ALRIGHT I NEED TO SAY SOMETHING (12/22/2016)
While writing this book, I was reading other fanfictions. If I forgot the title of them (for example the fanfiction 'Countess Phantomhive' (which is really good btw)) I would google search the main character's name and it would come up on google search results.
Naturally, I searched "Ivy Adams"
Turns out in real life, 'Ivy Adams' is the name of a porn star.
...
oops.
So, incase any of my readers wishes to
A) find this fanfiction again but can't remember the name
B) want to google search it to get updated on the chapters
C) just find the book in general
Search 'ivy adams fanfiction' so porno options won't come up.
Alright, onwards with the story!
April 2nd, 1888, Phantomhive Estate
"Quickly... I have 3 hours until Ciel is supposed to exit the time bubble..." I mutter, as I rush into the hidden room of Ciel's manor.
Now, I was supposed to be at Conall's in Dunton right now...but I feel as if I should take items first. I had taken my items from my closet and performed a spell to put them into a suitcase, and when I popped into the room, it looked the same as always.
Warm, cozy, homely...the hidden room in the basement that only I know about, and which I could do very odd things in but chose not to do them...
Yeah, nevermind that last thought.
Quickly, I go to the floor tile and pry it up, taking the weathered diary from Conall and stuffing it into my bag. Putting the tile back, I rush out of the room and seal the door. Running back upstairs with my suitcase, I attach it to the clip I had magic-glued onto the broom and clasp it on there.
Running to the patio, I cast an invisible charm on myself and the broom, before I swing my leg over the broom and push off the ground where I start to levitate...than I am off to Conall's Cow Farm in Dunton, as a letter had informed me before the Murder Mystery Arc...
Thank god I'm going to miss the Campania arc...but I'll be in Weston College and see sexy-nun Sebastian!
Did I just think nun? Imagining Sebastian wearing a nun outfit... it's too funny!
"This is the farm...?" I ask a few hours later, as I stop in front of a small cottage with lazy smoke coming from it. Looking towards the side pasture, I see a bunch of cows...
Definitely the place.
Flying to the doorstep, I slow down until my feet touched the ground and I released the spell on the broom, holding it beside me. Turning to the door, I inhale through my nose, before I do a short knock on the door.
Feet shuffle from behind the door, and it swings open so I see a woman about my height. She's wearing a dark grey sweater with male trousers, and her curly, white hair with brown streaks was down to her chest. Her eyes and nose were shaped like mine, but she had piercing grey eyes instead. Paired with thinning lips and strong cheekbones, she held a strong posture and barely had any wrinkles, seemingly, save for smile lines by her eyes and mouth.
"Who are ya?" She asks, looking me up and down, and I straighten my back.
I was never good with seniors!
"I am Ivy Adams." I say, and she sighs. "Some bozos were looking for you back in December," she says, rolling her eyes. "An ugly-ass demon, a weird red head reaper, and a garden gnome."
I snort a laugh, "Yes, I was in Sweden at the time."
"Come in, I'd love to have a conversation with the woman that they freaked out about, it was quite a hilarious sight," she says, stepping to the side, allowing me into the house where I take my shoes off.
"Please, sit on the couch." She hobbles over to the couch, and I sit down beside her.
"So, I should note we look similar," I start, and she chuckles.
"You don't say. Since you are Ivy Adams and are supposedly related to my lineage, I wonder how you resemble me so." Conall starts, and I sigh.
Well, in reality, my name isn't Ivy Adams, it's actually Taylor Taylor...I swear my parents were idiotic when they named me," I scoff, and she chuckles.
"That says a lot..but your aura is slightly different...you aren't from this time period, are you?" She asks, and my eyes widen.
"Wha-?"
"Trust me, I've been around the supernatural for many years, I can pick up on the subtleties that is impossibly difficult for most supernatural. Besides, most haven't dealt with time-travelling witches before, so, eh. Hate to admit it, but you aren't my first time-travelling witch." She finishes with a shrug.
"Well," I say, as I open my suitcase, pulling out the diary and passing it to her. "I am a witch now...so thank you, I guess?" I say, and she chuckles, taking the book. I look at her hands, yet there is no ring on her left finger.
"I was never married, if that's what you're wondering," she says, catching me looking at her hand. "I tell people I was so they won't bother me."
"What happened?"
"I was drinking at a supernatural bar and got hammered. Some warlock put shit in my drink and bam, I wake up without powers, naked in an alleyway. I regained the powers 24 hours later, and between the 23-25 hours of this event happening I beat the shit out of the warlock without magic, then with magic..." she says, before laughing. "People don't imagine the stickler looking girl to whoop their asses."
She looks at my face, before her eyes land on mine. "You have the eyes, though. His were a darker blue, but it's the same shape..."
"I...I feel bad that you got raped," I say, and her eyes crinkle in a smile. "Are you kidding me? It was a shitty experience...but have you ever heard of the phrase to not judge a book by it's cover? I was granted a wonderful son named Mark... non-magic, of course, but he was a genius. He's an herbal medicine genius, and helps people over in villages in America with his wife, Valerie. They have babies and grandbabies, and we write frequently. I'm glad he's happy, and though being raped was a horrendous experience, I was granted a child...without having to commit to a shitty husband."
"Oh...personally, I thought you would have gotten married to The Undertaker. Person A and B relationship..." I say, as her eyes turn serious, and slightly glassy.
"The Undertaker...have you met him?"
"Yes."
"And...how is he faring?" She asks, twiddling her fingers. "I have not seen him in over 20 years..."
That's...very depressing. It seems that they must have cared for each other.
"He is doing well...I have a question. Why does he not have scars in your memory?" I ask, and she smiles softly, placing the book on my lap.
"Just delve down deep, and you'll see..." She says, and I nod. "Thank you," I say, setting my hand on top of the book, and it glows silver before my vision fades to black.
"It's a boy!" The mid-wife exclaims, as Cloudia's hand in mine loosens, sweaty from the 6 hours of intense labor of the new-born. The baby cries out, and I lightly smile.
Today was June 13th, 1851, and Cloudia's first child had been born.
"He's a lovely boy!" I say, as Cloudia looks up at me, a light smile on her face as sweat trickles down her forehead.
"Yesssss..." she breaths out, and I lightly laugh. "Have you and Cedric planned a name?" The midwife asks, as she bundles the newborn, and Cloudia's eyes widen.
"Shite!" She exclaims, and I chuckle at the words she has after just giving birth. She and Cedric have never been ones to plan anything out fully. "Any name ideas, Conall?"
I freeze as the bundle is passed to Cloudia, and my mind wanders. What would his name be?
Stepping back over to where Cloudia was, I look at the bundle in her arms. "Huh, seems like he'll look like Cedric, I see he has little tufts of black hair there," I say with a smile, looking at the small beauty mark under his left eye as Cloudia smiles at the gurgling baby in her arms, sticking her pinkie finger to his nose, lightly rubbing the tip of his nose. The un-named baby reflexively grabs her finger, as the midwife 'awws'.
"He likes you, that's good."
"He's certainly conquered my heart already with his charming baby-looks," Cloudia says, as she lightly laughs. A lightbulb went off in my head.
"Vincent, it's from the Roman name Vincentius, which was from Latin vincere "to conquer". He would one day take over your family business, correct?" I ask, and Cloudia nods slightly, the smile flickering a bit.
"Yes...he will. Vincent Phantomhive... it has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" She asks, looking at me, and I smile, nodding in response.
Walking outside to get fresh air after the intense labor of Cloudia, I passed by Cedric, who politely nodded to me as I passed. He was very handsome, a tad boring, but Cloudia and Cedric loved each other enough so that was great.
He was handsome though, with dark, black hair neatly slicked back and shiny brown eyes. A little mole was under his lip and above his right brow, and he had very nice, groomed brows.
"Conall," he greets, "Cedric." I respond, and we went our separate ways.
Stepping outside to get fresh air, I grab the broom leaned against the stairway banister and swing my leg over it, taking off. The broom had been pre-charmed, so I didn't have to do anything.
Casting an invisibility charm, I accelerate until a small plot of farmland lays before me, and I stop, floating above the green pasture. In the distance is a small village, and I sigh.
I was made a Countess a few months ago, and had been busy with helping Cloudia prepare for birth, so I hadn't had a chance to visit my plot of land yet, and this was it. I could probably erect a massive manor here, but I wouldn't have much use for it, though. Than I'd have to clean more and dust more...
Back when I was promised to be a Countess, that silver-haired Undertaker fellow was there, being an arse...I wonder what he is up to now.
With a sigh, I turn to the South, lazily drifting towards Buckingham. A letter tucked into my pocket for my future generations, I hope they can locate my diary. Basically, a magical cord is connecting my memories to the book until I sever it, finishing the diary...and when I cut it-
Well, that answer is for later. But, as of now, I need to get this letter and talk to the Queen about Watchdog duties.
Cloudia and I had discussed that I'll take over for the first 6 months within her child's birth, and I'll merge the duties of myself as the Queen's Owl along with the Watchdog duties...this will be complicated. Looking down at my pinky finger where my signet ring lay, I looked at the small sword on it, reminding myself to be strong.
As I go to the landing spot on the roof, I unravel my invisibility spell, setting the broom against a pillar as I go down the staircase from the roof. This was an escape route to the roof from the parlor room, but it was unused...save for me.
Stepping down the dim hallway, my eyes lazily glow silver as the darkness of the hallway becomes bright. Coming to a wooden panel on the wall, I push outwards, and my eyes cease to glow as I step inside the parlor room.
"Ah, Conall, you gave me a heart attack," Queen Victoria, who was lounging in the chair with a book in hand.
"Hello, your majesty," I say, as I step out of the dingy hidden passage way, dipping into a bow. "Cloudia's child has been born."
"I offer my congratulations, than. Is it a boy?" She asks, as I rise from the curtsy. "Yes, his name is Vincent, and he's quite an adorable little boy already, looking much like his father."
"I see. Have you and Cloudia made arrangements for the Watchdog position?" She asks, and I nod. "Yes, we have decided that I shall take over for the first 6 months of her pregnancy, or for longer if needed, until she recovers from childbirth."
Queen Victoria sighs, "I was afraid that Cloudia would not forfeit for the time being, but I'm glad we could reach a conclusion."
"Yes...Your Majesty, can I ask you a small question?" I ask, reaching into my skirt pocket, as Queen Victoria nods, and I pull out a letter.
"I have a...feeling, that one day my future children or children's children may be involved in the same line of work, so I was wondering if I can hide this anywhere..." I say, and she nods. "There's a loose floorboard that's never been fixed, you can hide it there."
The scene fades into black, before bursting back to color, and I am now in my personal laboratory in the basement, the body of an unconscious vampire before me. He won't wake up until I lift the spell from him...oh well. This vampire was found a week ago sucking the blood of travelers in the woods, violating the supernatural rule #92.4 for vampires.
One cannot drink upon victims who haven't given consent. The only reason this rule exists is because humans die if there is no consent, as they are so tense their ne
"Record log," I say, tapping the book with my forefinger, as the book pulses for a moment, before it floats upward to my side.
"Testing..." I mutter, as the words appear in the book. Good.
Turning towards the body, I take my gloved hands, raising it to the mouth of the pale vampire, pulling back his upper lip. "Slightly sharper canines, with...small holes on the bottom." Tapping a canine, it seems to grow longer and into a further point. "Upon an outside force acting, the canines extend..."
Pulling out a pair of pliers, I raise it to his canine that grew and pull it out, causing the unconscious vampire to twitch. Looking at the hole, I notice there's a black liquid coming out of the hole.
"Pulled right canine of vampire, leaves black hole behind oozing black liquid. Possibly blood. Taking a sample." I say, grabbing the vial beside me and holding it in the vampire's mouth as the blood drips in, filling up the vial. Corking it, I set it in the vial holder, as I take out a knife and chop off the vampire's head.
He was a criminal, and my duty was to dispose of him.
"Wow, isn't that a bit gory for a woman," A sarcastic voice says from behind me, and I jump around, knife poised. Eyes widening in recognition, my eyebrow twitches.
"You little bitch," I swear, as I wheel the laboratory table to the panel on the wall, sliding it open.
"Yes, that's me." The Undertaker replies, "I get to hang out with you until you die~ isn't that lovely? Sorry I haven't visited for Christmas in the past year, I am a very busy man being a reaper and all."
Rolling my eyes, I empty the body parts down the slide connected from the panel in the wall. Pointing my hand down the slide, I hear a thump. "Ignis," I say, as a jet of fire travels down the slide, and I close the sliding door.
"Ooo~ scary." He says, and I roll my eyes, taking the tooth and placing it in a bag, placing it beside the vial. "Close notes, test subject disposed of." I ignore the Undertaker, as the book closes shut and floats towards the bookshelf, placing itself there.
"What do you want," I ask with a sigh, placing my hands to face the Undertaker. His bangs had been changed a bit, now with some long strands over his face. I can see his almond, electric green eyes from behind his glasses.
"I heard you're now the Watchdog AND Owl! Isn't that simply exciting?" he asks, a smirk on face and I roll my eyes, taking my gloves off as they evaporate into the air, leaving no trace behind.
"Old man, I don't care." I scoff, and he grins at me.
"You're more like a venus fly trap, you look so lovely but you have a bite, don't you?" He asks, and I smirk. "So, what if I am? It's not like you would kno-"
"Reaper darling~" He says, as he pulls out a small, thick book from his black coat pocket, flipping through it. "Let's see...when you were four you 'accidentally' let out your father's hunting dog because it ate your cookie-"
"I was a little kid!" I respond, as I try to grab the book, but the Undertaker lifts his hand up above his head, tilting his head at an angle to read it. He cackles, "When you were 8 you took your elder brother's books at night to teach yourself how to read. When you were 13 you went to a friend's farm, and she taught you how to ride horses. When you were 18-"
"Stop it!" I exclaim, as I raise my hand, "Venit!"
The book flies from the Undertaker's hands into my hand, and I hold the book, looking at a pouting Undertaker. "You're a bit salty, aren't you?" He asks, and I blush.
"I have a private life you dingus!" I complain, as I take the book and set it on my counter. "Don't be an ass. I'm going to the kitchen and making cookies, you stressed me out too damn much..." I grumble, as I stomp from the kitchen.
"COOKIES?!"
"You've never made cookies before, you old coot?" I ask, as I set the tray of bone-shaped sugar cookies on the counter to cool, and he shrugs. "Never needed to, cooking is a woman's job." He giggles, and I sweat drop.
"Well, I guess you aren't getting cookies than..." I say with a sigh, and his eyes widen. "SORRY!"
"Yeah whateva'..." I mumble, and we are silent.
"How long have you been a grim?" I ask, and he giggles. "More than a century, that's for sure."
"Knew you were an old man," I say, and he scoffs. "I'm old but I died young, my silver hair is au' nat-oo-raul."
"Good for you," I respond, as he takes a bite of the cookie, eyes widening. "These are great! Oh my lord, is this a witch spell!"
"No, it's a family recipe." I respond, as he shovels more bone-shaped cookies into his mouth. A lightbulb comes to mind, as I smirk.
After all, the Undertaker is the only reaper I know.
"I'll show you how to make these cookies, in return for you letting me perform experiments on you to understand the anatomy of a reaper. After all, witches and reapers are closest to humans, but we're ever-so-slightly different. Besides, I haven't had a willing test subject yet," I respond, and he nods, gulping down his cookies.
"This should be interesting, so I don't see why not."
"I...want...cookies!" The Undertaker groans, popping up next to me in my office. Waving my hand back in surprise, I smack him in the nose.
"Goodness, I am sorry! But you cannot scare me like that!" I respond, turning back to him. His long, silver hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and I could see a dark stain on his left breast side.
"Work," he says, as he follows where my gaze leads. "It was awfully bloody, but what can a reaper do?" He cackles, as I sigh, putting away the case document I was reading.
"Well, let's get started with our exams. Can you run in those clothes?" I ask, and he looks down at his clothing, before shedding his jacket, throwing it on the ground.
"Yup, what are we doing? Something interesting, like running with bodies pile-"
"No, I'm going to monitor when you start getting tired when running." I say, as I stand up, walking to the door, grabbing the broomstick on the side of the door and a blank book. "You're going to run around the manor outside, and I'll collect an analysis."
Now outside, I magically connect an invisible cord through the Undertaker's heart and my book, before I give the thumbs up, side-sitting on the broom as it levitates up. The Undertaker starts running at a normal speed around the manor, his hair bouncing around him as I follow behind on the broom.
Soon, after running for 30 minutes at speeds of 20 mph, he starts to slow down ever so slightly to 19.9 miles per hour, and we've done about 30 laps around the manor.
Basically, a whole lap under a minute-the reaper is damn fast.
Looking down at the magic-forming chart, I watch as it ticks down to 19.8. "Tiring already, reaper?" I ask, and he shakes his head. "Not even close," he breathes out, slightly sweating at the brow.
"Do you have a functioning heart?" I question, "There's no pulse registering on the papers."
"Nope, shinigamis are dead suicides already, just brought back to life..." he trails off, as the number ticks down to 19.7.
"So...only people who commit suicide become shinigamis?" I ask, and he nods. "Yes... if anyone else dies of a different cause, nothing happens."
"Huh, I wonder if normal people who die can have anything happen to them..." I think aloud, as the number ticks down to 19.6. "Sorry, I was thinking aloud, continue as is."
He finished at 2 hours at 13.5 mph, and he almost passed out. "How much water do you drink on a daily basis?" I ask, and he chuckles. "I drink at least 4 oz...why?"
"Drink more, dumbass," I say, as I swack him on the head with a rolled-up newspaper. "You work out lots already, so you need to stay hydrated."
"You sound almost worried for me, is the big-bad-enchantress developing feelings for me?" He cackles, and I groan, setting a glass of water in front of him.
"I'm concerned for anyone who isn't hydrated enough, alright?" I ask, as he smirks, chugging the water. "Alright, I'll let you say that. Now, teach me!"
I tell him step-by-step to make them, until an oddly shaped lumpy-dozen of cookies are set in front of me. Raising a brow, I take my finger and scratch off the black guck from it.
Ash! He killed the cookies!
"Damn, I thought I told you bake for 15 minutes on 300. What did you do?" I ask, and his mouth opens.
"I thought you said bake for 20.15 minutes on 400!" He gasps, and I sweat drop. ".15?! How did you even think that?!"
Raising the foul cookie to my mouth, I take a nibble and immediately spit out the char. "How the hell did you make a salty cookie?!"
"I wanted to make it sweet and salty!"
"Oh Vincy-Wincy, aren't you getting cute...and so chubby too!" I coo, as I hold the now 3-month year old in my arms. He giggles, taking the hair falling out of my ponytail and yanking on it. "Yow! Vincy, you're so mischievous, but so, so cute!"
The baby Vincent spit a bit, and I rolled my eyes. "Of course, Vincent. When you get older, though, I'm going to have to teach you how to have manners...but you can still be a little ars-"
"Conall, language!" Cloudia scolds with a laugh, and I roll my eyes. "You didn't let me finish 'as long as you respect your elders and colleagues.'"
"Good..." Cloudia finishes, as she rubs her thumb over her new silver cane handle's little gladiolus on the handle. This is a habit she's developed ever since she got a new cane that could pull the outer part away to reveal a sword. She got the little gladiolus because she thought the flower was lovely and sounded like 'gladiator,' and she wanted a little design.
I suggested it because it literally is called 'Sword Lily'.
Such a coincidence, is it not?
"You know, I wonder how one day, this chubby, little baby will grow up to be a...a..."
"A watchdog? Cloudia, do not fear or worry for Vincent." I say, and she nods. "I do not worry for him... but I worry for his future. Every Phantomhive with the position has died an early death, and only my father has escaped it by giving the position to me in a tough time. I don't want my son to live a limited life...no one lasts until their fourtieth year and..."
"Do not worry, I think Vincent will be kickin' until the year 2000," I say with a smile, and a small smile forms on Cloudia's face. "Yes...I'd like to see that. But..." the smile falls off her face. "I do not know your fortune, as you have taken my position for the time being. What if you die?!"
"I will not die, I'm not one to die so easily," I say, as I look down at a now-sleeping Vincent in my arms.
"Promise me...promise me you won't get hurt while filling in for me," Cloudia says, and I raise a brow. "Cloudia, I've gotten hurt in the past, present, and I will continue to get hurt in the future. That's life, darling. I won't make that promise, but I'll try not to die."
"Good enough."
"You have incredible reflex skills in your right hand, slightly less in your left, but still greater than humans." I inform the Undertaker, causing him to grin. "But your baking skills are shittier than East End's feces."
"It cannot be that bad~" The Undertaker says, "I only had minor bowel problems."
We were in an alleyway, preparing to look at the body of a murder. The weirdo wanted to tag along to look at the corpse, but it's not like I can shake him loose.
With a sigh, I walk to the wall, pulling off the white sheet, revealing the victim's corpse. "Bernard Robertson. Age 45, was the brother of a wealthy aristocrat. Mysteriously murdered by a 'ravaging animal,'" I say, looking at the corpse. "Just horrible knife skills, in all honesty. Murderer was already caught, of course, but I may have accidentally killed him, so now I'm shifting the blame."
"To who?" The Undertaker asks, intrigued. "I thought you folks who served the Queen are loyal dogs~"
"Oh screw off, will ya," I ask, and he chuckles. "Woof woof."
"Oh shut it will you," I grumble, putting the cloth back over the victim. "Besides, it's Queen's Owl, which is a private title only the Supernatural underworld has heard of. No one knows who it is, but the spread of the name has grown in the last few months due to me taking care of the rampaging goblin, who robbed the homes of Supernatural entities. That Goblin was such an asshole..."
"Back to the question, how will you chose a murderer?" He asks, and I smirk. "Watchdog Connections... This could be a good chance to take out a Supernatural being, but it would be too messy for a case such as this...too impossible to weave a lie."
"It would be useful if I could help," he says, and I roll my eyes. "Alright weirdo, I bet you're going to make a funeral parlor and probe the dead bodies there. See who brings 'em in and trade this information for baking skills. And while you're at this, you're gonna raise the dead." I finish with a laugh, as the Undertaker chuckles.
"You got me there, I'll do anything for baking skills." He smirks, and I feel my cheeks go rosy at his smile.
"File cabinet isn't giving me SHIT!" I complain, banging my head against the wall as the Undertaker, now with his hair in a ponytail, was sitting on a couch in the office. "Supernatural or animal or human?"
"Both! Wait, all three! AGh!" I exclaim, running my finger through my un-tied hair. "Thought I love Cloudia to death, there's absolutely no connections in here! Emerio (half-reaper guy from Chapter 8) would probably have someone, but it's mostly Italian wine businesses..."
"I can go to the library and get something~" Undertaker responds, and I arch a brow. "Really now? What is that?"
"Information. I can find the dirtiest scum in England who can fit the bill and you can turn him in."
And we did just that with Ted Trump (A/N- 11/20/16. World is ending.), a 29 year old English bartender with a criminal record and no friends or family. No alibi. He was taken away, and another case was completed.
"This was fun, exhilarating, almost," The Undertaker says, and I arch a brow. "But don't shinigamis do murder and death works all the time?" I voice, and Undertaker smirks.
"Yes, but this is different. You don't know the outcome of a situation from this point of view, you don't know what will happen next. In fact, what would happen next? What would happen if there was a different outcome of the situation?"
"Well, the tree keeps growing, than." I respond, and he raises a brow. "What do you mean, Conall?"
"It means the branches extend, growing their own branches, which grow twigs, which grow leaves and flowers." I respond, as I step into the manor, Undertaker behind me.
"Goodmorning, Conall." Cedric says, and I nod to him, as he walks along his own pathway.
"Why did he not greet you?" I ask, "You were at the wedding, so you have been revealed."
"Some faces just blend into the background and are forgotten. I can be there and no one will notice me, death is supposed to be a silent killer, after all." Undertaker responds with a shrug, and I nod.
"That makes sense..."
"Besides, we don't usually want to be noticed. Only supernaturals can see us, a limited amount, though." He says, and I arch a brow.
"What are those?"
"Demons, angels, and the occasional witch. Only creatures of equal status can view us," he explains, than elbows me. "You were a pretty powerful witch even when you just started, too, if you could see me right away."
"Thanks, I guess?" I say, and he laughs.
I blush slightly, but continue towards the library in the manor. Being with the Undertaker, though he may be annoying, gave me a sense of...joy. He was very bright in a dark room, if that made sense. He made the death not seem so bad...
But he was definitely a loon who cannot bake!
"But, people can easily see witches, unless they cast a cloaking spell. And demons, well, they lurk everywhere, but they're a bit harder to identify. Many under service are visible to the human eye in human form, but they can go into their demonic form, which is a very...ominous presence."
"Don't remind me..." I grumble, thinking about my ex-sexy Pastor. Damn that man!
"You're one of the most enjoyable supernaturals, scratch that, people in general I've met in a while," Undertaker says, placing his hand on my shoulder, and I smile.
"You're not too shabby yourself, Undertaker. Your nickname is shabby, though, can't I know your real name?" I question, and he smirks.
"That's a secret, darling."
"Vincy! You're crawling around already!" I say, looking at the now 6-month year old crawling around the floor. He looks up from the plush carpet he was crawling around on, and gives me a big grin.
"He's quite advanced for his age," The Undertaker says, as he sits down on the couch next to me.
"Ba-ba!" He gurgles, smacking the ground with his hand, causing him to fall over to the side. I giggle, as Cloudia enters the room. She's wearing a simple navy blue floral dress, with off the shoulders sleeves lined with lace.
Standing up from where I was sitting next to the Undertaker, I smooth down my plaid dress. "Cloudia, six months have passed quite quickly, are you ready to return to the Watchdog work already? It's only the first day of the sixth month. You can take as long as you need."
"I have decided to partly return, and if it is alright with you, can you cover the ground work? I'll do all the research," she says, crossing her arms over her stomach area. Arching a brow, I glide over to her. "Cloudia, move your arms."
"Nooooo~!" She whines, and I sigh. "Cloudia, move your arms please..."
With a sigh, she moves them away, and I gasp. "You're pregnant again! Congratulations Cloudia!" I say, pulling her into a light hug, and she giggles, hugging me back.
Yes, on her stomach was another baby bump.
"Thank you, the bump started developing a couple weeks ago, but I was wearing lots of coats because I was cold so I hadn't noticed." She responds, and I scoff.
"Of course you have! It's December 13th for crying out loud, it's freezing! Okay, I'm officially banning you from wearing corsets, we can have the servants pull out your old pregnancy clothes from the closet, an-"
"Jesus Conall!" Cloudia laughs, "Calm down!"
"Sorry...but another baby! How exciting! Oh, lil' Vincy is going to have a baby brother or sister!" I sing.
"I know, I have a feeling it will be a girl though," she says, rubbing her hand on the small bump. Truthfully, I wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for my special vision...
"Well, are you sure you'll want to partly return to Watchdog work? I don't want it to stress you out," I say, and she waves me off. "It'll be something to do, and if it gets too stressful I'll quit."
"I'll be counting on that," I scold, as she chuckles, making her way down to Vincent. "Vincy, how are you?"
"Ma-ma!" He says, and I aww at Vincent. The Undertaker looks up at me. "Why can't I be called anything?!" He complains, and I roll my eyes at him as Cloudia picks him up.
"Oh Vincy, can you say my name?" I ask, as I walk over to Cloudia. "Co-nall."
"C-C" Vincent starts, and I grin. "Yes! Co-nall!" Cloudia cheers.
"Cow!"
I sweat drop, as Cloudia giggles and the Undertaker bursts into laughter. "No Vincy, it's Conall. Co-Nall."
"Cow-Cow!"
The Undertaker rolls onto the floor, clutching his stomach and my eyebrow twitches.
"You're lucky you're cute and my god-child," I grumble, as Vincy looks over to Undertaker, a perplexed look coming to his face.
"Babies can see all creatures, that's why they can cry or laugh for no reason. Spirits, ghosts, demons, reapers, etc." Undertaker says, wiping a tear from his eye.
"Cloudia, have you met my friend Unde-Ugene?" I correct, remembering Ugene from a book. Cloudia looks down to the laughing mass.
"Oh! Sorry I haven't noticed you," she apologizes, and he waves her off, standing back up. "Don't worry."
Cloudia looks at him oddly, "You seem awfully familiar...where do I know you from?"
"He was at the wedding," I explain, and she nods. "I see..."
"Ugly!" Vincent says, reaching out with his tiny baby hands and grabbing Undertaker's loose hair, yanking on it. I laugh, a small snort in there, at the Undertaker's face.
"Oh! I am so sorry!" Cloudia says, barely restraining laughter, and the Undertaker's eyebrow twitches.
"It's alright, he's just a baby-"
"Ugly ugly ugly!" Vincent continues, yanking on Undertaker's hair with each word. "Yow!" Undertaker says, and I laugh harder.
"Where did he even learn that word?!" Clouda says, as I continue to laugh.
Soon, we pry Vincent from Undertaker's hair, and I calm down about 20 minutes later, but I had hiccups for the rest of the day.
"It's a girl!"
July 29th, 1852, a small blonde girl entered the world, and was named Francis Phantomhive. She had her grandmother's on her mother's side green eyes, and her grandfather's on her mother's side blonde hair.
"Another child that doesn't look like me?" Cloudia asks, as she cradles the now month-old in her arms on August 29th. Cloudia sits on her rocking chair, as I sit across from her, looking at papers.
"Don't worry about it, I have a feeling that having your grandparent's traits run in the family. Your grandkid will probably look like you," I respond, as Vincent waddles up to us in a shaky form of walking.
"Mama! Gimme Fran!" He says, making the 'give me' sign with his hands. Vincent had a head full of soft, feathery black hair now, with some sticking up in the back.
"Vincent, what about manners?" Cloudia asks, and he sighs.
"Pwease?"
"Sorry hun, you can't hold her just yet," Vincent sighs, and turns towards me.
"Auntie Connie, pway wit me pwease?" He asks, and I smile.
"Of course, Vincy," I respond, as I stand up, holding his hand as we walk, he waddled actually, to the room over, filled with toys from the toy store. Cedric's brother's fiance owned a company for toys, and so we had gotten the toys for free,
I watched as Vincent played with the toys, occasionally showing them to me, before he fell asleep and I left the room, carrying Vincent in my arms.
"Hello Connie," Undertaker said, appearing behind me, and I sigh. "Undertaker, how are you?"
He had adopted the nickname from Vincent, and had been calling me this for the past sixth months as Vincent no longer called me 'Cow.'
"Well, I'm faring well," he says, as I turn to Vincent's nursery, setting him in the crib. "I'm glad we get to spend time together."
Eyes widening at his words, heart starting to beat faster, I turn to Undertaker, leaving the nursery. "Well, thank you. I say I enjoy our time together too. You make me feel...whole again, if that makes sense. You're as cute as a little doll, I wish we can stay like this forever..."
He smiled softly, bending down and kissing me lightly on the forehead. "But, for now I have to go to work, I'll see you later."
Blushing, I look up to him, but he's already gone. He called me a doll...
How bizarre.
"Aunt Connie," Vincent says to me in the parlor, now at 5 years old in 1856, "how did you meet my mother?"
"An odd question from such a young boy," I chuckle, "but it was at a bakery. I went to a church with her, and we became friends and I came to live here with her."
"So... you're not really my aunt?" He asks, tears welling in his eyes. I laugh, "I'm not your biological aunt, but I am still your aunt."
"R-really?" he asks, wiping the tears from his eyes, and I chuckle. "Yes Vincy-Wincy, I'm still your aunt."
"What about me?" Francis asks, "Are you still my aunt?"
"Yes Franny, you too," I laugh.
"What about an uncle?" Vincent asks, and my eyes widen. "What?"
"Well, what about your husband!" Francis says, "Don't you have kids or a husband?"
I laugh, "No Franny, sorry you guys don't have cousins."
"But, your way younger than mother, so you still have a chance to marry." Vincent says, and I roll my eyes. "I'm actually the same age as your mother."
"But she's, like, 100 years old!" Franny says, and Cloudia looks up from her book. "Hey! I heard that!"
It's true...I haven't appeared to age from 20 while Cloudia looks ready to enter her thirties. My aging has slowed down extremely, and I should technically age only 1 year per decade.
And a husband, dear god, men aplenty have attempted to court me, but I've denied all of them. For starters, all are human and won't live as long as I would, making it quite odd when they're in their 70s and I only look in my twenties. But, no man has seemed to captivate my heart like one...that reaper fellow...
The Undertaker man...but I haven't seen him in 4 years. He probably forgot of me, so why even bother to wait around for him? I have plenty of work to do anyway...
"Oh! It's already 10:00! I'll take you off to the Governess, Vincent." Cloudia says, grabbing her cane as Vincent grudgingly stepped behind her.
"Aunt Connie, when will I have a governess?" Francis says, and I smile. "When you reach 5. I taught you and Vincent how to read a couple years ago, and you are quite an avid reader already. The governess will teach you more advanced things, though."
"Can you teach me something else? I want to do something my brother cannot!" Fsays, and I laugh. "Competitive, aren't you?"
Well...I cannot teach her how to cast magic...I can teach her how to use a sword, as I had learned as a distraction after Undertaker had left.
Yes, I had learned to use a sword...there was a year period of time where nothing happened in the Underworld of humans and supernatural, except for the regular, restricted dealings. So, I had used that time to learn how to use a sword, and soon became advanced with it.
"How about to use a sword? None of that fencing, but using real swords..." I say, as her eyes light up. "My brother hasn't started fencing yet! Please Aunt Connie?"
"Alright," I say, standing up, "We are to go outside, now."
We make our way outside, and I grab a long branch.
"Alright, the basics." I say, as I hold the branch in my hand.
"Ambition, as to always carry your weapon and meet its mark. To have your passion fuel your need to win, your will to win. Order, as if one mistake means your life. Be proud of who you are, as this will have people carry great respect for you. Do you understand?" I ask, and she nods.
"Yes Aunt Connie!"
Tossing her the branch, I brandish my own. "First, the basics, parry and thrust."
I teach her for an hour until she's out of breath. "We can be done for the da-"
"Conall! Come quickly!" A voice says from the manor, and I turn to Tanaka, shouting from the balcony.
Running inside, I run up to where Tanaka was standing from: Cloudia's office. Opening the door, I see a serious-looking Cloudia.
"It's a group of thugs, they've kidnapped Vincent and the governess," she says, and my eyebrows twitch.
"I will be off," I say, ripping my skirt aside to reveal short pants. Grabbing the bag of marbles on her desk, I attach it's draw string bag to my pant loops, I walk from the room quickly. "See you for dinner, hopefully."
Running outside, I grab the broom laying against the door, swinging my leg over it and pushing off into the air.
"Aunt Connie?" Franny's soft voice asks from behind me, and I turn to see her looking at me with a confused expression on face.
With a wink, I place my finger to my lip in a secretive manner, before I zoom off.
My eyes glow an angry silver, as my broom turns me to the east. My broom was tracking Vincent's soft, child-like aura.
Looking to where it was suddenly stopped above, I look down to a giant manor. Lowering my broom to the rooftop, I reach into my pocket, drawing two marbles.
Suddenly, they turn into two dual swords, and I hop down from the roof, landing on top of a man.
"Intruder!" A gruff voice calls out, and I exhale, letting my aura grow larger around me as I close my eyes. My aura was bright white, tinting silver on the edges (as all witches are tinted on the edge).
Gun shots are heard from all around me, and I snap my eyes open. Once the bullet enters my aura, I move my sword to block it, sending it back to where it came from. After 22 shots, there's no more.
Turning towards the massive door, I enter through it to see a large ballroom with a huge banister lining it. Gunmen, possibly 30, are on each banister, unaware of my entrance.
Casting an invisibility spell on myself, I stealthily run through the ballroom to the opened door at the end, and I enter into the smaller room to see an unconscious Vincent. But...where's the governess?
Looking towards my right, I see a large brute with no clothes on waist down on top of the governess with her skirts lifted, bleeding from lots of pinpricks on her neck.
He's raping a dead woman!
Slamming the door close and magically blocking it, I drop the facade, making the man stop. He's wearing a fine tuxedo.
"You bastard," I swear, "Burn in hell for your heinous crimes."
"Aha!" He exclaims, looking back at me. He has greasy, wild black hair, marble skin and glowing red eyes. He has fierce features that make him unearthly beauty but more predatory features. His face is smeared with red eyes, and I shudder at the hungry look he's sending my way.
Vampires...damn these tricky creatures!
Transforming the swords in my hands to stakes, he laughs. "Dhampir, you fool!" Looking at his teeth, I notice he doesn't have fangs, but what seems to be like thousands of needle-like teeth.
This will be harder... what's a dhampir's weakness? Ah, yes, it's silver! Duh!
Transforming the tips of the stakes of the stakes to silver, I run towards him and kick him in the stomach, sending him flying out of the roof. Jumping up, I land on top of the roof, looking at the landed dhampir. They were easier to kill and had less of a resistance to weapons, but they were stronger and faster than regular vampires because of the blood they retain from their human side. Well, most of the time...
Landing back down, he swings a kick at me and I jump over it, grabbing him by the shoulder and flipping him over me, slamming him into the ground with my body on top of his. Quickly, I stab him in the heart with the stake, before transforming the other stake into a silver knife and decapitating the dhampir.
I stand up from the body, and with the snap of my fingers the head and body burn. Walking back to the hole I made, I jump down to the room and pick up the sleeping Vincent in one arm.
Reaching into my pouch, I pull out a marble and transfigure it into a broom. Sitting on top of it with Vincent in front of me, I wrap my arms around his small body and rise from the ground through the hole I made.
Looking down at the manor, my eyes fade from their normal silver. The guards should li-
Sike. Eyes blazing silver, the manor bursts into flames, and to protect the developing lungs of Vincent I quickly fly away back to the Phantomhive Estate.
That dhampir must've been awakened not too long ago. Explanation: dhampirs are humans who die, but with the vampire gene in them from their father they rise from the dead, insane if no one is around to help them with their transition. That man was John Braham, a tenor opera singer. Bless his soul, he was insane and had no idea what he was doing. I remember reading the paper last year and seeing his portrait, I pity how he went insane, a soulless carcass that was re-animated...
But nobody fucks around with family.
Snapping out of my thoughts, I notice how I am nearing the manor and softly lower to the ground of the front yard, setting my feet on the ground, picking up Vincent in a bridal-position in my arms.
"Conall!" A feminine voice declares from the balcony, and I look up to see a bewildered Cloudia. "Don't worry, we returned safely," I shout back, walking towards the balcony, hopping up two steps at a time to meet a shaking Cloudia, clutching onto her cane as if it was her lifeline.
"Thank you," she breaths out, "thank you so much."
"You don't have to thank me, Cloudia," I say, "I would have done it regardless if he was your son or not. Vincent deserves that, doesn't he?"
She sighs, nodding as she wipes her eyes. "Yes, I suppose so."
1864, and Vincent is now 13 while Francis is 12. Francis had continued learning the art of swordplay, and we had Tanaka teaching her now outside of her governess lessons until she was 10 and outgrew him. Now? Well, she is training under some mega-swordfighter of amazingness. Vincent, mean while, was learning the trade of the business, and how to hide his emotions well, and was off at Weston College this year for the first time. He's no longer the chubby little kid I used to know, but now a maturing young man, who is devilishly charming,
And I had not seen the man Undertaker in 12 years...
And I had sorted out my emotions, I figured he was one of the only men I've ever held feelings for. But, he's probably somewhere in a ditch, now.
As for me? I am now 34 years old, but still look like a 20 year old. And, I have not seen the Undertaker man in years, and I wonder how he fares. Is he dead? Alive? Has he learned how to bake?
And why did he leave me?
Cloudia has retired partly from the Watchdog business as she can no longer run and fight as she used to, but she helps me conduct the investigations and do the paperwork, which seems to satisfy her.
The Underworld of the Supernaturals has been acting up more, strangely. While visiting an acquaintance of mine in the reaper business named Sascha, from the German dispatch, they had mentioned that there have been random bodies that have had collected souls, but seem to have been re-animated.
Witchcraft? No, I cannot do that. Raising the dead is it's own special branch of Necromancy, where the soul returns to its dead body, but this is something else.
The corpses have no souls, making this an active work of science mixed with witchcraft. Extreme experimentations, a Frankenstein's monster of sorts.
Placing my hat on my head, I tie the ribbon on the bottom. As we near the 1860s, the fashion has become even more ridiculous and extreme. Larger skirts, more ruffles, tighter corsets, the whole ordeal just gives me a headache!
Smoothing down my capelet, I swing my leg over the broom, boots clacking against the stone floor. Picking up my suitcase with one hand, I attach it to the metal hook on the broom in the back, looping a leather tie around it, before tying it tight. Looking towards the bright sky, I cast an invisibility charm, before I push off the ground and soar into the skies.
The data I had collected shows that popular graveyards in Germany have been the target of being robbed, and the next, 5th largest cemetery he hasn't hit was in North Rhine-Westphalia...
And I was going to apprehend him before he could do so.
"Tongue twister, German," I say, as I feel tingles running up and down my tongue, before I feel a fire burn down my throat, causing it to run dry.
Coughing into my sleeve, ignoring the vile feeling, I wait until it dissipates.
"Hallo, I am Conall," I say, as I hear foreign words that I can understand pour from my mouth. It worked!
Flying to the cemetery, I prepare myself for a battle...of wits or fists, one cannot tell.
Standing in the graveyard, I feel a hand place on my shoulder. Whirling around, my eyes widen to see the man I have not seen in 8 years.
"Undertaker," I breathe out, looking at the man, who gives me a Chesire grin.
"Hello, my lovely Connie, how do you fare?" He asks, a new...tone to his voice. Almost as if he let a bit of his comedic personality leak into his voice, but it sounds more...eerie. I look at him, a bit confused. His hair is even longer now, covering his eyes, and his once pristine-looking uniform had tears in it.
"I fare well you arsehole, thanks for leaving me for 8 years without a single word." I swear, as he lets out a laugh, an odd ring to it.
"You're welcome! Because while you were off with the lame-woman babysitting, I was doing real work. I was experimenting, like you did. I mean, what if humans could live longer like us?" He asks, and my eyes widen.
"Why would you want that? Humans are supposed to live out their lives: invent, innovate, inspire, than die. Why would you do that?" I ask, and he smirks.
"For multiple purposes, my dear Connie, but the main one is this: Shinigamis. Us Shinigamis get to live a life on after our death, why can't humans?" He asks, and I look at him.
"Undertaker, that's because shinigamis killed themselves, serving as a grim reaper is their chance for moving on. When humans die, it is because they need to go, it is their time to go on!" I plead, and he laughs, sweeping back his bangs in the process. My eyes widen at the sight of his almond-shaped eyes no longer under glasses.
From the few things I know about reapers, one is that if they no longer wear glasses they are classified as 'deserters...'
But there's something else strange about his eyes...
"Undertaker, where is your glasses?" I ask quietly, and he looks at me, scoffing. "Those old things? I don't need them anymore! I have been granted new sights, new views which the reapers don't agree with. Rules, rules, rules! That's all they force feed to us, shit about not interacting with humans more than necessary, or affecting deaths..." His voice grows dark, and my eyes widen.
"So you quit?!" I ask, and he cackles. "Not quit, but found a new calling!"
The look in his eyes...it was insanity!
"This calling, I can find a way to extend the lives of humans, for them to achieve their hopes and dreams, and...and have you live with me forever, too." He says, and my eyes widen.
"What do you mean?"
"Witches are not immortal!" He cries out, "And reapers are! I don't want to be alone again, alright?! And, if a witch or warlock commits suicide, they're reborn again instead of becoming a shinigami, and I'd probably never see you agai-"
"Are you kidding me?!" I exclaim, overcome by angry emotions. "I have not seen you in 12 years, and you come out to me with this bull?!"
Not another Malachi...please...
"It is not bull, it's a scientific study, like you have done!"
"I never raised the damn dead! Let them stay dead, their souls have already moved on the moment they were stamped 'complete!'" I exclaim, palms sweating.
"Well...their souls haven't returned to their body, the body is re-animated by a fake, extended cinematic record of things that could have been." The Undertaker says with a chuckle, and I crease my eyebrows together.
"Undertaker, I had begun to harbor feelings for you years ago, but you went off! I distracted myself from your absence by becoming a stronger individual, and I had a life. Though I remain unmarried, I'm happy and free! We could've been together for a long while, but you left me!"
"I did not leave you!" He exclaims, "I was gone to start a damned life!"
"Fuck that!" I shout back, "You missed the best and worst parts of my life! I watched two children I consider to be like my own grow up to be strong people, and I will continue to watch them grow. I serve the Queen and help this freaking country, so don't you fucking dare say you went to start a life when you didn't even stay in mine!"
Quickly Conall...what can I do to make him
"I did it for our memories!" He says, tears welling in eyes, as he reaches to his button down shirt, ripping it open. My mouth falls open at the revelation of scar-stitching wrapped around his torso.
"Undertaker, why?" I ask, as I step forward, lightly tracing the scars. This is all to stall him...I hope it works.
"Because I was the only person around, as I was all alone. Since I'm already dead, I thought I could use myself..." he says, chuckling, and I sigh, standing on my tip-toes as I kiss his pale, cool skin on the cheek, wrapping my hands on each side of his head, tangling my long, bony fingers in his hair,
"I'm sorry, Undertaker..." I say, closing my eyes to hide their silver glow.
"Obliviate," I whisper, as I feel the rush of power to my hands.
"Connie," Undertaker's voice says, and I open my eyes as I see him panicking. "Please don't..."
"I'm sorry Undertaker, the spell makes you immobile as it does it's work," I say, as tears well in my eyes. "The only way for you to stop is to have you forget me altogether."
"Connie, please, please don't..." he says, eyes welling with tears, and I look away. "Look at me!" He demands, as I turn my head to him.
"Please, as my last wish...just kiss me." He says, and I nod, leaning forward, connecting my warm lips to his stone cold ones, pulling away quickly as I feel him un-tense.
Stepping back, I wipe the tears from my eyes, watching his body crumple to the ground. The deeds been done...
The Obliviate spell should work. All memories of me, or things connecting to me have been brushed under a carpet in the mind, as things an never truly be forgotten. But, this carpet is superglued to the floor, so he shouldn't remember anything...
"Creatures of this man," I curse in Latin, "today, I command you to all die!"
Nothing is heard from nearby, and I sigh. All of his odd creatures must have been killed already, and the ones left should have died.
Looking at the Undertaker's limp body, I place my hand to his forehead. "Go somewhere to start a new life, something that'll give you a...a great joy. I wish you the best of luck."
Removing my hand from his forehead, I sigh, looking up at the sky, showing dull blue colors.
Soon, the small sounds of tingling sounds through the air( like the movement of muscles in water) coming from the Undertaker. Casting my gaze to him, my eyes widen in fear as I watch scar-stitching creep up his face, tracing across his throat. More sounds come from under his arms and under his pants, as I realize what my spell had done.
It had left a mark, a reminder he was cursed until the spell was lifted.
And with that, the world fades to black.
(Ivy's POV)
Snapping out of Conall's memories, I feel tears well into my eyes, as I look across at the older-looking woman on the couch from across me. "12 years..." I mutter, as she nods, running her fingers through her white hair.
"I loved him, I really did, which made letting go harder...but it was to save him." She says, "I wanted him to not be killed, I feared for his life at the moment, not just my own or the people's. The memories only go so deep, only covering my emotions from the top of my mind, only recording information important to me at the time..."
Her hand shakes, as I place my hand on top of hers. Tears well in her grey eyes, as I pull her close to me.
"Conall, you...you've done so much, whether negative or positive it's brought people together or saved lives. Heck, I'm alive because of you, since you're my great-something grandma." I say, as she chuckles.
"I appreciate that thought," she responds, pulling away, placing her left hand on my forehead, cool-feeling ring on her pinky leaving. "I, Countess Conall Taylor, am resigning from position as the Queen's Owl and Countess of Dunton, giving it to my granddaughter Ivy Adams. I'm still going to live in this house, though."
Lifting her hand from my head, she slips the ring off, causing the gold to reflect the light. "This ring is yours now," she says, as the places it in my palm. Lifting up the ring to view it better, I admire the small, dainty crest on it. A small crown sits on top of a pointed crest in a bullet shape, with curling Ivy leaves surrounding the crest's outside. Inside the crest was a sword pointed downwards, a stripe 'x' running behind the sword.
(A/N-the crest is symbolizing the Owl role to the Queen. The crown is a visible sign of success, victory and empire. Ivy is a symbol of strong friendship, which is A) why I picked the name and B) shows the relationship Conall and Cloudia had. The sword is a symbol of military honor, freedom and power, while the stripe is protection. I already have pulled some symbolism before in previous chapters. Remember when Ivy was referred to as a 'peacock' by Viscount Druitt? The peacock is apparently the symbol of immortality (reaper's kiss) power, and knowledge. Of course, the peacock was a coincidence. But, think of it as some deep meaning if it makes me seem like a better author, lol.)
Tracing my eyes downward to a banner, I squint, making out the tiny lettering. "Vita Vocat Me," I whisper, my mind automatically translating the Latin, "Life Calls Me."
"Yes," Conall whispers quietly. I take the ring, slipping it onto my pinky finger of my left hand, where it rests perfectly.
My lungs tighten up quickly, as the ring glows and I feel as if I can no longer breathe when rushes of words fill my head. Forgotten languages, spells, recipes, actions...
Suddenly, my lungs find the way to breathe now, as the ring's golden glow fades.
"I transferred all the spells I know to you now, you're welcome," Conall says, looking at a dirtied yellow nail on her hand.
"Thanks," I say, as I trace the ring, "I guess I have two pieces of jewelry now," I mutter, moving my hand from the signet ring to the choker placed around my neck, lightly touching the smokey quartz.
"I've severed the book contact with my memories, now," Conall notes, and I look up in confusion. "What?"
"The book and the ring were linked. Any new magic I had learned, or anything I've learned from experience that would be important was in the book. The book made a copy of this information and recorded it, before transferring it to the ring. Check the book," Conall says, and with a confused expression I turn open the book to reveal the memories written on the page in a strange language.
I watch as the letters shift around to form English words, and I see that they are a written form of her memories.
"It's a non-magic book now." Conall says, and I arch a brow. "How so? The words are moving!"
"That's Theban. People believe they can translate it, but the real words are only revealed to those with the magic gene," Conall says, and the words shift back to their original form.
"Onto important issues, as the Queen's Owl, you basically have to take care of the affairs in the European Underworld," Conall says, sinking back deeper into the couch. "It's mostly died out, the activity, that is. There's barely any demons around, spare for the couple under contract. Literally, two!" She says with a scoff.
"2...?" I ask nervously, and she nods. "I have an active tracking method of everything going on. There's the little Earl Phantomhive with his butler Sebastian, who's the Watchdog. Then there's Alois Trancy with his entirety of demon servants, and he's the Queen's Spider, who 'removes the Queen's distresses' of the Underworld. Basically, the Queen's roles are all a ring of janitors, in a way. The Watchdog covers up the trash and severs all ties of it, while the Spider completely eradicates the trash, crushing it whatever way possible."
"And what of the Owl, than?" I ask, and she smirks.
"Why, the Owl is the janitor that no one knows of. While the Watchdog and Spider are the day shift, they have no idea we have the night shift," her grey eyes flash for a moment. "Only the boss, the Queen, Cloudia and the Undertaker know of this role, well, knew. Undertaker has hopefully forgotten all about me, now..." I see the slight sadness in her eye at the mention of the Undertaker. "Anyway, owls are representing the 'mystery of magic' and 'omens,' so it's pretty fitting. Better than a cow."
"Do you actively work, now?" I ask, and she chuckles. "Obviously, I probably had one case a month, but I can take care of it and be back in time for afternoon tea. I can apparate, so it's no problem."
"How do I know there's something occurring?" I ask, and she pulls out a leather book from seemingly nowhere.
"This clever book right here. For about...2 years? 3? Eh, nevermind that, but basically for a long time I studied how to use books as a method of magic, and I've done lots of work involving the books. That's probably why the room back at Cloudia's had a large bookshelf...anyway, the Queen writes what she wants to be accomplished in here, and you take care of it. All information is transferred if she places anything in the book, like a file for the case information, as an example."
"That's actually easy-sounding," I say, taking the small, leather book from her. "If I may ask, you said witches age 1 year physically about every decade, correct?"
She thinks, before nodding. "Yes, that is correct. Why do you ask?"
"I don't wish to sound rude, but aren't you only supposed to look, like, 24 years old? You look as if you're in your 50s, no offense." I say, and she laughs.
"It's a disguise, darling. People would get suspicious if I didn't age," she says, "besides, I plan on moving away soon."
"But, I thought you said you were going to keep the house?" I say, and her eyes light up.
"Oh, I am, but I'm not going to actively live in it. I'll just use it to store stuff, and I can always apparate here too if I want to sleep, and apparate back to the place I was previously. As a 20 year old, I wished to see the world, and now I finally can."
Her body glows silver, as I watch her shift under the silver layer. Her body thins out, the skin tightens, the chest shrinks and hair flows from her scalp. By the time the glow fades away, I see her as the woman from her memories. She looks me up and down again, "We do look similar in characteristics, I'm glad a descendant of mine looks at least somewhat similar...but I wish I had your chest! Oh! And you're so much shorter than me!" She giggles out, and I sweat drop.
"Real confidence booster," I mutter, and she rolls her eyes. "Yeah. So, since you're obviously not with your butler or the gnome, what are you doing here?"
"The same thing you spoke of, see the world, experience new things. But first, I wish to finish my education and plan on going to Weston, but I wanted to meet you first." I say, as her grey eyes twinkle.
"Weston? Ah, that's an all-boys college, how are you going to get in?" She asks, and a smirk comes to my face as I lift up my hands, shaking them jazz-hand style.
"The ole razzle dazzle with magic~" I say, as little blue glitter poofs out of my fingers. She sweat drops, and I nervously laugh. "Oops~"
With the flick of her hand, the blue glitter rises from where it fell on the ground, turning silver in the process. Her eyes slightly glow silver, as the glitter dances around us. "When we use magic, we leave fingerprints," she says, "most magic is associated with the colors of one's eyes. While the spell is being cast, the eyes glow if not controlled."
"Then...how do I control it?" I ask, watching as the glitter disappears into air. "You can't control it," she says, "All magic is wild."
"Oh...you kinda led me on there for a second..." I say, and she chuckles. "Yes, now, you know the Witch's Weaknesses, right?" She asks, and I arch a brow.
"Weakness?"
"All creatures have them. Since witches are most closely associated with humans there's less weaknesses than other Supernatural creatures. Weakness #1 is pineapples. They give diarrhea." Conall says, and I sweat drop.
"I don't get diarrhea from eating pineapples," I say, and she sweat drops. "Okay...then scratch that. We don't have any superb weakness than, we're pretty much shinigamis where we have accelerated attributes, heal faster and won't die easily."
"...alright. I'm going to go to Weston College after leaving here...any advice?" I ask, and she smirks.
"Don't mess up. Witches and warlocks leave imprints with their eyes, meaning they cannot change their eye color. Go use the mirror before you leave," she says, passing me a mirror from seemingly nowhere, and I look into it.
Looking at my reflection, I will myself to change features to more boy-like. I watch as the purple edges of my hair fall disintegrate upwards, soon continuing until it's at the sides of my head. Than, tingles occur in my scalp as the top lengthens to curls, causing the sides of my hair to slightly curl too (A/N-I literally googled 'curly hair boys' and it's the first image that showed up). I watched as my eyebrows darkened and grew bushier, and my lips thinned. Feeling as if someone was pressing against my jaw, I watched as it reformed with bubbles, soon smoothing out into a chiseled jaw. My nose broadened slightly, and I felt a pain on my chest. Looking downwards, I saw my boobs appear as if they were retracting into my chest, leaving behind a flat surface with two large, empty cups of a bra. The sensation as if someone was squeezing my torso like a capri-sun they wanted to suck dry, I lifted up my dress to top and watched as my stomach flattened, before pinpricks of a six pack formed, a V-line soon extending down to my...
"Oh my god," I say, my voice growing slightly deeper, "am I growing a dick?!"
"Oh goodness no, you need a potion for that. You're still a girl, just with most of the features of a male. I've done the change before," she says, as I sense my legs hardening, a pain growing in my feet. Looking at my feet, I watch it broaden, toes shifting at weird angles.
"Weird," I say, voice now completely sounding like a 16-year old pubescent boy. Looking in the mirror, the difference is shocking.
"Damnnnn," I say, as I stroke my chin like an evil-villain. "I look like I'm 18 instead of 16, but I'm hot!"
"You definitely are...but you might want to get rid of the dress." Conall says, and I look down, chuckling. "Oh, right."
Standing up, I nearly trip. "Woah, did I get taller?" I ask, looking at the bottom of my dress as it was now ripping at the sides, coming to about mid-calf.
"Yup, you'll get used to it though." She says, as a silver glow covers my body, and when it fades, I'm now donned in a light grey male trenchcoat with a high collared dress shirt under it, tied down with a black tie. Black slacks paired with black loafers, and looking at my hands they are donned in a purple leather-like glove.
"This should work for clothing," Conall says, "and in your pocket is a bunch of marbles. They're highly useful."
"Thank you, Conall," I say, taking the leather book and slipping it into my suitcase, standing up. "I hope we'll meet again."
"Surely we will. Farewell, Taylor Taylor." She smirks, and I sweat drop.
"It's Ivy..." I say, stepping out of the door.
Apparate, how does one apparate?
Everyone's magic is unique to them, so how about this...
Firmly holding my suitcase, I imagine Weston College's gates. Closing my eyes, I click my heels thrice, and suddenly I feel as if I am weightless before my feet touch the ground again. Opening my eyes, I see myself in front of Weston College's gates.
With a smile, I walk to the large, front door. What should I do...knock?
No, this is a public college... I'll just waltz right in! Changing my large suitcase into a briefcase, I creak open the large door, shuffling inside. No one seems to be ar-
"Why, hello there," a soothing voice says, and I whip around to see a tall man with long, blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail with a red ribbon, maroon eyes glimmering. "Who are you?"
Quick! Think of a name...
"I'm Iv-Ivan." I say, "Ivan Taylor, pleasure to meet you." Sticking out my hand, the man accepts it, a small smile on face.
"Edgar Redmond, likewise." He greets, and I nearly facepalm. How could I have forgotten the Prefect 4 names?! It's like an all-male Hogwarts dream!
"I was wondering where the administrative office is? My family sent me to this school to pursue a better education." I say smoothly, lies flowing off my lips like a waterfall.
"Of course, you have your papers, correct?" He asks, walking in a direction, as I follow him. "Ah, yes, I have the papers..." I say, sticking my hand into my inside breast pocket, pretending to search for papers.
Damn papers, what?! Of course I don't have any pap-
My hand touches something, causing it to crinkle as I pull it out. Looking over it, I see signatures all over it, the family crest stamped on the bottom for Taylor. Conall's signature is at the bottom, and I fight to restrain a smirk.
That woman knows what she's doing.
"Here they are," I say, showing Edgar, and he nods. "Ah, I see. I've never heard of the last name Taylor before in court, are you a wealthy family?" He asks, as our shoes clack against the stone tiles.
"Middle-class, one can say. I lived in America, and then came over to England to live with my grandmother here. She said that this would be a good school to attend, so here I am." I explain, and he nods as we turn a corner.
"I see, how do you like it in England?" He asks, and I smile. "It's certainly been interesting so far, I would've never imagined that life would've led me here."
Especially after I almost DIED!
"We're here," Edgar says, stopping in front of a large door. "I shall hopefully see you later."
"Likewise to you, it was nice meeting you." I say, almost curtsying, before stopping and adding a short nod at the end, to which he replies before he scampers off.
Now, if I do the math, the Campania should set sail the 10th, which is in 9 days. Meaning that the Public school arc shouldn't start until April 24th, when Ciel receives the note to come to this school.
Blah, so 2 weeks of freedom...
"Hello?" I say, opening the door of the administrative office where the VP (vice principal) man sat: Johan Agares.
"Yes?" He asks, "Are you a new student?"
"Well, yes, I am," I say, standing tall as I enter the room, setting the paperwork in front of him, and his eyes scan over it. "I have all the paperwork filled out, and I was wondering what house I should be sorted into, as I was informed I was to be sorted...?"
"Yes, we shall have you sorted. I am Vice Principal Agares," he says, standing up, walking around the desk to face me. I'm probably 5'5" now, but VP Agares is at least a head-and-a-half taller than me.
Damn the tall ones! "Ivan Taylor, pleasure," I say, having a hard time not saying 'Adams' at the end of my name.
Ivan Adams, Ivan Taylor, Ivy Adams, Ivy Taylor, Taylor Taylor...damn! So many damn names!
Alright, I am Ivan Taylor now!
"Please, follow me. The Prefect Four should be in the office already having their Monday-night meeting now anyway," he says, walking towards the door as he trips on his feet, landing head-first onto the floor. I wince, poor dead man.
"Are you alright, Vice Principal Agares?" I ask, as he stands up, looking at me as he bleeds from the head, and he re-adjusts his scholar's cap.
"Fine. We best be on now," he says, leading me to a set of staircases and we make our way up, when he opens a large door.
Stepping inside, I note how it's on the inside of a clock tower, with the large gears cranking in the ceiling, the pendulum swinging in front of a glass-stained window. A small desk is set before it, with the Violet/Blue prefect on one side, Red/Green on other.
Stepping forward, everyone's head snaps towards me.
"Hello, I am Ivan Taylor, the new student." I say, as the VP steps out from behind me, walking towards the Principal's desk, standing behind it it.
"He needs to be sorted," VP says, and the prefects exchange looks.
"What are your hobbies?" The Violet Wolf Representative, Gregory Violet asks.
"I like to read, play sports," ride reindeer, go to a school where I was actively being trained to be a spy-assassin, "cook, ride horses, do charity work, bake, write, etcetera."
"Have you been to schooling before?" Lawrence Bluewer asks, who's the Blue house (if you haven't figured out by his frickin' last name.)
"Yes, I went to schooling in America at a private school." I respond, as Edgar smirks up at me.
"No questions." He says, as the Green house representative looks at me sternfully.
Wanna know his damn-color rhyming name?
Herman Greenhill.
GREENHILL!
"What sports do you do?" He asks, and I quickly try to think of an answer.
"I like to...ride horses and...er, swim." I say, and nearly face palm. I hate swimming!
The prefects exchange looks, before Edgar nods.
"Ivan, we have decided that you would be best fit for Scarlet Fox or Sapphire Owl," Edgar says, and I nearly roll my eyes. Yes, of course they can decide to do that through a series of glances.
If I was in Sapphire Owl, I'll probably be caught by Ciel easily...so I best go with Scarlet Fox...
"I'd like to thank you all for your options, but I have decided to go with Scarlet Fox." I say, as they all nod, and Edgar smirks at me.
"We'll see you at our dorms, I'll let the security guards to let you in." He says, and I nod.
"Tradition is absolute at our school. Do you swear to keep to the rules of our school and obey our tradition and discipline?" The vice principal's voice rings out, and I nod. "I do."
"Sign here," The Vice Principal says, setting a thick book on his desk, as I step forward, footsteps clicking against the stone floor as I step up to his desk.
Taking the quill offered to me, I sign 'Ivan Taylor' in cursive, when the Principal offers me his right hand to shake.
"I welcome you," he says, and I accept his hand. "Thank you," I say, as we do a shake before letting go.
"Well, see you at school," Edgar says, as the prefects walk out.
Stepping towards the dormitory, I look at the townhouse-like dormitory. Hell, it was bigger than my old house in California!
Walking inside past the fountain, I step inside to see a pretty boy sitting in a large parlor-entrance room, paging through a book.
That little bitch!
"Hello, I'm Ivan Taylor," I greet kindly, and he looks up at me. Agh! I can totally tell he's wearing makeup. Early 1900s shit doesn't have good products, it's very clumpy mascara upon fake eyelashes.
"Oh, I'm Edgar's fag, Maurice Cole. Welcome to Scarlet Fox," he says sweetly, seemingly very proud of that title. "I hope you enjoy our dorm."
"I'm sure I will," I respond, as I look at my papers. Dorm room #5...
Going up the staircase, I look at the doors, 1, 3...5! Satisfied that I can actually count, I open the door to find two beds in the room, the right side filled with red roses. A person is on the other bed, and I sweat drop.
"So...many...roses..." I say, as I step in the room, and the person on the bed laughs softly, looking up at me. "All new students in our dorm get them from Edgar, he really likes roses."
I look at the small boy, who has pale blonde hair over his right eye and light brown-red eyes. He looks like Yurio!
"I'm Joane Harcourt," he greets, and I remember that he eventually becomes Edgar's fag. "I'm Ivan Taylor, nice to meet you!" I say, as I step in the room.
"Are you anyone's fag yet?" He asks, and I sigh. "Fag is such a gross word," he looks at me in shock.
"Fags are high honors! Why is it so silly?" He asks, and my eyes widen.
I was thinking faggot! Fuck!
"Oh, I'm sorry Joane!" I quickly apologize, "I'm from America, and fag means something else over there. Awfully rude slang there, and I forget England has a different meaning." I respond, as I walk over to the windowsill, opening it up.
"That's alright, wait, what are you doing?" He asks, and I look over at him, a smile on face.
"Well, we have a balcony, I'm going to be out here and get some fresh. Is that alright?" I ask, and he nods, rubbing his eyes groggily. "Alright, while you do that I'll go to bed..."
He rolls over in his covers, soon snoring softly and I smile. What a cutie-patootie! I want to call him Yurio so bad, but he wouldn't get it...
Sighing, I look over at the roses on my side of the room. There's at least 200...damn rich people. And all of them are in vases, no longer plants...
Well, I'll just have to fix that!
Grabbing a large vase of a dozen roses, I set it on the balcony part. Looking around to make sure all the lights on this floor are out, I look at the vase infront of me, placing my hand on it.
The vase shifts in a dull glow, and moves to the balcony's side that's over the balcony side. Transfiguring into a stone, it turns into a large flowerbox, connecting the roses into it through dirt.
"No, don't meld into the damn stone, make it look like I attached something," I say, as the stone's edges glow, making it look like it was a separate piece I added.
Proud of my work, I take the other roses, doing the same thing for the rest of our balcony. Our balcony is just one large one that is connected with rooms 1 and 3, so hopefully they'll enjoy the roses.
Satisfied with my work, I take a piece of paper, transfiguring it into a watering can and setting it on the side of the balcony. When I wake up I'll be sure to water the roses.
Quickly changing into night clothes, I hop into bed, the smell of roses lingering.
5:00 in the morning, I wake up, the sky still dark outside. Quickly grabbing the uniform, I rush to the showers, and by god no one is in here. Making sure the shower stall is completely locked so no one can enter, I quickly shower, before putting on the clothes. I brush my teeth, and look at my odd reflection in the mirror...
Still weird to see a gender-fucked version of me.
At 5:45, I go to my room again and water the roses with the watering can. At 6:00, I go to our dorm room kitchen and prepare some tea and hot chocolate, before going back to my dorm at 6:10.
"Wale up Joane," I say, shaking him awake, and he groggily opens an eye.
"Why are you waking me up so early?" He asks, as I pass him the canteen of tea. "The early bird gets the worm. I made you a canteen of tea, my friend named Sebastian taught me how to make it." I say, as he takes a sip.
"This is the best Earl Grey I've ever had!" He says, and I smile. "Thank you! Now, I would recommend getting dress now so than we can be off to classes early and start studying."
Joane laughs slightly, "You sound like a Blue!"
"Well, they're quite smart, besides, I can help you in your classes. You're only a second year based off your looks, and I'm in a different group than you as I'm older. I can help you if you need anything, now." I respond, as he grumbles, getting out of bed as I take a sip of hot chocolate, looking at my schedule.
"Oh, I have Calculus first," I say, as his eyes widen. "No way! That's an 18-19 year old class, how old are you?"
"16. I took Pre-calculus last year, and already know the basic functions of Calculus from studying it already, so it shouldn't be too hard." I say, taking a notebook out along with a ballpoint pen (from this era, of course).
He gets dressed as we make our way to morning tea, and he takes a sip from the tea in the cafeteria. "Ack! This tastes like nothing compared to what you're making, Ivan." Joane says, and I smile. "Thanks Joane!" I respond.
Unknown to me, Maurice looks at me from the corner of his eye, looking at the canteen in Joane's hand.
I bid Joane farewell as I walk to the older building for calculus, as I sit down in the middle of the class.
Looking around at 7:20, I note there's only 5 other students in here, while the room can fit 15. It's all the prefects, than Bluewer's fag.
Figures.
"Oh Ivan, you're in this class too?" Edgar asks, and I smile. "Yup, I took pre-calc last year so I decided to take this one."
"You must be really smart to be advanced a couple years," Lawrence Bluewer says, and I wave it off. "Math is just easy."
"Too bad you're not in Sapphire Owl, you can always switch over, y'know," Clayton, Bluewer's fag says, and I smile. "Sorry, but I chose Scarlet Fox, thank you for the offer though." I take a sip of my hot chocolate, looking at all the empty seats.
"Are we the only ones?" I ask, and Herman Greenhill nods. "Yes, we are. There's another class in the afternoon period, though, but it's filled all the way."
"That's probably why I'm here than," I say with a laugh, as Edgar looks at my drink. "What is that? It doesn't smell like the tea from the cafeteria."
"Oh! It's hot chocolate, you can have a sip if you want," I say, picking up the canteen and passing it to Edgar, who takes a sip and his face lights up.
"This is simply delightful!" He says, "So rich and velvety, like the finest of silks!"
My eyebrow twitches slightly, he's definitely related to the Viscount.
"Everyone can have a sip if they wish, heck, I can probably bring some to class tomorrow." I say with a smile, as everyone takes a sip.
"That would be most enjoyable," Gregory Violet says, and everyone nods in agreement.
"Great! I'll make sure to bring 5, maybe I'll bring in some cookies or something." I say with a bright smile, as Clayton scoffs.
"You almost sound like a woman, after all they belong in the kitchen." He says, and my eyebrow twitches.
"I wouldn't say that so easily, Clayton. After all, the kitchen is the most common place in the house to have knives," I say, taking another sip of my hot chocolate. "If you say that comment to women, they might not be as light-hearted as you are."
His eyes widen, and everyone chuckles slightly before the teacher enters class, starting the class.
At 8:15, a new teacher comes in and teaches classic literature, which is very odd. Like, some novels I would've read in my day for advanced literature haven't come out yet, or are just coming out! Clayton leaves for that class, but I stay as it is on my schedule.
"9:00, breakfast~" I say with a sing-song voice, practically floating to the lunchroom. "You seem excited," Edgar says, and I nod.
"Quite! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, because you can get migraines if not eating properly!" I respond, and he chuckles.
"You can sit by me at breakfast if you wish," he says, and I nod. "Alright, thanks!" I say, as we sit down and eat together, talking about interests and stories.
"Fag time in about 15 minutes?" I ask, looking at the clock on the wall. "Yes, do you have a fag of your own yet?" He asks, and I shake my head.
"Well, you can pick anyone younger than you, basically. And anyone older than you can pick you, and fags do work for their fag-owner." He explains, and I nod, standing up.
"Alright, I'm going to go read in the library before afternoon classes." I respond, "I'll see you later alligator."
"...that's an American saying I take it?" He asks, and I nod, "Yup!"
"I'm going to go to Swan Gazebo for fag time, if you wish you can come along." He says with a light-hearted voice.
"Isn't that prefects and fags only?" I ask, and he smirks.
"We're allowed to have guests if we wish, though we rather not most of the time. Besides, if you wish to read, I don't think anyone will have a problem with it." He responds, and I smile.
"Alright, but I'll keep it on the down-low." I respond as the bell rings, and we stand up, making our way to Swan-Gazebo.
"Thank you for having me again," I say with a smile, as I look up from my book to see everyone staring at me.
"Oh, it was no pro-" Edgar says.
"It may be a problem," Clayton says, cutting off Edgar. "This is for prefects and fags only."
"I don't see a problem with it," Gregory says, "he's nice, and came to read."
"What book is that, by the way?" Lawrence asks, and I hold up the book for him to see.
"Anna Karenina," I say, putting the bookmark in it.
"Hello," a voice says, and I turn to see Edward looking at me. "Oh, hello, I'm sorry I didn't see you. I'm Ivan Taylor." I greet as if I've never seen him.
"Hello, I'm Edward Midford. I must say, you look similar to a woman I know of named Ivy Adams, she is also an American." he responds, and I chuckle.
"Yes, she's my cousin. We lived in America together and came over together, her in pursuits of adventure and I to live with our grandmother here. I lost contact with her, sadly, but I hope she fares well." I respond, and he blushes slightly.
"She is a...different woman from normal women in London..." he says, and I chuckle. "So, you like her?" I ask, and his face flushes even more.
"N-no! It's not l-like that! I went to her birthday celebration a couple days ago, and I met her and she had spoke to me so freely and honestly and she looks really pretty an-" he starts, before covering up his mouth as I laugh.
"Don't worry, we're all guys here," I say lying, as Greenhill chuckles, lifting his weights.
"Ivan, do you lift?" Greenhill asks, as I look at the weights he's lifting. "I believe so, I haven't since arriving in England..." I say, standing up. "May I try?"
"Be my guest," he responds, setting the weights on the ground, and I look at them.
"50 pounds each?" I ask, and he nods. "It's alright if it's hard to li-"
Bending down, I pick them up with ease, holding them above my head as everyone looks at me in shock. "Oh! I used to lift these when I was 13, this is such a throwback." I say absent-mindedly, setting them on the floor.
"How in the hell?!" Greenhill asks, and I smile. "You gotta envision, if that helps. Envision you achieving your goal, and your body will follow through with it."
"It's in the American blood, I tell you. Ivy is definitely related to Ivan..." Edward mutters, and Greenhill looks over at Edward.
"Speak up Midford!"
"Yes sir! It's in the American blood, I tell you. Ivy is definitely related to Ivan!" Edward exclaims, and I smile. trying to restrain a laugh.
Related? I am Ivy!
