quietly sighed. He was glad and yet saddened at the same time. After this, he will have his smiling son back, but on the other hand… Lukas Phantomhive is now truly dead.

Now all he had to do was remove all traces of his dead son from the mansion…

And from the rest of Ciel's world.

The end…?

(To be conclued with a second epilogue.)