Your head barely glanced as you heard the front door bell ring, but you ignored it as your eyes drifted back to your work. Your womanly guest was in her thirties, a young woman who died during child birth. At first, the idea of dying at birth used to unnerve you. After all, you always thought that, hey, if you just find the right guy, you can have kids and be happy, but… in this day and age, health care certainly isn't at its best.
But, those thoughts were replaced with many others, and slowly you've become accustomed to seeing many young women who died giving birth, infants that died at a young age, and even children.
Yet, right now, you were preparing this woman for her last big send off. Her funeral. Now that her fluids have been drained out and were replaced with formaldehyde and other chemicals, her chest sown back together, and parts of her body stuffed so she wouldn't look so… flat, you can finally get to work on making her pretty. The dress had already been picked out by her young husband, which means you had to put makeup and paints on her face and body, or at the very least the parts that'll be showing.
White.
Of course, the dress is white.
Dresses always seem to be white, and suits always seem to just be in black, with a white collared shirt. It's not a lot to work with, but considering you heard her favorite color was red… you could work with that.
So, you got to work putting a 'foundation', followed by painting her eyelids in dark to light shades of red, adding blush, and bright red lipstick upon her face. Her face was like your own personal canvas, where you could pick and choose what went best with her pale complexion, and as you began to debate if you should paint her nails, too, just for an extra effect, you heard the basement door opening from the back of the mortuary, where the cemetery is, and you glanced over to notice two young men walking down into the crept with a wooden box in their hands.
"O-oi miss! Where should we put –"
"Over there. If you're not going to make it easy, place the box on the ground by that empty metal table, and if you are, take the body out and place it on top," you stated, simply, ignoring them completely as you decided that, yes, you will paint your nails, but with clear nail polish. So, you reached for a nail filler, cleaning up her nails, especially the dirt from between her nails, before you began to paint both her hand and toe nails with the clear nail polish. Usually, you won't bother, especially with the males… but this woman, at least to you, feels like she would have liked to have her nails painted, for her last big party.
"Oh my~… Lovely, my dear," you heard a familiar voice from behind you, before arms wrapped around your shoulders, but you let out a slight huff in response.
"Thanks. Now, help me get her into her dress, please," you told Undertaker, barely giving him a glance as you easily slipped out of his grasp, but he simply followed your movements, gently taking the shroud off of the woman's body, revealing her naked body to anyone that was in viewing distance. "I really don't understand why we need to put corsets on the dead. It's not like they'll be using them," you decided to say as you carefully placed the unlaced and pulled apart corset over the woman's head, and down her shoulders, while Undertaker calmly held the guest upright so you wouldn't have to shimmy the corset onto the corpse's body.
"It's a style. Besides, some of our guests won't be able to get into their own dresses, without a corset on," he stated, but you simply scoffed in response as you began to tug on the strings, but with care so you wouldn't damage the already pale and bruised skin.
"I suppose," you mumbled, the two of you growing quiet as you finished tightening the corset, before you grabbed the woman's white dress and gently placed the ends over her head. It was more of a nightgown then an actual, fancy Victorian dress… but… you think you couldn't have done this any better.
"Lovely, my dear," you heard Undertaker say, sneaking you quick peck on the cheek before he gently picked up the latest guest, holding her against his chest as he continued, "and the Yard just brought in the two corpses from the latest murder."
"Oh… Good to know. Thank you –"
"Don't worry. I'll handle the funeral, for the day. Look over the dead, my love," he smirked at you, before he began to make his leave, and you sighed to yourself before you calmly made your way to the two corpses sitting upon two metal tables.
The past few days has been terribly busy. A lot of deaths, five funerals, and you just finished the last guest for their big day. And now…
Your eyes stared wearily over at the burnt bodies, and as the cellar door to the crypt, as you like to call this basement, closed, you sighed, closing your eyes and blinking to adjust yourself to the darkness, before you went back to work. Slowly, you looked at each part, grabbing a nearby stack of paper and a pencil, scribbling down what you saw upon the two pieces of paper. The names of the dead, identified by the police and labeled on a piece of paper, tied by string on their big toe, a possible age, and possible death. Death by burning… human combustion. Simple, yet not simple at all.
And then you moved on to the visible indications. The areas of burnt flesh, holes in organs where there shouldn't be, and even burnt bones. These victims… you cannot have an open casket for them. It's more traumatic for the family to see their loved ones this way, and repairing them… it's almost impossible. The time period you came from, even this sort of death… you wouldn't be able to fix it.
They cannot look whole, again.
Which sucks, since you, at the very least, try to make every single 'guest' look as perfect as the last day they were living, breathing humans.
Oh well.
Still… thirteen bodies… You should be afraid, but maybe you're just relieved? Relieved that… it could be over?
You hope?
But something in your head was telling you that, no, it was just the beginning, until your eyes came across the latest victim and you noticed something peculiar sitting deep inside her heart. Slowly, hesitantly, you reached inside, careful to not damage the scar tissue and burnt pieces of organ, to uncover…
A bright glowing blue substance, and as you cradled it into your hands, your eyes began to grow wider and wider… as the glow became brighter and brighter.
"Clara, love, I'll be –"
"Get down!" you shouted, chucking the ring as far away from your body as you could, towards a corner of the room as you hit the ground. You heard Undertaker let out a surprised yelp, and you whimpered, your hands over your head as you waited for the energy blast to die down.
In an instant, the world felt… calm, and slowly you opened your eyes, quickly turning to see if Undertaker was okay. Only to notice that he was right above you. "… Undertaker?"
"Hey. Love. Are you alright?" he asked, a light hearted smile on his face, but you gently began to push him off of you.
"Fine, but are you –"
"I'm alright," he smirked, before his head turned to glare at the item you chuckled across the room, only for your head to follow his as you looked at what had happened.
You outwardly groaned as you noticed bits of flesh across most of the room, and as you sat up and the man leaned back to kneel down on his own knees, assessing the damage, you saw that one body had been blown up to smithereens, and another with half of its leg missing. "Fucking… great. Just great. Not again," you shuddered at the thought of cleaning up gunk, again, but slowly you stood to your feet, sighing to yourself as you brushed the dirt from your knees, and you barely gave Undertaker a second look, or hear the pitter patter of footsteps rushing above your head and towards the basement stairs, as you calmly made your way to the ring you had chucked across the room.
You sighed, mostly out of frustration, but also out of relief as you picked up the familiar item, smiling tiredly at the bright blue gemstone… the cause of this entire mess, and the lightly glowing silver gleam of the thin metal band. But, as you regained your senses, you sensed something… familiar, and with an irritable growl you walked over to the last victim in this entire mess, grabbing her old clothes that you had thrown into a pile, to pull out a note.
"Lady Clara, are you alright? –"
"I'm fine… Vincent, what brings you here?" you scoffed, wiping some of the fleshy gunk from the note and wiping some more onto your apron, before you began to pry open the letter, barely giving him a second look as your mind was on other important matters.
"Well, our majesty, the Queen, has sent me to deal with a particular problem –"
"I'll handle it," you growled in irritation as you began to read the letter, seeing a familiar name and a familiar signature, as your hands began to tighten around the letter out of pure pint up rage.
"But –"
"I'll handle it!" you scoffed, shoving the letter into a pocket in your apron before pointing a finger up at his face. "This just became my problem, Vincent, and you are not, under any circumstances, going to finish this mission you're on."
"C-clara –"
"No. If you do, I'm not calling you a friend anymore," you spoke bluntly, before you turned away, putting a hand on your face as you sighed, tiredly, before you felt arms suddenly wrapping around your shoulders and a head on top of your own. "… Not now."
"Clara, love… I think it's about time you explain things to Vincent, hmm~?" you heard Undertaker say against your head, causing your eyes to open to glare at the two darkened figures across the room.
"We're a bit busy –"
"We can take some time off. The dead will still be around, and besides, I think we should close up for the rest of the day. I'll finish with Lady Eleanor's funeral and then be right back… Love?"
"… Fine," you agreed, reluctantly, feeling the man kiss you on the cheek before he walked over to Vincent, whispering something lowly enough that you couldn't hear, but you honestly didn't care. Not right now.
Not as you looked over at the three burnt corpses, sitting and waiting to be prepared for their final rest. This just… you just want to cry.
But you sighed, deeply, pushing away your internal pain. Your conflicts.
Now isn't the time to get emotional. There's work to be done, and right now… maybe it is the best time to tell Vincent the truth?
! #$%^&*())(*&^%$# !
"Shouldn't you, at the very least, clean up –"
"I can get to that in a moment… Arigatō," you mumbled in a sad tone, but you gave Tanaka a meek smile as he handed you a cup of recently brewed tea, before calmly making his way back to his master's side and standing behind him, dutifully.
After the chaos had settled down, and after Undertaker finally left with the small group of grievers that showed up to transport Eleanor's body to a church for her funeral, you brought the two men up to the top floor, and you could tell Vincent was curious. He wanted to explore, see every nook and cranny he may or may not have seen in ages, if ever, but knew that now wasn't the time to enjoy the living quarters.
Because, right now… you just… felt so bad.
"… Clara," he began, getting your attention, but only slightly, as you kept the tea cup on your lap and stared tiredly at the wooden table you sat at to eat your meals, "what… How about we start simply? Maybe with the case?" Vincent started, giving his butler a look, and the man nodded before walking into the kitchen to clean up any sort of messes he may have made as he was making his lord some tea.
"There have been thirteen deaths, so far, and the public says that it's due to human combustion. Bodies burning from the inside, out. Her majesty would like for me to look into this scandal because she personally believes that it most likely has something to do with the underworld… Now, apparently, you know more then what you're letting on," he stated, his gaze falling upon the slightly glowing object in your hand, tightly bound into your fist as you refused to let the man see it. "The other undertakers in London refuse to take in these bodies, as if they are cursed –"
"They just don't know what's going on," you replied in a soft mumble, sipping on your tea as you tried to calm your shaky nerves.
"… R-right. So… what is going on? As the Queen's Watchdog, I need to get to the bottom of this case, and if you will be standing in my way Lady Graves… I know that the Undertaker, these days, has become protective of you. Surely you want my help," he spoke, as if his sweet voice and comforting tone was enough to sway you.
Honestly, it's not. You know he just wants information out of you, and all you could do is tightly close your eyelids, your lungs feeling tight, your breathing becoming heavier… while you tried to calm yourself. But, the energy emitting from the ring, threatening to swallow you whole…
You're going to have to get rid of this… poison, before you can go after those assholes.
"… There's… something that I haven't told anyone… that," you continued, your eyes finally opening as you looked over at the man with a sad, exhausted look on your face, "pertains to this case of yours, sure, but… I'm more afraid of your reaction, Vincent," you spoke, pausing for a moment before you calmly took out a rag, placing your tea down, before you placed the clean rag in the middle of the table, before you carefully placed the ring on top.
You watched as the man's eyes widened, probably sensing the same attraction as you first felt, when you first saw your family's ring. When you first saw the ring on your uncle's finger, as if it was luring you… telling you…
That it's yours… and you're made for it.
"W-where… did you get that? –"
"Don't touch it," you hissed as you leaned over the table, slapping the man's hand away before he could, and you both stared into each other's eyes, your blue eyes harsh and unyielding while his brown eyes were wide and confused, before you both slowly backed away, sitting back down into your respectable chairs while he sighed, his gaze falling upon his own family ring, his fingers wrapping around his ring finger as he began to play with his blue ring.
"… Who are you?" he asked quietly, hesitantly, and when you didn't utter a word, instead stare at your own ring with a weary look on your face, you flinched as you heard his voice rising, "Who are you? Clara, tell me! –"
"J-just… just breathe. I was going to answer," you told him, though honestly… you just don't want to. "… Who do you think I am?" you decided to ask, your head lifting up as you stared at the man from across the room, your mind completely forgetting that his butler is here, watching this entire scene unfold.
Honestly, you want to know what Tanaka is thinking. If he's scared or confused or even curious, but right now…
"You can probably find the answer in your gut, if you search enough," you decided to say, waiting patiently for Vincent's response. After all, if you start from nothing he's just be more confused. Maybe this way… he won't be so mad, and you can understand what exactly that man has been thinking, all this time. Why he's been so ecstatic to let you into his home, his life, and even accept your relationship with Undertaker so… willingly.
Without asking why.
"… Are you… my mother Claudia?" he asked, hesitantly, his eyes falling upon the ring with an irritated and even disgusted look crossing his face, "from the past?"
"Close, but no," you responded, a bit quicker and your tone a bit lighter, as you gave him a smile. Though, your smile didn't reach your sad eyes as you continued with a sigh, "I'm from the future, actually."
"Future? –"
"I am Clara Williams Phantomhive, one and only heir to the Phantomhive name. Any sort of nobility you hold now, Vincent, will eventually disappear… I'm just an ordinary girl, with a weird past that I'm hoping to forget," you told him, simply, your smile weaning as you sat back in your chair and sighed, deeply. Tiredly. "This is… too exhausting."
"You're telling me," you heard Vincent chuckle nervously, his eyes glancing from you to the ring and back to you before he continued as normally as possible, as if this discussion was normal… which it most certainly isn't, "you're some descendent of mine, then? Then, would it be right of me to call you a niece? Or even a granddaughter?" he grinned, deviously, and your tired look turned into irritation.
"Oh, I'm not your granddaughter, and don't even start. That'd just be too weird," you scoffed, but as the man chuckled to himself, apparently his words were an attempt to lighten the mood, a bit, you shook your head and sipped on your tea, trying to calm down.
"I'm sorry… I wanted to see your reaction," he snickered, pausing for a moment before his gloved hands wrapped around his own tea cup, and he sighed, tiredly. "… Huh… I just… had this thought that… you must be my mother. You look too much like her, and act like her for it not to be so."
"I am a Phantomhive so… that could be why," you decided to say, not going into the details as you continued, "but… if I'm going to be honest here, I didn't want to tell you."
"Why not? –"
"Because… it's weird," you stated as if the answer was obvious, huffing to yourself as you continued, "and honestly… I just wanted to try to live a normal life. Not deal with everything that, should be, outside of a human's control… but now…" you spoke, your eyes narrowing not at Vincent, but at the table. At the ring that sat in the middle as you glared at it, as if all of your troubles stemmed from this one item, "… I cannot… just sit by and continue to let idiots think they can mess up the universe, like this."
"S-so…" you heard Vincent begin, and you could tell he was confused as he continued, "could you… explain, maybe, why you're here? I understand if you don't want to tell me –"
"No. I mean… I should. Just…" you paused, staring at Tanaka and narrowing your eyes at him, before you turned back to Vincent and did the same thing, "nothing I say can leave this room. Absolutely nothing. You cannot tell your wife, your children, and even the Undertaker… No one. I'll know if you do," you continued simply, "… and just so you're aware, Undertaker knows a lot, alright… just don't assume he knows everything~"
"I promise I won't say a word –"
"And why shouldn't you?" you snapped, not caring about the confused reaction he gave you in response. "What makes you think you won't blab by accident? Vincent, you're just human. You're both humans. Why should I believe you can keep a promise?"
You watched as his eyes stared widely at you, before his initial shock at your questions caused the man to pause, his gaze to stare at Tanaka, before he began to look at you. Studying you… thinking over your words with a calculating thought on his face.
"… You're right. There's no way to assume I can keep a promise," he decided to say, chuckling lowly to himself. "After all. I'm the Queen's Watchdog. The Hound of the Underworld. Lies and deception is how I survive… but," he continued, somberly, "when it comes to my family… I care about them, deeply. And, as far as I'm concerned, now, your family too. I don't personally know how Undertaker fits into all of this," he sighed, closing his eyes as he continued, "and it's frustrating, because I know I must have a connection with him, but it's not something I should be pursuing."
"… Yeah. You probably shouldn't. For your own sake. Some things are just best kept secret," you told him, smiling meekly, noticing the disappointed look on the man's face, but he continued with a light smile.
"But, I will promise you I won't utter a word. I swear. Not to the Queen, my family… even Undertaker, if I mustn't. Usually I don't care this much, but I have this feeling I probably need to," he decided to say, and you gave Tanaka a curious glance in return.
"I am a Phantomhive butler. My lord's secrets are my secrets, as well. You don't have to worry, Lady Graves."
"… Alright," you sighed, letting in a deep breath before breathing out slowly, continuing the process a couple of times as you closed your eyes, calming your nerves to the best of your ability, before you turned back to Vincent and gave him a meek, tired smile, though on the inside you wished you didn't have to do this. "There's a lot so… just stay quiet with your questions until I reach the end," you began, pausing before you continued. "And yes, I'll explain how and why I know about this particular problem. Just… I need to explain myself, first, before you can even begin to comprehend everything else," you told them, your hands wrapping around your tea cup before you drank some more tea, glancing into the cup to notice it was mainly empty before placed it to the side, crossing your arms and setting them onto the table as you leaned forward, mulling over everything.
What was important to say… and what should be left to be forgotten about. If you should even bother with… the entire explanation. If you should say things you haven't even explained to Undertaker, yet.
But… you decided, you needed to start saying something. To explain… why… Vincent needs to sit this one out. Why you need to handle this situation… and not him.
Not him.
You can't lose another family member, like that. Not like this.
! #$%^&*())(*&^%$# !
A/N: BAM! NEXT CHAPTER! WHOOP!
I wasn't sure if I'd post another, but decided to.
Just so you guys know, when I was thinking of 'the girl who may like red' I was thinking of Madame Red. Yeah, I was, but no, she's not dead. Think of it as a 'what if'. If Angelina died giving birth to her child, rather then her husband and baby dying because of a carriage crash.
But no, that corpse from the beginning isn't the madame. That was just where my mind went when I was creating that portion of the story.
Yep! Here's the great reveal to the Queen's Watchdog! Honestly, I wasn't going to do this… but I decided that it was needed. This way, Vincent and Clara can work together on things. And she won't have to explain why she has her family ring.
But, that's about it. ENJOY your week!