Hi again, everyone! I am SO sorry for not updating in a while! I've been A) Banned from my laptop and writing in secret in the dark hours of the night. B) Swamped with Algebra II homework. C) Preparing to march with the Dobyns-Bennett High School Band in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Moony: D) All of the above?

Quite right, my loony-Moony! We are departing for New York at 6, which means be there at 5, get up at 4. And it is now... 11:30. Fail. I started this chapter one way, had a dream, changed it. You all know the drill by now^^ In the words of my favorite childrens book character from age six... ONWARD!

Sebastian lifted the heavy baggage onto the top of the carriage without any trouble. The thing troubling him was the fact that the young master had become very strange over the past two days. The butler had never seen Ciel smile so much or so genuinely. Sebastian had even caught him chuckling as he watched Finian and Anya at work in the garden. What has the world come to?

With further thought, Sebastian realized that it was not only the Earl who had been acting strangely. Nothing had been broken, burned, or bruised all day. It was as if the entire staff had finally taken a page from Tanaka's book and settled down for a while. Sebastian could only hope that the peace would last until he and the young master returned from London. Speaking of…

The butler fastened the last harness on the carriage horses, preparing to return to the house. The dappled gray mares shied away from him, frightened. Sebastian crooned to them, making the comforting nickering noises of a mother horse to her foal.

Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he slipped his gloved fingers into his pocket, drawing out two small sugar cubes. He held one out to each mare, and they hesitantly accepted them.

Sebastian allowed himself a small smile. Horses are really quite elegant creatures, he mused. Although not nearly as graceful as a cat, they are regal in their own respect. They are simply too trusting, bought so easily by a cube of sugar. As he led the horses to the stable post, the first mare gently nudged her nose against his pocket.

"I don't have any more sugar at the moment," the butler quipped. "So stop trying to brownnose me." The horse stopped her search, but continued to nuzzle Sebastian's back.

"Foolish creature," he murmured. "You'll get killed like that, trusting anyone who happens to treat you with a bit of kindness." Turning his thoughts to more practical matters, the equestrian-to-be loosely draped the reins over the post and ventured back to the manor to give the staff the informative meeting the master had ordered.

Sebastian had successfully requested the presence of most of the staff. Bardroy was pulled away from his salad tossing, Mey-rin from folding linens. He had just spotted Finian and Tanaka sitting together in the library and drinking hot tea.

"Mr. Tanaka," he called lightly, so as not to startle the old man. "Could you and Finian please make your way to the entrance hall? The young master requests a meeting of the staff."

As Sebastian drew closer, he recognized the aroma in the steam drifting from the pair's mugs. Chamomile.

"Mr. Tanaka," the butler queried, genuinely confused. "Were the chamomile leaves not on the top shelf in the pantry? How did you reach them?" The top shelves of the pantry were reserved for the more rare and expensive herbs and teas. They were so high off the ground, only the Phantomhive butler was able to reach them without a ladder.

This usually involved a series of flamboyant flips and jumps, and Sebastian was positive that neither of the men sitting before him could have achieved it.

"Oh ho ho!" the old man laughed. Sebastian resisted the urge to smack a hand to his forehead. Even with the most restorative tea the Phantomhives could attain, Tanaka still could not maintain enough stamina to form coherent sentences.

"Well," Finny interjected. "When me and Anya finished raking, we came inside and found Mr. Tanaka lying on the ground. I don't think cold weather is good for his joints." Sebastian cocked an eyebrow.

"Okay, Anya explained that to me. Anyway, I told Anya about the tea, because I knew this kind helps him the most. We put him on the library sofa, and we went to the pantry to get the chamomile." Finny took another sip of his tea.

"Wow, this is pretty good!" Finny exclaimed, only to be glared down by an increasingly testy butler. "But moving on... Neither me or Anya could reach the tea leaves, and you weren't around, so-"

"What did you do to my pantry?" Sebastian snarled. He knew that the end of this story could not be a good one.

"Nothing!" Finny protested. "I swear! I just threw Anya up to the top shelf and she grabbed the tea and I caught her, that's all!"

Finny clenched his eyes shut, waiting for a fierce rebuttal from Sebastian. It never came. The frightened gardener heard only a slight, strangled cough. Finian opened his eyes and had to blink several times to be certain he was really seeing Sebastian-Sebastian!- struggling to hold back laughter behind a gloved hand. Finny, for some reason unbeknown to him, began blushing profusely.

"You threw her?" Sebastian chuckled. "You threw her?" The notion was so ridiculous that the normally stoic butler's sides would be aching if he were human. "How exactly did the two of you come up with that solution?"

Finny glared at Sebastian, silently willing him to Stop. Laughing. But his last comment had struck a small chord with Finny. How had he and Anya come up with him throwing her into the air to get some tea?

Flashback

"Mr. Tanaka!" Finny cried, rushing to the side of the gentleman sprawled on the polished floor. Anya was right on his heels. She knelt down and checked Tanaka for injuries. A sigh of relief escaped her as she found that he was breathing and seemed unhurt.

"Mr. Tanaka?" she ventured. "Can you hear me?" The poor man's eyelids fluttered and eventually opened. He didn't appear to understand what was going on.

"Oh… ho… ho?" he whispered. Finny nodded emphatically.

"Yes sir. This is Anya, the girl Sebastian and the young master found." He glanced apologetically at his friend, realizing that he had made her sound like a stray puppy. Anya gave him a look that read, "It's okay, just focus on what's important please."

Together, they lifted Tanaka and deposited him onto the fluffy sofa in the library. To Anya's great confusion, Finny suggested that they find some tea, and quickly.

"Tea always helps Tanaka feel lots better," Finny explained. "Especially chamomile tea. That's his favorite."

Anya nodded her understanding. "Chamomile is wonderful for sore joints in cold weather. Cook always…"she trailed off, suddenly reluctant to bring up any more memories. "Never mind. Where can we find tea?"

"The pantry," Finny answered automatically. "But the chamomile is on the top shelf… only Sebastian can reach it."

Anya scoffed. "That sourpuss? I'm sure we can at least manage to make some tea without his help!"

A few minutes later, in the pantry.

"There is no way I can reach that tea," Anya fumed, jumping up and down with no results. The shelf was at least fifteen feet above her head; an impossible distance. There were no ladders or butlers in sight.

"Come to think of it, I wonder how Sebastian can reach that high," Finny mused. "He isn't nearly tall enough, but I've never seen him bring a ladder in here." He wiped the thoughts from his mind. All that mattered now was to get the tea for Tanaka. No matter what.

"If we had, I don't know, rope or something…" Anya sighed. "But we don't, and if we threw anything else up there, it would make everything smash to the floor." She slumped against the wall opposite the tall shelves. "It's a no-win scenario. There isn't any way to reach that shelf!"

Finny frowned, deep in thought. He crouched down in front of Anya, trying to look her in the eyes. "Maybe we're going about this the wrong way," he suggested. "The normal ways obviously won't work in this situation, so let's find a more creative way."

The unbidden memories of lessons came flowing through Anya's mind. Each of her instructors had always had saying which they would reiterate at the conclusion of each lesson. Her strict math teacher had believed that "practice makes permanent." The history instructor had told her to "learn from the past, lest it repeat itself."

These clichés had been drilled into her head every day from age three to twelve, and she remembered them all perfectly. Her favorite saying, however, had only been spoken once, and had not come from an instructor, but Eugene, the stable boy and her best friend.

Two months after the "Incident" just after her seventh birthday, she had run to the stables, crying because the maids were calling her a witch, along with other cruel things. Eugene had comforted her as he would a skittish horse, patting the back of her neck and stroking her hair, whispering soothing words of encouragement.

When he had finally calmed her down, he led her out to a henhouse behind the stables. A mother hen had taken refuge in the loft of the enormous structure, and refused to come down for anything. She hadn't even come down to eat from the trough. Eugene had turned to Anya with a sad frown marring his eleven-year-old face and begged for her help.

After half an hour, the hen still wouldn't budge. Eugene had completely given up, but Anya suddenly had an idea. If the hen wouldn't come to the food, she reasoned, they could bring food to the hen.

She and Eugene took turns throwing handfuls of chickenfeed into the loft until the hen clucked happily, a very full hen indeed. Eugene had praised her creativity. Later, Anya accused him of already thinking of the idea and letting her suggest it first to make her feel better. At the moment, however, it had just felt good to help her friend and not give up.

Eugene told her that the "Incident" was just a setback, and everyone would forget it in a little while. Anya had bitterly quipped that setbacks were just that, and after one it was nearly impossible to catch back up. Eugene had taken her hand, looked her in the eye, and said, "Anya Criel, no setback will ever set you back."

Tears fought to pour from Anya's eyes as she sat in the pantry. It was then that she decided. This was her home now, and her family was here, not Rosenbloom estate. There was no denying that the Count, her instructors, Eugene, Cook, and all the rest had shaped her childhood. She even welcomed their wisdom and advice.

She would not, however, welcome any painful memories of them. They were banished from her mind. She turned her thoughts to the task at hand. She had enough to think about with this tea dilemma without foolish hens invading her thoughts…

"That's it!" Anya laughed.

Finny jumped slightly. "Er, what's it? Did you think of a way to get the tea?"

Anya leapt to her feet, her brain buzzing. "Neither of us can reach that tea on our own. We couldn't get close even if I stood on your shoulders. If the tea can't come to us, we'll have to go to the tea!"

Finny was now both confused and a little worried for his friend's sanity. "Didn't you just say that we couldn't get to the tea?"

"We can't. Not on our own, in any case. But with your help, I could." Anya's eyes shone with determination. "Finny, have you ever thrown a person before?"

Finny blanched. He must have misheard. "Thrown… a… person?" Anya nodded. "You're serious?" Another nod. "Um… How?"

For the first time, Anya looked uncertain. "Just… pick me up?" How was she supposed to know? Weren't boys supposed to know how to throw things? 'Things' included people, right?

"…Okay?" Finny gingerly moved to stand behind Anya. Being very, very careful not to let his emotions get the best of him, he grasped Anya's waist and counted to three. "Ready? One. Two. Three!" With a moderate amount of pressure, Finny lifted upward. Anya flew into the air at an alarming rate, and Finny was relieved when she didn't hit the ceiling.

Just as Anya grabbed the box of chamomile, Finny realized with a start of panic that Anya was, of course, going to come back down. He reached out his arms just in time, and with a breathless 'oof', he caught Anya bridal style.

Anya gazed up at him, cheeks rosy with exhilaration. She had been silent during her flight, and completely focused on her objective, but that wasn't enough to take away from the feeling of weightlessness as she had shot up into the air. It stirred something within her, some emotion that wasn't airsickness at all. Anya had to admit her slight worry as she had descended, but her doubts were ephemeral, and proved inconsequential as she landed in Finny's arms.

"Did you have fun?" Finny joked as he lowered Anya safely to the ground. "You didn't say a word. I would have screamed my lungs out."

Anya's face split into the widest grin Finny had ever seen. "Of course I did," she gushed. "That was the most fun I've had in ages!" She clutched the tea tin closer to her chest, twirling in dizzy circles. "It was just like flying!"

Finny watched his friend laugh and spin, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. She was so enthusiastic about everything, from the heaviest task to the fact that the sky was darker blue in the east than the west. There was a word for that; innocence. It brightened the gloomy room, and Finny was certain that he had found a great friend in Anya.

"Now we just need to make this tea for Mr. Tanaka. The kitchen is this way, isn't it?" She walked out of the pantry and turned left. Finny laughed and grabbed her hand, leading her in the right direction.

Finny saw Anya's shameful grimace and stopped laughing. "Don't worry," he assured her. "You'll figure out where things are eventually. It took me weeks just to remember how to get to my room!" When Anya still looked downcast, Finny tried a different tactic. "It really is alright, Anya. Just think of this as, I don't know, a setback." He was oblivious to Anya's reaction to his choice of words.

"But setbacks… they set you back, don't they?" Anya's question was barely a whisper, as faint as the long gone conversation with Eugene. The answer, however, was vibrant and reborn.

"Anya Criel," Finny answered sincerely. "I don't think you would let any setback set you back."

End of Flashback

Finny pondered over Anya's expression when he spoke those words. It was as if she'd seen a ghost. He was wrenched back to reality as Sebastian regained control of himself. The butler once again asked Finny and Tanaka to report to the entrance hall as soon as possible.

"And where is my assistant?" Sebastian asked irritably. "Surely she didn't just take off on her own to get lost again. Do you know how long it could take to locate her?"

"She went to change back into her dress," Finny said. "I told her that she should stay with us and have some tea, but she wanted to find Mey-rin and learn more about her duties." Sebastian actually felt a little approval at this statement. If Anya kept this up, maybe Sebastian wouldn't have to worry so much about leaving the house in her hands. He bade Tanaka and Finian farewell and went in search of the rare and elusive Anya Criel.

He found Mey-rin waiting in the entrance hall with Bardroy. They had been conversing in hushed tones, but due to Sebastian's keen hearing he could make out every word.

"I'd swear it on my life, Rin!" the cook was whispering. "I followed that rat back to where I knew the nest was, in the corner of the cellar wall. Then I broke through, and there was no rats anywhere!"

Mey-rin shared her friend's befuddlement. "That's not the only strange thing, no sir it isn't! I dropped a whole bundle of sheets out the window and they landed on a mud puddle. When I arrived downstairs, the sheets were spotless and the blinkin' puddle was missin'!" She wrung her hands and fidgeted restlessly. "What's happenin' Bard?"

"What should be happening," Sebastian drawled, scaring the two of them out of their skins. "Is a staff meeting. Finian and Mr. Tanaka will be along shortly, but the master has refused to begin without Anya. Where is she now?"

Mey-rin recovered from her minor heart attack and stammered something that was quite unintelligent, but that could be roughly translated to: "I taught Anya how to fold bed sheets. She became very drowsy. I told her how to get to my room, which we are sharing now that she lives here. You will probably find her there." Satisfied with his knack for translating the maid's gibberish, Sebastian set of to seek his final quarry.

The servants' quarters were all located in the same corridor. There were four rooms total; Tanaka's and Sebastian's rooms on the left, Finny/Bard's and Mey-rin/Anya's on the right. Sebastian held back the impulse to sweep dramatically into the room, hesitant to invade the girls' living space. Concentrating, Sebastian could sense that Anya was indeed inside, but she was being very quiet.

He rapped sharply on the wood, but there was no answer. He knocked with his whole fist; still no answer. Exasperated, he tried the handle. The door swung open without a sound.

The gas lamps were still flickering brightly, but were completely ignored by the girl sprawled on her bed, fully clothed and dead to the world. We really must get her sleeping schedule back in order, Sebastian noted. She simply can't be collapsing at noon and lively in the dark hours while we're away.

Anya was sleeping deeply, and didn't move so much as a muscle as Sebastian approached her. As he drew near, however, her smooth features became creased with worry. She suddenly flung her arm across the pillow, clawing at it with trembling fingers.

"Nooo…" she murmured. "Go away…" Anya curled up even further, breathing hard. Sebastian touched her arm lightly, trying to wake her from whatever nightmare was troubling her. She began screaming, and flailed her fists at the butler. Whatever she was dreaming, it was keeping a tight hold on her subconscious.

"Anya Criel, wake up!" Sebastian commanded. "You are dreaming, do you understand? Dreaming!" Anya finally calmed down and opened her eyes. As her brain registered that she was safe in her own bed and the occurrences of her dream were not real, tears of relief spilled from her drowsy eyes. Sebastian could only watch as Anya sat back on the edge of the bed with her face buried in her arms.

Her pale, equally unscarred arms.

Faster than Anya could even process it, Sebastian had yanked to her feet and was carefully examining her miraculously healed arm. Unlike the last time she had been caught in Sebastian's unbreakable grasp, Anya wasn't afraid. On the contrary, she ceased crying almost at once.

"What is it?" she asked. In her drowsy state of mind, she hadn't yet realized what the fuss was about. Sebastian glared pointedly at Anya's arm, and the maid was instantly awake. All the color drained from her face.

"How?" she whispered, gently tugging away from Sebastian's scrutiny. She poked and prodded at her skin, marveling its smooth, unbroken surface. It was as if she had never been lashed.

"What did you say caused those scars?" Sebastian asked abruptly. Pain flared in Anya's eyes.

"A horse whip," she answered, voice saturated with sadness. "When I was running away I fell, and Eu- and the stable boys held me down and tried to whip me. I almost got away when he- when one of them caught my arm." She gazed up at Sebastian with pleading eyes.

"Please, Sebastian. I don't know how it's possible, but I really didn't do anything! I fell asleep with them, and you when you woke me, they were gone."

Sebastian had been genuinely bewildered exactly twelve times during his post as Phantomhive butler. Three of those instances had occurred in the last twenty-four hours alone. There was no possible way that a human could recover so quickly from that kind of injury, but Sebastian was completely positive that the frail little girl before him was an honest to goodness human being.

While Sebastian tried to sort out the muddled mess in his head, Anya realized that the butler could not have simply barged into her room on a whim.

"So," she spoke into the awkward silence. "What did you need me for?" Sebastian pulled his silver watch from his pocket and tsk'd with distaste.

"We were due in the entrance hall for a meeting two and a half minutes ago," he snapped. "We will discuss this later. Now if you please," he continued, ushering Anya through the door. "Get going or I'll never hear the end of this. And Anya?" The butler and maid slowed in their jaunt through the hallways.

"Yes, Sebastian?"

"Please remember to lock your door in the future."

"Why?"

"…sugar cubes…"

"What was that?"

"…Nothing."

Suddenly, the butler halted midstride. Sebastian Michaelis had very keen senses, even for a demon. By simply concentrating, he could locate anyone on the Phantomhive estate from anywhere else on the grounds, unless they were completely silent (and sometimes, even then).

For instance, if the young master was sound asleep at his desk over a mound of paperwork, Sebastian would be able to sense this if he was in the kitchens, but not if he was in the garden.

Now, as the sound of galloping hooves reached his ears, he held up one hand to silence Anya's concerned questioning and closed his eyes, listening carefully. Just from the distant sounds, Sebastian could piece together a picture in his mind of the goings-on at the front gate.

The horse's hooves aren't muffled; a good sign. This won't be an attack. The rider has dismounted, boots smacking the ground with a dull thud. The reigns swish as they are wrapped around the gatepost. As the rider approached the paved walkway leading to the front door, he pulled something from the depths of his riding jacket. Sebastian heard the telltale crinkle of paper. This interloper was a messenger.

Sebastian opened his scarlet eyes, meeting Anya's worried lilac ones. While the butler had been "out of it", his companion had tried to shake him out of his stupor, and still had his arm in what would be a death grip for a human.

"Anya, please continue to the entrance hall and inform the others that I will only be a moment longer. There is an errand I need to attend to." Sebastian lightly tugged against Anya's grasp, instantly freeing himself. He started in the opposite direction down the hallway.

"Wait! Sebastian, what's-?"

But the butler had already disappeared, sprinting through the corridors. Anya sighed in defeat and continued onward, finally finding her way to the entrance hall where everyone was waiting.

"I'm sorry for being late," she apologized with a light curtsy. "It seems I dozed off for a bit. My sleeping schedule has been turned around for a few days, but I promise it won't happen again."

"It's no trouble," echoed a voice from the shadows. The staff all jumped at the appearance of Earl Phantomhive.

"However," he continued. "You may have to fix your nocturnal habits quickly. I've decided that the position of Sebastian's assistant suits you quite well. You are now officially his helper, and will lend your assistance wherever it is needed. Congratulations, Anya."

This little speech was followed by a smattering of applause from Bard, Mey-rin, Finny, and Mr. Tanaka. Anya's face felt like her own personal sun.

"Speaking of Sebastian, where is he?" Ciel queried. "Hadn't he gone to find you?" It wasn't at all like Sebastian to run off when he was expected somewhere else. Anya opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a silky voice from the doorway.

"I apologize for being late," Sebastian bowed. "However, I believe that this will more than excuse my transgression." From the depths of his tailcoat, the butler produced a crisp envelope with a dark blue seal.

Everyone immediately looked to Ciel to gauge his reaction. The Earl took the letter from Sebastian and read it, his expression ranging from curiosity to confusion to outright disbelief.

In that moment, everyone in the room saw a change in the boy. His expression hardened, erasing all pretenses of youth and innocence. He was the Queen's Watchdog, and he was in his element. Straightening, Ciel addressed the bewildered service staff.

"You all were called here for a meeting," he announced. "This meeting was to give notice that Sebastian and I were called to London by Her Majesty the Queen. However," he added. "There has been a slight change in our preparations. I would like for Anya to accompany us, and the rest of you to watch over the house while we are away."

Everyone, including Sebastian and Tanaka, gaped at the young Earl. This was unheard of; none of them had ever tagged along for a mission from the Queen! Anya immediately began stuttering her protests, and Sebastian was, not surprisingly, in total agreement with her.

"My Lord," he reasoned. "Miss Criel is obviously not capable for this task." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "She can't even fight," he hissed. "Her presence would only be a burden and a distraction."

Ciel fixed Sebastian with a withering glare, then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Sebastian?" he finally spoke. "Maybe you should read this invitation."

"I already did."

Ciel grumbled something about it being illegal to read other people's mail. "Well, what other solution did you have in mind, then?" The staff looked back and forth between the two as if watching a tennis match.

"Isn't it obvious?" the butler replied with a smirk. "We use the 'original plan.'"

Ciel glared at him, flushed with rage. "Not a word," he growled. "I'm never doing that again."

Sebastian consented with a bow and a cheeky, poorly concealed grin. He took the Earl's dismissal as permission to address the staff himself.

"The three of us will be departing in exactly thirty-three minutes," he stated. "The rest of you will remember to keep the house standing and in order. We should return no later than a week from tomorrow." He gave the invitation to Anya so that she could read it. "You are all dismissed. Back to work!"

The entrance hall slowly emptied until only Ciel, Sebastian, and Anya remained. The maid examined the invitation carefully. It was a pure white card inscribed with obsidian ink.

The Earl Ciel Phantomhive

Is cordially invited to the Autumn Gala held by

Lady Catrina Soly in London on the Equinox.

All attendees must accompany a partner.

Anya blinked, and reread the card. Then she read it again. Finally, she raised her eyes beseechingly to the young men before her.

"I don't understand," she stated. "Why would you need me for this?" She focused on Ciel. "You have a fiancée, don't you? Couldn't she accompany you? Wait, what am I saying?" she cried. "Why are you attending this gala in the first place? I thought you had a mission to complete!"

Ciel shook his head. "When she wrote to me about the deaths," he explained. "I assumed that it was just another hired assassin taking out business rivals. That sort of thing happens in London quite frequently, actually. The unusual thing, as Sebastian discovered this morning, is that all of the victims went mysteriously missing at different parties across London, and were later found dead in the streets."

"Then why go at all?" Anya exclaimed. "If someone really wants you dead, why would you put yourself right into their hands? And if you had to attend, couldn't you at least disguise yourself?"

Apparently, something about her question was highly amusing to Sebastian, who started convulsing with laughter. If looks could kill, Sebastian might have died (or at least been severely injured) several times over from Ciel's visual dart practice.

"Our last undercover espionage mission did not work out very well," Ciel stated, shuddering at a memory best left forgotten. "In any case, the murderer obviously wants me in attendance, and will not be able to act against me if they aren't aware of my presence. I must attend as myself.

"That is part of the reason we need you, Anya. Lizzie has contracted the flu, so she can't come with me. You've grown up as a noble's daughter; you know the protocol for formal functions like these." His voice lowered until he was speaking more to himself than to his maid.

"Sebastian will be there the entire time, watching over us. We can say that you're my distant cousin… If anything happens, Sebastian will get us both out safely." Ciel regarded his butler significantly. "He will make sure that no harm comes to either of us."

He paused. "That is, of course," he amended. "Only if you agree to this. You signed up for household tasks, after all; not secret missions."

Anya straightened her back and stood tall. Her reply was instant and confident.

"I don't believe that you would ask this of me if there was more than a small chance that any real harm would befall us."

Ciel smiled. How did I know she would say something like that? He clapped his hands together with finality.

"Right then," he moved on. "Sebastian, continue preparations to depart at once. You know the necessary changes in the plan." The butler bowed and turned smartly on his heel, heading straight for the dresses room.

As he exited the hall, he couldn't help but notice with delight the slight grimace that Anya was trying to hide. She was going to be overjoyed with the outfit that Sebastian would prepare for her on the evening of the gala. The Equinox was only three days away.

The carriage rumbled down the paved road, bumping over loose stones and potholes. Ciel gazed out the window, staring into space. Neither he nor Anya had spoken much since the hurried lunch at the London townhouse. Obviously, they were both nervous about this particular plan. Someone wanted Ciel dead, and they were handing themselves over on a silver platter! Despite their cheerful attire, Ciel felt he was on his way to a funeral instead of a gala.

The Earl had dressed in his very best noble regalia; custom tailored blue coat, pure white shirt, top hat and cane. His face was decorated with a new ebony eye patch, and his father's ring shone like fire in the lamplight from the street. Ciel was used to looking like this for formal functions. Anya, however, looked like an entirely different person.

Sebastian had dyed the maid's hair as darkly as he could without making it pitch black. It now looked much more similar to Ciel's than her natural light brown. Anya actually didn't mind the drastic color change; it was the dress that infuriated her. Sebastian had selected the frilliest, laciest, girliest pink and black dress that she had ever seen. The full skirt was impossible to walk in, and she just knew that if one spot got on it, the stain would never leave the fabric.

Although, it had been very amusing to see Ciel's reaction to the dress; the blood had rushed to his face, then left it just as quickly. To Anya, it had seemed like the Earl would pass out. When questioned, Ciel had only grumbled and commented about an "unpleasant experience", and said that he would rather not talk about it. Anya made a mental note to interrogate Sebastian when she had the chance, since he obviously knew the big secret.

Finally, they lurched to a stop. Sebastian assisted first Ciel out of the carriage, then Anya, wishing them both luck. Anya took the Earl's proffered arm, and they proceeded to the main entrance of the enormous mansion before them. It was a large Gothic-looking building painted in bold blues and greens. The house itself was no larger than the Phantomhive manor, but it was much more ostentatious and elaborate.

At the front door, Ciel presented his invitation to a waiting attendant, who bowed and asked the identity of the young lady accompanying the Earl that fine evening.

"This is my cousin," Ciel lied smoothly. "Lady Anya… Midford." They had decided earlier to use Elizabeth's surname simply because it would be easy to remember. Hopefully, no one would remember that Elizabeth Middlefield didn't have a sister, or any female cousins, for that matter.

The butler nodded, and waved them into the greeting hall. If possible, the inside of the house was even more frivolously decorated than the outside. Ornate paintings and drapes hung on every available inch of the walls, and vases full of flowers were stacked on tables and armoires. At the opposite end of the hall stood a pair of oaken double doors that presumably lead to the party.

The Earl and his "cousin" paused just outside the door. The sounds of the party could be heard through the thick doors; dozens of people chatting, laughing, and having fun. Ciel turned to Anya.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" he asked. Anya laughed nervously and clutched his arm a little tighter.

"Are you joking?" she teased. "What kind of maid would I be if I couldn't at least do this much for my master?"

Lord, help us. Ciel thought to himself. She sounds just like Sebastian! I must have one hell of a maid.

And so Ciel and Anya stepped through the doors, entering a party hosted by a murderer.

I really apologize if this doesn't make sense...

Moony: If you're that sorry, rewrite it so it does make sense!

Noooo! I like this story line! The next chapter includes the nightmare I had that started this whole story in the first place! Well, I guess this chapter may be a little short, but I wanted to update tonight because I won't have access to a computer all week. I promise to try and update sooner next time, okay?

Moony: Please R&R, Maya doesn't own Kuroshitsuji/Black Bulter, see ya, bye, etc.

In a mini-skirt,

Moony/Maya Koppori