Chapter 3

Ciel's POV:

I learned quickly what to expect from my captivity in this place. Boredom. Complete and utter boredom. There was very little to distinguish one day from another and very little changed at all. What I wanted, more than anything, was to get out of here and go home. I would be more than willing to hand the whole case over to Scotland Yard if it meant I would be able to return home that much sooner.

It was not to be, however. I had seen no sign of Sebastian and I could only conclude that something had happened. Just what, I had no way of telling. What on earth could lay a demon low and stop him from joining his master when ordered to? A stronger demon could, but what were the chances that that had happened? I knew that Marcellus could overcome Sebastian in a fight, but would Marcellus just attack Sebastian for no cause?

The largest part of my worry came from the fact that I didn't know what had happened to Sebastian, where he was now, or when he was going to get to my location. If not for the mark still on my eye I would have begun to fear his death.

With all of this worry, I found myself grateful for the routine my captors imposed on me. Knowing what to expect made it much easier to cope with my captivity. I and the other boys would rise in the morning when called, wash up, dress, put our room in order, and go down to breakfast. After breakfast we were taken on a morning walk outside in the house grounds and after that we would go to the classrooms for lessons. After lessons came lunch, outside play, chores, tea, quiet play inside and study, supper, and then free time until evening wash up and bed. The only day that varied at all was Sunday, when no lessons were held. Instead of lessons, the adults spent even more time with us, playing games, reading aloud, telling stories, or organizing informal lessons, like cooking in the kitchen with the cook, Mrs. Partridge, or handicrafts in a workshop on the grounds with an older man called Mr. Llewellyn. I did spend one afternoon in the worskhop out of sheer boredom and by the end of the day I'd managed to make a wooden puzzle box.

Night time was hardest for me. I would lie awake worrying until the wee hours of the morning. Where was Sebastian? Why hadn't he come yet? What was I going to do if he couldn't come? What if I never found him again? Outside of this place, I was Ciel Phantomhive and I still had a good many enemies. I was positive that it was only Sebastian's protection that had kept me alive for so long. If my enemies found me without Sebastian at my side, then I was as good as dead. In this place, I was Stephen Browne, one of their charges, and entirely at the mercy of the adults around me. Anything could happen to me while I was here and I wouldn't be able to stop it. I needed Sebastian if only to reassure myself that I was safe.

Over time, other things I began to notice started to worry me. Every now and then, a child would disappear for a night. One of my roommates, a quiet boy named Thomas, disappeared shortly after supper one night and did not appear until lunchtime the next day. For the rest of the day he appeared sleepy and he went to bed directly after supper that evening. The following week, it was Jasper who disappeared. Nancy, one of the girls in my class, was the one who shed light on the mystery.

"It's nothing to worry about," she whispered to me one afternoon during lessons while she and I tried to draw a map of Roman London.

"But what's happening?" I asked, keeping a wary eye on Miss Anderson. She had a tendency to appear when she was least wanted, but fortunately, she was enough of an educator to recognize when a student needed more accelerated instruction. Nancy and I were the only recipients of a course of study designed to prepare one for university and I was thankful for the change. Now, instead of being bored to tears, I was merely doing the same lessons I would have done had I been at home. (I had Sebastian to thank for that. Following that course of study had been his idea.)

"They're only going to sleep in the chapel," she said.

"Why would anyone go to sleep in a chapel?" I wanted to know. The chapel was the one room of this house that I hadn't seen aside from the adults' rooms.

"Rosie said that eventually we'll all get to sleep there," she told me. Rosie was the girls' version of Jim. "Penny slept there last week and she said it was great."

"Did she tell you what happened?" I pressed.

"She said it was nice and warm there, you went to sleep in a big, cozy bed and you had really good dreams."

So much for Penny's descriptive abilities. I was sure that this going-to-sleep-in-the-chapel thing was something bad and something I should avoid at all costs.

I got to see Cecilia most afternoons. She was often outside after our lunchtime, either walking in the grounds or in her garden, enjoying the flowers. I would join her as much as possible and do my own share of enjoying the flowers or I would ask her questions, hoping to get some more information. Her father was called Mr. Augustus Caldwell, but the name meant nothing to me. According to Cecilia, he worked in publishing and he had a sweetheart.

"He's not married, then?" I asked, rather surprised.

"He was married to my mother, but she died when I was little," she explained.

I offered her my apologies. "And now he has a sweetheart? Do you like her?"

"Pretty well," Cecilia admitted. "She's nice and I can tell that she loves children. Also, I can tell that she makes Papa happy, and that's all I'll ask. He wasn't very happy with Mamma, you see."

"Why's that?"

"They were both pressured into marrying by their families," she sighed. "They tried to be happy but it didn't happen. All that they really had in common was me. He was sorry when Mamma died, of course, but I think some small part of him was relieved, too. He no longer had to pretend."

I thought about what she'd told me. "How do you know all this if your mother died when you were little?"

"Servants talk," she said lightly. "They didn't always know I was listening."

Poor girl, having to get information about her own family from the servants. There had not been anything like that in my own family. If there was something my parents had felt I needed to know, then they told me themselves. That was how I had known at ten years old just how dangerous my father's work was and what his duties had been. That had also made me eager to take it up again.

I didn't spend all my time chatting with people. Whenever I could, I was busy exploring my surroundings and committing them to memory. If I had to run from this place, then I wanted several escape routes available. I knew all the little corridors and stairwells that this huge house had and I knew any number of ways to get outside in the shortest amount of time possible. The shortest way out was to jump from a second floor window, onto the roof of the scullery, down to the ground, and out the side gate.

I wasn't always able to slip away to explore as much as I wished, though. There was always an adult nearby, asking questions and directing me back toward the group. (I think they suspected me of trying to plan an escape.) Jim had an uncanny ability of appearing whenever I was about to sneak away from the other children to go exploring and I began to suspect the man of being able to read minds. One afternoon I managed to sneak away from him and make my way down a back staircase, but it led to the kitchen. In the kitchen was the formidable Mrs. Partridge, whose mission in life was to feed people and fuss over them. Jim found me in the kitchen a half-hour later, fending off another onslaught of bread pudding and hot milk. I was very glad when he took me back upstairs and needless to say, I didn't try that particular route of escape again. My stomach wouldn't take it.

My difficulties with food did not stop there, however. I continued to be given countless little things to eat over the course of the day, on doctor's orders. Baked oatmeal, graham bread with butter, apple sauce, malted milk, beef tea, bread and milk, custard, blanc mange...it seemed never ending. All of those dishes were meant to strengthen me or put weight on me and I was coming to loathe them. These little snacks tasted good, yes, but they were boring. I often found myself wishing for one of Sebastian's dinners or teas. I hadn't quite appreciated his culinary abilities before this and I found myself determined to show my appreciation as soon as we returned home. I would make certain he knew how much I enjoyed his cooking.

I spent a good part of each day wishing that the adults were a little less watchful, but my nerves and stomach conspired against me. One day, about three weeks after arriving in Sanctuary, my nerves acted on my stomach so much that I was sick shortly after finishing lunch. Jim whisked me off to see the doctor before I could protest.

"How long has your stomach been bothering you, Stephen?" he asked, prodding my midsection while I lay on his exam table.

"Oh, this is ridiculous," I snapped. "My stomach isn't bothering me!"

"Then why did you vomit like that?" Jim wanted to know. "You went absolutely gray and then you were sick."

"I guess lunch didn't agree with me," I said, trying to sit up.

"Stay down," Dr. Evans told me firmly. "Do you have any pain anywhere? Do you feel ill?"

"No, I feel fed up!" I complained. "I told you both weeks ago that I want to go home!"

Dr. Evans looked at me carefully. "How have you been sleeping, Stephen?"

"Fine," I lied.

"You've been up late worrying, haven't you?" Dr. Evans demanded, fixing me with a glare. "You're overtired and you've been working yourself into a fine state every night, isn't that right?"

"You'd worry too, if you'd been kidnapped," I pointed out, trying to sit up again.

Dr. Evans' hand slammed into my shoulder, forcing me down again. His other hand quickly moved over my stomach, poking and prodding here and there. One poke made me gasp and fight to pull away. "That hurts!"

"As I thought," he sighed. "You've given yourself a sour stomach with all this worrying you've been doing, Stephen."

"You won't let me go home!" I almost wailed. "Of course I'm going to worry!"

Dr. Evans let me sit up. "Stephen, has anyone hurt you here?"

"No," I admitted.

"And no one will," he added. "You're safe here. This place will be a safe haven for you until you've grown up. Do you understand?"

"I understand you won't let me go," I said, rubbing my stomach. Then I yawned. Jim and I were late for outside, but what I really wanted to do was go back to my room and crawl into bed. All of those late nights were beginning to wear on me a bit.

The doctor sighed. "I can see you're not going to be an easy patient at all, Stephen, either now or in the future."

"What do you suggest we do, doctor?" Jim asked.

"For Stephen, a change in diet until his nerves have calmed. Nothing rich, fried, or spicy. Simple, nourishing food is what he needs. That, and perhaps a nap a day if he's going to be up all night worrying. He needs rest."

"I do not need a nap!" I protested.

"Says the boy with dark shadows under his eyes and who's been yawning for the last five minutes," Jim said flatly. "I'm inclined to agree with you."

"I'm glad someone does," the doctor said, looking pointedly at me while he jotted several things down on a piece of paper before handing it to Jim. "Give that to Mrs. Partridge so she'll know what to make, all right?"

"Certainly." Jim took the paper and folded it up. "Should I take Stephen back to his room for a rest?"

If Jim left me alone in my room, then this would be a chance to go exploring...and perhaps a chance to get away. I was sure I couldn't take being confined to this place anymore.

"No, you'd best leave him here since the infirmary is always quiet. He can sleep in one of the infirmary beds and I'll wake him in a bit so he can be on time for chores."

"I don't need to go to sleep," I said, hopping down from the exam table.

"Given how irritable you are, then you're in dire need of sleep," Dr. Evans informed me. "You'll stay here and have a nap and then we'll see how you feel after that."

Apparently, being his patient meant that you had no choice in treatment. In short order I was tucked into an infirmary bed and settled for a nap. I lay there, fuming and wishing I could find something to beat him over the head with...something that would do some damage...

I must have really been in need of some sleep since I did go to sleep shortly after being put down for my rest. When I woke up, I found Mr. Caldwell sitting at my bedside.

"Hello, there, youngster," he said with a slight smile. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," I admitted. "Why are you here? Where's Dr. Evans?"

"Someone took a nasty fall in the garden, so he went to help," he explained. "He asked me to sit with you while you slept."

"It wasn't Cecilia who fell, was it?" I asked, feeling somewhat worried. She could be annoying, but she was one of the few people I could really talk to in this place.

"No, one of the boys," he corrected me. "I was wondering if you could help me with something, actually, Stephen."

Intrigued, I sat up. "What is it?"

"Dr. Evans has told me that you're not an easy patient," he said conversationally. "Well, I would like to know what a difficult patient is thinking when he refuses to eat anything."

I stared at him, confused. "Are you a doctor, too?"

"No, just someone who's taking care of someone who needs taken care of," he told me. "However, this person is difficult. He never wants his meals no matter what I serve him or how they're served. Even more annoying, he fights going to sleep. Sometimes it's all I can do to get him to close his eyes and rest. As a difficult patient yourself, could you tell me what goes through the mind of such a person when he engages in such self-destructive acts?"

"I think it varies from person to person," I said, even more confused. "No two people are exactly alike, you know."

He nodded. "I was afraid of that. Was your Uncle Lewis a difficult patient when you had to take care of him?"

Part of my backstory that I'd let "slip" had been that I'd taken care of Uncle Lewis whenever he'd been hungover. "Sometimes," I confessed.

"And how did you manage him when he was difficult?"

"Baby steps," I said. "Very small steps, really. Sometimes I would have to coax him bit by bit until he ate." I could remember Marcellus coaxing Sebastian when he was ill to get him to eat, and with enough coaxing, he would. It was possible that this patient of Mr. Caldwell's would respond to being coaxed.

He nodded. "Coaxing. I see."

"Who is it you're taking care of?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

He smiled. "A very stubborn young man who's been left on my hands," he said. "He's been exhausted and ill due to an accident, and being ill makes him fretful. I'll try coaxing him and see how that works."

"You'll have to let me know if it does," I said, just as the door opened and Jim appeared. He was carrying one of my roommates, Robert, and looking rather frazzled.

"Hello, Jim," Mr. Caldwell said. "How's the patient?"

"Rueing the fact that he tried to climb that tree," Jim said, settling Robert on the exam table while Dr. Evans rushed in behind them.

"I'm rueing it as well," he said, looking Robert over. "How's your head, Robert?"

Robert groaned. "Please cut it off?"

"That would solve the problem quite nicely," Dr. Evans said acidly. "What possessed you to climb that tree?"

"Jasper dared me..."

"That didn't mean you had to do it!"

I was finding this quite entertaining, but Dr. Evans noticed me. "How are you feeling, Stephen?" he asked, swabbing at a gash on Robert's forehead.

"Much better," I admitted.

"Glad to hear it," he said. "Now, it's almost time for you to do your chores, so hurry along."

The adults were too busy with Robert, so I gladly left the room. Jim and Mr. Caldwell were recruited to hold Robert still while that gash on his forehead was stitched so for a change I was on my own. I smiled as I wended my way down the corridor. This was the perfect time to try leaving the house. It was fully possible that Sebastian was unable to enter the grounds for some reason and was only waiting for me to get beyond the wall before he met up with me. With that thought in mind, I began to make my stealthy get-away.

Sebastian's POV:

I was trapped in every demon's living nightmare. The one thing that a demon had to fear was someone more powerful than he was, and now I was facing someone infinitely more powerful than me. The elemental was dangerous, so dangerous that I fully expected him to kill me any time now, but for some reason, he did not. What really irked me was that he seemed to find me amusing sometimes.

He seemed to follow no pattern that I could discern. Often, I could smell the scent of flowers and grass on him, other times, the scents of the children and adults around this place. More than once I caught my master's scent and that worried me beyond all thought. Why was he around my master? What was happening to my master while I was not there? Was he all right? Was he getting enough to eat? Enough rest? Was he fretting the way he usually did or had he found some way to relax?

I didn't have much chance to do any fretting, myself. My captor would often just appear, startling me. He would come to talk, to feed me, and to take care of me. I was so weak that he was taking care of me the same way one would care for a small child, and that was absolutely mortifying.

I learned what to expect from him early on. The second time I awoke, he was there, watching me.

"Good afternoon, Sebastian," he said. "How do you feel?"

"Fairly awful," I told him. It was true: My head pounded, my stomach churned, my joints ached, and I felt so weak I could hardly bear it. "How long have I been asleep?"

"A few days," he told me.

A few days! My young master must have been waiting all that time!

"Your master is fine," he said. "Right now, he's upstairs having tea with the other children. Aside from doing a little fretting and a few little disobediences, he's fine."

I knew he wasn't strictly speaking the truth. He was fine for the time being, and that was all I could hope for. "Has he been eating?" He was already so small and slender that I knew he could not afford to lose much weight...

"Doctor's orders have given him several little snacks during the day aside from his regular meals," he informed me. "He's been eating. Speaking of eating...are you hungry?"

I knew what was coming. "No."

He tilted his head to the side and regarded me with a thoughtful look. "I'm sure you are. You have to be hungry."

No, I wasn't hungry, but I was ravenous. My body was craving nourishment as much as a thirsty man would crave drink.

A light clink brought me out of my thoughts. He was busy pouring a glass of milk...milk that was tinted green. He'd added something to it...To that glass he added a bit of his blood, added fresh from a new gash in his wrist. He mixed the concoction well and brought it over to me, and I wished with all my being that I could pull away from that glass in his hand. Why did he want to feed me, anyway? Any sensible demon would have killed me already!

"Here we are," he said, helping me sit up and lean against him before holding the glass to my lips. "Enjoy, Sebastian."

"I'm not hungry," I insisted, bringing both of my hands up to lock around his wrist and maybe pull his hand away. "Really, I'm not."

"You're telling fibs, now," he said. "You're not hungry, truthfully speaking, but you do want to swallow what's in this glass. Am I right?"

He was right, but I wasn't going to admit it. "You don't have to feed me."

"Oh, but I want to," he said, tilting the glass a little more. "Open up, now."

Before I could protest any more, the milk concoction filled my mouth and I swallowed. I kept swallowing, the flavor leaving me helpless. I could tell that he'd added several herbs to the milk, several that were good for healing demons and even more that would give me strength. His blood was at a tolerable level, making the milk taste sweet and spicy and delicious. All too soon, he was tilting my head back, allowing the last of the drink to trickle down my throat.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked, settling me against the pillows again. "In a few hours you'll have some more if you're still hungry."

My mouth watered. Whatever he'd done to that milk...No, I couldn't let myself look forward to such a thing! I had to keep my mind on important things! "Thank you, but that's all I feel like taking," I said. "Could we talk for a little bit?"

"About?"

"Why haven't you killed me? Why are you bothering to keep me alive and why are you keeping me here?"

"Because I wish to keep you here, and I don't wish to kill you," he told me. "You interest me, you see."

I stared at him. This was...unexpected. I was a normal demon, nothing more and nothing less. Why should I interest him? "Do I? Why?"

He settled into a chair next to my bed. "Several reasons, none of which are easily explained."

Annoyance flared, but I beat it back. He sounded just like Marcellus whenever he said that he had his reasons for something!

"I suppose, if I had to give a reason for why you interest me so much...I'd have to say that you live among humans so easily. You're the only demon I've met who does it as easily as I do."

I was surprised and more than a little intrigued. "You've lived among humans?"

"For the last thirty-five years, I've lived among humans," he said. "I've lived a human life up until now, and this is the first time I've run across a demon in that time. From what I've been able to learn, for the past few years you've been the perfect human butler for a human child. Such a thing interests me, as I've said."

"So you're keeping me alive just to satisfy your curiosity?" I asked.

"Not quite," he confessed. "I'm also keeping you alive because Ciel would be very distressed at losing you."

I stared at him once again, my mind afire with worry. "How did you know my master's real name?"

"I met his father once, about ten years ago, and Ciel has a very similar scent. They look alike and with such a similar scent, it wasn't hard to figure out who he really was. I haven't told anyone else, though, if that's what's worrying you." He chuckled. "You know, I've been wondering if Ciel is anything like Vincent, and I have to admit that he is. Vincent's scent was just as mouth-watering as Ciel's is."

I surged up from my pillows but almost as quickly I collapsed again.

"Oh, don't worry, Ciel's not about to become my next meal," he told me. "You've nothing to fear there."

"What do I have to fear?" I wanted to know.

"Why, nothing, yet," he said, smiling. "Nothing at all, child."

Shortly after that, he told me that I could call him Augustus if I wished and asked if there was anything I might like to pass the time. He had a human daughter and he always spent some time with her around this time of the day, so he had to go.

"No, there's nothing," I said, feeling absolutely miserable with nerves.

"Well, if you need anything, simply call. I'll hear you."

I didn't doubt that he would. As time passed, I continued to sleep a great deal and I would wake up to find him there, waiting for me to wake. He would feed me, not just his blood in milk, but soups made from bone marrow, shreds of meat and his blood. Often he would give me the milk and blood mixture again, infused with herbs. I tasted foxglove, oleander, monkshood, yew, hemlock, and nightshade. All were highly poisonous to humans, but they would strengthen and heal an ailing demon. It looked as if Augustus knew healing plants as well as Marcellus did.

He did more than feed me. More than once he helped me bathe in a large wooden washtub that had been hidden in the corner of the room behind a screen. Sometimes, he would come just to read to me or to talk. Other times he would come to give me massages or coax me to sleep or eat. On principle, I fought to avoid the meals he gave me, but I was never successful. Such arguments ended with me eating or sleeping as he wished me to. The things that frightened me most, however, where the massages. What purpose did they serve? Why was he so admant in giving me one several times a day? After one virulent argument, he stayed with me, stroking my face with his fingers after completing my massage.

"I wonder if you'll ever be docile, Sebastian," he said, smooth my hair away from his eyes as he tucked me in.

"Why would you want me to be docile?" I asked, feeling worry spiral up in my gut again.

"I think it would be...amusing," he said, letting his fingers trail along my jaw. "And...I think...enticing. You've quite captivated me, you know."

"Enticing?" I gasped, my mind equating him to an elemental version of Grell. "I've captivated you?" That was all I needed!

He chuckled, but the sound didn't give me any reassurance. "Oh, don't worry. I prefer females, but I have to admit, I'm curious to see what you would be like if I taught you how to be docile. I think you would be quite charming."

There was nothing I could think of to say to that. Oh, I could think it, definitely, but saying it out loud might enrage him, and I didn't want him to kill me or tear a limb off me. The only things I feared aside from losing my master were losing my life and what he might do to teach me to be "docile." I had a strong feeling that any such lessons in the matter were bound to be painful and humiliating.

"Don't let such things vex you," he said, tucking my blankets under my chin. "I was only thinking aloud, after all. Go to sleep, Sebastian. You need your rest."

For once, I was glad to go to sleep, if just to get away from him for a while.