It took some time for your wounds to heal properly. Having the stitches in your side rip apart didn't help, but now you stood in front of a full body mirror, staring at your figure before putting on your clothes for the day.
Scars old and new lined your usually covered body, though honestly you don't mind showing off the more interesting ones every so often. But your fingers trailed over your chest, frowning at the new set of fresh scars. You… could have died. You should have died, and after hearing what Undertaker had to say about your inevitable fate…
No wonder your brother killed himself the way he did. He didn't want to suffer an eternal fate. Body and soul eternally tethered to Death itself. What sort of fate is that?!... Well… maybe it'd be worse if you were turned into some carnivorous demon. Yeah. That'd probably be worse.
But what made you look a bit closer was the fact that the scar that is rather distinct over your right eye wasn't even there. You could still feel the familiar sting of a demonic claw, but… it's not there. At all. As well as a few other scars, now that you're looking. One that went right along your backside. Another claw mark over your torso, and lastly, a very obvious stitched mark around your left ankle. You shuddered. You can still feel that pain in your left foot. Recalling a time when you thought you'd lose the foot entirely and have to use some sort of prosthetic. But, well, you're not exactly human, now are you? Your wounds heal quicker then most, and even if they don't it takes longer for your body to completely decay.
Yet… it's just so strange, to you. The three prong claw mark across your right eyelid, threatening to rip your eye out entirely, was the first permanent wound you ever got. The first time in your life you realized you could die. Get eaten. That you're a target for simply existing. It's… scary. You were scared, but you persevered and trained. Got stronger.
But it's maddening not to see that claw mark across your face. To remember every day why you do the things you do. Why you fight so hard to survive. Even if you seek your death, you still want to live. A terrible paradox… but that's how living is. Right?
Well… you doubt this'll last forever. Heck, maybe when you bring your death weapon back into your grasp, the painful scars and old marks left by demons and the damned with show up again. You decided to just let this be, and instead enjoy the fact that your bright electric blue eyes were staring back at you. The strange silver gleam, twisted with light blues, swirling together in a harmonious tune. Compared to a human, your eyes are rather strange, but to any other supernatural entity, it's fairly mundane.
You sighed, reaching for your clothes and deciding to get your day started. Instead of wearing slacks and looking like some boy, you decided that today you'd actually try to be… feminine. For once. But in your own weird way. So, instead of reaching for pants, you grabbed a long black skirt that reached just above your ankles. Not exactly something you wanted to wear, but a skirt is easier to deal with then a dress… right? At least, that's how you see it.
Whatever. You'll make this work.
You grabbed a white collared shirt, leaving the last button by your neck unbuttoned as you tucked the shirt into your skirt, figuring that's probably the way it should be worn. You slipped on long white socks and put on the clunky boots Undertaker gave you to wear around the shop. They don't exactly fit correctly, but at least they're shoes. And you wouldn't dare walk barefoot, with the old hardwood flooring that could easily give you an unwanted splinter.
Lastly, you reached for a necktie and skillfully placed it around your neck, folding the collar of your shirt down and letting the tie hang rather loosely around your neck. You reached for a sleeveless sweater, knowing it'll be cold in the shop and not wanting to deal with wearing a bellowing black cloak, so instead you slipped on a gray, black, and slightly white plaid sweater, tucking in your tie and popping out your collar so it wouldn't be constricted.
Then, you combed your hair. Your long, uncut, untamed and wild pitch black raven hair. Geeze… you really need a haircut. Your bangs are styled so your hair mainly covers your right eye naturally, and your left eye was a bit more exposed, but now all of your bangs were covering your face, and you'd have to periodically tuck your hairs behind your ears to keep them out of your face. Well, since you're looking decently feminine, not exactly completely, but close enough for you, you began to braid your hairs to pull back your bangs, tying your hair up into a braided crown. You used a hair tie to tie off the braids behind your back, flipping your long hair to hide most of your mismatched hair lengths.
It looked… decent. At least, for today, you won't be mistaken for a little boy anymore.
You sighed to yourself before leaving the tiny guest room Undertaker let you stay in. You insisted that you wouldn't take his bedroom. No way. Not going to happen. Heck, you'd sleep on a couch or a floor before taking someone else's bed away from them, but instead he's letting you stay in the guest room. You're currently sleeping on an old mattress on the floor, but it's better then the ground, you suppose.
And you weren't sleeping in a coffin or a casket. No matter how comfortable it may be, no way.
You noticed Undertaker wasn't in the kitchen, which means he already started the work for the day. It's… a bit too easy around here. He'll sleep until he decides to wake up, and rarely opens the shop until after eleven. At least. Heck, if you're up early enough he'll give you some breakfast, but all you wanted right now was some water and something to munch on.
But after you were done with your little breakfast, you made your way down the stairs, not quite sure where the man actually was, and checked the sign. The shop was open, so… you turned around, went into the very cramped hallway to grab some cleaning supplies, and went back into the parlor room, placing the stuff down before picking up the bucket to fill it up out back with water.
The place was a mess. An utter mess, and you hate that.
You may not live in the easiest of conditions, but if there's one thing you have to do is clean. At first, the man wasn't exactly happy that you were getting rid of the massive cobwebs and cleaning the windows, wiping the dust away and sweeping dirt and grime out the front and back doors, but then you insisted that if you're going to do something, this is a good start. And now…
You wouldn't be surprised if he'll avoid you most of the day so he wouldn't have to see his precious, dark and dreary store become a bit brighter. Slightly more inviting.
Just slightly.
Well… you've been working on every room. Even where the bodies are kept, or rather the 'guests', and even his master bedroom. Everything was getting cleaned, if you could reach it, and the parlor room is one of your last spots. You've been avoiding the room because of the customers, but now is the perfect time. No real funeral plans, and no appointments for the day. Sure, there are many walk ins, but you can handle that. "Okay. Here we go," you scoffed, grabbing a scarf and tying it around your face, over your mouth and nose, before grabbing a broom and flipping it around so it was brushing up at the ceiling.
God, you hate dust. And pollen… heck, anything that can make you sneeze. Sure, you hate cleaning, but if you don't then you won't be able to breathe.
So, you worked. No matter how many times you stopped to cough, how many times you had to walk away from the room to breathe fresh air… if you'd call black London fog breathable air. But you needed to do something productive, and you didn't stop until you heard the doorbell ring, and you stopped by putting your duster down and began to climb down the ladder you were propped up on. "Hello sir," you began, smiling your best smile as you tugged on the dirty scarf so you could be heard. "Welcome to the Undertaker's mortuary. How may I help you?"
"Ah… yes," he grinned, giving you a glance that caused you to glare slightly in response. "I wasn't expecting a lady like yourself in a gloomy place like a mortuary. Is the Undertaker here?"
"Somewhere. I'll find him. What's your name, if I may ask?" you decided to ask, but your question caused the man to smirk, which only made you give him an unsure, but stern look in return.
"I am Earl Phantomhive, and I am looking for precious information from the Undertaker, but you, milady," he grinned, suddenly grasping your dirty hand, but you couldn't help but glare at him as he kissed the top of your hand, "may call me Vincent."
"… Right. I'll be right back, sir," you stated, though instead of being irritated you were a tad shocked, even a bit curious, and you left the man waiting in the parlor room, making your way down the narrow hallway before taking a set of stairs to the basement level.
The dense smell of decay lingered in the air, but you were fairly used to the smell as you looked for the man, only to find a big black mass in a far off corner, giggling to himself as he worked on a fairly recent addition. "Sir," you began, trying to keep some sort of professionalism, but alerting the man to your presence as you continued, "an Earl Phantomhive is here to see you?"
"Aaah~! Yes. I was wondering when the little earl would appear," he giggled excitedly, leaving the corpse without a second thought, and began to wash his dirty hands in a basin, which you figured you should probably bring up stairs to dump out, once he walked away, of course.
"… You're an informant to the Queen's Watchdog?" you decided to ask, causing the man to stop mid step to look over at you in shock, but you decided to say, "I know who the Phantomhives once were. Don't act so shocked."
"Were… meaning~?" he asked in a curious tone, but you shrugged your shoulders in reply.
"Can't stay a noble forever. Now, he's waiting. Should I get a pot of tea started?" you asked, causing the man to give you a slight smirk.
"Yes, if you don't mind Lara. Give him the good earl gray."
"Earl gray," you snorted at the idea of giving an 'earl' earl gray tea, but you decided not to utter your own funny thoughts on the matter and instead grabbed the basin of fairly dirty water, following the man calmly up the stairs, towards the back door, and you dumped out the water and refilled it at the pump before coming back inside, placing the water on a countertop, and began to make a hot pot of water for the tea.
You had to admit. The design of this building made you think that it was once a two story apartment space. There's a small kitchen on the ground floor, and one on the top floor, but the space on the top floor was a bit roomier. Probably, a lot of people were cramped into this one living space, and the upper floor was for those with more money to spend on rent. Perhaps.
Either way, it didn't exactly matter to you. You're just curious, is all, but you doubt you'll get an answer to that particular question, anytime soon.
After finding the stash of earl gray leaves, and remembering how to put the tea together, the way Undertaker showed you, you took off your dirty scarf, placing it beside the clean water basin, and set everything upon a tray as you made your way back into the parlor room, being careful and going slowly. You didn't want to spill, and while you may have quick reflexes, you can still make a lot of mistakes… and you aren't exactly the most graceful individual, if you're not paying attention.
"Ah! There's my little assistant," Undertaker spoke with a giggle, suddenly grabbing the tray from you and setting it down on the decently organized, lone desk.
"I could have handled it myself," you scoffed, but you decided not to get too mad over the man's kindness… or is he just being proper? Holding doors, helping you when something seems too heavy for you, things like that. It's still odd to accept that sort of help, but you're beginning to understand that's what this English society does… no matter how annoying it will get, at times.
But you could see the young Phantomhive smiling at you, his bright brown eyes twinkling in the dim lighting while he sat atop a coffin, as if it was normal. You couldn't help but give him a curious look, only for the Undertaker to suddenly stand beside you, grabbing you shoulder and forcing you to lean against his side. "My dear assistant, let me introduce you to the infamous Earl Vincent Phantomhive, personal Watchdog for the Queen. Earl, this is Lady Clara –"
"But you may call me Lara, Vincent," you continued, bluntly, moving slightly to get out of Undertaker's grasp before standing a bit taller, your gaze a bit calculating as you looked the man over from top to bottom. He was what you'd envision a proper Phantomhive gentleman to be, but then you turned to give the Undertaker a glare, "and I'm not a lady."
"Of course you are," Vincent stated with a smile of his own, and it was then you noticed he had a curious little beauty mark under his left eye, before turning back to look him straight in the eyes.
"… I'm not sure what Undertaker has already said about me," you decided to say, giving the man in question an annoyed glance, in which he grinned innocently in return, before you turned back to glare up at the earl, "but considering he's an informant of yours, you've heard enough, and if he did say something I wish he'd keep quiet about, I hope you do the same… earl," you finished, giving Undertaker one last irritated glance before continuing, "Now, if you excuse me, there's something I need to finish doing –"
"Wait," Undertaker responded before you could rush away, and you gave him a prominent pout, while he just grinned deviously in response, knowing you were caught and forced to stay in the parlor room. "My dear, I was thinking, perhaps~ you could tell the earl what he needs to know," he began, smirking at the curious look Vincent gave him, while you simply glared in response, knowing exactly where he was going with this. "To show the young earl you are a reliable~ source of information, hmmm~?"
"… Yeah. Fine. Whatever," you scoffed, giving the man a harsh look, "but what are we getting out of this? Money? Or is it some sort of laughter," you huffed, but Undertaker simply grinned in reply.
"Why don't you~~ put in the terms, and if you can answer the questions I won't argue with the results," Undertaker grinned, though you noticed the earl was patiently waiting, teacup in hand, as if he was watching some entertaining show that was just for him, and him alone.
How bothersome.
"I feel like this is a trap. Either that, or you're crazy. Probably crazy," you stated, but then you turned to the earl and gave the man a curious look. "What do you think, sir? But I doubt I can answer the questions you're asking."
"Don't doubt yourself so soon, young mortician," he smiled, but he chuckled as you rolled your eyes at his words and sighed to yourself, tired of this little game as Vincent turned his attention to you. "I won't waste anymore time, if you wish. There's been a string of murders lately, and the Queen wishes for the assailant to be… taken care of."
"Killed. I see," you decided to say, not bothering to beat around the bush since, well, while he is having a bit of fun here that doesn't mean you shouldn't keep the man from his 'important' earl duties. Whatever that may be. "… What do you need to know, specifically?"
"Your employer was sent five bodies to look at," Vincent continued with a smile, and you turned to give Undertaker a glaring look as he grinned innocently at your irritation. Yes, there it was. The reason why you wouldn't be able to answer the question. Because you doubt you'll seen these five bodies yourself. "Lord Undertaker has a way of seeing the fine details, so if you are his apprentice you'd be able to find what exactly killed the victims."
"Very vague, but I'll agree to give you information if you give me a moment to see these bodies you speak of. I haven't been given a chance to see for myself, and I'm not the type to make a promise I'm unable to keep," you decided to say, casting Undertaker a look as he gave you a wider smile, then usual, but it was probably out of amusement.
"I'll show~ you to our guests, if you don't mind, my dear," he giggled, but you turned back to Vincent.
"Is that fine? Do you mind waiting a few minutes?"
"Of course, but minutes? Surely you'll need more time –"
"No," you stated, very bluntly and to the point, but then you paused and continued with a thoughtful look on your face, "So, my payment~?" For the first time since you've arrived, you've begun to let your more mischievous side shine through. A sly smirk, a glint in your bluish, silver eyes, but the devious grin that seemed to appear on both Undertaker's and this earl's face wiped that smile off of your face completely, and instead you replaced it with an annoyed look.
Which disappointed Undertaker, apparently, but whatever. Like you care.
"What did you have in mind?" Vincent asked with a grin, which caused you to momentarily pause before you sighed, tugging at your sweater to get his attention.
"Considering I'm working to stay here, I don't exactly desire money, right now, and laughter won't cut it. You lot are already quite amusing," you decided to say, letting a slight hum leave your breath before you continued. "So, how about this? The Undertaker told me a while ago that a seamstress would come by to make some clothes for me. I don't need anything fancy, but this woman never showed up. It's been more then a week now, unless you didn't even make a call, or whatever you people do here," you stated, giving Undertaker a glare as he giggled to himself.
"I did~~. Maybe the poor dearie was scared~ off," he smirked, but you shook your head and turned back to the earl.
"So, at the very least have someone who's reliable show up, so I can stop wearing the dead's clothes. I'm starting to run out of creative ways to wear this stuff," you continued, motioning to your long black skirt, and noticing the man looked more intrigued then disgusted, which is good. You think. "At least they're being used, I guess, but no one is taking me seriously. So, here's the deal: provide me with a couple of outfits, they don't have to be expensive or anything, that'll fit a… lady or whatever, and I'll give you the information."
"Sounds reasonable," Vincent responded with a smirk, which made you slightly relieved. If you had to haggle down to only one outfit you weren't going to be pleased. You weren't exactly in the mood to play any elaborate games, right now. "I'll have someone come by tomorrow, around noontime. If not, the afternoon. Hopefully the woman won't be busy."
"Good," you agreed, now turning to Undertaker as if you were expecting something from him. When he simply gave you a blank stare, you scoffed and stated, "Well? I don't know which, ah, guests the earl is talking about. You can come back upstairs to chatter, but I can't finish this task if you don't give me a chance to," you decided to say, hoping your roundabout phrasing was enough to convince the man to give you a hand with this assignment, but he simply smirked in reply.
"Of course~. My lord, I'll be back in a moment."
"Take your time," the earl grinned, making himself a bit more comfortable on top of the coffin he was sitting upon, but you cannot help but feel a bit bad for wasting his time like this.
But if he's fine, then fine. You'll accept this and move on, and make sure you're quick to examine these corpses for yourself.
! #$%^&*())(*&^%$# !
A/N: HEY GUYS! Honestly, I wasn't going to post this so soon, but when I said in the last chapter that I'd post another chapter today… I suppose I should do so. Since I promised you guys, and all that.
Finally, we see Vincent! 5 chapters in!
Wow… I thought he came a bit later, but this is just fine. I've enjoyed writing Vincent, if I'm going to be honest. A bit of a mischievous earl. That's how I see it, when I write Vincent. Yes, he's charming and looks like the face of aristocracy beauty, but of course our Clara is completely unphased by his charms.
Anyways, while I could review one more chapter, I'll just leave this at a cliffhanger. Don't worry. This particular… scene doesn't last for very long. It was a lot of fun to write, initially.
And you guys ENJOY the rest of your week! Sadly, I have work tomorrow, but maybe I'll post the next part of this tomorrow? Maybe later? But yeah. I'll leave that for tomorrow. It's already getting late, where I am, and I think this is a good place to stop the story, right now.
SEE YOU LATER!