Arnold Sterling's last move at the Gala had clearly failed, he had hoped to destory Sebastian in a single sweep, however the designer from no where managed to throw him off. Now he had to determine his next move, he hadn't expected Sebastian's counter to be so effective. This time Sterling will manage to get Sebastian where it really hurts and once and for all remove that pesky Nickle Knight from play.

Grell is off to visit the Undertaker after being ripped a new one by William. With the sphere in hand he goes to see the gray haired shinigami.

Mean while Sebastian is looking at the new location for the Chocolatiery called Eros, only there is something Sebastian hasn't told Claude, which may be more serious than he thought.

What's Steling's plan?

Just who is the Nickel Knight?

What on earth did Ronald pick up at the Trancy Manor?
What's hasn't Sebastian told Claude?

I hope you enjoy,

~Kuro

P.s. Check out my profile for a link to my Facebook page, I will be posting extras and alerts about updates for both this fanfiction and my other works on fictionpress.

Chapter 40: The Attack on the Nickle Knight

Sterling sighed and looked at his desk, it was covered in account books, since he had hired Sebastian's firm he was growing both in populatiry and economic standing. However this wasn't part of his plan, he sighed and walked over to the sideboard. His white fingers trailed the edge of the mahogany table. The grain of the wood was smooth under his fingers, not a trace of dust could be seen. His emerald green eyes floated down to look at the nickel and brass pieces which covered the board, beside a game clock. The pieces were pristinely polished and Sterling sighed. His queen was pinned by a nickel knight, if he were to move her he would risk loosing his king to an over zealous rook. He cursed under his breath as he picked up the dark nickel knight, it was cold and he smiled. Soon enough he would have killed the knight and managed to make one step closer to killing the king. There was a tap on the door fallowed by silence and he called, "Enter." The door clicked open and Sterling grinned, the smell of sandalwood and roses filled his nose. He looked over his shoulder to find a pair of golden eyes looking back at him. He smiled and turned to face him. His silver hair glistened in the light and he smiled crookedly, "You finally responded to my calls," said Sterling. Claude pushed his glasses up his nose and replied, "I've finally had some time to." Sterling walked over to his desk and slowly opened one of the drawers, "Do you know why I put you on retainer Mr. Faustus?" asked Sterling.

Claude was silent and Sterling looked at him, his emerald eyes narrowed dangerously and he responded, "You make things disappear." Claude paused he made no change in facial expression however what Sterling had said did frighten him. "I don't legally," said Claude, Sterling laughed dryly and placed a thick folder on his glass desk. "I know you're a pro at it, don't worry I won't turn you in, I just have something for you to do for me," he said as he leaned on the desk. His hands slipped into his charcoal gray suite and he smiled as Claude picked up the file, "Rothchild?" he asked in confusion, his eyes narrowed and he held the folder in one hand. "Eric Rothchild has nothing to do with the intrests of your boutique," said Claude before he dropped the file back on Sterling's desk. His golden eyes looked back up at Sterling, he was looking for his ture intentions. Sterling laughed inwardly at Claude's attempt and crossed his arms. "No he doesn't this is personal," said Sterling before he picked up the file again, "Rothchild is the name of the man who stole something from me and I want it back," said Sterling. His fingers rested tented on cover of the file, "I want to purchase his company and everything with it," said Sterling, his voice was even and calm. Claude was hesitant and he asked, "That's a bit risky isn't it? You recently aquired the Chinese firm, Eastern Wind, which specializes in silk from both China and Japan, isn't it too risky? Your assets haven't even settled." Sterling sighed and shrugged, his shoulders moved up just enough for Claude to notice the jesture. Clearly Claude knew everyone of his holdings which was going to make this play just a little more difficult than he had anticipated. He slipped his fingers through his silver hair to put it back in place before he continued, "He's interested in a contract with India for fabric I plan on purchasing for next year's collection."

Claude was quiet and he realized Sterling really wanted to get his hands on the company in Rothchild's position. If he could secure his hold on it, not only would he have gained priceless amounts of fabric for his collections but he would also secure him self a postion as a global power in controling fabric. It was a high risk, after all India's economy was in turmoil again, however there was little Claude couldn't do to gain the contract. What bothered him was the fact that Sterling knew this, and was willing to risk his assets in this move. "I'll see what I can do," said Claude as Sterling handed him the folder again, "Of course you will," he said as Claude turned to leave, "Other wise you would risk my harming your lover's firm." Claude was hesitant as he placed his hand on the door knob; Sterling knew what must have been going through his head. There was a click and he watched Claude's broad back and then grinned as he watched the door close. He pulled the nickel knight which he had slipped in his pocket and held it between his fingers. He smiled and whispered, "I'll remove you from the board soon. Some stratagies take longer than your short power plays, Sebastian." He grinned as he placed the bishop where the knight had been and placed it off to the side.

Grell tucked a strand of long red hair behind his ear as he walked down the hall into the morgue at the Yard. A week had passed since the ball and he was on the run trying to finish off this case. Usually he would ask for William's help; however this time he realized that wouldn't be an option, not after he sent Ronald alone. He sighed and looked down at the crystal orb which was cradled in his hands, "So much trouble over a heavy glass ball," he groaned before opening the door. The room was spotless and smelt rancid as always, sprawled across several sterile silver slabs. He sighed; somehow this was actually creepier than the shop he owned in the Victorian Era which had a display floor covered in coffins. Hunched over a body in blue scrubs was the silver haired shinigami. His hair was tied back and his hands were in a pair of white gloves. He hummed as he slowly began extracting the bullet out of the corpse's head. Grell stuck his tongue out and shuddered, there were just something he couldn't handle. "Ew," he muttered and the Undertaker chuckled, "Still a green horn," he said as he held the bullet in the light. He examined the piece of metal in the light which was covered with blood. "I've been chasing after this one all morning," he said happily and grinned. Grell held one of the plastic containers in his hands and looked away from the body with disgust.

The Undertaker placed the lid on the container and looked at him, "You worked as Jack the Ripper and yet you have a weak stomach?" he asked with a note of confusion. Grell grimanced and replied, "I didn't take anyone's head apart." The Undertaker chuckled and took the plastic contaner from Grell's hands before securing the lid on it. "It's a pleasure to see you again," said the Undertaker as he marked the container with it's contents. His eyes looked over to the orb in Grell's hand and he sighed, "I suppose you aren't here for a leasurly visit are you?" He looked up at Grell and noticed how Grell seemed to be avoiding his gaze. There was a faint tap and Grell could hear the sound of latex gloves being removed from his hands. "Well then let's have a look," he said as he held his hand out for the orb. Grell slowly placed the orb in the Undertaker's outstretched hand and watched as his fingers grasped it. The Undertaker held it to the light and slowly turned it, his eyes narrowed as he examined the sphere and he said, "I haven't seen one of these in a while." Grell was confused, and asked, "What?" The Undertaker looked over at him and said, "A trapped soul, they're exceedingly rare you know." Grell was confused, his eyes narrowed and he shook his head which caused his red hair to sway. "A what?" he asked and the Undertaker looked at him, "Trapped Soul." He ran his thumb over the orb's smooth surface and continued, "It's what occurs when a demon desires to save it for later to trade rather than eat, this is done very rarely. Come to think of it the last time I saw one of these was back in China during the early years of legend, that was when it was first introduced, it was so it was possible to trade souls." He lowered the orb and handed it to Grell, "This ended of course after first war between demons and shinigami, it was at that point demons were forsed to devoir souls and were not allowed to keep them even for their own purposes. It threw off balance," he said as he walked over to his desk and took a seat in his chair.

He gestured for Grell to take the other seat, "How could something so small throw off the balance of things?" asked Grell, he brushed a long red hair out of his face. The Undertaker looked at him and then said, "Open your logue book and you tell me." Grell was about to argue however he noticed the look of sincerity in the Undertaker's eyes. On the marked page was the list of the soul, however it was nameless the only information on the page was the adress he was currently at. "What?" asked Grell and he shook his head, "That's not possible, all I have is an," the Undertaker jumped in and asked, "Adress?" Grell nodded and looked up at the older shinagami. The silver haired shingami gave a smile of amusment and said, "That's the problem, it only tells us there is a soul to be reaped, there is no personal information, and even when the soul is posetion it still apears in the logue books. It is neither there nor not there, it's in between which makes keeping track of it rather tricky." Grell pouted and asked, "What kind of demon would do that?" The Undertaker looked at him and replied, "An old one, who was interested in selling it's contents." Grell looked at the white crystal orb in his hands and slowly shifted it from one hand to the other, "Who's in it?" he asked after a moment. The Undertaker sighed and leaned back in his chair, "Don't know." Grell looked up at him, he was slightly irritated until he noticed the look of frustration in his eyes, clearly the Undertaker was as baffled as he was. "I'm unsure of how to open it, last time we had a demon do so once he was in our custody," said the Undertaker. Grell looked up at him immediately and said, "We know two demons why can't we asked Claude or Sebastian?" The Undertaker shook his head and held up and finger, "The charm can only be lifted by the one who bound the soul to this form." Grell grumbled in frustration and shouted, "Can't they atleast identify who made the damn thing?" The Undertaker stared at him for a moment and responded, "Well, it's possible that they can identify their Faustian Contract Seal, if they know the demon." Grell's expression turned hopeful and the Undertaker chuckled, Grell really was a green horn however he was quite intelegent when you least expected it. "I'll give Sebastian a call and see if he can make time to meet with us, he's been drowning in contracts since the Gala," said the Undertaker.

Sebastian smiled as he walked through the floor plan of a large store, it was the newist location of Eros, a new store which he had been asked to handel all the advertising for, it was one of the largest contracts he had gained yet. Eros wasn't like Intrigue; it specialized in chocolate and not the normal run of the mill chocolate either. It was the leader in high end chocolates which were often custom mixed and coule contain afrodsiacs, making them the perfect Christmas gift. Eros started in a small shop however he was given full reign of designing not only everything for their new location but their expodition which was due in two weeks time, which was just in time for halloween. Even if it wasn't a British holiday, there were still traces of it found. Sebastian thought it was amusing that in America there was a single night in which children would dress up as the very things which had been persecuted by humans for centuries. He smirked as he looked over his shoulder, to think centuries ago he would have been killed for his blood red eyes, only for them now to be considered one of his greatest assets. The chocolatire walked over and said, "The construction for the kitchen is coming along nicely, however I'm concerned about the expodition." Sebastian turned to him and pulled out his cellphone, he no longer required an assistant his cell phone took care of keeping a schedual. "You're right this location won't be finished nearly soon enough," he said after a moment, they were still waiting on a great deal of renovations to occur.

"We need a venue," said Sebastian, he slowly pressed two fingers to his temple and sighed. The chocolatire looked slightly panniced and asked, "What's wrong?" Sebastian's garnet red eyes flickered open and he replied with a smiled, "Nothing." The chocolatire was about to inquire more however there was a loud crash from the back, which sent him flying. Sebastian wrinkled his brown and muttered, "When will this head ache subside?" He was accustomed to physical pain from having bones broken, and being almost killed by the Undertaker's death cyth in the past, however this pain was much more irritating. No matter how roudy the Phantomhive servents had gotten he never had a throbing head ache like this one. It was nearly intollerable, he had been dealing with it since the morning after the Gala, however it had slowly worsened. The dull ache became a throb which made it difficult to focus on anything. He was too frighten to tell Claude, after all Claude did have a tendencey to over react when ever it came to him. Yet there was this nagging feeling that he really should tell him. There was another throb and he groaned, he muttered, "I really wish there was a way for me to take asprin." It was so convenient for humans when they were in pain, they could chew on the bark of a tree or swallow a pill and the pain would fade. In the case of a demon this wasn't so, since they had an unparalleled healing ability there was little out there in selection of pain killer. In fact if he wanted something to numb the pain he would have to travel through the depths of hell and risk a run in with his father, which was something he wasn't looking forward to. There was another crash which eminated from the kitchen, and he slowly began to walk toward the doors which lead to the back. He lazily rubbed his brow and muttered, "Endure it, at least until you get home."

Standing among a pile of glistening silver mixing bowles and massive double boilers was a short boy with blond hair and large eyes. Sebastian stared for a moment in confusion there was an uncanny resemblance to a certain Phantomhive servent who was long dead. "Finny! What the hell are you thinking! These were just washed!" shouted the chocolatire and Sebastian was even more confused. The boy even had the same name, the only thing that was missing from the short, slender, freckle faced blond was the red hair clips and straw hat, other wise he was the spitting image of the servernt from back then. "Ah sorry boss," he said as he slowly got off the floor and stakced the pots in one another. "This is Finny, he's our delivery boy, he's really good at delivering the big orders," said the chocolatire. Sebastian nodded absentmindely, "I bet," he commented. The chocolatire looked at Sebastian again and his eyes narrowed, "Mr. Michaelis are you sure you're alright?" he asked cautiously. Sebastian turned to him and replied, "It's just a head ache." The Chocolatire seemed a little more concerned and stated, "Well there isn't much left that you can do here, go back to your office, we can talk more tomorrow." Sebastian was about to object when he noticed the sincerity in the chocolatire's eyes, there was no way Sebastian could glide out of this one. "Alright," he said as he slipped his phone out of his pocket, "I'll head back to the office and see if I can find you a venue." The chocolaitire nooded and Sebastian turned to walk away, in moments he was dialing the phone. His head was killing him and he groaned as he waited for Claude to answer.

There was a pause and then Sebastian finally hear the voice he had been aching to hear, "Hello?" it asked. He sighed with relief and he said, "It's me." There was a pause and Sebastian could tell that he was interupting Cladue's work, yet this was something he couldn't' keep hiding. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice was smooth and calming. Sebastian was about to say something when an ambulance went screaming by and he groaned in pain, which immediately got Claude's attention, "What happened? Are you injured?" he asked in a panic, Sebastian shook his head he was right Claude was going to over react. "Its nothing my head hurts," he muttered as he leaned against the wall of the shop outside. The brick wall was hard and he could feel it's rough texture through his coat. "Your head hurts?" asked Claude with concern, "You've never complained of this before. How bad?" Sebastian held his head with one hand and clsoed his eyes, he simply wanted the throbing to stop, "Bad," he replied curtly. There was a distant rattle as Claude got out of his chair and he said, "This isn't normal I'm coming to pick you up." Sebastian smiled a little, some how hearing Claude was going to come flying to his aid made him feel a little easier. He simply hummed and hissed in pain as a car honked its horn. "Where are you?" asked Claude and Sebastian started to feel light headed, somehow the pain was even worse than before.

"Um," Sebastian mumbled and he closed his eyes, the pain was over riding all of his senses. "Sebastian!" shouted Claude in an attempt to get his attention over the phone. Sebastian groaned and started to feel nauteous, "Eros," he replied. There was a bang as the door of Claude's car slammed in the background and he could hear the engine of the Astin Martin wake from it's slumber. "The new location?" asked Claude and before Sebastian could respond he felt even weaker, "What's wrong with me?" he muttered in confusion. It was as though someone was beating him over the head time and time again with a cricket bat. He slid down the wall and slowly fell to the sidewalk bellow, his head was spinning and he moaned, "New." Claude shouted again only this time Sebastian didn't hear him, the phone had slipped from his fingers and was now resting on the side walk. He cradeled his head and whimpered in pain, it was more intence than ever all he could do was wish for Claude's arrival.