Death Watch

Chapter Twelve

Vanconmar

A great, grey bank of billowy fog rolled slowly over the land, softly obscuring the winding streets of the town below the hill upon which they stood. Hefting Ciel closer and tighter to his chest, Sebastian gave another giant leap and soared through the air towards their final destination. Clutching his butler's overcoat by shoulder and lapel, Ciel leaned his head into the warm, prickly comfort of the high collar of his butler's wool overcoat, made slightly damp by the misty morning air. With a few more bounds, the demon paused to lower Ciel to the pavement, and they continued from there on foot. Trotting along the cobblestone streets together, the pair soon approached their target area. The air was thick with the noisome smell of oily smoke and putrescent garbage that lingered amidst the seedy, rundown neighborhood. Slowing to a halt, they arrived at last at a door numbered 60 Hemlock Way in a row of dilapidated houses, most with half the windows boarded up none too adequately with rotting boards crisscrossed against them. Refuse was strewn everywhere about, and they had to step gingerly to get through the filth before they reached the front entryway, its sagging door of rotting wood covered with chipped and faded red paint, amidst a crumbling, mildew-covered brick facade.

"This is it, my lord." Ciel peered through the darkness at the door in front of him. "I sense the presence of one elderly gentleman, and one younger man within; no others. Shall we go in?" Shivering suddenly in the cool late morning air, Ciel felt a wave of unaccustomed trepidation wash over him. Shaking the feeling off with impatience, he nodded. He would not back down now, so close to the end, although it be the end of his life, as well as the end of his mission. Gathering his resolve, Ciel gave a nod of his head, and marched to the door without more hesitation, Sebastian at his side. Putting his hand on the door knob, the demon gave it a sharp twist. With the sound of scraping, metal fragments bursting, the door swung open. Standing directly before them was a man with grizzled hair and worn features, deep lines etched in his face. His clothes were old and slightly tattered, but of obviously fine cloth and expensive tailoring; and he was holding a gun pointed directly at Ciel's head.

Ciel laughed. It was a light, eerie laugh that rang out into the night. The man's eyes widened and he scowled. Elation filled Ciel. This was it. This was the one. This was the person whom he had sought so long, standing before him, thinking Ciel was looking at his doom, when in reality the man's doom was staring back at him. Ciel's face lost its mirth.

"You are Terence Vanconmar," he stated impassively. The man's brow rose, and he looked sidewise at Ciel, a suspicious glint to his eye.

"What if I am?" he asked. "And just who are you?" he demanded with the upper class British accent of a noble. Ciel grinned with pleasure, anticipating the reaction his response was sure to have.

"I… am Ciel Phantomhive, son of Vincent, Earl of Phantomhive." Ciel was not disappointed, as he watched the man open his eyes wide with terror at the name, and then start slowly backing away, his voice quaking as he spoke.

"What… What do you want with me?" Ciel didn't answer, only smiled as he reached behind and pulled out his own gun, aiming it at the man's head, and began slowly advancing on him in turn. Vanconmar continued spluttering. "Stay back, or I'll shoot!" Ciel grinned widely, as euphoria washed over him once more. He itched to pull the trigger and put a bullet through the man's brain then and there, but he forbore, as he intended to have a little preliminary… amusement, first.

"Sebastian, would you be so kind as to disarm this gentleman?" He glanced at the butler, standing at his side, who immediately obeyed. In an instant, two things happened at once. One, the shot of a gun rang out, echoing in the close confines of the room with a deafening noise; and two, his butler was suddenly standing between him and Vanconmar, holding a small copper bullet between the second and third fingers of his right hand, and the man's gun, dangling by its trigger, from the index finger of his left.

"Excellent," he grinned, nodding. "I think we can now have a much more civilized conversation, wouldn't you agree, Mister Vanconmar?" he chortled as he beamed at the petrified man. Vanconmar suddenly yelled out at the top of his lungs: "Lawrence! Run! Get out of here; now! Fast, lad; go!"

Ciel looked at his butler questioningly. As the demon simply stood there, not taking any action, Ciel knew there was neither any direct threat from this other person, nor fear of him getting away.

"Sebastian, would you bring Lawrence in here as well?" Ciel had recalled that Lawrence was the name of Vanconmar's seventeen year old son, from the records they had perused. Despite his father's warning cries, there would be no escape for him tonight, either. In moments, the demon had left and come back into the room with a tall, surly looking blonde-haired youth in tow. Depositing him beside his much shorter father, Sebastian released the elbow by which he had been inexorably steering him, and the young man rubbed it with a pained look on his face. Lawrence looked at his father askance, but the older male simply shook his head, and then addressed Ciel.

"What do you want?" Ciel beamed at him in answer, and simply said, "Sebastian, bring out the watch." The brightly burnished gold case was instantly brought out, to dangle from Sebastian's gloved fingers, glittering dully in the dimly lighted confines of the room, with the wick of the single oil lamp low and flickering.

"Recognize this?" Ciel's face got serious once more as he glared into Vanconmar's watery blue eyes. "Just in case you're wondering, I know who you are—I know that my father was the one who deprived you of your title; and I know that you are the one who had him murdered in return." The man started to tremble now visibly and his face became drawn with alarm. Ciel put his black gloved hand to his chin, and gazed back at Vanconmar. The man's silvery grey silk bow tie was faded and stained but still tied with perfect grace, and his grey trousers and pale blue jacket had been painstakingly if none too skillfully mended in many places with obvious result. "What a disgraceful appearance you do present," he scowled gloatingly at the man, and noted with satisfaction that the son's attire was just as patched and faded.

"Well if I do, it is no fault of my own, but of your scoundrel father's!" the man barked out at Ciel. This earned him a quick back-handed slap to his jowls by Ciel's left hand, the sharp edges of his family ring leaving a small trickle of blood running down his cheek.

"Know your place, man!" Ciel shouted back with vitriol. "Which is with the worms very soon, unless you cooperate and answer everything I ask." Vanconmar didn't even twitch at the blow, instead remaining steadfast, glaring back at Ciel. Ciel smiled tight-lipped back at him. "That's better. Now, as I was saying, I know everything about you; except why: why my did my father have you stripped you of your title in the first place? I want you to tell me exactly what happened, every detail of what led up to you murdering my parents as well as the rest of my family, and burning down my mansion that night." The man's eyes grew bigger and then narrowed. Ciel could see he was considering what to say.

"I… Well… It was a long time ago; there were circumstances that…" Vanconmar cleared his throat nervously then said angrily, "Your father wasn't exactly an upstanding citizen, boy, I'll have you know, first off. What he did… I have never seen anyone act so viciously in all my life. Those poor people… Innocent, fine, upstanding lords and ladies, all of them. And I happened to witness it. All of it." His eyes got bigger again as he looked at Ciel without actually seeing him. What he was seeing was much more terrifying. "All of them. Killed, shot in the head one by one, and left to fall to the floor…" He shook his head. "And all because of one little business dealing that I unfortunately was never privy to the details of, having been unsuccessful up to then in securing my graces with the head of that family's clan." He looked directly back at Ciel. "But I can assure you they were into nothing if not more than the slightest of improprieties; and who isn't, in the world of business? I'm sure you know this better than anyone, young Lord Phantomhive. Yes," he nodded. "I can see your father's eyes in your face. Even as different in color as they are, they are still as cold, heartless and unfeeling; the eyes of a killer." As if suddenly realizing the implications of what he was saying, the man stopped, and said no more.

Ciel had been listening to it all very patiently; after all, he had been waiting for this grand act to transpire for five long years. He had no problem having it take as long as it needed to now in its final stage. "Yes, very perceptive of you." He smiled. "But go on; I wish for you to continue relating your story. So, you witnessed my father carrying out no doubt a well deserved punishment and cleaning up the loose ends as he saw fit, as is the duty and prerogative of the Queen's Watch Dog. What did you then, to incur my father's wrath to such a degree?" He frowned as the man opened his mouth at that, but then did not reply, instead remaining steadfastly silent. Ciel spat out impatiently, "Answer me! What did you do?"

Vanconmar hemmed and hawed a little, but then seemingly decided that there was not much point in dissembling further. "I was in a bit of a bind, if you must know, financially. I simply saw this as an opportunity to amend my family's fortunes, and told Lord Phantomhive that I would be happy to keep his crime a secret in return for a small monetary recompense. It was a blunder of mine, I admit it. But I paid more than dearly, much, much more than was fair. That evil Lord retaliated against me by, as you know, having me deprived of my title, which in turn led to my complete financial downfall, and my life utterly ruined. My dear wife…" Here the man actually brushed a tear away from his face, "and my darling little daughter…" His voice broke here as he choked back a sob. "Both dead within a year." He speared Ciel with a venomous and accusatory glare.

"Do you know what it's like to be robbed of everything you have had all your life, and to be left destitute, not even able to afford a doctor when your little girl is ill? To have nothing—nothing left at all?"

"Why, yes, I do, actually," Ciel replied calmly. "In fact, it is due to no other than you, yourself, that I have this knowledge. Unfortunately for you, Vanconmar, this ability of mine to understand exactly what that's like does not reflect favorably on you." He stepped closer to the man, a grimace of pain on his face, remembering that time so long ago; that one month that changed everything. "You were the one that sent me to that hell. Tell me why you did it!" he snapped. "Why?!" Vanconmar cringed back from him, and glanced over at his son with a regretful look on his face.

"Lawrence, I didn't want you to know this. I'm sorry, son." The young man looked at his father with confusion, as if he didn't really believe he could be guilty of anything that bad. Vanconmar turned to stare resentfully back at Ciel and took a deep breath. "Besides taking my title away from me, Vincent also said that he would kill everyone in my family, and then myself, afterwards, if I told anyone anything of what I saw. I did not wish to take the chance of that ever happening. So I had him killed, as well as everyone in his household, and his mansion burned as revenge. I told the men I hired that I didn't care who was harmed along the way, just so long as Vincent was killed, and the mansion burned down. I also gave them permission to take anything they wanted that they found for themselves, but to bring me back a token that the job was done, some object of Vincent's that I would know was his."

"Father." The young man's voice was twisted with disbelief and horror. "Father, tell me this isn't so. Please, tell me this is all a lie; that you are making this up." The note of pleading in his voice was heart wrenching. To anyone besides Ciel it would have been, that is. Ciel felt nothing but cold hatred mixed with glee. He gave the elder man an evil smile.

"Very well, Vanconmar. You have told me all I need to know." He glared at the man with undisguised delight. "It's time now for you to pay the price for what you did. It is time now to die." Vanconmar's eyes got wide with fright, but then relaxed with calm resignation.

"Fine. Go ahead and do it, if you must. I certainly can't stop you," he said with stony resolve. But his eyes bulged out of his sockets the next instant with horrified realization of what was about to happen when he saw Ciel's hand slowly pivot to turn the gun towards his son. Ciel's lips formed a tight grin as he spoke.

"But first…"

"Nooo!" Vanconmar's cry rang out at the same time as the firing of the gun, both sounds intertwining with each other in an agonized symphony. The golden-haired youth's body swayed for a moment, as if no real harm had come to him, but then a large red stain spread across his chest, blood seeping out to gradually saturate his entire vest and jacket. "My son! My son!" Vanconmar wept out. "No!" He looked at Ciel. "How could you, you bastard? He never did anything to you; he was innocent!"

"Well, so was I!" Ciel spat back in fury. "But that didn't stop you, now did it?" Coming closer he slowly advanced on Vanconmar. "Do you have any idea what they did to me? To him… to us all?" He choked a little as he spoke those words. He had never once told anyone about what had happened to him during that time, had barely allowed even himself to think about it. But then he swallowed his fury, and spoke coldly.

"I am just finishing the job my father started six years ago, but didn't have the heart to finish, apparently. Or rather, too much heart. A failing which I, fortunately, am not burdened with." He moved the gun to point it once more at Vanconmar. Vanconmar looked back him with cold despair, not even pleading. He knew his fate was sealed, that there was no point in protesting against it at this point. His still tear-bedewed faded blue eyes looked steadily at Ciel, as he watched him pull the trigger, firing the bullet that ended his life.


The body hit the floor with a thud. The sound echoed in Ciel's head with the import that it signified. It was over. The end was finally here. The end of Vanconmar, the end of his mission. The end of his life; of his very soul. It would now be Sebastian's to take. He felt rooted to the spot, a statue, unable to move. His eyes, too, remained fixed on the body, glued to the sight it seemed, as gruesome as it was. A feeling that surprised him flooded over him, a feeling he couldn't quite identify. It couldn't be fear; no, the consequences of this long sought-after achievement of his were that which he was quite at peace with. The demon would deliver his death unto him, and then take what was his richly deserved due. No, what he was feeling was… he balked at the thought; tried to dismiss it from his mind. It couldn't be—no! How could he possibly be feeling… regret? But that's what it was. Regret, tinged with a dolorous-hued disappointment. Why in the world would he be feeling regret now? He had just killed Vanconmar, the son of a bitch responsible for his parents' deaths and his own dishonor. He had destroyed him; had wreaked cruel, vindicated justice on the man. Why was he not feeling gloriously happy and fulfilled?

He finally turned away and looked up at the demon, standing beside him, gazing intently back at him. A slow smile crept up the edges of the Sebastian's mouth until it spread across his face and glinted in his eyes. You are mine; mine, now, his smile said. Ciel shivered, wondering if his death was imminent; if he would be dead momentarily, even. A scream went through him internally, rending his soul with a silent "noooo…." Why? What was this? How could he be feeling such a fear of dying when all this time it had never been of any concern to him? It must be because this was it; it was real this time. There was no escaping it. He would now die.

And he didn't want to. He found himself to his shame slowly backing away from the demon. The demon's brows rose in half amusement, half concern at this, and Ciel forced himself to stop. He would not be afraid. He would face his death with dignity and honor. A deal was a deal, even a deal with a demon, and the demon had performed his part of the bargain; now it was time for Ciel to perform his. He braced himself, closing his eyes. Hands gripped his arms of a sudden, and he was tugged forward hard against the demon's chest. Opening his eyes, he looked up into the demon's face, just inches above his, once more finding himself mesmerized by those bloody brilliant eyes. The demon smiled an open, gloating smile at Ciel, sharp incisors glinting in the light of the flickering oil wick. A jolt went through him, and he found himself wanting to once more connect his lips with those of the demon's, and taste that all consuming passion once more. What? He shouted to himself. How in hell could he be wanting to kiss the very monster who would no doubt now tear him limb from limb or by some other grisly act slaughter him, then to devour his very soul?

But the decision was made for him, as the demon brought his head down to his, and Ciel was drowning the next instant in soul-searing kisses, his lips being hungrily devoured by the demon's, rather than his soul. He responded fervently; just as hungrily, as if he were as starved as the demon. His body responded in kind, and he pressed himself even harder into the demon's body as his hands snaked up to thread themselves through Sebastian's hair and grip the back of his head. His body thrummed with desire as their mouths continued to violently assail each other's with scalding, desperate kisses, the demon seeming to need this just as much as he. It pleased him to know this, to know that the demon wanted him so much, just as he wanted him.

Ciel's heart gave a pang that shot through him with a stinging ache; and finally he realized what this feeling of regret, of fear, really was. It was regret at having to leave; it was the fear of losing this: this newfound wellspring of profound joy. It seemed so unfair to have found such a thing, and then to have it snatched away from him so soon. To his great mortification, he felt a stinging not just in his heart, but also in his eyes, which then to his dismay proceeded to immediately overflow with tears, spilling out to run down his cheeks despite his straining with all his might to prevent them from doing so. Against his will, and despite Ciel's futile attempt at protest, the demon's lips drew back from his as he slowly broke away from the kiss to then look Ciel in the eyes, eyes that were still to his shame leaking copiously with salty evidence of his weakness. He didn't wish the demon to see, and turned his head aside to cast his eyes downwards. He was stopped however by the demon's hand on his chin, turning his face inexorably back up, forcing him to look the demon in the eye and allowing his humiliation to be clearly apparent.

Ciel gulped down a half gasp, and struggled to try to turn his head away, as pointless as he knew it was.

"Let… me go!" he sobbed out. "Don't… look at me. I… I don't want you to see me so…" His attempts at protesting only served to make the river run fiercer however, hot and wet, dripping down his cheeks and lips to spill powerlessly to the floor.

"What is it, my dear master?" The words rumbled like dark velvet out of the demon's mouth, resonating with concern, underlying an impassioned exhilaration. His lips swept down to graze Ciel's cheek, tongue lapping subtly at skin to taste of his tears. "What has you so frightened, young master? After all this time, you cannot have become suddenly fearful of your ordained fate, can you? I find that impossible to believe."

"No!" he shouted. "No, Sebastian. Sebastian, I… I just…" He couldn't say it. How could he tell him what he was feeling? That it wasn't the prospect of dying that he feared, but rather… "I just don't want to leave… you." The words left his mouth with a mortal finality. It was done; what was said could not be taken back. Any shred of dignity he had was now lost, and could not be retrieved. But it was the truth; it was pointless to try to deny it. And pointless to care about it at this point, as well, he realized. What Sebastian had just said left him no room to doubt that his end had indeed truly come. It was no use caring about anything anymore, for that matter. Well, he would at least try to regain what little shred of dignity he could summon at this point, he decided, to face that end. Gathering his resolve, he gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut tight to stop the flow of tears, his success then feeding into his courage. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes, and once more looked the demon in the eye. "I am not afraid. Now, let's just get this over with. Take my damned soul already, and be done with it."

The demon's eyes fluttered open wide at that, his eyebrows knitting upwards in the middle. His mouth opened in a small o, and then closed to curl up at the edges in a small smile. His eyes softened, and he gave a half chuckle.

"Ah, Ciel. My dear, little lord." He shook his head. "How I shall miss you." And then cruelly comforting arms were wrapped around him, holding him close to the demon's chest, stroking his hair. Expelling his breath in a manner that it seemed he would never be able to get it back, Ciel yielded to sink into the embrace, caught like the prey he was, in the predator's grasp.

"But come." Suddenly Ciel was scooped up into those arms, to look up into the face of the beaming demon, who spoke. "Let us be off. We have a long journey ahead."


It had been a long, long wait. Longer than he had ever gone before between feedings. And he was hungry; so very hungry. The emptiness ached inside him, a hollow need that pricked at his veins, at his very soul. It filled him with a constant longing; a dull pain that thrummed continuously throughout every step and permutation of his life. And now the wait would finally be over. The demon looked down at the sleeping form in his arms as he traveled by smoothly soaring leaps across the land, and felt his heart thump with exhilaration at the anticipation of soon indulging in his long-awaited feast. No, he could not wait to have that, indeed; the wait would be more than worth that pleasure. And yet…

And yet, he too felt a certain measure of regret which greatly surprised him. He couldn't deny it, could not help but admit to himself that he would miss him; miss knowing him in this present state. He had greatly enjoyed his game of playing butler to this child, now this young man; watching him grow; helping him fulfill his duties as the Queen's Watchdog, relishing every moment they had had together. Yes, he had known many a soul, many a contractor before this; but Ciel was special, and he would indeed miss him, as much as he would enjoy having his soul's essence to savor, knowing its true flavor, finally.

He gazed down again at the precious object in his arms, now leaning his head so serenely against his shoulder in deep slumber; so calm, so trusting—he had fallen asleep half way through their journey, three hours in. Sebastian brought his head down towards his, and lightly placing his mouth to the boy's temple, bestowed a kiss, ever-so-gently so as not to wake him. Ciel's soft hair brushed against his lips as the demon slowly lifted his head back upwards from his, and his heart thudded again as a strange surge of emotion went through him. It shot through his body, along with an intense arousal that likewise assailed him, darting from his heart to the top of his head down to the tip of his toes, assaulting his senses with the keenness of a reaper's scythe slicing through him. It shocked him. What was this? It was a feeling of deep affection; more than just affection, he had to admit, for this unique soul, yes; this most delightfully intriguing and entertaining human he had ever met. It spawned a feeling in him that made him want to not only keep him safe and protected always, but to feel a hesitancy, even a doubt as to his right, to take the life and the soul of such a being. How could he even think such a thing, much less feel such an emotion? No, he wouldn't even contemplate such a ludicrous thought. It was merely his body's reaction to stimuli-simply hunger, mixed with lust; nothing more. He would not grant it any more significance than that; he refused. But he could not deny that he did feel a certain reluctance to taking this one particular human's soul. A twinge of guilt pricked his conscience. It was something he had never experienced before; the questioning of the very morals at the core of his being; the questioning of whether it was right to feed on the souls of human beings.

Yes, it was true that the Meerlia could sustain themselves on the life energy derived from alternative sources to humans. The others of his species, those damned self-righteous bastards he detested so much, practiced such abstinence. Eschewing the taking and consuming of the human souls, they instead subsisted on the poor fare of the barely-sustaining life energy which resided in the lower beings that could hardly even be declared sentient. A meager existence, indeed—rather like a human trying to survive on mud and offal, in his opinion. That was not for him. No, he loved humans just as much as they did—that's exactly what made them so tasty in the first place. Demons were meant to live off souls. That was their right as higher beings. And it could not be denied that they were, indeed, such. With their abilities to shift matter and space… even when in their chosen bodily forms they were capable of such mighty feats as utterly surpassed the deeds of mortal humans. Flying through the air, leaping in great bounds from rooftop to rooftop; from topmost branch of tree to stony ledge. Diving deep into the cold raging depths of the sea, not needing to breathe. Pain was easily brushed aside; cells and vessels and organs were almost instantaneously repaired when damaged. Demons were naturally entitled to feast upon the lower, mortal creatures with impunity, on the souls they needed to live. Humans were so pathetic in any case, as intriguing as they were, doomed to misery all their lives for the most part; and there were so many of them, always multiplying heedless of the situations that they were in. Even if he were to actually consider allowing the boy to live out his life before devouring him, it would be a futile act; a brief period of restraint. Human lives were so fleeting; even if they managed to escape death from disease or injury first, old age would take them in just a short time—the blink of an eye, for him.

No, there was no point in even contemplating forgoing or even forestalling that which he so rightly deserved. None at all. He would have his due, both this reticence, as well as the human be damned. And with newly strengthened resolve, he dismissed his doubts and prior musings to plough onward to his chosen destination, looking forward to indulging in his prize at long last.