Chapter Two
His Partner, Bamboozled
Lizzy lunged forward and clapped her hand over Paula's mouth before more than a whimper could escape her lips. It was neither the time nor the place for banshee shrieks, since Edward was both in the house and asleep a few rooms down. The cat on the bed licked her paw twice more, and then crouched down on the bedspread, its tail flicking back and forth. Lizzy searched Paula's eyes until she was certain Paula wasn't going to scream, and then backed away to turn up the lamp. "Shut the curtains," she said, and Paula blinked twice before snapping to, tugging the window closed for good measure. Finally, once all was seen to, Lizzy crept closer to the bed, settling herself on the end of it, and peered at the cat.
"Ran-Mao," she said. The cat's ears flicked back and then forward again.
"Yes."
Lizzy stared at the cat for a long moment. Ran-Mao. 藍貓. Blue cat. How on earth, she thought, and nearly pinched herself. Then she did pinch herself, just to make certain this wasn't a dream. She thought of Snake, then, the patches of scales on his skin, and the human Ran-Mao's large yellowy eyes.
Cat's eyes.
"Are you a shapeshifter?" she asked after a moment, and the cat threw its head back and laughed.
"Are you? Lady Knight, angel-touched, demon-cursed."
Lizzy flinched. The cat stood, and slunk its way across the bed to nudge its nose hard into her hand. She thought she might have felt the touch of teeth. "I am both," said the cat, "and also neither, but the name Ran-Mao will do as well as any other. It was not chosen by a particularly creative person, but then again, they were no more than a child at the time, and so I have long since forgiven them for their lack of initiative." It bared its teeth again. "If you wish, you might give me a name yourself. I would welcome it, in fact. Of course, I would need to taste your blood first."
Out of the corner of her eye, Lizzy saw Paula grope for and sink into a chair, her face white as milk.
"I think a new name is—quite out of the question, at the moment." Lizzy lifted her hand, and then, tentatively, stroked two fingertips down the cat's spine. It arched, and its eyes closed. "But I will let you know if that ever—changes."
"Hmm." The cat—somehow, she couldn't quite think of it as Ran-Mao, not yet—settled back on its haunches, peering up at her. "Considerate, if a bit presumptive. You assume I will accept the name you give me, when you offer it."
Yes, definitely a cat. Lizzy frowned a little, but didn't push the subject. "Can you tell me what happened to Lau?"
The cat's eyes narrowed, and under Lizzy's hand, its fur lifted. "Taken," it spat. "Beaten. Struck. I was prevented from assisting in their deserved end."
"They held you back?" Lizzy blinked. Ran-Mao was the strongest human—well, she amended, studying the cat, perhaps not human—person she'd ever seen, aside, perhaps, from Sebastian. If there were people on this earth who could hold her back—
"I was ordered to stay back," said the cat. It closed its eyes again, and grumbled in what sounded like Chinese, but no Mandarin Lizzy had ever heard. "And to attend to you."
"To me?" Lizzy caught Paula's eye again. "But—why me? What do I—"
Defend the key, the note had said. The attack was— "This is about the key?"
The cat's tail twitched, but it closed its eyes and said nothing. Considering what Lizzy knew of cats, that in and of itself was answer enough, she thought. She hesitated, and then scooped the cat up in her arms—it didn't protest, even nudged its nose up into her throat—and began to stroke it, quietly considering.
"You don't know where they took him?" she asked, and the cat's whiskers twitched.
"I know their scent. I can find them if I choose."
"Do you know what they intend to do?" Silence again. She tried something else. "What does the key open, that someone would want it so badly?"
"A chest of old letters," said the cat, its whiskers twitching again. "Among other things. I will not betray his secrets."
That was…surprisingly loyal, for a cat. Considerably unhelpful. But loyal, and even somewhat touching. Lizzy reached up to her throat and played with the key there, the one that hung on the same chain as Ciel's ring. After a moment, she looked up at Paula, who was still staring as if she'd seen a ghost. "Can I have a pen and some paper please, Paula? And I'm sorry to have to wake Michael, but I must send word to Ciel as soon as possible that his—his pet dealer has gone astray, and I'm afraid that you and Michael are the only ones I trust to do it."
The cat tensed in her arms for a moment, but then relaxed. Paula gulped hard, and then stood again, holding herself upright with the chair as she nodded. "Of course, Miss Lizzy," she said, and Lizzy gave her as wide a smile as she dared, with a—shapeshifter? Cat monster? A demon, like Sebastian?—nestled so close against her jugular.
"Thank you, Paula," she said. Paula gave her one curtsy, and then vanished out the door, closing it quietly behind her. Lizzy waited until her bare footsteps had vanished down the hall towards the servants' quarters before she looked down at the cat in her arms. The cat looked back up at her with narrowed yellow eyes, and Lizzy had the strangest sense that the beast was laughing at her.
"I have a thousand questions, but there are only a few that are important. Will you hear them?"
The cat inclined its head once, and tugged itself free of Lizzy's hands to settle itself in her lap. Lizzy drew a breath and let it out, looking at it. Small. Slender. Lithe. Muscular, for a cat, but not obviously so. It licked its lips as it looked at her, and she hoped it was in consideration and not temptation. Lizzy swallowed, and then said, "Do you lie?"
"Sometimes," the cat answered easily, and licked one paw to drag over its whiskers again. "But not to those that I owe trust."
"Am I one of those?"
The cat mused over that for a time. Then it said, "I have been given into your care."
"That's not an answer."
The cat gave her a look that said It's as much of a one as you're going to get, and swiped a paw over its eye. Lizzy let it go.
"Are you like Sebastian?"
The cat snorted. "No. At least, nothing so crass as that." It should have sounded disgusted, Lizzy thought, but instead it was only thoughtful. "I don't consume such petty things as souls, and even if I did, I would not be nearly so obvious about it."
Her stomach dropped through the floor. "What do you…consume, then?"
The cat hooked its claws into Lizzy's dressing gown. "Information. Entertainment." It paused. "Secrets, I suppose. There are very many in this realm of yours. The very air is lousy with them. My compatriot finds me all I could wish for."
"And in return you're his…bodyguard?"
"Bodyguard. Companion." The cat closed its eyes. "Occasionally I kill for him. He does not make me do it often. He knows I find it distasteful."
Lizzy swallowed. "But he does make you."
"I agreed willingly to the comradeship. It has never been a question of force. Besides, worse has been done by and to me in the past. I do not quibble over worthless lives." The cat sighed, and then curled into a tight ball on Lizzy's lap, settling with its head on her knee. "Are you finished? It has been a long time since I slept."
"Why did you come to me?" Lizzy asked. "You could have gone to Ciel. To—well, to anyone else, really. Why me? Did Lau ask you to? What does he want me to do?"
"I am in your care."
"I don't understand what that means."
"I am in your care," said the cat again, and then tucked its head onto its paws. "All that you request, I will endeavor to accomplish."
Lizzy glanced up at the door, where Paula had disappeared, where beyond her brother slept. Her brother, with his tremendous allergy to cat fur. She hesitated. "Could you become human again, if you liked?"
"If you wish." The cat's tail flicked. "I will not have the same powers of speech in human form. It is…restrictive." It cracked an eye and looked up at her, and with a jolt Lizzy realized that the voice was female. The cat was female. Of course it is. It's Ran-Mao. "You may recall, I do not speak much when I am two-legged. The human girl…she does not speak at all."
Frowning, Lizzy nodded. Both, the cat had said, but also neither. So even in that, different from Sebastian. "You—you are good, aren't you? You're not—"
Like Sebastian. Something evil. Something wrong. (But was Sebastian fully evil? Something whispered inside her, creeping like ivy. Was he wholly wrong? Or was he just another sort of existence, another kind of—she forced the thought away.) The cat dug her claws into Lizzy's legs.
"I am in your care," she said, in a slurring voice. "I am afraid I must sleep now. I eat fish, and also raw egg. And milk, and pork. But nothing else touched by human hands."
And with that, the cat was asleep. Lizzy lifted her hands, and then lowered them again, setting her palm lightly against the cat's back. Not even a whisker twitched, so she settled into a smooth stroking rhythm, trying to feel out a difference. The cat was just that, in sleep—a cat, with a cat's fur and a cat's ears and a cat's tendency to twitch at the paws during a very interesting dream. But not a cat. A bound spirit, maybe. Like Sebastian, but…not.
She wrote the note out when Paula returned, only a few lines—Lau missing. Ran-Mao with me. When can we meet?—and then folded it up, asking in a quiet voice for it to be sealed with her official mark and for a bowl of milk and fish to be brought up to her room. Paula, who was staring at the cat as if she were a bomb about to go off, nodded, and, after turning down the lamp, returned to her husband's rooms for the night. Lizzy settled herself back against the pillows, ignoring the little grumbling noises the cat made at being moved, and stared up at the ceiling until dawn began to break.
She did not sleep. She had, after all, an awful lot to think about.
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It was nearly one in the morning when the message arrived, which would have been problematic had Ciel actually gone to bed. In all actuality, he hadn't noticed what time it was, just that he looked up to find that it was dark, the curtains had tugged shut, the clock on the mantel read twelve-fifty-eight, and that Sebastian was beside him wearing his usual blank-faced smile, a silver tray balanced on one fingertip. "A message, my lord," he said, and bowed. Ciel rubbed his eyes—he had to get new lamps for this room, he felt as though someone had poured sand into his skull—and then took the letter, frowning at it. The insignia on the back was one he wouldn't have recognized a year ago, crossed sabers tied together with string, but now…he popped the wax. "When did this come in?"
"Only moments ago, my lord." Sebastian pursed his lips just slightly, eyelashes caressing his cheek. "Brought by the stableman, Michael. He awaits a response."
Curiouser and curiouser. Ciel opened the envelope, and tugged free the letter. Well, it was more of a note, really, only a few scrawled lines, ink spattering the edges. Barely blotted, his brain whispered, written in haste, not even enough time to sign it—but enough to stamp with the insignia of the Queen's Lady Knight? Business, then, and important business, to disturb you so late at night—
Shut up, he told his brain, and then he read the note. Ciel frowned, and then read it again. It was only on the third pass-over that he blinked, and stood. Sebastian stood and waited, his eyes half-lidded, considering. "My lord?"
Lizzy, he thought. Lizzy and Lau. Lau had been a guest in his parents' house when he'd been a child, as had Lizzy, and he knew that they had to have met at parties or some such since then—had to have, since Lau delighted so much in foolish japes, especially ones that were intended to drive Ciel mad—but to have known each other well enough to leave Ran-Mao in Lizzy's care…He chewed the inside of his cheek, thoughtfully, and then tossed the letter in the fire.
(Not without peeling away the wax seal first, but he had his back turned so Sebastian couldn't see that part.)
"It appears that someone has decided to borrow my things without permission," Ciel said, and thankfully his voice did not waver. Not in the slightest. Lau was a profound irritation, a phenomenal blackguard, an opium dealer, Ciel's primary link to the black market, and—though he was loathe to admit it—the most skilled mahjong player that Ciel had ever met in his life. And he was also, apparently, a primary ally of one Elizabeth Middleford, Lady Knight of the Realm, and he cursed himself, because somehow this had slipped by his notice.
Suddenly a lot more things made sense about Lizzy and her sudden leaps in knowledge. He was going to be having a very stern talk with Lau before long.
"What sort of borrowing, my lord?" asked Sebastian. Ciel tugged his jacket off the back of his chair, and allowed Sebastian to hand him into it, tugging at his cufflinks absently.
"The sort that might soon progress to outright larceny if not nipped in the bud immediately." And could end in blood if not done so in a prompt and clinical fashion. There was a funny cold clutching feeling tugging at the base of his throat, as if the fingers of the dead had reached in and begun to squeeze. It wasn't as if he was truly worried for Lau—though it was quite clear that Lizzy was; she would never have forgotten to sign if she weren't, would never have sent him a late-night invitation if she weren't panicked—but he was, possibly, concerned. Perhaps slightly unsettled by the idea that someone had snatched Lau out from under his nose, and he had no clue as to why. He buttoned his coat himself, and glanced at Sebastian. "Tell me, Sebastian, what interest would certain elements have in a Chinese merchant with open ties to the Queen's Watchdog?"
Sebastian's eyes flickered. "That would depend upon the elements, my lord."
"Elements who have been daring enough to shanghai—" he grimaced "—forgive the pun, but with enough interest to shanghai said opium dealer in the dead of night, even when faced with his rather formidable bodyguard."
"Ah." Sebastian set the letter tray upon the edge of the desk, prodding it so it wouldn't be knocked over. "And the bodyguard, my lord? Dead?"
"In the custody of a rather well-known knight, who has equal if not higher levels of interest in the whole affair."
Sebastian inclined his head once, and folded his hands neatly behind his back. "What are your orders, my lord?"
"Tell Michael that I will attend to the Lady Elizabeth in the morning," said Ciel, smoothing out the wrinkles in his jacket. "At eight o'clock, no later."
"And yourself, my lord?"
"We," said Ciel, baring his teeth in a smile, "are going to Chinatown."
Sebastian bowed, and braced one gloved hand over his heart. "As my lord wishes."
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Her room smelled like strawberries again.
Felicity Parker dropped her screwdriver onto her worktable, and swore under her breath. She could always tell when the Great Queen Fusspot was sending someone to check up on her, because there was always a basket of apology-strawberries left somewhere in her house first. The fact that she not only disliked but was violently allergic to strawberries—a fact she made known by tossing each and every batch at the heads of the guards by her door—was irrelevant, it seemed, in the wake of Victoria's stubbornness.
The rap came at her door in the thirty seconds after she realized what she was smelling. Felicity picked up her screwdriver again, and bent her head over the back of the clock. "Go away."
"I bear a message from the Queen," came a voice. It was Phipps. The Yorkshire under his plummy Oxbridge was unmistakable. "And from others."
"Tell Grey he can take a leap," said Felicity, and twisted her screwdriver viciously into a mechanism. It popped, and the gears she needed spilled out of the back of the mantelpiece clock. "I don't want to know a damn thing about what he thinks of my machines."
"Not from Grey," said Phipps through the door. There was a pause. She had the feeling he was leaning his forehead against the door like a damn puppy-dog. He did that, and he thought she didn't know it but she did, and it was like a dagger to the gut with how guilty it made her feel. Theo had done that. "Let me in?"
Felicity pawed through the gears, found the one she'd been searching for—a tiny thing, only about the size of her pinky fingernail—and then slotted it into the back of her animatronic hummingbird, waiting until the satisfying click of a puzzle being solved. Then she heaved herself off of the bench and went to the door, undoing the three locks and throwing it open. Phipps rocked back onto his heels, and sure enough, by his feet was the wretched covered basket of wretched strawberries.
"You take that away with you," she snarled, and turned her back on him, stalking back into her workroom. "I don't know why she keeps sending them. I hate the damn things."
"That and they make you swell up like a balloon," said Phipps airily, and kicked the door shut behind him. Felicity fought off the urge to glare at him, and tossed her braid back over her shoulder, swinging her metal leg over the edge of the bench.
"Does that mean she keeps sending them to me as a Socrates note? Dear Felicity, here is the mechanism of your demise, please take it before I grow tired of you and decide to have you executed properly." She picked up her hooked seam needle, the only thing she had been able to finagle small enough to deal with the ins and outs of the hummingbird's innards, and began prodding at the mixed-up gears. "I'll keep that in mind for when I finally get fed up with building trinkets for her grandchildren and she tries to force me to make something really dangerous."
Phipps swung the free chair around and then straddled it, hooking his arms over the back. He rested his chin on his hands. "She wouldn't force you to do anything, Miss Parker. She is simply expecting a return on her considerable investment."
"Because to a woman that rules more than half the known world, a single house on the outskirts of London and half-a-dozen guards to make sure I don't run away in the dead of night is a considerable investment." Something clicked inside the hummingbird, and Felicity picked up her jeweler's glasses, peering inside it. The gears were finally in place. Satisfied, she snapped the thing's back closed and then grabbed the wind-up key, slotting it into the appropriate hole. "To be honest I'm still not sure if the only reason she sent that damn earl after—after us was to get her hands on me."
"Not entirely," said Phipps, "but at least partially it was, yes." His eyes crinkled, even though he didn't smile. "Part of her investment."
"Shut up." She twisted the key until it caught, and then pulled it free of the hummingbird's back, and waited. After a long moment, the bird came to life in her hand, prescripted motions and shivering wings. Nothing like the automata of the Zodiac, or even her Scarabs and her Spiders, but beautiful nonetheless. She watched it buzz around the room for a minute or two, and then winced when it ran headfirst into a wall. "Damn. It wasn't supposed to do that."
She went to stand, but Phipps beat her to it, scooping the metal hummingbird up in one hand and studying it for a moment. It jerked spastically a few times, and then went still, and Felicity groaned and snatched it from him. "She keeps telling me not to make my living machines, but what else am I supposed to do? I ask you. It gets—"
Felicity bit her tongue, and ducked her head. What the hell was she supposed to say, anyway? That it was getting damn lonely in this little house in the middle of nowhere, no brother, no angel, no Zodiac, no machines? That the only time she actually spoke was when Phipps showed his stupid face, and he only came once a week, less if something was happening out there in the big wide world. The other guards were scared of her, of her glass eye and her metal limbs and her scars, of the flashes and bangs that came out of her workroom and her basement late at night. The younger ones called her a witch completely without irony, and it would have made her laugh if she hadn't thought they were a little more than half-right. She swore under her breath, and then opened up the back of the hummingbird again, going back to work with her seam needle. Phipps watched her do it for a minute or two, and then settled back into his chair, seemingly content to observe.
"What's the message?" Felicity asked finally, once the gears were back in place (again). Phipps hummed under his breath, and reached forward to collect a handful of the gears and springs from the back of the mantelpiece clock.
"This was a gift to Her Majesty from the King of Sweden, you know."
Felicity bared her teeth. "Well, tell him I'm so sorry."
His lips twitched a little, and he turned over a gear between his fingers. "Her Majesty has expressed an interest in a number of things—life-sized doubles, birds with spying capabilities, poisonous insects—"
"All of which I can't make without using my blood, which you know." Felicity rubbed the scars on her human wrist, frustrated. "Which for some goddamn reason is still in my body. And even if she let me cut myself up—which she doesn't—I'd not make anything like that for her if she offered to buy me the entirety of London. Or more."
"A fact which you have expressed most pithily on more than one occasion," said Phipps, with a serene, moonish look, as if he was quite content with this idea.
"Then what the hell are you doing here, closet butler?"
"Her Majesty has indicated that she would be willing to…experiment. She is aware of your…" He seemed to be trying to come up with a word that wasn't a synonym of disease. "Situation, and would not be expressly adverse to…uncovering the full extent of it. As it were."
Felicity drew her hands into her lap, and clenched them hard into fists. "You're not," she snarled, "experimentin' on me, Brit."
Phipps gave her a flat look. "We would never infringe upon the rights of a willing guest of Her Majesty by subjecting her to experimentation."
"A guest? Really?" She flashed him her wrist, where there were still marks from the chains she'd been forced into. "What about these?"
He winced at the sight of them, and closed his eyes. The guilt hit her again, sudden, piercing, and Fee turned to stare out the window. Phipps had been furious when he'd come out to this house the first time and found her bound in the back bedroom, raving, furious. The withdrawal from angel's blood had been horrid and filthy, and she'd gone raving so many times the guards had been terrified she'd slit her own throat. She still couldn't remember much of those days, but she had the distinct impression from what little she could remember that Charles Phipps, her cupboard butler, was the only reason she was still breathing. 'Unsettled' was the only term she could come up with to apply to that notion. She folded her hands in her lap again.
"It will not happen again," Phipps said, his voice hard and quiet. Felicity glanced at him through her bangs, and rubbed the scar on her wrist from where she'd taken shattered glass to it.
"I believe you," she said, and looked at the grain of the table. "Much as I hate to admit it. Why the change of heart?"
Phipps shook himself out of melancholia. "A number of things. Her Majesty is aging, and there are a number of people who would like very much to see her out of the way sooner rather than later. It is more for self-defense than any sort of…militaristic intent."
"You say that now."
"I swear to you on my mother's life, your creations will not be used for anything other than the express intent you put into them," said Phipps. Felicity couldn't quite meet his eyes. "Not as long as I am alive."
"Pretty words, English."
"More than that, Miss Parker. A promise." The corner of his mouth lifted. "One I can seal in blood, if you prefer."
"Ugh, no. Don't bleed on my blueprints." Felicity hesitated, and then picked up the hummingbird again, turning its little body over in her hands. The eyes were made of glass, of course, but if she tried very, very hard…
No. She closed her hand over it. She'd sworn not to do this again. She'd sworn… "You don't understand," Felicity said, and to her horror her voice cracked a little. "I'm not her anymore. I'm not—I'm not the inventor who put you in her cupboard. I'm just…"
Brother-killer, something hissed. Patricidal maniac. Abomination. Monster. She closed her eyes, and then opened them again, staring at the fresh red roses outside of her workroom window. She'd left it open to catch the scent, but for some reason the air was dry as bone.
"You're you," said Phipps. "That's all you've ever been."
Felicity laughed. It sounded wet. "Don't lie to me, Phipps. And don't lie to yourself. You know precisely what I am."
"A woman who was broken," said Phipps, "and rebuilt herself from the ground up."
"A stupid girl," she threw back at him, tossing the hummingbird to the table, "who killed everyone she ever loved because—because she was brainwashed and toxic and horrible."
"And who rose above that and chose to free herself in spite of everything."
"I wanted to die," she snarled at him, and fought the urge to stab him through the hand with her screwdriver. She could do it. It would be easy. His hand was right there. He gave her a look that meant he knew precisely what she'd thought, and then set both his hands on the table, an invitation, a dare.
"You chose," he said, "to live."
She scoffed, and glared at the wall. "I regret it almost every day."
"But you keep living." Phipps cocked his head to one side. "Doesn't that mean something?"
"That I'm a coward, maybe." She closed her eyes. "Or that I'm stupid. Haven't decided."
"Either way it means you're stronger than you give yourself credit for." He leaned back, away from his chair, and looked at nothing for a moment. "Regardless of what you seem to think."
Felicity picked up the remnants of the clock, and began to rebuild the inside. The original clockmaker had had an excess of gears. She would be able to get it working again faster, and keeping better time, too, without half the gloss in here. Kings, she thought sourly, and tossed a spring to the floor. Kings and queens and the whole goddamn royal class of Europe. Idiocy. "You said you had another message?"
Phipps paused. The silence went long enough that Felicity finally looked up, and caught him frowning. She set down her screwdriver. "Tell me," she said, "or I'll take off both your kneecaps."
Phipps winced, just in the spirit of the thing, and then gave her a long, considering look. For a moment, she thought he'd just shrug. Then he licked his lips. "I saw Elizabeth Middleford yesterday. She—she said that if you were up to it, she wanted me to tell you hello."
Her stomach bottomed out. Bitch, the hissing voice seethed. Fork-tongued traitorous whoring bitch. Then she thought of Theodore, and the soft glow of him when he thought no one had noticed him looking at Lizzy Middleford, and her throat closed up. She looked down at her hands again, and went back to mending the clock. Lizzy Middleford, who had spared her life in spite of everything. Lizzy Middleford, the woman who her brother had chosen, who he'd worked with to save Felicity's life. She shouldn't have been worried about Felicity. Not now. Not after everything.
Felicity looked down at the hummingbird, and decided.
"Give me your boot-knife."
Phipps' eyes widened, but bless him, he obeyed without question. Felicity flipped the knife in her metal hand a few times—nice weight, decent heft, sharp blade—and then rolled the hummingbird onto its front, opening the hidden catch in the back to expose the gears. Then with the tip of the bootknife, she pricked her thumb, and let three drops of blood fall into the mechanism of the hummingbird.
It happened the way it always had happened, when she'd been the Director's daughter. There was a fading of color from the world, a blackening around the edges. Under her feet, something stirred. She was the blood, the machine was inside her, she could feel it moving and clicking and growing, and something fractured and cracked. Her vision broke, and then she was herself again. Felicity let out a shuddering, gasping breath, and realized she'd gripped the edge of the table so hard with her metal hand that she'd fractured the wood. Phipps was watching her with wide eyes, his face pale and grey. Felicity forced herself to smile, just a bit, and then opened her flesh hand.
The hummingbird shook itself out, spread its wings, and hopped onto her finger when she prompted. Its eyes were just chips of bottle-green glass, its wings lacking the vibrancy of the real thing, but it looked at her with trust and with joy, and Felicity swallowed. Then she offered it to Phipps.
"Give that to her," she said, in a hoarse voice. "To Lady Middleford, not your blasted queen. She can do what she likes with it. I don't want to know. Don't tell me. And I won't see her," she added. "Not ever. I won't."
Phipps hesitated. Then he reached out, and accepted the hummingbird as it moved from her fingers to his. "I understand."
Felicity stood, and left the room before she could burst into stupid tears.
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The cat—Ran-Mao, Lizzy decided finally, it only made sense to call the cat by the only name she knew—let her up at about seven in the morning, so Lizzy had just enough time for a wash and a mug or three of coffee before there was a sharp knock on the back door. Ran-Mao seemed to have decided that the best possible place to perch was on Lizzy's shoulders, and the prickle of cat fur around the back of her neck (as Ran-Mao draped herself around her throat like a stole or a shawl) was making her skin quiver as Lizzy went over the morning's post. Paula was avoiding her, and Lizzy was fairly sure it had everything to do with the fact that Ran-Mao was whispering the answers to the daily crossword puzzle into her ear in a constant stream of condescending sadism. Every time Lizzy didn't quite catch a word, she received a cold nose in the ear for her trouble.
"No," said Ran-Mao, just as the back doorbell rang. "No, acid, not base. Did you never take chemistry?"
"No," said Lizzy sweetly, fighting the urge to seize the cat and toss it into the fireplace. "Just poisons."
"Considering what can be done to the body with sulfuric acid, I would have thought they'd be included—"
"Miss Lizzy," said Dawson from the doorway, ducking into a little curtsy. Lizzy could only hope she hadn't heard Ran-Mao muttering. "My lord the Earl Phantomhive for you. He's waiting in the drawing room."
Lizzy glanced at the back door (which rang again, rather insistently) and then said, "Show him in here, will you? I have to finish the morning accounts, and he's seen the kitchen before."
Dawson looked politely aghast at the notion of anyone of Blood sitting in the kitchen, but at that very moment the door opened, and Ciel (looking distinctly scruffy, but still very Blooded in his very expensive suit) came through, Sebastian at his heel. Dawson's look of horror grew even deeper, until Lizzy cleared her throat and said, "Yes, well, I think he found the drawing room not quite to his liking. You can go, Dawson."
Paula, in the corner, was smothering a set of rather hysterical giggles. Lizzy was beginning to wonder if it might not be her mother who was sending all of these housekeepers' and ladies' maids on their merry way, but just the general insanity of serving a family like the Middlefords.
Then she looked up and saw Ciel watching her, and her breathing caught. She cleared her throat, and took a rather hasty gulp of tea to cover it. "What did you do, sneak out through the drawing room window? She seemed rather insistent that you were in there."
"No. Out the front door and around the back." Ciel gave the cat a long and lingering look, and then sat down across from her. Lizzy (who was most certainly not doing accounts, but rather marking out sections on a map where Lau might be, according to Ran-Mao) folded her newspaper (which had been an excuse to get Ran-Mao to shut up about opium addiction) and scratched the cat idly behind the ears. "That's new."
"A gift," said Lizzy. "She arrived very recently. Hello, Sebastian," she added, who was giving Ran-Mao a look as if he wanted to eat her. Or cuddle her. Possibly both. It was a very strange expression, considering the man who was wearing it. He jerked, and looked at her very quickly.
"Good morning, my lady Middleford." The hesitation would have been unnoticeable, if she hadn't been looking for it. "You look well."
"That's good, because I didn't sleep, and I've been living mostly off of tea and coffee."
Ciel frowned, just slightly. His bruised cheek still looked horrid, purple and dark, dark blue; she found herself lifting her hand to touch it before she realized what she was doing, and Lizzy bit her lip and blushed. "Good morning, my lord Phantomhive."
Ciel caught her eye, and hten looked away again. Then, clearing his throat, he stood, and came around the table. Lizzy nearly shot out of her seat in a panic, but he simply lifted her hand and pressed the back of it to his lips, just slightly. "My lady Middleford," he said, and all the skin on her body went flush with heat. He was blushing too, just slightly; she could see it in his ears. Then he lifted his head, and a truly wicked little smile was playing around his lips. "Sending late-night messages? Very forward of you."
"Don't be pert," she said, and fought off the urge to kick him in the shin. She gestured to the chair beside her, and he took it without a word, still smirking at her like an insufferable—thing. "You know I wouldn't have if it weren't urgent, and since it's—since it's Lau, I thought you would have liked to know. What have you found?"
Ciel's eyebrows lifted. His lips twitched. "You speak as if you think we've actually learned something."
"You wouldn't be here if you hadn't," said Lizzy tartly, and glanced down at her map of London again. This was one of her lesser copies, one that didn't show every alleyway or cul-de-sac, but at least it was serviceable, and considering what she was using it for, she didn't think it needed much more than what it had to offer. "Nor Sebastian, either."
She reached up to play with the ring at her throat, and then forced her hand down to the table again. She needed to stop doing that. It was a very bad, very telling habit, and she would not do it in front of Ciel. She would not. Beside her, Ciel smiled, and folded his hands neatly on the wood. She was very glad that Mrs. Moore, the cook, wasn't here to see the signet ring on his finger touching her cutting boards. "Considering the amount of sleep afforded to the pair of us last night, I'm afraid we have very little to show for it. We were in Limehouse from midnight until an hour ago, and found no one who could or would dare tell us much about what happened at the Kunlun Company offices late last night."
Lizzy thought of the torn note that had been woven into Ran-Mao's collar, the snip of paper that had been spattered with blood. He'd been wounded when he'd sent Ran-Mao away from him, which would have meant—"Did you visit the offices?"
The glow in Ciel's eyes made the hair prickle all the way up her spine. Lizzy ducked her head like a pleased schoolgirl. "Significant amounts of blood, from multiple parties. Three dead men. An office that had been ransacked, seemingly in rage." He eyed Ran-Mao the cat again, thoughtfully—she was currently staring at Sebastian, and Lizzy thought she might feel cat fur fluffing up against the back of her neck—and then said, "We also found this."
He reached into his waistcoat pocket and drew forth a ring. It was large, heavy, a signet ring, but not of any crest she recognized; it was a compass rose, with little chips of ruby at each cardinal direction. Lizzy picked it up, and weighed it in her hand. Heavy silver, decent craftsmanship (though the actual sigil was sloppy, blurring at the edges). Not something a man would give away to any rough on the street. "Pickpockets?" she said after a moment, and closed her hand around the ring. Ciel shook his head once, and glanced up at Sebastian.
"It was found on a necklace, my lady Elizabeth, not any sort of secret pocket." Sebastian searched her face for a moment, and then looked back at Ciel. They seemed to have a short, silent conversation before he drew out a notebook from beneath his coat, and opened it to the final page. "The sigil is not known to any current registry of lords of England, but the maker's mark on the interior curve says that it was crafted within the last ten years, by a jeweler whose offices were recently closed. Indications from his neighbors point towards a gravesite in one of the pauper's yards, but the jeweler's son recently moved away from the City towards Sussex. Specifically, Hastings."
"Hastings?" she frowned. "On the Channel? You're not serious. That's miles away."
"But also a premiere dock," said Sebastian. "And an easy enough place to hire a private fishing craft or ferry to the Continent, if one was generous."
"And you say that you didn't find much," said Lizzy, something inside her fizzing like good champagne. If this was how Ciel and Sebastian usually worked…well, she could get used to a thing like this. "We don't know that they've gone to Hastings for certain, though. The jeweler could just have moved away."
"Very true. Which is why we found a gentleman who lived near Kunlun Company who might know very well where Lau has gone." Ciel glanced at her, and then at the cat, and then at her again. Then his eyes darkened, just slightly, and Ciel coughed before looking away from her. Lizzy realized quite suddenly that she was wearing an open-collared summer gown, and that he could see both the ring and the key lying bold as brass against her collarbone. She swallowed hard, and hated the way her ears were burning. "I thought that you would like to come along, considering you and Lau seem to have been…working together recently. Where's Ran-Mao?"
Lizzy was about to respond when Ran-Mao shoved her nose into Lizzy's ear, and sank her teeth into the lobe. Lizzy squealed, and whacked at the cat without thinking about it, but Ran-Mao was already far out of reach—she bolted out of range of Sebastian (who was watching her with distinctly hungry eyes) and far away from Lizzy, darting past Paula, up the stairs, and out of sight. Lizzy swore under her breath, and went digging around for a handkerchief when her fingertips came away bloody. Ciel offered her one without comment. She thought he might have been struggling to hold back laughter.
"I thought Edward was allergic."
"Special breed," she lied, and held the handkerchief to her bloody ear. "Doesn't shed. Can we go, please?"
"Where's Ran-Mao? We thought she might like to come, considering."
There was a mowling sound from upstairs, and then, in quick succession, a wild catlike screech, a tremendous crash, and a truly impressive string of curse-words. Apparently, Edward had found the cat.
"Sleeping," Lizzy said. She seized her parasol. "Let's go."
A/N:
Thank you all for some truly amazing reviews! I'm sorry it took so long for me to update, but after a case of SIDS in my family, a number of personal illnesses, psychological issues, family emergencies, and work stuff, I have had almost no time AT ALL to write. I don't knwo when it will lighten up, either; things have been hard. You can be sure, though, that RM is constantly on my mind even when I'm nto able to write a word (damn you, writer's block) and that it won't be abandoned. I would never leave you guys in the lurch like that.
My only request is that as much as you love this story, and as much as I love the fact that you all love it, please do not PM me (here, or on Tumblr, or on Twitter, or on FB, or anywhere else) as to the upload date of the next chapter. It is singularly unhelpful considering everything that I have going on IRL right now, and since I am fighting through a lot of writer's block, every ask in that regard makes me feel guilty. The guilt feeds into the block, and makes it worse. So, negative cycle. Not that I don't love knowing how eager you are for the next chapter, but...patience, young Padawans.
Speaking of, you can find me on Tumblr, Twitter, and FB! My Twitter handle is shuofthewind, my FB name is Shu of the Wind, and my Tumblr UN shu-of-the-wind. I'd love to hear from you guys!
Also, unbeta'ed, sorry for any spelling or grammar errors. I'll check it again later.
Now, review responses...
kuroshitsujifan: Aw, thank you, lovey! In regards to the "happy ending" question...you'll have to just wait and see. Though I can promise kissing.
Crazywordsmith: Ran-Mao is...interesting. Thank you for the happy holiday wishes!
Fuyumi-chan: I can promise those in abundance, in response to all of you being so patient and waiting so long for the SINGLE KISS (or, well, two kisses) from Domina Esques. :3
Blanca: omg you're adorbs
KuroyukiAihara: Why thank you! I do think it was a little faster, but that's because the other story I've been working on mainly (Swallows on the Beam, a LanYao Fullmetal Alchemist fic) has 8,000+ words per chapter, and I need to get back in the groove of 5k-7k chapters. So I'm finding a happy medium. Be patient with me? XD
DawnGidget: Oh, god, no. Don't get an adrenaline rush because of me. That's just silly. Shhhh. /pets your face.
TheLadyMartyr: Answers!
1. The Shinigamis will definitely be involved.
2. Hmmmmm...secrets. ;)
3. ...there's no three.
4. Mmm...probably not? I don't really like Alois and Claude, to be completely honest. I don't censure anyone who does, but I operate mostly off of manga canon, and Alois is an anime-only character. So.../shrugs Who knows? They might have a cameo.
5. Ohhhh, she will.
6. Most certainly.
7. Sebastian is fond of Lizzy! Even if he tried to kill her that one time. She's his dorky little fashionista. XD (But for real, though, Sebastian has a lot more fondness for the people around him than he ever lets on. It's a very interesting dynamic, considering the whole 'I will eat your soul' thing.)
seasaltmemories: A new nickname? ME GUSTA. (Also, Lizzy's not gonna sleep much until later. But she's trying.)
purpleswans: What happened in Bengal will come forward, most certainly.
dreamer: No, don't faint, sh. /offers you smelling salts
xNightDreamerx: Hm, maybe this chapter helps with the mechanics of Ran-Mao? Her duality (and I do use duality intentionally) is...fun. (YAY FOR CIELIZZY FLUFF AND YAY FOR ACTION YES.)
Indochine: I LOVE Lau, and he's going to be very important throughout this story, even if he doesn't...show up for a while. (He's been kidnapped, give him a break!) (The dinner might have to be put on hold, unfortunately.) And I'm so glad you love my OCs! They're very important to me (as shown by Fee taking over most of this chapter) and I always love hearing good things about them.
121FantasyLife: I hope it keeps living up to standard!
schoolgurl95: Well, hey there, stranger! Long time no see. :3
Panda musume: Awww, thank you, love. Hot cocoa is the best.
Sailorjj07: Yay for getting pumped! /hands you iron
NerdsRule: Ran-Mao is a cat...sorta. XD Sorry it took so long, but here we are! Finally.