And another chapter up! Now that finals are over (thank the Lord above), I hope to update a little more regularly. The story hasn't been forgotten, and I have many more chapters in store, so stay tuned!
He was barely succeeding in containing his anger as he filled the hypodermic syringe. That little twit. She wasn't needed here. How could Undertaker not see that? They didn't need help from the outside; he could provide everything they required for their experiments. He would be the one to solve their minor technical problem, and he would ensure that their supplies did not run dry.
Testing that there was no air in the syringe, the doctor grinned maliciously at the man cowering before him.
"This will only take a moment, Mr. Fairfax," he tried to say in a comforting voice, but his intent showed itself plainly in his eyes. Dr. Carmichael had never been one for subtlety.
Mr. Fairfax thrashed weakly in his restraints, unable to spew the venomous protests that were bottled in his throat. Ever since he had been placed here some months ago, his delirium had only grown more acute, and whatever medicine this so called doctor had been giving him was most likely the cause of his agitation.
However, the look the man was sending his way was not the same as on previous visits. He peered at him now not only with sadistic amusement, but with grim satisfaction and a shade of triumph. Fairfax did not like what this entailed.
"Now," the doctor called softly, "just keep your arm steady, and we shall be done in no time."
The patient was not compliant.
Dr. Carmichael sighed.
"Come, Mr. Fairfax, we have done this many times. You needn't be so difficult."
The prostrate man made to hurl an insult at the white-coat, but it only came out as a garbled moan. Since the first day he was abandoned at this dump, he had been suffering from the usual mild hallucinations, volatile temperament and paranoia. From then on, his condition had only deteriorated. Kept in his cell day in and day out, refused companionship, and sustained on that dreadful medicine, his life had become a living hell. Now it seemed that was all about to come to an end.
Perhaps... perhaps it was all for the best. His family obviously didn't want to deal with him, nor did the doctors who were paid to do so. Maybe all of his pain, embarrassment and suffering would finally release their hold on him, conceding to the arms of death.
Dr. Carmichael smiled once more.
"Ready now, Mr. Fairfax?"
This time the restrained man did not put up a fight.
"Good," the doctor muttered. "Very good."
Placing a steadying hand on the man's forearm as though suspicious of his cooperation, Dr. Carmichael found the vein and pricked it with the syringe, pressing the plunger home. Mr. Fairfax's eyes visibly glazed over, losing any focus they once had. With the ghost of a sigh, his head lulled to the side, his body relaxing all of the muscles it had been holding taut in resistance.
With an expression of contentment, Dr. Carmichael placed the syringe on the silver trolley behind him, turning back to the door. Now to get the body to Undertaker.
)*(
"Whatever is the matter, Elle?" Grell inquired, sidling up next to his girlfriend.
Lynn Sinclair let out a sigh and lifted her chin from the palm it had been resting in.
"I'm worried, obviously," she snapped, giving the red reaper a look that suggested she thought his question stupid.
Grell frowned. "No need to get snippy with me, little miss," he returned, crossing his arms. "I just don't like to see you sad. Forgive me for trying to comfort you."
Another sigh escaped Lynn's lips. "Did you expect me to be okay with this arrangement?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow. "I hardly like the thought of my sister being locked in an asylum with its craziest occupant. He's insane. Who knows what he'll do? He may decide to kill her next and make her one of his bizarre dolls."
The female reaper's face was drained of color at this thought.
Her boyfriend noticed the change in her pallor.
"Come now, Elle. Everything is going to be fine! William is there, and he won't let anything happen to your dear sister. Besides, hasn't she gone undercover like this before? Of course she's in a precarious situation, but the chances of the old loon actually harming her are slim. Weren't they friends, or something?"
Here he tilted his head in thought, placing a gloved finger on his chin as he pondered his last statement.
"Yes, yes," Lynn replied irritatedly, batting his words away as though they were pesky flies. "But the man is unpredictable. Granted, he seems to be acting on an intelligently executed plan, but that doesn't mean Aria is safe."
Grell shrugged. "In the end, who is, Elle? We've all been in dangerous spots in our lives, but when has worrying ever made anything better? I firmly believe Aria is going to be just fine, and that you shouldn't waste time worrying your precious little head off over it."
Lynn gave Grell a look of profound gratitude and laid said head on his shoulder.
"I love you, you know that?" she muttered so that only he could hear.
Grell smiled, warmth flooding his chest. "I love you too, Elle. Now, why don't we finish up our paperwork and go out tonight, just to get our minds of things? The theatre sound agreeable to you?"
Lynn nodded. "More than agreeable."
"And we'll both have to wear red, of course," he continued, offering her his hand to help her out of her chair.
"Of course," she agreed. "Though one of these days we are going to wear a different color. You can't always monopolize my wardrobe."
Grell looked at her aghast. "Dr. Sinclair, if you think I am going to wear anything but the most exquisite shade of red, then you are sorrowfully mistaken."
Lynn smiled. "Just a suggestion. Green might look good on you," she prodded, smiling at her mischief.
Grell looked as though he were going to be sick.
"I've killed people for suggesting less, you know," he pointed out, leading her back to their shared office area.
"Please, Sutcliff," she responded, "we both know you like me far too much to even contemplate such a thing."
With a nod of admitted agreement, Grell escorted Lynn back to her desk, all the while eagerly anticipating their upcoming date.
)*(
Aria had not slept well that night. Though typically bad, her dreams had been abnormally unpleasant, leaving her feeling drained and irritable. Corpses danced around the perimeter of her vision, and she splashed water in her face to chase away the demons. She had seen many things in her life. Working undercover was not new to her, nor was death (she was a pathologist, after all), but what Undertaker had shown her last night had been nothing less than a nightmare brought to life.
Working in silence, she prepared herself for the day, pausing often in front of the solitary window in the bedroom of her new living quarters. The land outside was just as bleak as it had been the day before, the landscape nearly blending into the gray tones of her room. A sigh escaped her lips as she saw the beginnings of a wispy fog creeping over the ground. In a matter of hours, the scene would be totally engulfed by that stray cloud, making the asylum look and feel even more lonely than it already did.
Taking it upon herself to bring color to the wretched place, Aria chose a lilac dress with white lace that buttoned up the column of her slender neck. She didn't know why there seemed to be a strike on color, but she was sure the patients (if she saw any) would appreciate the hint of life.
After putting her hair up and placing her spectacles on the bridge of her nose, the doctor left her suite of rooms. She didn't know what she was to do, really, as last night had only consisted of a tour of Undertaker's laboratory and a deranged explanation of the research that took place therein. Dr. Carmichael clearly didn't welcome her presence, and she wasn't sure where Undertaker would be this early in the morning except for the laboratory, and she didn't particularly wish to venture down there just yet.
Deciding that she was too restless to stay in her rooms and too uneasy to find some form of breakfast, she gave a shrug and started down the corridor, intent on exploring. She was sure there were things that she had not seen; the place was immense, after all. That, and she had yet to find William, making her feel even more on edge. Playing detective was great and all, but going up against forces she had previously thought fictitious and had relatively little knowledge of was not her idea of a good time. Locating William and forming a plan of action would go a long way to calming her nerves.
With that in mind, she continued her trek down the hallway.
Her room was on the second floor, and from what she had collected yesterday, the doctors' offices were on the first floor while the reception room, kitchen and other mundane locations were on the ground floor. If William had gotten in as an aide as was his plan, then his room would probably be on either the ground or first floor. Finally reaching the stairs, Aria made her way down to the first storey, surprised by how quiet the establishment was even at this time in the morning.
The first floor didn't offer much in the way of locating her partner in crime. Though she found what seemed to be the living quarters for the lesser employees of Stonehart, nobody was milling around and all the doors were locked. There was absolutely no way of finding out which room William had been assigned to, and if there were, she highly doubted he would be inside. Being an aide, he had undoubtedly arisen earlier than she, and had probably already started on the day's tasks. Giving a small huff, she found the stairs once more and continued on to the ground floor.
Entering the front room, she saw nobody except the demure young woman behind the front counter. Coming to the conclusion that she had no idea where she was going, Aria decided to ask for directions. The heels of her shoes clicked on the hardwood floor, signaling the young woman to her approach. Evidently not used to the sound of another human being walking with purpose, the young woman's head shot up, eyes looking widely at Aria like she had been scared out of her wits, which was probably true.
Dr. Sinclair smiled warmly, hoping to calm the young lady down. It seemed to work marginally, as her shoulders relaxed and her eyes took on a less terrified expression. When Aria finally reached her, the lady seemed almost settled down, though some tension still remained. The doctor couldn't blame her; this place would make anyone jumpy.
"Hello there," Aria greeted, still smiling. "I was just wondering where everybody is. I've been walking around and have yet to see a single person. Dr. Aria Sinclair, by the by."
She held out her hand for a shake. When the young lady finally realized what was expected of her, she took the doctor's hand in her weak grip.
"Gertrude Davenport, ma'am," the woman returned, dropping her arm back to her side.
"Lovely to meet you, Miss Davenport. Tell me, do you know where everybody is? It's a bit quiet in here."
Gertrude's eyes shifted back to the carpet. "It's always quite, Doctor."
"Ah, I see," Aria returned, taking advantage of the moment of inattention to look over this shy girl.
She was a slight thing, very pale with red hair. A tight bun held the fiery locks out of her face, showing the young lady's rather flattering bone structure. Her eyes seemed to be a light gray, her dress but a shade darker. Her hands were clasped together in front of her, and she seemed to wring them when she was nervous. Whether this tick was noticed by the perpetrator Aria did not know. The hands themselves were clean, though the nails were unevenly cut. Obviously Miss Davenport was not in the habit of manicuring them. Still, there were no ink stains and no callouses, which meant no manual labor and hardly any clerical. That confirmed Aria's assessment that this place was rarely visit, and equally rarely left.
Seeing as Gertrude was unlikely to elaborate upon her comment, Aria prodded further.
"Always quiet? Are there not many employees, then?"
Gertrude looked back up at her slowly, as though wary of saying anything more.
"I don't know all of the employees, Doctor, but most of them will be going about their business, I'm sure. You may be able to find somebody in the kitchen if it's food you're looking for."
The young lady broke eye contact once more, leaving Aria vaguely suspicious of her reticence.
"Thank you, Miss Davenport. Could you possibly point me in the direction of the kitchen? I just arrived yesterday and have yet to learn my way around."
Gertrude pointed her dainty finger to a hallway to the right of the central staircase.
"Should be just down there, ma'am. All the way in the back."
"Ah, yes. Thank you again. I shall see you around, Miss Davenport."
"Doctor," Gertrude acknowledged vacantly, falling back into her thoughts.
Well, Aria thought. That was more than a little odd.
Nevertheless, she had been given directions, so it seemed rude not to follow them, if only to get a grasp of the building's layout.
With this new destination in mind, Dr. Sinclair strode down the far corridor, letting her eyes wander around as she did so. The decorations on the wall lessened the farther back she ventured, though there hadn't been much in the way of ornamentation to begin with. The stones that made up the walls got a little rougher the more she neared the servant's domain. This was a place the more prestigious doctors wouldn't travel if they had a choice. They belonged in their offices, surrounded by files and patient reports, not down in the scullery with the less educated lot. She had no fear of running into Dr. Carmichael down here, or any other white coat that happened to work in the establishment.
She knew she was nearing the kitchen when the smell of homemade biscuits and bacon hit her. Suddenly her stomach didn't think breakfast was such a bad idea. As she went on, voices were apparent too. A jovial female voice could be heard intermittently singing and speaking to whomever else was in the room. A few male voices were apparent as well, these deeper and less enthusiastic than the first.
Curious, she slowed her stride as she came upon the door that had to lead to the kitchen, hoping to catch some snippets of conversation.
"Oh, you are a dear, you are, Mr. Marlowe! A real charmer!" a lady sang out, laughing as she spoke.
This was the voice Aria had heard before.
"You are too kind, Mrs. Holly. Truly, it is you who makes the day brighter." This male voice was smooth as silk, and one Aria couldn't help but recognize.
"What the devil?" she muttered under her breath. What was he doing here?
"There you go again!" Mrs. Holly returned, laughing heartily. "You'd best rein him in, Mr. Carton, or he'll get the both of you in trouble."
"I shall do my utmost," a second male said.
Aria recognized this one too.
Oh dear God.
Suddenly glad she allowed herself the time to figure out who was in the room before she entered and blew their cover, Aria stepped though the doorway, knocking on the frame to alert everybody to her presence.
Three pairs of eyes turned to her, and she greeted them all with a smile as though she were meeting everyone for the first time.
"Hello, I do hope I'm not interrupting anything," Aria began, clasping her hands behind her back like an intruding child in a display of innocence. "Miss Davenport pointed me in this direction. She said there may be a chance of snagging some breakfast. My name is Aria Sinclair, a colleague of Dr. Carmichael's."
"You're a doctor?" an older woman, presumably Mrs. Holly, asked, blinking a few times.
"Indeed," Aria confirmed, smiling. "I arrived from London just last night. I'm terribly sorry to impose..."
Her apology was cut short when the middle aged woman's face lit up, a smile reaching from ear to ear.
"Oh, don't you fret, dear. We've plenty of food left; you can just help yourself." She went to work setting deliciously flaky biscuits and crispy strips of bacon on a plate. "Could you get her a cup of - what do you take, dear? Coffee? - a cup of coffee, Mr. Marlowe?"
"Of course," Sebastian complied smoothly, going to fetch a mug.
Aria could feel her stomach growl. She had skipped dinner last night, as she couldn't manage to get anything down after what she had witnessed, and now her hunger was rearing its ugly head.
"Thank you," she muttered gratefully, taking the proffered plate.
"No problem, dear," Mrs. Holly cooed, happy that someone was so appreciative of her food.
"Your coffee, Doctor," Sebastian cut in, handing her a steaming cup.
"My thanks," she returned, sipping the warm beverage. She felt instantly better. Being in a group of people who were not completely insane did that to a person.
"So, what brings a pretty young thing like you out here from London? Surely it wasn't the local scenery," Mrs. Holly inquired, interest piqued by the lady physician.
"I've developed an interest in the psychiatric practice, and thought it would do to see how different hospitals work. This was my first stop."
"Well, you picked a bleak one, you did. Aren't there mental hospitals in London?"
"I was hoping this one would be less hectic than the city ones. Turns out I was right, very right. Where is everybody?"
Mrs. Holly shrugged, suddenly frowning. "Who knows? This place used to be bustling with activity, until Dr. Macintosh left, that is. Then Dr. Carmichael became director, and things have been getting progressively worse. At first, I thought it was just because he was young, and we just had to wait until he got a head for his new job, but then people started leaving and he became haughty and snappish. Runs hot and cold, that one! Holes himself up in his office for hours on end, as though he don't have any patients to see. We're understaffed as it is, and now we've that horrid Ms. Dunne - shame on me for saying - who scares off almost every hopeful employee. I'm surprised she let Mr. Carton here through her sifter, cold as she is."
"It was an interesting interview, to be sure," William - or Mr. Carton, evidently - commented. "Though, she did say that this place had a large staff, which clearly conflicts with the truth."
Mrs. Holly gave an indignant huff. "She would say that. I'm sure there is plenty of space to give you both a single room, but she won't budge on it. Don't ask me why. I'm just glad I'm not forced to live here like you gentlemen. I don't know how you put up with it."
"We've only been here for a few days, Mrs. Holly," Sebastian reminded, smiling sweetly. "You are the true veteran here."
Mrs. Holly flushed. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. I just make the food. Speaking of which, how's yours, dear?"
Aria, who had taken advantage of the length of Mrs. Holly's story to eat half of her plate, looked up like a guilty child and smiled. "It's quite good, thank you," she replied, nearly dying of embarrassment. She swore she could feel Sebastian's laughing eyes glancing her way, the bastard.
"Good, good," the lady chatted, turning back to the countertop and picking up the knife that had been abandoned thereon. "When you're done just set the dishes in the basin over there."
"Will do," Aria returned, finishing the last of her food. Once she had dispensed of her plate and mug, she turned to her cohorts. "Would you gentlemen mind showing me around the asylum? I'm afraid I didn't have much time to look around yesterday and will find myself hopelessly lost without a tour."
Sebastian was the first to respond. "Certainly, Dr. Sinclair," he purred. "I'm sure Mr. Carton and I would be honored to give you a personal tour, would we not, Mr. Carton?"
"Most honored, Mr. Marlowe," William agreed, eyes darting over to meet Aria's.
The intensity of his emerald gaze was startling. With a sudden horror, Aria felt a flush blooming on her cheeks and averted her eyes, letting them wander around the floor and finally to her clasped hands, before she brought them back up to look from one of the men to the other.
Internally humiliated by having acted like a simple school girl for such an insignificant reason, she gave a sigh that sounded true to her role as long suffering doctor and returned to the conversation.
"Marvelous. Thank you, gentlemen. Shall we?"
"Of course," Sebastian nodded, turning on his heel and starting out the door. "Do come this way, Doctor. Good day, Mrs. Holly."
"And to you, Mr. Marlowe!" the jovial woman called after, waving her hand that was still wielding the knife.
Aria followed behind the butler turned asylum aide, William trailing not far behind. When they finally made it to a hallway that was appropriately deserted, Aria was the first to break the silence.
"What on earth are you doing here?" she spoke in hushed tones, directing her question toward Sebastian who was wearing his signature smirk.
"The Master received a missive from the Queen requesting that he look into the goings-on in this asylum. Evidently a number of former employees have been whispering about strange practices within these walls. Her Majesty is concerned. It was decided that I should undertake this investigation myself, reporting back to him at intervals. A child would stand out too much at a place such as this."
Aria nodded in understanding. "Indeed."
She wanted to ask him precisely what he knew: if these strange practices were anything more specific than mere whispers, but caution stilled her tongue. She didn't know how much was wise to divulge. This was reaper business, after all, and from her conversations with her sister, she had discovered that the relationship between demons and the gods of death was strained at best.
Luckily, she was not required to invent a clever lie, as William suddenly intoned, "He knows."
She looked over at her partner in crime with mild surprise. Of all of the reapers who would consider cooperating with a devil, William T. Spears had not been at the top of her list of likely candidates.
"I see," she stated, turning back to her friend in black. "So you have agreed to comply with our investigation?"
"To the extent of not making off with the Undertaker and ensuring your safety, yes," he replied, chin lowering. "I've been thoroughly informed of your involvement, my dear. Mr. Spears has made it abundantly clear that you know exactly what I am."
His eyes seemed to harden at that statement, and his voice dropped to a dangerously low pitch. Aria raised an eyebrow, muscles tensing. She had never had cause to fear her friend, but his body language at the moment warned of nothing but trouble. Behind her, she could feel William shift closer, prepared to jump to her defense, and she was eternally grateful.
"I pray you do not spread this information around," the demon began, gaze boring into her. "I have gone to great lengths to pass myself off as human so as not to inconvenience my master, and it would pain me for that work to have been in vain."
Aria's mouth drew into a hard line. "I shall do my utmost not to inconvenience you, Sebastian," she countered, eyes sharpening. "After all, what are friends for?"
His expression seemed to soften at that, his voice returning to normal. "Forgive me, Aria," he began, stepping closer. "I am simply overprotective of my master. You know I am fond of you and would do you no harm."
"I certainly used to, Sebastian," she said, voice distant. "That was before I knew of your nature. To be quite honest, I don't know what to believe anymore. The entire world has been flipped on its head, and the scary thing is, only my perception of it has changed; it has always been this way, without my realizing it."
Silence returned to the dreary corridor as the weight of her words sank in. Truly, she had been exposed to far too much far too quickly, and had been forced to adapt almost instantaneously. If that wasn't enough, she had then been dragged into a perilous situation that dealt with powers beyond her control. It was enough to make any person go batty.
A slight rustle of clothes caught her attention, and she suddenly felt Sebastian's hand resting on her arm. The feel of it was reassuring, causing her to turn back to the demon butler with less malice than before.
Sebastian gave a quirk of his lips - which could have been interpreted as sympathy or amusement - and leaned over so that he was speaking almost in her ear.
"If you never doubt one thing, let it be when I say I shall never betray you or the friendship you have given me. On this you have my word."
A jolt of shock went through her, and she met his eyes only to find nothing but honest solemnity.
"And a demon's word is his bond," he finished, tightening his hold on her arm.
She wanted to say something profound, something that let him know how much she appreciated his words of comfort and assurance, but the only thing she could manage was a hushed "thank you".
"There is no need to thank me," he responded, removing his hand from her arm.
She tried to gage his attitude, but after his promise his mood seemed a mask of ambivalence. William, on the other hand, had been suspiciously silent the entire time.
Hoping to change the subject and make the mood less awkward, Aria cleared her throat and turned to William.
"Anyway, do I have some news for you."
Thank you all for reading and keeping up with this story! It means the world to me that you all enjoy it. I may not get around to answering every review, but I appreciate all of them.
Well, chapter eight is in the bag. I'll see you later with chapter nine!