To Hell and Back Again: Chapter Three
A Jolly Good Time
A/N: My apologies, it's been so long! I owe you all so much more than just this chapter, but all good things to those who wait. Enjoy, because if I couldn't write a visit to the Undertaker, what kind of Kuroshitsuji fanfiction author would I be?
The Phantomhive carriage stopped outside a familiar tan building. A few coffins leaned against the walls of the Undertaker's funeral parlor. Sebastian came around the carriage and helped his young Master out of the vehicle. Ciel led the pair through the brown door marking the entrance to the mortician's lair.
Inside, the parlor was dark. Coffins were piled up around the room, most of them empty and waiting to be put to use. Ciel, looking around, could not see his informant anywhere in the shop.
"Undertaker, I know you're home!" Ciel called out. His voice carried traces of annoyance. A moment passed in silence, as if the funeral parlor were sighing. Then, the lid of a coffin propped against the wall began to slid with painstaking slowness across the floor, producing a harsh, grating noise as it revealed the shadowy interior of the coffin.
"I suspected you might be paying me a visit soon," the Undertaker chuckled, stepping airily out of his coffin. Must he always make a dramatic entrance like that? Is it just a Shinigami thing? Ciel shook off those thoughts. He had business to attend to.
"Then you must know why I'm here," Ciel replied. Both the earl and his butler watched as the Undertaker moved from one coffin to another, as if he were looking for something.
The Undertaker stopped in his tracks, and his head turned toward Ciel with an air of expectancy. "Yes, yes, but you know what the cost of obtaining my information is…"
Sebastian released a heavy sigh, and said, "I will deal with this, Young Master. Please wait outside; I fear the humor I have prepared for today's dealings is not intended for young audiences."
Ciel frowned. He was certain he could handle anything Sebastian came up with, but, at least for now, there wasn't a good enough reason not to go along with Sebastian's request. With a nod of his head, Ciel turned and walked briskly out of the funeral parlor.
Before even a full minute had passed, the Undertaker's shrieking laughter rattled the funeral parlor's walls. Sebastian poked his head out the door and chirped, "You may return now, Young Master."
"Oh yes, I have tasted the sweetness of true laughter… Anything you want to know if yours, my Lord," the Undertaker mumbled as Ciel reentered the building. A look of disdain overcame the young Earl's face at the sight of the Undertaker laying atop a stack of coffins like a bug that'd gotten stuck on its back.
"What do you know about the series of revolts that have taken place lately?" Ciel demanded.
"Honestly, not much. However, that red-haired Shinigami Grell passed through here earlier today saying something about a cult and lots of souls to reap," the Undertaker admitted, tumbling off his stack of coffins as he did so.
Sebastian looked mildly disgusted, and Ciel frowned, spitting out in a cross tone, "That bastard always manages to get mixed up in my business, doesn't he?"
A moment later, having recovered his composure, Ciel went on, "Can you recall anything specific he said?"
The Undertaker frowned, and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Well now, he did say something about a lot of trees…"
"Anything more useful than foliage, Undertaker?" Sebastian cut in. The butler had remained as impassive as ever throughout the conversation.
"Not from Grell, no. Although if you managed to get a hold of him, he might be able to tell you more than I could," the Undertaker suggested.
Ciel frowned. "Is that all you know, Undertaker?"
The Undertaker grinned, and held up one finger as an indication for the Earl and his butler to remain in the parlor. He then bustled into an unlit back room. A handful of crashes and clatters later, the Undertaker returned through the back room's doorway, holding a sheet of paper in his left hand.
"This here is an unusual request I received from an anonymous customer a few days ago, asking me to prepare an extraordinary coffin to fit a child around your age, my Lord," the Undertaker said, handing over the paper for Ciel to inspect. The Earl's cerulean blue eyes narrowed as he attempted to make sense of the incredibly sloppy handwriting.
It was indeed a request for a grand coffin for a child the same size as Ciel. There was no personal information to be found anywhere on the letter; not even an address for the coffin to be delivered to. Voicing his thoughts, Ciel asked, "How do they expect you to deliver the coffin without an address?"
"I assumed they might come here to pick it up. If you'll read the last line, my Lord, they're promising a very nice price indeed. I have every intention of having the coffin completed by the date they ask," the Undertaker grinned.
"That is a handsome price indeed, especially for a coffin. But why pay so much?" Sebastian inquired of no one in particular, peering over Ciel's shoulder to read the letter.
"Yes, this person is clearly not of nobility, or they wouldn't hide their identity as the author of this letter has done; so then, why make such a spectacle?" the Undertaker cackled. When he grinned, the mortician almost looked like some kind of eerie doll.
Ciel squinted at the letter, then, handing it back to its owner, asked, "Undertaker, do you think this request is somehow connected to the revolts and symbols around town?"
The funeral parlor creaked, as if content. The Undertaker considered the question for a moment, then replied, "I can't be sure, but I'd think this would be the kind of thing to be connected to strange events like that if the timing if anything to judge by."
Ciel nodded as if he had been expecting this answer. "Very well, that will be all. Let's go, Sebastian."
"Yes, my Lord," Sebastian replied, giving a slight bow before opening the door of the funeral parlor for his young master. Ciel walked out of the funeral parlor, and made a beeline for his carriage. This case gnawed at his nerves even more with each passing second -it struck too close to his own dark experiences- and it was a feeling he was none too comfortable with.
"Let's go home, Sebastian. We'll find Grell tomorrow," Ciel ordered as he boarded his carriage. His butler bowed, closed the carriage door, and soon they were rolling through London as they made their way back to the Phantomhive townhouse.