Chapter III is up now! This one has more dialogue, but more character interaction all around. Once again, I'm dodging a lot of main components. Why? Because I have an exciting idea for later down the line. ;)

It's also a longer chapter this time around- so be happy…? :)

Anyway, wow! I'm so excited people are actually following this! I hope you guys stick around for the long haul. :) And I hope I do not disappoint! (Although I am far from perfect...)

Disclaimer:

I own nothing but my OC(s). Everything related to Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji belongs to Yana Toboso. And all songs quoted/helped to inspire this fanfic are property to their rightful artists. I intend no copyright infringement. (Song used: "Skellig", Loreena McKennit)

Stay with Me, in the Firelands

III.

The Bells Call All to Mass

It was the very early morning, when daybreak just peaks over the horizon. The chime of the old grandfather clock echoed lonesome in the otherwise silent shop of the Undertaker. For days now, much of London too mirrored such a bleak atmosphere. News spread more rapidly than a raging wildfire that Baroness Angelina Dalles had suddenly died. But only a few short days following the sudden tragedy, her funeral was planned and ready. The Undertaker was quite pleased, but had she been more disfigured, he'd have been outright gleeful. To commemorate his perky demeanor, he insisted his lovely office worker to dress for the occasion.

"It wouldn't be right if you weren't dolled up for the occasion, deary!"

Abbie eyed her employer with a questioning look. "I did not know the woman. What right do I have to even be attending her funeral?"

The Undertaker grinned. "Since when do you women need reasons to be pretty? Now up you get!"

He thrust a wide-neck black lace gown into her arms, shoving her into his office, and shut the door behind her with a loud click. "Besides, I have a favor to ask- and it would do well that you look the part of a proper woman close to the upper-class."

Stripping down to her undergarments, Abbie paused- huffing at his request. "You couldn't have simply asked me?"

"Heeheehee. It's more fun this way- besides, now you can't really say no, now can you?"

"…You have a point, unfortunately." The Undertaker silently laughed, listening to hesitant rustling of the new dress as the girl made herself appropriate for the event.
"What task do you require of me?" She finally asked, tapping on the door, signaling for him to let her out.

"It's really quite simple, but you'll be seen by the attendees, if only for a brief time." He explained. He gave her room to move, watching her back to make sure the ribbons were properly tied and tidy. "The puppy will be arriving late today I do so guarantee."

"Oh?"

The Undertaker sat her down at his usual chair, pulling back her hair and pinning it for her. "I need you to escort him to the entrance of the church."

Abbie frowned, turning her head to stare at him. Several thick strands of her hair were knocked loose from his hands. "That's all?"

"Aye my dear." His smile was soft. "A pretty dolly like you, now gowned in mourning black? Highly appropriate. Once yer at the doorway, just let him be on his way."

"It sounds much too simple."

He cackled heartily. "It is, it is! But appearances and social conventions, even we cannot be disengaged from the remedial." He placed the last pin in her hair, handing her a handheld mirror to see his handiwork. "What a pretty pretty porcelain you are. This'll do just fine." He grabbed a few soft brush and a palette of makeup, dabbing the bristles of one into a foundation for the lips. "Your flesh is perfect as is. Your lips and eyes? I can make them pop."

"Oh joy- I always wanted to be compared to a child's fragile toy."

"Sit prettily for me and help me out today, and you'll receive a few extra days off."

She eyed him skeptically. "You swear?"

"Aye!" He giggled, switching to a thin brush and black goop. He smeared the faintest line over her top eyelids. "There. A mourning doll- you look the part."

Abbie tentatively took the mirror again, and eyed her reflection curiously. "In life or death, you definitely know your way around beauty."

Long, gentle fingers danced over the top of her hair. Suddenly, a pale red spider lily sat perched behind her right ear.

"In honour of the late Madam Red." It was a simple reason. And it worked for a porcelain doll who was to be seen associated with late Baroness's only nephew, in any form or matter.

Three children were seen playing on the sidewalk outside the church grounds. One of the boys noticed quite the gathering. When the oldest did not have the answers, silent as the numerous graves that he was responsible for, the Undertaker swept in to save the lad from further criticism. It wasn't long after the Undertaker explained the significant importance of the event taking place within the church, that a carriage driven by a familiar man in black swept by.

Waiting by the steps, Abbie approached the stilled carriage as Sebastian helped his young master out from within. Without speaking a word, the woman curtsied, placing a black-lace gloved hand between the child's shoulder blades, whisking him up the shallow steps.

"Thank you, Miss Abbie."

To her surprise, though she did not show it from her perfectly neutral expression, she was not expecting the young Earl to thank her. Abbie bowed lightly again as the boy made his way down the stretch of the church- one of his aunt's most recognizable scarlet gowns billowing behind him as he marched. All eyes had been watching the silent beauty and the Queen's puppy-dog. Mixed emotions filtered into the air…most especially over the red red dress the child Earl carried.

Sebastian approached, making not a sound as he stood to the other side of the frame. Both he and she watched the boy- how he held his head high with the pride of the English-bred noblemen. How he draped the gown over his kin's corpse. And how he shed not a single tear, despite an internal grief that had to be raging deep within his little body's core.

"Despite the crime she is no doubt guilty of," she murmured under her breath. Sebastian heard her clearly. He took her by the elbow, tucking her arm into his, guiding them both back down to the carriage where the Undertaker was lounging against the flank of one of the horses. The latter's grin was wide and giddy. "Despite it all, he still grieves, yet he will not show it. Such a complicated cycle."

"Indeed indeed." The Undertaker agreed. He clacked his long fingernails together, humming thoughtfully with his head reclining to the horse's back. "He won't crack. No no. Appearances to keep for his leash-holder."

Sebastian gave a simple one-shoulder shrug. Although the thin smirk of his lips gave way to the indifference. "It is inevitable. They all will die. It is simply a matter of when. Why mourn over what is already predestined?"

A pause followed, Abbie looking straight up into the face of the black-clothed butler. "Humans. They really are such fleeting creatures with the potential for unmatched trivial complexities."

"Heeheeheehee. Very good, very good. I knew you knew as much deary, but the butler seems to know it too! Heeheehee."

Sebastian's face gave only the slightest grimace at the continuous laughter from the Undertaker. "The young master," he continued, looking back down to the woman linked to his arm, "will not show weakness. He's a master game player. He'll only play what need be played."

She sighed, her eyebrows slanting while she simpered. "You and your games…"

The Undertaker hooted merrily, giving a good pat to the poor horse's flank. A breeze, meanwhile, bustled through the city streets, stirring up loose debris. As it danced fleetingly over the church grounds, it stirred up loosened flower petals, blowing them up and into the funeral inside. The petals danced and settled among the attendees, raining down upon them like a physical manifestation of the emotions the entire situation wrought. The breeze continued outside, knocking the spider lily from Abbie's hair. She never made to grab it, and when both men reached for the flower, she took both their wrists in a gentle grip, shaking her head. They watched it drift away, instead. It flitted and fluttered, only to settle unpretentiously on the cold stone floor of the vast entryway arch.

It was done and over with. The crowd had scattered once the casket touched the dirt of the hole specially excavated for Madam Red. Only a few lingering bodies remained; namely the Earl and his Chinese based associate.

"So…" Lau began after a bought of silence at Angelina's grave. "You never did inform the Queen of Jack the Ripper's true identity?"

"I didn't find it necessary." Ciel blatantly remarked. "Besides, London is now free of the Jack Ripper."

Lau stood thoughtful, his hands still tucked into his sleeves. "That means you, will steadily fall into the mud. Or quicksand- whichever you prefer."

The boy whipped around, unimpressed and unamused.

Lau's lips quirked in humor. "Even if you step towards a place from which you can't return, you choose not to reveal that you're screaming for help to other people, yes? You cocky little Queen's dog." He bowed lightly. "I also hope that I will not bring you any trouble, Earl. I will try to keep things with myself tidy."

The Earl scoffed, tugging his top hat back into its proper place on his head. "If that opium that you import from China is regarded as an intoxicant, it's only a matter of time before regulations are made. Police won't ignore the opium dens you Chinese merchants are running if it turns out that way, will they?"

"If that happens, I will just have to come up with a new business idea." Lau shrugged. "My interest in this country is far from exhausted." He leered. "The same goes for you…Earl."

As he, too, departed, Lau bent down, whispering into the young lord's ear. "I do hope that…you'll show me many more interesting things."

Lau continued on his way, knowing quite well that he was being monitored much like an owl silently hunts its prey. It did not dwindle, as he said his goodbyes to the approaching female employee of the Undertaker. His case wasn't helped in any way when he lingered to brush his lips to her gloved knuckle.

He was amused though, when she showed no sign of distaste or flattery. Instead, she easily brushed him aside, nodding politely, and maneuvering her way to the boy. "It is ready whenever you are, Little Lord."

The child simmered, although he did not sass her. "Sebastian, let's go."

"Undertaker, I hear you're finished?"

"But of course!" The Undertaker grinned from what could only be pride. "As expected, I gave her a beautiful little burial. Take a look."

On a simple gravestone, were etched the words:

'Mary Jane Kelly,
1863-1888'

The butler was surprised. "The final victim of Jack the Ripper?"

Ciel gave his servant a curt nod. "It turns out that she was a foreign immigrant. No one came forward to claim her corpse."

"That's why our kind Earl here gave her, a nameless prostitute, her own grave." The Undertaker, from behind the boy, chuckled with a grin. He poked the boy's cheek when he protested to the remark of his kindness.

"I…" Ciel's jaw tightened. "I came to realize why I could not save this woman. On that night, had I made her life my priority…there would have been a number of times I could have saved her. However, I did not. I knew there was a chance of saving her. But I made the capture of Jack the Ripper my priority. I…knew that I would let that chance slip away. I kept that in mind, and let her die." His one visible eye, a deep drowning blue, focused like ice on the rock surface of the headstone. "Even my own relative."

The Undertaker tapped his chin. "Do you regret it?"

"I do not." Ciel stated without hesitation. "Jack the Ripper is gone."

"Are you sure about that?" The office worker for the Undertaker approached. All eyes of the men and child turned to see Abbie approaching, a set of three files tucked to her waist side. "Having no regrets. Life isn't so clean cut like your beloved chess games."

Ciel's sudden grin was nearly cynical. "Queen Victoria's melancholy has been put to rest. I have done my part as her guard dog."

"Victoria, eh?" Undertaker quipped. "I'm not a fan o' hers. She sits herself so high above everyone else, and leaves all the painful, dirty work to the Earl."

Ciel brought his left hand to his face, letting his lips brush something akin to love or fondness over the dark blue stone of his family's ring. "This is the fate my family has always been burdened with. It was passed on to me with this ring."

"The ring seems more like a collar to me." The Undertaker giggled. His fingers danced on the boy's shoulders. "Connecting you to the queen with this chain of fate."

The Earl whipped around, frowning at the Undertaker. "The one that decided I would wear this 'collar' around my neck…was me."

In movement so quick it was more a blur, the Undertaker had the boy caught in his fist by the necktie he wore. The Undertaker's lips were pressed into a thin smile, and one could only wonder what his eyes were saying behind their thick silver veil. "I hope that one day that collar chokes you." The slim fingers of his other hand gently brushed over the boy's face, caressing his cheek and jawline in sudden affection. "Otherwise," he mused, "it's just boring."

The Undertaker released the child when Abbie came up behind him, placing one of her own hands on this shoulder, shaking her head that that was enough. He smiled again, turning and taking his shovel. "If something else happens, drop by the shop. For the Earl and his butler," he grinned at Abbie, "my doors are always open!" He cackled as he departed.

The woman sighed, tapping her fingers to her temple- the Undertaker was definitely a wildcard. "I apologize," she turned to the child, "Little Lord. It seems no one can predict his next move… If that is all, I'd best be on my way." She bowed to the Earl, then turned and sent the black butler a polite nod of her head. "If anything else does come up in the underworld, do come by…or at least call."

She turned on her heel, marching back up the path and trailing behind her departed boss. All the while, she grumbled how at least the boss didn't always answer the bloody phone…

Then, she paused. "By the way…" Abbie glanced at the two remaining behind. "Despite your protests, it was an act of kindness you performed."

Ciel, in the end, made the same protests when Sebastian agreed to what the Undertaker and Miss Abbie had said. When the boy refused to admit he was even remotely kind, the butler made quips, little stabs, at the boy; his insecurities and potential for weakness.

So the boy turned cold, dishing out his reasoning again. But then Sebastian brought up the reason as to why his young master himself did not end the life of his beloved aunt, leading up to why Ciel had stopped him from taking out the Madam.

Ciel Phantomhive's demeanor shifted to something hollow yet very similar to the feel of ice. He enlightened his dark servant to the hesitance and doubt he had witnessed in her eyes. He frowned, eyes narrowed at the grass around them. He made sure the butler knew then and there, that he would not hesitate.

The butler was impressed, knowing full well the game plan that his young master was going to utilize to its fullest potential.

"This is an order." The child turned, his one visible eye hardened as he met his servant's red gaze. "You shall never betray me. You shall never leave my side. No matter what!"

Sebastian knelt down, knee planted into the earth as he bowed low. "Yes, my lord."

Unfortunately for the young Earl Phantomhive, he did not see the full extent of his black servant's growing sneer. And while they made their way back to the carriage, he did not see how the butler's lips did not falter from that same smile.

For even though the one baptized as 'Sebastian Michaelis' would do nearly anything to prepare his current contract's soul, readying it for the feast it would provide him at the end…

There was and would always be, an exception and loophole to the current long-term order.

Author's Endnote:

Tada! Wow. Longer than the other chapters! However don't expect chapters to always be this long. Sometimes they need to be nice and short, to add suspense, or for filler's sake. However, each plot arc from the manga should reach about three chapters or so. (Some might even be longer!)

I know this chapter didn't focus a lot on Abbie. Please bear with me! I'm slowly easing her into the canon story's plotline. Also, I gave a hint at the end of this chapter…sooo… (And the next chapter will pretty much give at least one big detail away…)

(By the by, check out Loreena McKennit's "Skellig". Where the lyric quote that titles this chapter came from. Don't worry, this song will pop up again and again for chapter titles!)

Next Chapter:

A circus coincidentally departing as children disappear, a moody tiger, and a missing black cat…