ALL HALLOW'S EVE

by Dark Angel Neko

Okay, this is chapter two! Introducing a new pairing here, and some more action!

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Chapter Two: The Scarlat Menace

Back at the Phantomhive Manor, all was not well.

A sharp crash echoed to the floor as custom-made designer dinner plates crashed to the floor, the cracking of fine porcelain eclipsed by the atonal wails of the nearsighted maid Maylene.

"Oh no!" she cried, clasping her hands to the sides of her face, pale and wan in the moonlight which wafted throughout the corridor windows. "The plates! What will the young Master think?"

"It's fine," came a masculine baritone voice somewhere behind her. Bardroy stood in the hallway, his slender form eclipsed in shadow as the surly ex-soldier Cook bent to help pick up the shattered shards of the Master's favorite dinnerwear.

"It'll be alright," he said to Maylene as she dropped her hands to her sides, forlorn and defeated. He came up behind her, grasping her hands in his. She could feel the heat of his firm, hard masculine body behind her, the hot waves of his manly desire weaving their way into her younger, inexperienced frame; the threads of desire were as clear as the light of the elusive daylight they now chased after in the evil darkness of seductive moonlight.

"I hope Finny is alright, I do," Maylene mumbled as she settled back against Bardroy. He ran his large calloused Chef's hands over her arms.

"I'm sure he is," he said. "They're alright. Young Master and Sebastian and them. You know they always come back from their missions."

They both glanced out at the moonlight beyond the heavy sumptuous hang of the Phatomhive Manor's velvet curtains, the elegant decor a foil to the lowly servants within. Hand in hand they stood, fingers clasped together in an inexplicable tangle.

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The majestic chestnut brown steeds pulling the Holiday Carriage were the finest that the Earl's money could purchase, and now, they proved their worth. They broke into a gallop and Finny's high pitched squeal came from about the rafter. Even through the thick, velvet upholstery of the carriage walls, the shriek sounded clear. And now with that blasted hole that the Red Reaper had caused, the wind screaming past as the six chestnut equine noble steeds galloped away at full tilt forward to escape, the remnants of the sumptuous decor flapped in tattered strands out of the breach in the roof.

"Young Master!" the Daemon cried. "Has he displaced your top hat?" His hair shone in the moonlight from the hole that the Red Reaper had carved into the Phantomhive's fine cart.

"SEBASTIAN!" the Young Lord Earl commanded, his richly glowing amethystian orb flashing, "this is an order!"

The Daemon Lord flew straight up out of the hole in the roof even as Ciel raced away toward safer ground. He disappeared like a blur of woolen silk and tailcoat, the black sheen of his lapels shining in the opalescent moonlight.

" ~~~BASSY~~~ !" Ciel heard the cry behind him as the carriage continued to speed away. Finny's wailful woes sounded like a herd of wraiths descending upon the Earth; but Ciel Phantomhive, Lord and Earl of all the Land, was not afraid of such unearthly horrors. For he himself was a horror, a small regal figure clad in silk, satin, velvet, brocade, leather and other materials that were masterfully crafted for someone of his noble standing. Only the finest hats and tailors served a Lord such as himself.

The Daemon Lord had caught up with the Red Reaper ShiniGami Being as he heard a shrill cry that was definitely not that of Finny.

"Faster, Finny!" the Earl commanded, standing up on the butter-like leather of the sumptuous seat, staring at the pale, blond strands of the back of Finny's head as the servant forced the steeds on faster with a cruel crack of his whip, his immortal, inhuman strength drawing blood from each rump of each steed as they careened forth. "Faster! The butler will catch up with us!"

And there, suddenly, in the road ahead was the Red Reaper!

The Red Reaper stood in the way of the road, Sebastian struggling desperately to help Finny grasp control of the wayward Stagecoach as it careened down the rural Londontowne road. Sebastian tugged at the reins, his Daemonic strength enough to match Finny's, and the brown equines scrabbled to as stop, a hair's breadth away from the Reaper's deathly glare.

"~~~~ BASSY!~~~~ Little Sebas-CHAN, how long must we continue this dance?" Grell Sutcliff keened, twirling into an elaborate flip and disappearing into the forest beyond. Sebastian's red eyes glowed like that of a stray cat in heat and Ciel couldn't help but clasp a hand to his own chest in subdued arousal. The connection between the Daemon and his young Child Lord was stronger than that of the moon's pull against the ocean, and neither could resist the Daemonic Lust that kept them both enraptured in a sexy game of contracts and satanic Deals.

"I can see through you both!~~~~~" Grell called, taunting, from the trees. "Just you wait~~~ Sebas-CHAN!~~~" he ran a hand over his own chest, feeling his nipples peaking beneath the smooth, skintight fabric of his tailored, silk brocade vest. "Come and get me~~~~~" his taunt was cut short as Sebastian landed in front of him in the dark, his Daemonic powers allowing him to Leap and Fly at will in the face of danger towards himself or his Young Earl Lord.

"Master Ciel!" Finny called, reaching a hand up to grasp nervously at the shining ruby barrettes in his hair. "Master Ciel, please, let me protect you!"

Ciel emerged from the cabin of the Samhain holiday carriage, climbing up to the Stagecoach Master's seat alongside his peer, Finny. "It is alright," Ciel said, wrapping his arms around Finny. He rested his head against Finny's chest, eyes never leaving his Daemon Overlord. Finny felt a shiver of arousal run through his young, inexperienced body as his Master touched him; but he immediately shut down the emotions when he though about how improper this all was. Plus, Sebastian would surely yell at him!

Sebastian looked over with a seething jealousy at Finny and Sebastian. He sensed all, as his Daemonic powers gave him an otherworldly sense of what was going on around him at all times in the unpredictable human world.

The DeathGod, it seemed, had the same such powers.

"What's wrong, Bassy?~~~" Grell asked, cupping his face in a sateen-gloved hand. "Feeling a bit... jealous? I assure you... I'm waiting here... to sate your... lusts!~~~~~"

to be continued...