Author's Note: Warning: Character death. Thank you all so much for reading this tale. There will be a follow-up in the making soon.
~xox~
Years passed, and Ciel's tenth birthday approached. Undertaker was outside his shop putting some finishing touches on the repainting of his front door, when he felt a tug at his robes. He sensed the presence of the little lord, along with his parents' soul signatures. He turned and adjusted his top-hat as he grinned down at Ciel, who stared up at him with a happy smile and a child's innocent, blue eyes.
"Well hullo there, little lord," greeted the mortician. He gave a nod to Vincent and Rachel. "And hullo to you too, my lord and lady. What brings you to this side of town today?"
"Ciel wanted to stop by and see you," explained Rachel with a fond, amused look at her little son. Ciel was still small for his age group, but brighter than most other children. "He wanted to share his important news with you himself, Undertaker. We do hope you can attend his birthday party, this evening."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," assured the reaper with a nod. He looked down at Ciel again. "So, what's this important news you need to share with your uncle Unnie, child?"
"I'm ten today!" Ciel grinned, "Mummy and Daddy said I can sweep in there bed with them tonight! And I get extra cake at dinner!" He bounced excitedly, his blue eyes sparkling with joy.
The Undertaker chuckled with amusement, ruffling the boy's soft, dark hair. "Is that so? Well then, perhaps I should offer sweets for the sweet, on this very special day." He started to dig in his pockets, and he nodded at the Phantomhives. "With your parents' kind permission, of course."
"He can have one," Rachel agreed with a smile and a nod. "No more than that, or else he'll never sleep tonight."
Undertaker produced a small container of his signature biscuits, and he retrieved one of the bone-shaped treats from within and handed it to the boy at his feet. "There you are, love. Enjoy."
He met Vincent's eyes. "I shall make it a point to be there before the presents are opened, my lord."
"Just in time for the cutting of the cake, I imagine," teased Rachel fondly.
The mortician shrugged, his sleeves flapping with the motion. "What's an old bloke with a sweet tooth to do, eh? I'm sure it will be delicious, Madame."
"Mama made my cake! It'll be the best!" Ciel said, "Hey-hey, Uncle Unnie! Can I wear your hat?"
Vincent chuckled, and so did Rachel and the mortician. Undertaker knelt down before the boy and he obligingly removed his top-hat to plop it on Ciel's head. The delighted laughter increased as the oversized hat practically engulfed the child's head. Ciel grunted and pushed it up by the rim, peeking out from under it at the laughing reaper.
"Just as I thought," observed Undertaker between chuckles, "it practically swallows you whole. I think you've got a bit of growing to do before you can properly fill out my hat, little lord."
The little boy giggled, twirling around and watching the hat's long tail of cloth wind around him as he munched on his cookie, "But I am a big boy! Daddy told me so! And I got to sit at Daddy's desk and help him work this morning!"
"Did you, now?" Undertaker glanced up at Vincent and winked at him. "I'm sure you were a great help to him."
"Uh-hu!" Ciel stopped spinning, stumbling with a loss of balance. "Hey, will you play games at my party?"
"I adore games," agreed the mortician with a smile. "I look forward to it, my lad. For now, however, I'll need my hat back. I believe your parents still have some setting up to do for your special night."
Rachel nodded in agreement and plucked the big top-hat from her son's head, handing it back over to its owner. "Yes, we do. Thank you, Undertaker. We look forward to seeing you at the party this evening. Ciel, come along like a good boy." She reached a gloved hand out for him expectantly, and she smiled when he took it.
Undertaker looked at Vincent as his wife waved to him and continued down the street with her chattering son. "Ten years old already," he mused, putting his hat back onto his head. "Where does the time go?"
"I've no idea...wasn't it yesterday he was born?" Vincent sighed, watching his little family, "Rachel and I are talking of giving him a brother or sister soon...we've been trying for another child for a few weeks now."
The mortician grinned. "I wish you the best of luck with that, my dear. Another nipper would be welcome."
"Thank you." Vincent grinned, "Rachel thinks she already may be...she has an appointment in a few days to find out. She wants a girl this time. I'd have no complaints either way." He looked over at Rachel and Ciel who were waiting at the end of the lane, "I shall see you later this evening, Undertaker." He said, tipping his hat and turning to go join them.
Undertaker watched the family go, and a familiar sense of foreboding washed over him, stealing the smile from his lips. He hoped the Phantomhive house security would be tight, this evening. Knowing Vincent, it probably would. There was no doubt in the reaper's mind that he would do everything in his power to ensure his son had a safe and wonderful birthday.
Trying to shrug off the odd chill he felt, Undertaker went back to painting his front door.
~xox~
The party started on time, and got into the full swing of things quickly. Ciel, Lizzy, and other children playing games in the ballroom, Rachel entertaining their mothers and women in the corner of the room, and Vincent entertaining the fathers and men near the bar that had been set up. Music played softly under the laughter of children.
Then came Dinner. Undertaker arrived just as they began serving, and Tanaka showed him into the dining room to join the family and the other guests. The reaper grinned as Ciel saw him and waved his arms happily, and he took the seat reserved for him at Vincent's side. Rachel sat directly across from her husband, and Ciel was at the head of the dining table. Roasted quail, rich sausages and an assortment of sautéed vegetables were the main course, and once they finished with that, Ciel's birthday cake was brought out.
They sang "Happy Birthday" to him and cheered as he blew out the candles. When Undertaker asked what he'd wished for, the boy informed him that it was a secret and it wouldn't come true if he told anyone what it was. Undertaker smilingly shrugged, finding that fair enough, and the cake was served. The mortician had two slices of it; to the surprise of no-one familiar with him. When everyone had finished their cake, Vincent directed them into the ball room for the opening of the presents.
Ciel got quite a haul, that night. A fancy suit, an expensive toy train set, a few books, and a toy ark set, complete with all the animals and a Noah doll. The boy and his cousin Lizzy both seemed to enjoy that one the most, and when most of the other guests retired to their homes for the night, Ciel and Elizabeth were still playing with the ark together. The girl threw a bit of a temper tantrum when her family made her stop playing with Ciel so that they could leave before it got any later. Vincent told them that they could stay overnight, but they apparently had a funeral to go to the next day for a colleague of Lady Midford. He, Ciel and Rachel showed them to the door and bid them goodnight, before the Earl gave his son permission to resume playing with his new toys for a while.
Now the only remaining guest, Undertaker grinned down at Ciel as the child curled up next to his toy ark and began to fall asleep on the floor. Vincent came up beside him, and the reaper nodded at the boy. "It looks like he's all tuckered out. Wonderful party you threw, chap."
"Good, maybe he'll wiggle less tonight when he's between Rachel and myself." Vincent chuckled, "I think I'll get myself a nice glass of scotch before I turn in, tonight. Would you like to join me?"
Undertaker glanced at the clock with a frown, and he sighed. "I wish I could, love, but I've got a lot of work to catch up on in the morning. This is the season of death...business really picks up around this time of year, what with the holidays and people lapsing into depression." He chose not to mention the suicide rate in front of little Ciel, even though the child was already fast asleep.
Rachel came out from the hallway and she clucked her tongue and smiled at her son when she saw him lying on the floor. "Vincent, darling...would you mind carrying him up to his room? I can show Master Undertaker out."
"Of course." Vincent walked over and picked up the boy, "Come on, little man, lets go get ready for bed, and you can sleep with Mummy and I, okay?" he said as the sleepy boy hugged him. "I'll see you Undertaker." he nodded before walking up to help Ciel into his pajamas and then into the middle of the master bed, tucking him in and promising that he and Rachel would join him soon.
Rachel thanked Undertaker for coming, and he kissed her hand and bid her goodnight before hopping into his waiting cart. He paused for one moment to tug his robes tighter around him as a light snow began to fall, and he stared up at the manor pensively. He felt like he was missing something, but he couldn't think of what that might be. With a shrug, he snapped the reins to set his donkey into motion and he drove away down the path, toward the gate and the main road.
~xox~
A little over an hour after the Undertaker took his leave for the city, a host of mysterious, black-robed people closed in on the Phantomhive manor. They moved silently in the night, and by the time the first guard spotted them, it was too late for him to call out. His throat was slit and he fell to the cold ground, choking on his own blood. Another guard fell to a whistling arrow, and yet another after that. Soon, all of the outside house security lay dead, and one of the robed figures approached the back door to the servants' quarters and produced a special key.
Tanaka was the first to realize the threat. He happened to be up late, finishing up with the cleaning. He found Mary the maid lying in a pool of her own blood in the kitchen, and he immediately went for the alarm bell to rouse the household. Lady Phantomhive had come downstairs for a late night glass of water, and she went pale at the sound of the bell.
That was the last sound she ever heard. Drowsy and disoriented, she had no chance to see the danger looming up behind her.
~xox~
Vincent had spent a little longer in the library, drinking a glass of scotch slowly and having gotten caught up in a book. He had just finished his glass and closed the book, ready to turn in for the night when the alarm sounded.
He lunged for the small gun he had hidden on the underside of the table, but froze when a voice warned him against it, followed by a shot that sent a bullet through his outreached hand. The table he had been reaching for was kicked and tumbled half into the lit fireplace, letting the flames spread out onto the carpet.
Ciel heard a loud noise that startled him from his sleep. "Mama? Papa?" He got out of the bed, wondering where they were, and why everything was so loud. Wanting his parents, he left the room, looking for them.
~xox~
Undertaker was just pouring a nightcap for himself when the first horrible flash of premonition struck him. He staggered in place, unprepared for the abruptness of it. He saw Rachel Phantomhive at the foot of the grand staircase in her manor, looking lovely and disheveled in her nightgown and braid. He saw a masked, black-robed figure rising up behind her with a wickedly curved knife.
"Rachel," he breathed, eyes wide.
The knife came down before she even seemed to register the danger behind her, and she threw her head back in shocked agony. The knife withdrew, glistening red with her heart's blood, and then came down again. The assailant followed the falling Countess to the floor, stabbing savagely and leaving no hope that she could survive.
Undertaker's brandy snifter fell to the stone floor of his kitchen and shattered.
"Vincent..."
~xox~
"Mummy? Daddy?" Ciel walked to the library where light was shining under the door, "What's that noise?" he tugged open the door, his blue eyes widening in shock. Fire and flames licking at the air, surrounding Vincent, who sat unmoving in his chair.
"DA-MMFF!" He called out, suddenly being pulled back, a leather clad hand clamping down over his mouth.
~xox~
There was no time to hitch up Daisy and ride to the manor. Undertaker conjured dark energies that he hadn't used in years, desperate to reach his beloved mortals in time to save them—or at least, save their cinematic records. He groaned when he was assaulted by a vision of a struggling, blue-eyed boy being dragged through flames by a black-robed captor. Gritting his teeth, he pushed through the mental barrage and created a portal. It took more time to manifest it than he would have liked, but he was out of practice and it was still faster than trying to ride there. He wasted no time stepping through it once he had the gateway open, though he knew that he was already too late.
He arrived at the gates of the Phantomhive manor in a miasma of chill, black fog, and the whole place was on fire. For a moment, Undertaker could only stare at the terrible sight, remembering seeing this before in a vision. He'd known this day was coming; he just didn't know when or how it would happen. There were bodies all over the lawn and he gave them cursory glances in passing as he hastened to the front entrance. He recognized many of the house staff and security, but he had no time to check on any of them to see if they were alive.
"Vincent?" he called out after kicking the front door in. He coughed as he inhaled some smoke, but he needed to draw breath in order to call out to his beloved mortal and his family. "Rachel? Ciel?"
He saw her at the base of the stairs, then—or rather, what was left of her. Rachel's body had caught fire and was now smoldering amongst the flames. He knew she'd been dead before the flames consumed her, and Undertaker gathered his powers to douse the flames. He impulsively took the smoking, blackened body in his arms and cradled it, shaking his head.
"Oh, my dear," rasped the mortician, gently stroking her singed hair. He could do nothing for her, now. "I'll come back for your records, after I locate your husband and son. Rest easy, my lady."
He gently laid her down and searched through the house for Vincent and the boy, banishing flames to ease his passage all the while. He checked the master bedroom first, reckoning at least one of them might be in there. He lied to himself as he went, telling himself he hadn't really felt the bullet go through Vincent's head. He knew that both of them would prefer he save their son first, and he hadn't yet sensed Ciel's death.
"Ciel, lad! Call out to Uncle Unnie, if you can hear me!"
He received no answer.
He barged through the half-open doorway of the bedroom and found it empty, with no sign of Ciel or his father. "The study," he coughed.
When Vincent couldn't sleep, he tended to work or read his favorite books. He had to be in the study, or in the library. Undertaker raced to the other side of the second floor, his black garments billowing out behind him and his boots barely touching the smoldering floor. Finding nothing but scattered papers and flames in the study, he ran to the end of the hall. He found the door to the library partway open, and he shoved it open to find Vincent sitting motionless in his chair, with his head bowed and blood soaking his face, neck and shoulders. The end table was burning, knocked on its side against the fireplace. The curtains had already gone up in flames and the blaze was creeping across the ceiling. This must be where the fire had originated from.
Undertaker approached his unmoving lover with an expression of agony on his pale, scarred features that no eyes had ever seen before. He'd loved and he'd lost in the past, but this...this was much worse. He knelt before Vincent and took his limp hands—one of which had a hole shot through it. There was no life in him. It was gone.
Undertaker tried to speak, but his throat closed up and his vision blurred with tears. He bowed his head and lifted the Earl's hands to his face, nuzzling them with his cheeks and smearing blood over his face in the process.
"Forgive me, love," said the reaper at last, in a choked voice. "I failed to save your mortal body, but I cannot let you go. Not completely. I won't let them come and take what remains of you from me."
Undertaker released Vincent's hands and stood up on shaky legs, manifesting his death scythe. He stared down at his dead lover in a fit of angst, before pressing the blade against Vincent's neck to make a small cut. He immediately opened one of the special lockets he'd put aside just for the mortals he loved the most. He already had Vincent's mother safely kept away, and now he would have her son.
He gathered the flow of glowing, flickering life events that flowed from Vincent's body, drawing every last one that he could with skill so few reapers still in the business could possibly match. He closed the locket once he had collected every scrap, and he brought it to his lips to kiss the cool, silver metal.
"Beyond death, my love. I'll keep you both. Your son is still alive, but I've no idea where. I will...try to locate him."
He spared one last moment of tenderness for the empty shell that had once housed the spirit of his favorite mortal, stroking the blood-matted dark hair. He bit back a sob and turned away. He couldn't afford to allow his emotions to rule him, just yet. He still needed to collect Rachel and find the boy.
But first, he had to get Vincent's corpse out of this place, before it got incinerated by the fire.
~xox~
If someone had asked him why he felt the need to save and preserve the Earl's lifeless body, Undertaker couldn't have explained it. He didn't quite understand it, himself. It was only a shell, and though he could keep the body from decaying indefinitely with a combination of his reaper abilities and embalming skills, he couldn't bring it back to life. Sick and mad with grief, however, he didn't question his instincts. He carried the body of his lover out of the burning estate and laid it down a safe distance away on the lawn, before returning inside to collect the lady of the house's records.
Sadly, when he tried to gather Rachel's cinematic records, he found them already gone. He snarled in frustration, but he went still with the realization that if her records were gone, it meant another reaper had already arrived and taken them. Casting a covert look around and feeling about with his senses, he detected the Shinigami agent's presence in the upper floors. He heaved a regretful sigh and he patted Rachel's burnt, withered hand.
"I can only keep the memory of you, it seems. I'm sorry, my dear."
He got up with the intention of leaving this place before the active reaper agent discovered him, but he heard a noise from near entrance to the dining room. He nearly left it be, but he recognized Tanaka's voice calling out in disorientation. Undertaker followed the sound to a pile of debris, and he saw the old butler's arm pushing aside some of it. He squatted down and helped him out of it, removing the bigger bits and hauling Tanaka out of the mess. The refined old man was bleeding, scuffed and bruised in several places and he stared at the Undertaker with confused recognition. The reaper had caught glimpses of him fighting an impressive battle against the attackers, before the roof fell on him. He'd presumed he was dead until now, because he couldn't focus enough to confirm otherwise.
"I've got you," Undertaker assured him. "Easy, old chap. You're lucky to be alive. Ciel...where is Ciel? Did you see them take him?"
"C-Ciel," answered Tanaka faintly. His lined old face fell, and he looked like he was fighting tears. "They took him, sir. They...took him away. I could not...stop them."
"Who?" demanded the reaper, shaking him. "Who did this?"
Tanaka groaned in pain and shook his head. "I do not...know. They wore...masks. Black robes. I heard...one remark that the...dog would pose no further...threat."
Undertaker clenched his fists until his nails drew blood from his palms. Tanaka looked up at him with dazed eyes. "Forgive me, sir. I...failed them."
The mortician shook his head. "No. You were overwhelmed, and I know you did what you could. It is I who failed them, my friend...not you. Come, I'll get you out of here and call the authorities. You're still alive and I intend to keep you that way, for when the little lord returns."
Tanaka groaned as the ancient lifted him into his arms. "But...we don't know...where they took the young master. How can you be...sure he is even alive?"
Undertaker gave him an ironic look, reminding him silently of what he was. The butler lapsed into silence, arguing no further. As carefully and swiftly as possible, Undertaker carried Tanaka out of the manor and onto the lawn away from the blaze. Tanaka needed medical attention, and though he didn't want to stick around and risk an encounter with the reaper busily collecting souls on the upper floors, he couldn't just let the old man die.
"Stay here," he instructed Tanaka. "I'm going in to use the phone, if it still works. Once they're on their way, I shall take my leave."
~xox~
Undertaker managed to buzz the police and inform them that there was at least one survivor, before the phone line went dead. He quickly got out of the house, sensing the approach of the other reaper. Fortunately, he'd learned how to mask his death aura from other reapers over the years, so that they couldn't easily sense him unless they were exceptionally skilled or exceptionally observant. He brought a blanket he'd found still intact out to Tanaka and he covered him with it, before lifting Vincent's body into his arms and concentrating on the manifestation of a portal back to his shop. He could have tried to stop the flames from spreading further in the manor, but he saw no point to it now.
"Sir," Tanaka called weakly, "where are you...taking him?"
Undertaker looked down at the limp body in his arms, and he swallowed. "I'm taking him home, chap. I'm taking him home with me. I don't want anyone else putting him under the knife for an autopsy."
Tanaka looked like he might protest for a moment, but he sighed and nodded. "I see. Godspeed then, Master Undertaker."
~xox~
A sharp-dressed man of tall, lean stature walked amongst the burning bodies of the Phantomhive estate, jotting down notes in the book he held as he went. His dark brown hair was immaculately groomed and parted to the side, his brows were narrow, straight and angled. His green-gold irises operated independently of each other, expanding and contracting around the pupils in the flickering light. He stopped as he walked into the study, and a frown curved his lips. He searched the room with narrowed eyes, and he adjusted his glasses with a scythe made to resemble a clipping pole.
"Vincent Phantomhive," he said, taking out his book and scribbling in it, "is gone. There is neither a body, nor any soul signature. It appears someone else arrived before I did."
He felt along the walls, and he stopped at the bloodied chair that was now beginning to smoke. His straight dark brows hedged as he came to a realization. "Another reaper has been here before me. He took not only the body, but the records, as well. How interesting."
William T. Spears adjusted his glasses once more, and he closed his book. Dispatch would be interested in the mysterious disappearance of the Earl's body and soul, and there would likely be an investigation.
"More overtime," sighed the Shinigami agent. Well, there was nothing to be done for it. He'd done his job tonight, and there were no more records to catalog. He opened a portal and stepped through it; just as a burning beam from the ceiling came crashing down. The reaper was safely gone before it hit, and the Phantomhive manor continued to burn while the fire brigade and Yard were on their way.
~xox~
"There now," said the mortician in a scratchy voice that for once wasn't just a put-on for the sake of disguise.
He finished easing Vincent's body into the coffin after a long, exhausting night of preservation and ancient methods that humans had never come close to mastering. He'd cleaned his beloved's body up, patched up the holes and ensured that his flesh would not decay for many, many years to come. Further treatments might be required to ensure he kept, but for now, Vincent's body was safe from deterioration.
He stared down at it, bearing dark circles of exhaustion around his vivid eyes, and he toyed absently with the locket on his belt that held all of his lover's memories, personality and deeds. "I'm sure you'd call me a morbid bastard for doing this," sighed the reaper, "but I have a childish fantasy that somehow, you might reclaim your body some day. Foolish of me, eh?"
Undertaker bowed his head and shut his eyes for a moment. "I'm just not ready to give you up to the ground, Vincent. I hope that you'll understand."
With a final, heavy sigh, the reaper bent over to adjust the body's limbs, resting his hands over his chest in a traditional death pose. The muscles remained loose, instead of tightening with rigor mortis as one would expect, post death. Undertaker stroked the dark hair from the cadaver's closed eyes, and he smiled sadly as he put a hand on the casket and prepared to close and lock it.
"Rest well, my dear. I don't think I will for some time, yet."
He closed the lid with a soft creak, and he locked it tight. He would hide it away somewhere else within the next few days, once he'd given himself time to grieve and pull his head together again.
~xox~
Undertaker read the paper the next night, and he scoffed. "They're saying your body was found beside your wife and son's," he mused aloud, reaching down to pat Vincent's plain, un-engraved locket, "but we know the truth to that, don't we?"
The Yard had already come to question him about it, and he allowed them to search his basement and living quarters when they didn't believe his story that he didn't have Vincent's body. They of course failed to find the hidden door and the alcove beyond, and they left disappointed. Undertaker had little doubt that the press embellishment was at least partially the Queen's doing.
The mortician's eyes narrowed as he flipped to the next page and found an article that caught his interest. "Huh. Says here you can order a painting of Her Royal Majesty, to hang on your very own walls. Maybe I ought to put aside some of that wretched coin of the realm for some sport, don't you think?"
~xox~
"Yes, that's it...right there." Undertaker grinned as the delivery men hung the framed portrait of Queen Victoria on the eastern wall of his basement. Both of them looked like they were about ready to piss themselves as it was, for there were three smelly cadavers in the process of being embalmed on the tables. "Excellent. Step away from her now, please."
With a glance and a shrug at one another, the two young men did as bidden. Undertaker's eyes glittered madly beneath his silver bangs and his smile was predatory as he stared at the painting. "Let's give the lady her dues, shall we?" muttered the reaper.
Suddenly, he whirled in a deadly spin and sharp stakes of wood manifested from out of nowhere, whistling through the air to slam into the portrait of England's reigning monarch. The first pierced her face, the second her breast, and the third her stomach. The delivery men ogled the eccentric mortician's handiwork for a moment, before looking at him with abject terror in their eyes.
"I think she looks much better that way," remarked the Undertaker, "Don't you, lads?"
"B-but that's—" began the one on the left, and the one on the right nudged him to silence.
"It's your painting, sir. Thanks for the business!" He grabbed his companion by the arm and practically hauled him up the stairs and out of the shop.
Undertaker watched them go, and he tapped a black nail against his teeth in thought. His gaze strayed to the now savaged picture of the Queen, run through by his sotobas. "Yes, that look does suit you, Highness. Unfortunately, I can't kill you just yet, without risking attention from Dispatch. Death will come for you eventually, my dear, whether it is delivered by my hands, someone else's, illness or sheer age. Your time is limited."
He bowed his head and touched Vincent's locket. "Just like all of them. Just like him. Only difference is you're still around, while others like him that deserve the chance to live aren't. I'd be happy to fix that little problem, except I know it wouldn't be well-received by the authorities of my kind."
He started to think about how unfair it was, for a kind, loving, passionate man like Vincent to lose his life while people like Victoria lived on. He yanked one of the sotobas out of the painting, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of the Queen's face. The grave marker was splintered and ruined from the impact against the stone wall, and an average human couldn't have possibly pulled it free from the stone. For Undertaker, however, it was child's play. He held up the ruined wood, examining the markings of mourning thoughtfully.
"But...what if it doesn't have to end?" he whispered pensively. He ran his nails over the damaged wood, his smile gone completely as a possibility loomed in his mind.
"The cinematic records. What if someone were to tamper with them, and put them back into the body? What if the death event were erased entirely?"
He looked back toward the wall with the secret opening, and his mind churned with dark, needy thoughts.
~xox~
-The End