William clutched the edge of his seat as the hearse's wheels dipped into a deep rut in the road. Despite the smell of the horses, the constant rain, and the mud that occasionally splashed up on his pant legs, William was actually enjoying himself. It wasn't every day that a shinigami got to travel by hearse alongside the Legendary Reaper. Hearses were rather revered in the shinigami world. They were places that their kind rarely got to see up close, one of the few parts of the human world that was rather inaccessible to them since so few people died there. Undertaker's hearse was especially elaborate with black curtains along its sides and its six equally dark horses at its lead. People looked up at the vehicle with a strange mixture of respect and fear in their eyes; women prevented children from crossing in front of it, and men would tip their hat to the old Undertaker in his seat. That recognition, that reverence was a complete power trip. It was no wonder the old reaper had chosen this as his profession.

Soon they were outside of the city limits, away from the soot that hung in the air and the muddy streets. The air here felt cleaner despite the constant rain that fell. A few moments later, Undertaker shifted the reigns and the horses turned up a path, the muddy road turned to cobblestone and in the distance he could make out a stately manor atop a hill.

"Is that where the Viscount lives?" he asked.

"Aye, but first you need some fixing." He pulled the carriage to a complete stop.

William narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean?"

"Fixing." He said, pointing down to the deathscythe William still clutched in his hand. "You can't go inside carrying that."

He grit his teeth, "And why on earth not?"

"This is a manor house, Spears. You can't just go inside carrying a weapon like that. It isn't proper!"

"I hope you're not suggesting I leave it here!" He pulled it aside and away from Undertaker's reach. "I've never left it out of sight when I'm in the human world. Even at the circus I-"

"This isn't some bloody circus, Spears! This is the manor of a very wealthy man with a long list of enemies." Undertaker sighed and sat back against his seat, crossing his legs. "Look, I'm not asking you to leave it here or get rid of it. I'm just saying that it can't look like it does."

"What do you mean?"

Undertaker smiled in a way that sent a shudder down William's spine. "I mean I can transfigure it for you," he held up a satoba and in an instant it had turned into his deathscythe. "Like I do mine." He shifted it back again and William sat for a moment blinking. Part of him thought he must have imagined it. He had seen it in photographs countless times; hell, he had a photo of the Legendary Reaper and his famed scythe up in his locker in Academy. To see it suddenly flash into reality before his eyes and then disappear into a plain old satoba again was like glimpsing the Golden Fleece. It was almost too much to be real.

It took a moment for William to find his voice again. "You mean, use magic on it."

"Eh, I don't like to call it magic, but I suppose that works. If I don't transfigure it, then it's got to stay here in the hearse. I don't want the Viscount to turn us away because of it, but I understand the need to not leave it behind either. We certainly don't want any human to get hold of it."

William sighed and looked down at his deathscythe. It was bad enough that he wasn't in his own body, now he had to give up his only source of protection as well. "What if I need it?"

"Then I can transfigure it back for you. It isn't difficult."

"But I'm relying on you. What if there's a battle? How can I be certain I'll get it back in time?"

The Undertaker gave a long sigh. "I'm not trying to offend you, dearie."

Will frowned at the condescending pet word.

"But I don't think you've got much of a choice in the matter. If you refuse, then I'll turn us right back where we came from. The Viscount is a good friend of mine, and I won't let you ruin that. You on the other hand…"

"Fine." Will handed his deathscythe over, but couldn't watch as Undertaker transformed it. He didn't think he could. To be honest, he felt far too close to crying right now than he was comfortable with. A supervisor simply did not cry. He was surprised when he felt the varnished wood pushed into his hands, and looked down to see that his deathscythe had been turned into a fine walking cane. For some reason knowing that he would still be able to hold it, knowing that he could at least have it with him, took away some of the pain.

"How does that suit you?" Undertaker asked.

"It's fine," William said, adjusting his spectacles. "This suits me just fine. Thank you."

Undertaker smiled and urged the horses forward again. "You'll still have it at least, and it does still have all the properties of a deathscythe after all."

William clenched his fingers around the mahogany wood and nodded. They reached the entrance to the manor and the servants took care of the hearse while William and Undertaker were led inside to the parlor. Crimson velvet draperies fell to the gleaming hard wood floors. Plush pillows decorated every cushioned seat, and William couldn't help but scrunch his nose. The decadence was outlandish, especially after riding past the paltry living conditions which plagued most of London. On top of that, the decor seemed more fitting for a brothel rather than a mansion.

To William's surprise, they were both searched for any weapons. His knowledge of human customs wasn't as spot on as Grell's, but he was fairly certain this would be considered rude even in the human world. A young man with strong arms and a sallow gaze reached for William's cane, but he swept it aside quickly before the lad could grasp it. William was about to take a swipe at him, but Undertaker stepped quickly between them.

"Come now, Mister Casey, you wouldn't begrudge him his cane, would you? What kind of hospitality is that to show a friend of mine?"

The sallow eyed man stood gaping at William's speed and at the same time had Undertaker hovering over him creepily, so he gave a short nod. "I guess it's fine," he stammered.

"Excellent! Now if you would fetch the Viscount for me. He and I have some urgent matters to discuss, and I'm afraid I haven't the time to dally." The young man clenched his jaw but gave a curt nod before heading out the doors.

William signed, but couldn't bring himself to sit down in the plush chairs. Undertaker paced. He considered asking him why they were coming to see Druitt of all people, but knowing the old reaper's track record, he doubted he would get a sliver of truth out of him. Then the parlor doors slammed open and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"My dear old friend!" Druitt exclaimed, his arms outstretched as though he planned to pull the Undertaker into an embrace. "What a pleasant surprise! What brings you to my humble home?"

"Very good to see you, m'lord. I hate to intrude with such short notice, but it's a bit of an urgent matter."

"Oh?" A wicked grin spread across his lips as he clasped his hands behind his back. "You do always have such interesting emergencies. Thank you again for your help at Weston, by the way. You did a fantastic job of keeping the place clean, so to speak."

"Hehe! Cleanliness is godliness, as they say. First though, let me introduce my friend, Mr. Sutcliffe."

Druitt flashed him a toothy smile, and William suddenly realized he hadn't the slightest idea how he was supposed to greet a Viscount. He made a quick glance to Undertaker, but with his eyes veiled with that layer of hair, all he did was grin expectantly at him. William gave a low nod.

"Very good to meet you," William mumbled.

Druitt arched his slim eyebrows and gave a bit of a dignified huff. "Ah, are you a foreigner by chance? You do look rather familiar…"

William blinked again, not sure how to respond. Luckily he was saved when Undertaker stepped between them, flapping a hand like a dying fish.

"Oh, don't mind him," Undertaker put an arm around the Viscount's shoulders. "He can be a wee bit slow at times is all."

A deep flush ran up William's cheeks. Had he just made some sort of social misstep? He must have if Undertaker felt he needed to rescue him. He took a deep breath and gripped his cane as he followed them to the opposite side of the room where some brandy had been put out.

"He's the one with the problem you see," Undertaker made a conspiratorial glance around the room, which seemed rather ridiculous to William. Surely he knew that the three of them were already alone. The Viscount though seemed to drink in the potential danger like a drug. Undertaker put a hand up to shield his mouth as he whispered, "It's a matter of souls."

"Souls?" Druitt whispered.

"Aye, and it was my understanding that you might have something of an expert on the matter working in your service."

Druitt gave a knowing smile. "I hadn't let on to many about my new employee, you know. Nor had I told anyone about his expertise." He took a long drink from his brandy glass, his keen eyes fixed on Undertaker.

"Come now, m'lord, I won't expose all my secrets."

"No, but you can't possibly expect me to offer him up to you for free."

"Ahh, now we get to the heart of it then." Undertaker put a hand to his chin and he paced closer to William, a thin smile on his lips. "I suppose I'll be blunt about it then. That work at the Academy, I suppose that didn't amount to anything for you?"

"On the contrary, your services were most helpful." Druitt sipped on his second glass. "I merely thought you were already compensated. You did mention you were looking for more subjects for your work."

It took a moment for William to realize they were talking about undead students, and despite the fact that he was in Grell's body and knew that he needed to keep up an impartial guise, a deep frown tugged at his lips. He didn't like the idea of such atrocities being used as payment for his troubles. The thought of more undead being created because of this strange body switch bothered him even more. Undertaker must have seen his reaction because suddenly he changed tactics.

"M'lord, I hate to bring this up considering how fond you seem to be for your new employer, but I've a ghastly admission to make." Druitt was pouring himself another glass and didn't even look up at his words. "I do believe he might be responsible for this little mishap."

"What?" William gasped, worried by Undertaker's grin.

"Oh? So it's an accusation then."

"I'm afraid so," Undertaker shrugged. "If you would call him in, I'll explain everything."

Druitt sighed, "Only if you promise to actually explain it instead of this little dance you insist on."

William was barely paying attention to him though. Was Undertaker bluffing, or did he really think this specialist in souls was truly responsible? If that was the case, that meant that Druitt had a demon on hand, a powerful one. Perhaps Undertaker was more mad than he thought.

"Casey, fetch Remley for me, won't you?" The parlor doors opened a crack and the sallow eyed man popped his head in. "Let him know that terrible accusations have been made against him and he needs to defend himself this very instant."

Casey gave a quick nod and disappeared. Undertaker stood there with a pleased smile on his lips. Perhaps this was his intent all along, to hand William over to the demon and be done with him. That would give him one less supervisor to deal with in London. When the parlor doors cracked open again, William recognized the red eyes that stared back at him.