The Bonemaker's Daughter

~O~

"I figured even the most jaded and cynical inhabitant might report a bloody girl in a party dress carrying a severed head by its hair"

-Faith Hunter, Skinwalker-

~O~

Charlotte was nearly wriggling out of her seat by the time the carriage pulled up to the mortuary, and she barely waited for Ciel to get down before she was already jumping out and skipping lightly over to the scuffed black-brown door on black-booted feet. Sebastian immediately reached forward and rested a hand on her shoulder, gently but firmly pulling her back before she could barge into the building. She levelled him with an unimpressed look. "What?"

He matched it with one of his own. "Is knocking such a foreign concept to you?"

"I like to think of it as an unnecessary courtesy. At any rate, he won't mind!"

Ciel groaned quietly and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Sebastian, control her a little." Offended by the idea that she could be controlled, Charlotte huffed something unpleasant under her breath, but stopped trying to dive straight for the door. Sebastian, still resting a hand on her shoulder, knocked politely on the door. As always, there was no response, and he then pushed it open. Ciel stepped in first. "Undertaker, are you here?"

Low cackles rose up from behind one of the coffins – a mahogany affair with flowers carved into the edges. The three stared with differing emotions as the man straightened up in the dim lighting, a needle and thread in one hand, and a grown man's arm in the other, already grey from the early stages of decay. "Earl, what a surprise~! I didn't expect to see you today~!"

Ciel opened his mouth to answer, but Charlotte beat him to the punch. "PAPA!" She wriggled out of the Sebastian's grasp and went flying into Undertaker's arms. He promptly dropped both the needle and limb, and caught her with a pleased giggle, hefting her up. "Papa, how have you been? I haven't seen you in weeks!"

"I'm fine Lottie~" he cooed. "Although I do miss our little jokes. Have you thought of any new ones for me~?"

"Well, I thought of one about a train conductor, a horse, and the concept of nihilism-"

"What the hell going on?" Ciel snapped, interrupting whatever had been happening between the puppet-girl and the mortician. Both blinked at him – though he couldn't actually see Undertaker's eyes so he could only assume – and then at each other.

Charlotte rolled her eyes as though it was perfectly obvious. "Young master, didn't you hear me earlier? He's my papa. Mon pére."

"Earl, thank you for taking such good care of my little Lottie~," Undertaker snickered, bowing theatrically at the waist and nearly tipping the girl out of his arms. "I knew my daughter would be safe in your care~."

"Daughter?!" Ciel screeched indignantly.

"Oh my," Sebastian murmured quietly in the background.

"Yes, daughter," Charlotte repeated. She pressed her cheek against Undertaker's. Their lips stretched into wide, wickedly amused grins. "Can't you just tell from the family resemblance?"

This sudden revelation was giving Ciel a headache. It certainly explained how Charlotte had known about the Phantomhive family, but now he had to wonder exactly how Undertaker of all people had magically found himself with a daughter of all things. Especially one made of whatever the hell Charlotte was made of. He'd seen neither hair nor tail of her during any of his precious visits.

"How the hell did you get a child?" He blurted. "And one of you needs to please stop smiling. It's unnerving."

"Rude," Charlotte pouted, her rosebud lips turning downwards, but at least she was no longer grinning. They both had looked like strange monsters with smiles too wide for their faces and far too many teeth. "That is not exactly making me feel like sharing."

"Now, now Lottie~. It's no crime to be curious~," Undertaker poked her cheek with one scarily sharp fingernail. She snapped at it playfully and he chuckled and pinched her nose. "But I'm afraid that's a long story Earl, and we don't have time for that now. Why don't we ask for what you actually came for~? Since you brought my darling Lottie home to visit, I'll even do it for free~."

Ciel huffed, torn between his nosiness and his current obligation, before he ultimately decided that speed was off the essence in this matter. If he wanted information from Charlotte about her past, he could always come back later, get it out of the girl herself, or order Sebastian to do some digging. "Fine," he muttered, and got down to business.

Short chapter leading up to the Murder Arc, but I also have to ask for help, so if anyone reading this is knowledgeable about the French Revolution, including social classes, please PM me. Thank you!