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Ciel was wandering the deck of the luxury liner until noon. He was obviously very deep in thought, and so no other passengers stopped him or tried to chat. He was already a very serious looking boy but so lost in his own mind, he was downright brooding and no adult that meandered past bothered to ask him where were his parents. Eventually, around 11:30 he settled in one of the deck chairs and stared out at the ocean with his cane laying across his lap. He'd lost track of his thoughts at that point, and all he could imagine was having Lizzie pinned beneath him, assaulting her mouth the way she had done his the night before.
One good turn deserved another, he decided. But that didn't solve the actual problem at hand: how did a "boy" his age have relations with a grown woman? He knew of course, the scientific details of what transpired between a woman and man... he could even grasp the more romantic notions. But his body was stunted. Elizabeth had been a married woman, and even if they hadn't loved one another, per se, her husband had had the body of a grown man and thus Ciel didn't believe he had ...a proper offering. He, at least, was not terribly impressed with his thirteen-year-old body's endowments. Which he assumed, was typical of all thirteen year old boys.
"Damn," he mumbled to himself. "If only there was some demon trick, or potion... anything to make me grow..."
The other option was de-aging Lizzie and that seemed as plausible as his first fantasy. And what would they do then? Giggle and run through the monochrome gardens at his estate in the Void? That was asking for disaster. Sebastian wouldn't be able to protect them both forever, and they would be consumed by something larger and darker than the older demon.
Someone cleared their throat next to him suddenly, and he spiraled out of his reverie. Blinking against the light of midday-and he hadn't even realized he'd closed his eyes-he turned his head to regard the person who'd interrupted his train of thought. Elizabeth was seating herself on the lounge next to him, her expression guarded, and he wondered if she'd been up all night thinking the same sorts of things that had occupied his mind since he'd awakened.
"Ciel," she greeted him, somewhat flatly considering the exuberance with which she'd kissed him last night.
"Elizabeth." He sat up and faced her. "What's the matter?"
"I ...I love you, Ciel. You know that. And I think that, regardless of that emotion-maybe because of that emotion-I cannot bring myself to ...be with you... intimately." She was looking at him with lowered lids and despite that, he thought she'd never looked more demure-or more beautiful.
"I think I understand what you mean," he replied. "I've been wracking my brain with it all morning-" he broke off as several passengers walked by "-but you have been with a man and I do not think my body can satisfy you... though it functions properly, I assure you."
She had a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth then, at his conclusion and unabashed declaration of it. It was all something she'd never in her life dreamed she'd be discussing with him. Of course, neither was she expecting he and Sebastian to appear from nowhere after so many years and knock on her door, either. She reached out and took his hand in her own, and it was some comfort to her that his hands were not much smaller than hers. He was not much shorter than she and she did feel like a little girl around him... If she closed her eyes and pretended again... but that would be as well as lying to herself that she was with Ciel-a man-and not Ciel, the ever-little-boy. She felt a sob welling up in her throat and she stood abruptly, dropping his hand. "I am sorry, Dearest. I need to go lie down. I'll see you at dinner, yes?"
His eye was confused and his head slightly tilted, but he nodded. "Yes. I'll escort you again."
She smiled and left, barely escaping before the tears started spilling down her cheeks. She drew quite the few stares in her retreat, but made it back to her stateroom without being stopped and tore off her dress and threw herself on her bed. And finally, blissful sleep decided to grace her with its presence.
Sebastian was beginning to wonder if his young master had thrown himself from the side of the ship. He and Menefer had entertained themselves for sometime, but now she was complaining of a different sort of hunger and Sebastian was lying flat on his back in her bed, staring at the ornate ceiling above him, wondering if a demon should feel so completely drained of essence. She was like a Succubus, he'd teased her, the fourth time she'd insisted, but he supposed so many years of abstinence had built up in his system and he was all too happy to comply.
Now she bustled around the room, fighting her massive mane of hair and looking for pieces of clothing she could wear to the dining room. Sebastian had obtained quite a few pieces for the three of them last night from the boutique on the ship. He sat up finally and pointed at the paper-wrapped parcels stacked on the desk. "There, Menefer. Clothes for you and Ciel."
She spun on him suddenly, beaming, and launched herself at him again, sprawling them both out on the bed. "Thank you, Marcus! Thank you!" She was laughing and kissing him repeatedly and he was drunk from their coupling and didn't want to make her stop. "But, Marcus?" She stopped the affection abruptly. He looked up at her as she shot upright, straddling his hips, the ripped gown hanging from her ample curves in all the wrong ways. "What place does one go for a haircut?"
After they had cleaned themselves up and dressed, and Sebastian had tamed her hair-which was no mean feat-he took her to the dining room and let her eat her fill. He was sure there was a barber on the ship; he'd seen the tell-tale spinning pole in the same area where he'd found the boutique. Surely there was a salon for ladies in the vicinity. On their way there after Menefer had satisfied her lust for food, he spotted Ciel, rising from one of the deck lounge chairs, looking very much bewildered. Menefer waved happily, like she so often did, and Ciel joined them in their walk to the salon.
That evening Ciel met Lizzie at her stateroom. She looked refreshed, the dark circles were all but gone, and her crimson mermaid-style evening gown hugged every curve and hollow of her fabulous body, prompting Ciel to demand she change before he took her to dinner. She laughed. He assured her it was no joke; but he held out his arm anyway, and she took it, smiling down at him, seemingly restored. She complimented him on his attire-a black suit with red waistcoat and tie-and he blushed, stating that "Sebastian had better taste" than he.
She couldn't hide the gasp that broke from her lips when she saw Menefer, her hair now resting atop her shoulders, styled and glittering with little pearl pins. Sebastian was handsomer than she'd ever seen him, in his dove gray tailcoat and his hair slicked back and tied behind his head. Menefer was dressed to match in a pearlescent gray ballgown that stuck to her torso like a second skin and flared at her hips like a taffeta waterfall. It was the second night of their voyage, but they treated it as their last; even Ciel seemed to remember how to smile.
The third and fourth night proceeded in much the same fashion, to Elizabeth's and Menefer's delight. Ciel and Elizabeth were doing well to keep their passions at bay, Sebastian noticed; but Menefer's had only been re-ignited and every time the two of them were alone, she was batting her lashes at him and before he'd even realized what he was doing, he had her up against a wall, or flat on her back on any available surface they could find. He felt like a young demon again, full of himself and able to take anything he wanted. It didn't matter that she was giving it up freely-she played the role of victim so well, it made his blood boil and he wondered occasionally if she had him under some kind of spell. Not that he particularly cared. He only hoped that he would be able to apply himself to his new work and contract once they were in New Orleans-without constant distraction.
The ship made port in the Crescent City just before dawn on the fifth day. Sebastian had already wired ahead and arranged for porters to meet them at the docks with transportation for the five of them and to carry in the luggage that had grown considerably while they had been on the ship. He was home-or what had felt closer to home than anywhere he'd ever been in the world-and he needed to keep up the appearance that he was a businessman, not a butler. He would switch roles flawlessly as he had always done, and he honestly had no intention of "using" Elizabeth as a maid as she'd insisted. He'd wired ahead for that purpose, as well. He had no idea of the state of his townhouse in the Vieux Carre, only that he retained the deeds and that he was sure it was in dire need of cleaning. He'd secured a cleaning service to ready the house for them and he'd hire a more permanent maid once he was in the city. He didn't want to rely too heavily on the aging ladies maid, Paula. She was unstable at best. He'd count himself lucky if she could keep her mouth shut about their circumstances.
The early morning air was frigid and wet, the frosty humidity burning their lungs as the five of them piled into the 1921 Nash touring car that pulled up to greet them. Menefer was intimidated at first by the loud engine and the fear shone in her eyes until Sebastian reached over the back of his seat and patted her knee comfortingly. The ladies were in the back while Ciel shared the front with Sebastian and the driver. And he was none too happy about the circumstances, either, considering it required him to ride in his "Papa's" lap. The driver was quiet and courteous, speaking a mixture of English and French-par for the course in this city. Lizzie promised Menefer she'd help her with French and Menefer smiled and forgot all about her fear of the vehicle.
The ride from the docks to 809 Rue Dumaine in the French Quarter was grueling if only because the streets were crowded with cars and horses and carriages and people. It was less than a few miles, but it seemed there were millions of people slithering over and around one another, going to work, coming from bars and clubs; as many with briefcases and hung over expressions, as farmers and dock workers with crates and lunch pails. Lizzie stared out the window in wonder at it all, her face glowing in awe at the newness of her surroundings. Menefer mimicked her gaze of bewilderment on the opposite side of the car, and Paula sat in the middle, eyes closed, ignoring everything.
"Ciel! Oooh, Ciel, did you see that?" Lizzie squealed in delight as they passed a mule-drawn carriage decked out in ribbons and plumes of purples, greens, and golds. "Why is it decorated so?" she asked the driver, turning almost fully around in her seat, mesmerized by the gaudy confection of it all.
"It's Carnival here, Madame. You've arrived during Mardi Gras. I sincerely hope you were not looking for a room to rent... It's une tres grosse affaire in dis ville."
"Mardi Gras?" she asked, turning to Paula who was contentedly minding her own business, then meeting eyes with Menefer who was every bit excited as she. "What does one do, during Mardi Gras?"
"Eat, drink, and be merry. Get all your vices out 'fore lent," the driver chuckled, turning the car onto Rue Dumaine. "May I ask why you good folks are here?"
Sebastian piped in with the cover story they'd all come up with the last night on the ship. "I've been uprooted from London by my banking firm to help build our establishment in the area. I happened to have inherited a house here from my late aunt, but this is the first time my family has been across the pond."
The driver eyed the ladies in the back warily then looked over at Sebastian again. "I hope da one in da middle ain't your wife."
Ciel bit back a chuckle despite himself. It was a busy, filthy, dank, and musky town. But he felt burdenless here. As if he could sprout wings and fly. Something in the air-the magnolia, the banana plants, the humidity-but like Sebastian before him, he liked it and he wasn't quite sure why. He vaguely heard Sebastian assure the jovial driver that the "one in da middle" was not his wife, but his wife's ladies maid. The lovely blonde was his son's tutor. And the lady Mennie-because Menefer was a mouthful and Lizzie had taken to calling her by a pet name-was his wife of fourteen years.
The driver congratulated him on having such beautiful women in his household as he pulled to a stop in front of a small townhouse of white-washed brick with slatted shutters over glass pane French doors. There were two small dormer windows peeping out of the roof and a tiny porch with three horribly steep steps. The railings were wrought iron, worked in a Spanish lace pattern and there were huge Terra cotta pots on either side of the porch spilling over with banana plants. Ciel hopped out of Sebastian's lap and stood on the sidewalk before the old townhouse, waiting on the others to climb out of the car. The driver was pulling their luggage from the rear of the car and the ladies were huddled on the curb, still discussing Mardi Gras.
"This is it, Sebastian?" Ciel said under his breath.
"It is, my lord. What do you think?"
"I think it is small."
Sebastian laughed. "Trust me, it is much bigger on the inside." Truth be told, there was a sudden apprehension taking over Sebastian's processes. A distinct pressure in his chest, a tangible sensation of nostalgia; he actually wondered if he could bring anyone into this house that he held so dear. Would he regret bringing his new "family" to this place? Would he be able to bear it that Cybille and Madame Faustine, Aimee and Lucien were here no longer? Did their ghosts remain? At least it wasn't the cottage at Belle Chasse, he reminded himself. That place had been lost during the storm of 1856 along with all of it's horrible memories. Yes, he decided, he could bear it here, in the Quarter, where so many of the fond memories lingered. The cottage held the end of his life with Cybille-their marriage was the only good thing that had happened in that house-the end of his life as a human, the end of his wife, the wails of her pain in childbirth... the doctor that handed him the swaddled lifeless form of his son.
"...papa? Papa?" Ciel was calling him. He knew he needed to focus. His eyes would give him away... but all he could see was the tiny bundle he'd held in his arms-perfect. Human.
Ciel reached out and grasped his sleeve, yanking him out of his past. "Father Dearest."
"I'm sorry, Ciel," he snapped to, afraid he'd been lost in his own mind for too long. "What is it, son?"
"We're ready to go in now, Papa. The driver is waiting."
Sebastian plastered a convincing smile on his face and turned, apologizing to the driver and handing him a sealed envelope with his fee inside. "I always get so worked up here... I'm afraid I lost myself for a moment."
"I understand, mon ami. No apology necessary. You spent a lot of time here in your younger days, non?"
"Not enough, I think."