So... This was supposed to be the last chapter... But it's five pages... And I haven't wrapped up all the loose ends.
Tanaka gets to talk in this Update; I hope you all like that.
So... I'll see you in Epilogue Part 2 I guess...
Enjoy
When the three emerged again in the human world, Ciel was still pondering Undertaker's words from the safety of his butler's arms. Slowly, lines were forming between the many, many dots.
"And here we are safe and sound back in the human world." Undertaker's voice reverted to its previous state, high and obnoxious with a prevalent cockney accent. Ciel had many questions for Undertaker, many questions for Sebastian, and god knows how many problems to deal with in order to quiet the public and safely disappear back to the underground where he belonged. It seemed that, demon or not, there was always another mystery to solve, another mouth to gag, another criminal to catch, and another personal problem to deal with; this fate, he knew, he could never hope to escape. "And I think I'll take my leave now. Don't lose that pretty laugh of yours now that you're immortal," Undertaker chuckled. "It would be tragic if I never got to hear it again." The stubborn Phantomhive frowned and sighed.
"Good Morrow, Undertaker," Sebastian hummed, continuing on towards the manner.
With a last peal of laughter, the ex shinigami slashed his hand across the nothingness in front of him and disappeared back into the dark.
"Are you ever going to put me down?" Ciel shouted.
"I do not intend to," the butler answered slyly. "You know," Sebastian speculated, smirking. "You are almost like a cat…" Sickness and horror crept into Ciel's face.
"What on earth are you talking about," the earl retorted as composedly as he could.
"Well, you enjoy sleeping and napping," Sebastian began. "You're quite picky about food, don't enjoy the presence of clingy children…"
"Who would?" Ciel sighed in a disgusted tone and then allowed Sebastian to continue.
"Arrogant—"
"What was that!" Ciel roared, squirming and thrashing violently. Sebastian's grip tightened around the smaller demon boy, whose cheeks had become quite red, his pupils narrowing to lines.
"Nothing Bocchan," the demon butler hummed contentedly. "You enjoy hunting, and you don't like to be picked up and held…though…" Sebastian's smirk grew wider. "You seem to enjoy being pet well enough." The earl's blush grew heavy, his face more embarrassed than angry, and, though Sebastian had no place saying so aloud, he did not contradict the man's statement, nor did he struggle, preferring to close his eyes turn his head in the other direction. It was humiliating, yes, but what else had he expected, really?
Sebastian halted outside the front doors of the estate manor. "Well, you have a choice to make," Sebastian started. "You can enter alive or dead…"
"What do you mean?" The statement confused Ciel. Cautiously, Sebastian lowered his voice to a whisper. "In your current state, you won't be able to pass as a human, and there'll be explaining to do in any case…" Ciel vaguely remembered the transformation, mostly because of the excruciating pain it had caused him; Sebastian's offer began to make sense.
After a moment's thought, the boy answered, "I'd prefer to walk into my house alive," hinting at another desire as well.
"Alive it is then," Sebastian smiled but made no move to put the earl down on his own feet. Noticing Ciel's dismay, he followed up with, "just try to bear with me," and smirked contentedly, flashing his too-white teeth while pushing open one of the massive front doors with ease.
"Young Master…" It was Meylene who greeted them first. She'd left her fiery hair down and removed her glasses, exposing a pair of massive, amber eyes. Additionally, the maid had abandoned her uniform, opting for a tight-fitting black ensemble. Two handguns rested at her waist, and a rifle was strung over her back.
Bard was next in line. Like Meylene, he was clad in all black and similarly equipped.
Finnian followed, his signature barrettes absent, leaving his untidy blonde bangs to fall into his face. "Is he alright?" The young blonde questioned.
"Perfectly fine," Sebastian reassured them.
Tanaka appeared in the corner of Ciel's peripheral vision, dressed in solid black, a katana at his hip. Wordlessly, the house steward closed the remaining distance to them, and, in a flash of silver metal, drew the Japanese blade, laying its edge on the exposed skin of Sebastian's throat.
"You'd have to be a bloody glock if you think any of your actions were or are acceptable," Tanaka growled dangerously.
Ciel opened his eyes—both of them—throwing a lethal glare at the Japanese butler, whose own eyes immediately narrowed.
Tanaka did not lower the weapon, however; annoyed, Ciel brought a tiny palm against the sword and took it in his hand. The steel blade released earsplitting screams as it bent backwards and the distance between it and Sebastian increased. To emphasize his point, the young boy clamped down hard on the cold metal, leaving behind five, half-inch-deep dents. Tanaka dropped the ruined weapon. "So it ends with you, Ciel. I had a feeling it might." Calmly, the aging butler turned his back on them. "Follow me into the study, all of you. I have much to say… Unless," Tanaka cut in, "you'd like tonight to sleep." This was of course directed at Ciel.
"Thank you, but it won't be necessary," the young Phantomhive returned.
Ciel examined the condition of his manor as Sebastian carried him up the estate's hundreds of stairs. Most of the rooms were in a state of terrible disarray, and Ciel knew this because many of the doors had been broken down or carelessly left open.
Glass, feathers, and splintered wood cluttered the floors, and hundreds upon hundreds of books lined the hallways. The heir could have cared less, for Sebastian, he knew, was more than capable of making timely repairs.
When the six reached the doors of the study, Ciel discovered why Tanaka had opted for that room. Unlike the rest of the house, the study had, miraculously, retained its pristine beauty, not a portrait crooked or a single pen displaced.
An antique mahogany desk stood proudly in front of the towering glass windows. Four plush arm chairs angled in towards it, and one taller seat sat majestically behind the work surface. Five chairs in all. Just five.
Ciel immediately foresaw the outcome of this shortcoming, and, try as he might, he knew his fate had been predetermined.
Surely as the sun would raise the next day and the moon the next night, the young earl ended up on his butler's lap in one of the large, sultry armchairs. Tanaka had pushed the desk to the side of the room with disquieting ease, so that the five seats formed a circle. When the three servants seated themselves, Tanaka began.
"I have been in this house for thirty-nine years; in that time, I have served three earls; you, Ciel; your father, Vincent Phantomhive; and his father, Michael Phantomhive, and it was he who began this nightmare.
"Sixty years ago, after the death of his father Nicholas, Michael Phantomhive inherited his family's name and duties. At this time, the earl was twenty years of age, handsome, and engaged to Miss Lydia Thompson, only child of the Earl Thompson. She was fourteen years of age, rich, well mannered, intelligent, and beautiful, but even being as lovely as she was, Michael did not take the slightest interest in her. He preferred, instead, to keep his nose tucked away in the many religious books he had collected from his early travels.
"When I came to serve in this estate, the two had been married little under a year, though already, Lydia was with child. Her first born, a girl, given the name Charlotte after Lydia's late mother, died three months later of pneumonia.
"Their second child, a son, passed within the hour, and though Michael showed no outward notice, he endured horrific trauma and night terrors. He worried constantly that the Phantomhive name would die along with him.
"Finally, five years into their marriage, Lydia died giving birth to a second boy, whom Michael named Vincent. In the course of three months, Michael hired and fired eighteen wet-nurses, had seven affairs, and became an alcoholic. He spent the night in taverns, kept company in the evenings, and wasted most of his fortune on extravagant gifts that he bought for his many mistresses.
"The night of his son's first birthday, Michael, the Phantomhive fortune gone and his estate in shambles, became hideously drunk and threw a silver platter at the nurse, mortally wounding her; she died the next morning.
"When the effects of his drinking wore off, Michael went into a state of self-destructive guilt, slitting his arms with the kitchen knives and pulling off his fingernails with a pair of garden pliers.
"Twelve days and seven hundred cuts later, the angel Angela appeared to him. In exchange for the next born heir to the Phantomhive name and ten years of his own life, Angela granted Michael numbness from his grief, clarity of mind, a fortune twelve times the size of what he had been born into, and her own service. He went as far as to marry her the next month, and she remained his wife for eighteen years until she killed him according to their contract and disappeared, leaving Vincent heir to the Phantomhive name." Tanaka paused, stood, and walked over to the desk. Knowingly, he turned the handle of the top-left drawer clockwise, unlatching the hidden drawer above, from which he procured a bottle of brandy and six drinking glasses. Silently, he poured the alcohol, distributed the glasses, and slid the stopper back into the bottle, replacing it. Tanaka
The story isn't over yet! More in the next Chapter!