Finally, the second chapter to my story! I'm so happy that people enjoy reading this as much as I love writing it! With that said, please enjoy.
Dr. Aria Sinclair squinted slightly as she lightly squeezed the bulb of the pipette. The chemical test she was running was a particularly delicate one. A single mistake would require her to start over, and as much as she loved chemistry, she did not enjoy repeating herself.
Thankfully, she would not have to. The eye of the pipette released a single drop, no more, no less. With a smile of pleasure, she set the instrument aside and watched the liquid in the test tube carefully.
A few hours ago she had finished the autopsy of the latest victim in a series of murders. The investigation had been a tricky one so far. None of the victims had had any external wounds, leading the investigators to the conclusion that the victims had been poisoned. When she had performed the autopsies, however, she had not been able to find any poison in the bodies. There were no marks suggesting that the victims had been injected with a toxin, and their stomach content had been unhelpful.
This time, though, the killer had made what she hoped was a fatal error.
As she stood there avidly watching the content of the test tube, the solution started changing color. The transition was subtle, but unmistakable.
With a bark of triumph, she reached for her notepad and sketched down her findings. Just as she put pencil to paper, the doors to the morgue swung open and two gentlemen walked in.
Well, she said gentlemen. Rather it was a gentleboy and his austere butler.
"Come in, come in," she called out distractedly, not bothering to look up from her notes.
The pair of males did so and waited patiently for her to finish her writing. Though typically a very brusque individual, Earl Ciel Phantomhive held Dr. Aria Sinclair in high regard, which allowed him to give her a rare form of courteous respect. He found her to be one of the only competent people in her profession. Because of this, when he wanted forensic information on a case, he went to Aria.
Eventually, the woman finished her scribbling and laid down her notebook, finally looking up at her distinguished visitors. They looked as they typically did. Ciel wore a calm expression of practiced boredom, occasionally glancing about himself at the stark atmosphere of the room, while Sebastian stood unmoving and indifferent.
Aria smirked. "I assume you've come to hear my findings regarding one Mr. Richard Lascar, deceased in the early hours of this morning?"
"You assume correctly, Dr. Sinclair," Ciel stated, folding his hands over the head of his walking stick. "Can you tell us anything of import? By your expression, I imagine you can."
"Indeed, Earl Phantomhive. As you know, there were no traceable signs of poison in the bodies of the previous victims. This time, however, our murderer tripped up."
The boy's blue eye widened. "You have found something?"
The doctor's smirk grew at the excitement in the child's voice. This was all too fun.
"You could say that, Ciel," she continued, turning to her work bench. The nobleman followed her. "Once again, there were no indications that poison had been injected and nothing suggesting that it had been ingested. Be that as it may, I was able to find one organ in which there was an above average level of toxicity. Would you like to guess which one it was, Lord Phantomhive?"
"I'm not in the mood for games, Doctor," Ciel bit out.
Aria smiled. "Is that so? And here I thought you were fond of games."
The ends of Sebastian's lips curled slightly upward at this. Thankfully, his amusement escaped his master's notice.
"If we could get back to the matter at hand, Aria," the child earl muttered, frowning.
"But of course, my Lord. I found this abnormality in the lungs, and decided to investigate further. By way of chemical experimentation, I was able to confirm my suspicion beyond a doubt. The poison that the victims had been administered was inhaled."
The boy pinched his chin in contemplation. "If that is the case, then that means the murderer has to be..."
"Yes, obviously," Aria agreed. "If I were you, I'd go arrest her now, before she sends me any more presents."
Ciel rolled his eyes at the pathologist's morbid sense of humor.
"I shall be on my way, then. Good work, Doctor."
"Any time, Earl Phantomhive. Good day to you. And to you as well, Sebastian."
"Thank you, Doctor," the butler responded, bowing at the waist. "It was lovely seeing you again."
As the doors swung closed behind the departing pair, Aria looked at the clock and checked her chart. She had a couple more procedures to do before she could leave to continue her 'extra curricular' investigation.
With a matter-of-fact expression, she washed her hands and donned a pair of gloves (a precaution she took when dealing with her 'patients'; most other doctors had yet to adopt it) before setting about her next autopsy. While she marked the places on the body that she was to cut, she admitted to feeling a flutter of excitement at the prospect of her new investigation. It would be nice to try her hand at some detective work again.
Work before play, however.
Clearing her mind of all thoughts but the job at hand, she went about her business.
)*(
To say that the day was chilly would have been an understatement. The wind whipped about savagely, making conversation out of doors difficult at best. All of the world seemed a bleak gray, as though London was a somber painting in a dusty room of a long lost art collection. Every window in every house was shuttered against the draft of the outside world, causing the brave souls trudging the streets to feel like actual wandering spirits, trapped endlessly in a colorless kaleidoscope.
As one of these wandering spirits, Dr. Aria Sinclair blended in well with her fellows. Ensconced in her customary black coat, she weaved in and out of the city's denizens as inconspicuously as a genuine ghost, all the while making her merry way to the Undertaker's parlor.
As far as she knew, the man had not returned to London following her last visit to his shop, and if he was not there when she arrived, she would have to take matters into her own hands.
Shoving said hands into the pockets of her coat, she continued to brave the elements until she arrived at the mortician's doorstep. Upon arrival, she was unsurprised that he was still absent. Surreptitiously, she tried the handle of the door. Finding it locked, she made sure that the constable was not currently walking down the street on his beat and turned toward the door.
Taking out a small case, she removed a few slender instruments and began her clandestine work on the lock. Within a few minutes, the lock gave way and the door swung open. Stepping over the threshold, the doctor closed and locked the door behind her, just in case the policeman on patrol felt the need to check for break-ins. Returning the case of lock-picking instruments to her inner coat pocket, she proceeded to scope the place out.
The shop didn't look any different from the other times she had visited, although maybe slightly messier, if that was possible. All of the coffins were still out on display, and the jars of chemicals in the same positions on the shelves. The place was in need of dusting, but everything looked relatively untouched.
Aria then advanced to the door at the back of the room which led down to the lower levels of the establishment. The basement room was typically where Undertaker performed his procedures on the corpses he was brought. She remembered instances when she had helped him in this macabre practice, but the atmosphere almost always remained light due to Undertaker's manic sense of humor. Now the mortician had vanished, and the shop held nothing of its former joviality. Instead the very walls seemed to emanate a sense of hushed apprehension.
A little put out by this ominous feeling, Aria reached for the handle of the door that would open onto the stairs which led to the basement, only to hear the locked door behind her rattle.
Her head whipped around as her heart rate sped up.
Who could possibly be trying to get into the Undertaker's shop?
When the handle was tried again, she steeled herself and slipped into one of the wooden coffins that was leaning vertically against the wall, leaving herself a wide enough space between the opening of the box and its lid to allow her to watch the goings on in the room. If someone had the same idea as she, then it was best to wait and see who this third party was.
She was not disappointed. A few seconds later, the door was kicked open and a young man walked in, a bulky object flung over his shoulder. His method hadn't exactly been the most quiet way to get the job done, but if one was not worried about being seen, then it was certainly effective.
To be quite honest, she was a little shocked by this intruder's appearance. The man was slim and fit, cutting a rather nice figure in the light of the doorway, and his hair was definitely strange: a blonde and black get up. He wore a very casual suit, and a white pair of sneakers that clashed terribly with the rest of his outfit. The spectacles which sat on the bridge of his nose were large in size, but they did a wonderful job of framing the splendor of his eyes, which were of an impossibly vibrant green.
The thing that caught the majority of Aria's attention, however, was the bizarre object he had thrown over his shoulder.
It seemed to be some contraption made of metal with wheels and an extended handle like those found on prams. The body of the machine was so low that it would virtually be on the ground if one were to push it around. She had no idea what purpose this odd gizmo could serve until she saw the light of the sun catch and reflect on something. Taking a second look, she saw this something, and the very sight of it made her heart stop. On the bottom of the machine, was a set of spiraling blades. By the way they were installed, it looked as though their purpose was to spin, thereby hacking anything they came in contact with to bits.
Aria swallowed past the lump in her throat and remained silent. She did not feel like dying today.
As she stayed hidden in her coffin, the man she was watching let out an airy whine and hunched forward.
"Oy, this is just great. Why did I have to be the one to carry out the boring legwork?"
His accent seemed to be that of the working class. It certainly wasn't a finely educated one. Still, it wasn't bad enough to be put in the lower classes. Who was this man?
While she watched from her vantage point, the man started to search around the shop. It was not the unobtrusive look around Aria had been having. On the contrary, this man seemed to be intent on getting into everything he possibly could. He opened all of the jars on the shelves, once having a sniff in one and throwing the thing back in its place as though it had thrust itself upon him. Then he proceeded to hastily flip through all the books in the room before turning his sights on the desk.
The doctor watched intensely as the man opened all of the drawers and rifled through them. Sadly, her view was obstructed by the desk itself, which irritated her terribly.
As she was beginning to form a plan that would allow her to escape before the man inspected the coffins, there was a wretched moaning sound and the light flooding in through the crack she had been peering through was extinguished. Now, had this light been artificial, she may not have worried so much, but the light had been from the sun, and unless the mysterious intruder had suddenly decided to fix the door he had so rudely destroyed, something was amiss.
Turning her attention back to the slim opening, her eyes widened in disbelief.
Standing there, looking in at her through the peephole in the coffin, was someone. Or, more appropriately, something.
It was a terrifying sight, for the thing certainly looked like a man, but the eyes were blindfolded and the skin was decomposing. Going by the state of the thing and the stench that now permeated the air, she would have to assume that this was a corpse, gone by many months. All of this, however, did not explain how or why it was moving.
She stood in a state of frozen horror, hoping that by not making a move, it would simply leave. It was soon apparent that her plan was not working, as the monster began to tear away at the coffin lid, reaching in after her.
More terrified than she had ever been in her entire life, she flung its hands off of her and screamed out a heartrending sob, pulling a gun out of her coat. She fired twice at its heart and waited for the creature to fall dead to the floor, but this was not to be. Despite the wounds to its chest that by all rights should have been fatal, it continued to claw its way after her. Her eyes widened in disbelief and a silent scream caught in her throat. She was just on the brink of shoving past it and running for her life when a whirring noise came from behind the beast.
Before she could comprehend what was going on, the animated corpse was dashed aside and a spray of blood and gore littered her vision. A second later, the lid to her coffin was shoved aside and the man from earlier was standing in front of her, the monster lying dead behind him.
She flinched as the sunlight temporarily blinded her, but kept her grip tight on her gun, for what good that would do. When her vision finally adjusted, she locked gazes with the chartreuse eyes of her savior. The look they sent her was one of astonishment and pity. As far as she could tell, he posed her no threat, but that did little to comfort her with the evidence of his strength lying prone on the ground behind him.
He must have seen the suspicion in her eyes, for he suddenly gave her a soft smile.
"Why, you poor thing. Come on. There's no need to hide in there. The creature isn't able to hurt you anymore."
He held out a reassuring hand, waiting for her to latch onto it.
In normal circumstances, the way he spoke to her, as though she were a skittish child, would have been offensive, and the hand immediately rejected. In this instance, however, she had to admit that she had been frightened out of her wits, and had probably acted like said child. Besides, this man had just saved her life. It would be beyond rude to refuse his offer now.
She grabbed onto his hand, and his smile widened.
"That a' girl," he encouraged as he helped her out of the coffin.
Shakily, she replaced the gun into her coat pocket and stared up at the man.
"Thank you for saving my life," she stated gratefully. "I tried to shoot that thing, but it wouldn't die." Here she looked down at the body. "What is it?"
"An animated corpse, if you'll believe. They've been all over since the Campania," he answered, following her gaze to the rotting carcase on the floor.
At this explanation, Aria looked back up at him. "The Campania? You mean the passenger liner that sank?"
If that was the case, then Undertaker's disappearance could be linked directly to Ciel Phantomhive, just like Madam Red's strange death.
"Yeah. There were loads of these things on the ship. The guy responsible owns this shop, so I came to investigate."
A cold sweat broke out on her brow as her eyes widened in disbelief. "The man that owns this shop created these monstrocities?" She attempted to keep the tension from her voice, but was afraid she failed.
"Yeah. Uglier than the Queen in a bathing suit, right? Don't know why he'd want to, but here one is. I came in to scope the place out. Speaking of which, why are you here?"
As if just now remembering that the woman before him was not supposed to be inside of a coffin at an abandoned funeral parlor, he turned his sights on her, suspicion in his eyes.
Aria smiled. "I had occasion to work with the Undertaker in the past. Not on those creatures, mind you, but on legitimate procedures. I knew he was supposed to be out of town, but not for this long, so I came to see if I could gather any evidence as to his whereabouts."
The man furrowed his brow. "But the door was locked. I had to break it down to get in."
"Yes. When I gained entry, I locked it behind me. It's nothing unusual."
He scratched at his chin. "Do you have a key?"
"No, sadly. I had to pick the lock. There was never a reason to have a key before this, as the Undertaker was never really closed. He held odd hours."
The man nodded slowly, as if trying to decide whether to believe this woman or not. After a couple of seconds, though, he must have decided that her intrusion didn't really matter, and held out his hand for a shake.
"The name's Ronald Knox," he introduced, smiling cheerily.
"Dr. Aria Sinclair," the pathologist returned, taking his hand in greeting.
At her name, however, he seemed to freeze up a bit.
"Sinclair? Your name is Sinclair?"
Aria cocked an eyebrow. "Yes. Is there a reason why it shouldn't be?"
"No, it's just... I know another Dr. Sinclair. She's a psychiatrist."
The woman was surprised to hear this bit of information, but didn't let it show. Her sister did work with the public, after all.
"That would be my younger sister, Dr. Lynn Sinclair. Are you acquainted with her?"
"Yeah," the man replied noncommittally. "Actually, I think we should go see her."
"Whatever for?" Aria asked, genuinely confused. Why should this Knox fellow what to go visit her sister at a time like this? Was he one of her patients?
"I think you're going to have a lot of questions, and that it would be best for your sister to answer them," he replied, slinging his strange weapon over his shoulder again.
Looking up at it, Aria asked, "I don't mean to be impertinent, but what on earth is that thing?"
Sending a quick glance toward the contraption on his shoulder, Ronald sighed and muttered, "Yup. Questions." Turning back to her he stated, "Come with me. It would be better for us to discuss this somewhere less public."
"Yes," Aria agreed. "And preferably with less dead people."
"Then it's decided. We'll head to your sister's." Ronald took her hand without permission this time, and led her out into the streets.
Fine, she though to herself. If going to my sister's makes this man comfortable enough to answer my questions, then to my sister's we shall go.
Well, we've met the loveable Ronald Knox who seems just as confused as everyone else is. I honestly don't know why Undertaker left one of his experiments in his funeral parlor, but it worked for the plot, so we'll say he was being absent-minded. I pity the poor constable who finds the mess they left behind of that corpse, though.
I'd love to hear your thoughts! Finals week is just around the corner, and I'm going to need all the good vibes I can get. As always, thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this!