Grell Sutcliffe approached Eleanora several days after the butler's failed funeral. Eleanora wasn't really looking forward to talking with Grell; she had never been particularly genial to her; but sometimes it just couldn't be avoided.
"Hello Grell," Eleanora said. "How are you today?"
"Just fine," Grell said in that cold, stiff manner she always had with Eleanora. "Have you seen Bassy anywhere?"
"Who?"
"Sebastian."
"Who?"
"Sebastian Michaelis!"
"Oh, him. No, I haven't. I think he had to run out to go shopping or something."
"Oh, well, maybe it's better this way," Grell said. "The next time you see him, could you please give him a message?"
"What kind of message?"
"Well, it's fairly long; maybe I should write it down…" Grell fumbled around for a pen and a piece of paper. "Now, let's see…It goes something along the lines of…Meet him at the…Or was it someplace else? Well, it was at six-thirty…or maybe seven AM?"
"Maybe there's someone else who could give me the message?" Eleanora said impatiently. "Or maybe you could write a letter to Mr. Michaelis or something?"
"No, I can't remember it," Grell sighed, "and the people who have the message aren't staying here very long; in fact, they're leaving tomorrow…" She gave Eleanora a look. "Why don't you meet them in person?" she finally said. "They'll give you all the information and it won't take more than half an hour."
"We-e-ell…"
"It's reeeeaaally important, Lady."
"Why can't you wait for Mr. Michaelis to return? After all, it's for him…"
"Because who knows when he'll be returning and my coworkers are big into not working overtime and all that and they're leaving tomorrow and can't we just go?"
"Fiiine," Eleanora sighed. "It'll really only take half an hour?"
"Promise! Let's go!"
Eleanora got permission from the young Master and then followed Grell outside, where a huge red car was waiting.
"Nice, isn't it?" Grell said, smiling toothily at it. "You can't imagine how hard it was to persuade Will to get it for me…"
"I've never ridden in a car before," Eleanora said excitedly. "Does it go fast? Really fast?"
"It goes fast," Grell said, hopping into the driver's seat. "Now let's go before they lose patience with us! They said that they'll be meeting us at some café in London…"
Eleanora jumped into the passenger's seat and the car took off. It was great. Eleanora decided right then and there that she was going to ask for a car for Christmas—or her birthday—or something.
True to Grell's word, her coworkers were waiting for them in a café: two men. The first one was very impatient, irritably tapping the table, with brown hair neatly slicked back from his face. The second one was some younger hooligan, with blonde-and-brown hair who looked familiar…
"I know you," Eleanora said. "You're that nut who shot the butler in the East End that one time."
The young man giggled and shot a nervous look at the brown-haired man, who glared at him and stood up.
"You are Mrs. Michaelis, I presume?" he said in a prim voice as they shook hands. "I never imagined someone of his kind getting married, but then again, they'll do anything for a soul…"
Eleanora forced a laugh and glanced at Grell, who looked a bit awkward herself.
"I see that you've met Ronald Knox," the man continued, looking at the hoodlum, "and I am William T. Spears. You might call me Grell's boss."
"A pleasure," Eleanora said and sat down across from Will. "So why did you want to see me?"
"We have a message that we would like you to convey to your husband," Will said. "It pertains to these recent murders of the noble class."
"Oh. That's still going on? I thought it had stopped…"
"The flow of the murders has stemmed with the rescue of Wallace W. Wallace, but they have returned in full force. I can't believe that I'm saying this, but," Will sighed, "we are in need of your…husband's assistance."
"Why? What can he do?"
"He can tell us why the human souls are missing and how they have been extracted, perhaps even tell us who has taken them. It would be a colossal help."
"And…how would he know all those things about souls?"
Will scoffed and waved his hand.
"He's a demon. Demons know everything there is to know about souls. Now, will you please give him this letter for us?"
Eleanora wordlessly took the letter and then suddenly forced a laugh.
"Him? The butler? A demon? Surely you're joking. There's no such thing."
"I am not one for 'jokes,'" Will said and then looked up at her. "Oh. I see that he hasn't told you yet. Well, I can't say that I'm surprised. His kind are notorious for failing to tell the complete truth…"
"He's not a demon," Eleanora insisted. "Demons don't exist."
"You mean you really haven't discovered it for yourself?" Will asked, giving her a look with his steely green eyes. "Then think about it for a time, and I daresay that you will kick yourself for not realizing it sooner. But until then, I bid you good evening. Come Grell, Ronald. We're going. Pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Michaelis."
"It's Miss Black, actually," Eleanora murmured, but by then the three had gone. She almost would have thought that they had never been there to begin with, but then again, she was still holding the letter. Sebastian Michaelis had been written on it in stiffly neat black handwriting.
She slowly rose up from her seat and began walking home, trying to think. However, her mind was in that mood where it didn't particularly want to focus on anything. Once she arrived at Phantomhive, she realized that she hadn't figured anything out.
She dropped the letter on the kitchen table, where the butler was sure to find it. It was already pretty late; she went up to her room and collapsed on the bed.
"Demon," she thought. "That man said that my husband was a demon. But that's not true. It can't possibly be true. Demons don't exist. They're just some legend to keep little kids from being naughty, like unicorns. They don't exist. They can't possibly. He was just poking fun."
Somehow her mind wasn't convinced.
"I'll sleep on it," she decided, "and when I'll wake up, I'll realize that it couldn't be true."