I hate that I've actually written a Kuroshitsuji fic featuring this arc because I swear I used up all my good writing for it.

The Darling Imp

~O~

No one will ever know if children are monsters or monsters are children.

-Lucio Fulci, The House by the Cemetery-

~O~

After carrying Phelps's corpse to the cellar, everyone gathered in the drawing room at Arthur's behest. Since breakfast had been cut short so abruptly, and all the dishes were cold, the servants had hastily brewed a pot of tea and thrown together a modest tea of sandwiches and cream biscuits.

Tensions were high but at least everyone had stopped screaming and hurling accusations across the room. Instead the guests stood or sat silently, eying each other suspiciously which was much quieter and only slightly more civil.

"Piecing your testimonies together," Arthur turned to a fresh page in his notebook and drew a small chart, "we know that the first murder was Lord Siemens at approximately 1:10 a.m. The second was Phelps at roughly 2:38 a.m., making Sebastian the last murder."

"The last murder?" Lau echoed.

Arthur nodded without looking up from whatever he was writing. "Yes, because the servants told me they all saw him during the night."

"It was around 2:50 a.m.," Finny recalled.

"What did he want at that hour?" Ciel asked.

Bard shrugged, his expression one of confusion as he recalled the butler's words. "He asked me to check the food stocks, and told Finny to clean the fireplaces."

"He asked Ms. Charlotte and me to take care of a delivery...owl?" Mey-Rin stuttered and glanced at Charlotte as if hoping the other woman would jump in and explain. Charlotte, who had been examining a lock of her hair for imaginary split ends only shrugged.

Ciel's eyes narrowed even more. "An owl?"

"As opposed to pigeons, owls can fly through storms," Bard folded his arms across his chest. "It's just like him to think of everything." His tone was admiring and trailed off into melancholy.

Grey frowned, sliding his gaze over to the two female servants. "What was in the letter?" He quizzed in a tone that belied none of his real feelings. The blonde shot him a diffident smile and shrugged again, her movements smooth and almost languorous.

"I don't know, Master Grey," she replied apologetically. "We didn't look at it."

Charles fought the urge to scowl at her. Something about her made the hairs on his skin stand on end, like he was looking at something that was just ever so slightly wrong. A flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a rolling crash of thunder.

"Maybe he sent a letter to the police," Arthur suggested, fixated on his own musings. In a storm of this calibre most methods of communication would be useless; sending an owl was a brilliant, if rather unorthodox manner of sending a distress call, which meant it was entirely in-keeping with Sebastian's personality. "If we write out the times of death, as well as everyone's alibis, we get this."

Arthur held up his notebook, revealing a small grid with their names and little noughts and crosses to show who and who didn't have an alibi for each death. Put together it told the following:

Ciel Phantomhive was the only one who could have killed Lord Siemens, but he'd been chained up all through the night when Phelps and Sebastian had been murdered. Everyone had an alibi for Phelps's murder except Sebastian, and none of them had an alibi for Sebastian's murder barring Arthur and Ciel.

Goodness, how thorough. Charlotte watched the statement sink home and decided that she quite liked the writer – no, wordsmith. He was like a character in one of her favourite stories.

"However, if Sebastian was the last to be killed, then the story becomes far more complex," Arthur pulled the notebook back and studied it. "The only ones who could lock the earl's room were Mr. Phelps, as he was already inside the room and Sebastian because he had the key. That would imply, logically, that Sebastian was the killer. However, Sebastian was killed."

Lau smiled beatifically, as though they were all playing a particularly riveting logic puzzle. "Maybe the butler joined up with someone and together they committed the murders. Then, afterwards, they quarrelled over the rewards and so he was silenced." A particularly riveting, grisly logic puzzle, Charlotte giggled softly and covered it up with a cough and an suitably maidenly expression of wide-eyed nervousness.

"That seems wholly unlikely. Furthermore," Ciel dismissed the suggestion and arched one lazy eyebrow at Lau. "You walk around carrying a needle in those dragging sleeves of yours, do you not?"

At first there were collective murmurs which turned to shouts of shock when Lau just laughed and nodded, pulling out a rather long, thin needle from the inside of one of his wide sleeves. Charlotte's eyes widened in surprised delight, she hadn't known those things had pockets in them!

"Yes, I am carrying one," he held it up like it was nothing. "It's used in oriental medicine to administer drugs and also in acupuncture."

"Y-You killed Phelps!" Woodley and Grimsby turned on him like scared wild dogs. "You bastard! You searched the earl's room just now, didn't you? Are you sure you weren't just destroying evidence?"

"Oh my~," the Chinese man didn't look at all frightened by their anger despite the fact that both looked ready to tear him apart out of fear alone. It had been a trying few hours after all. "Aren't you being a bit too rash about this?" Lau said in that same calm voice. "Think about it gentlemen; how do you think I could have made a locked room murder from that far-off, walk-in closet? There's no door going outside there and even though we're Chinese it's not like we can just pass through ventilation shafts or something."

Charlotte coughed again and this time she had to hide her snickers in her sleeves lest she give the game away. Ciel shot her a quick glare over his teacup.

"Besides," he continued, stroking Ran-Mao's shoulder soothingly. "I have an alibi for the time Lord Siemens was murdered anyway. Aw, but Earl~," he grinned at Ciel. "You're such a bully~. You don't need to take revenge on me now you know."

"Do I really need to hear that from the person who suggested that I be chained to my own bed?" Ciel asked rhetorically. He took another sip of his tea, less because he wanted to and more because it was getting cold and it just seemed to be the thing to do. It wasn't made the way he liked; you could say what you liked about demonic help and revenge-fuelled Faustian contracts, at least they came with good tea.

"Well, in any case," he took another sip of tea and finally just put it down. "There's no one who could have killed all three even if they had teamed up with Sebastian. I was just teasing you."

"That's true! No one person could have killed all three of them!" Arthur exclaimed. "Even if they had worked with Sebastian, it would be impossible for a single person to cause this string of murders!"

Woodley spoke up immediately. "If it's impossible to do alone, then the people who came in pairs are the criminals!"

Charlotte sighed and wished for a bag of peanuts to munch on and throw at the cast. Goodness these accusations were getting boring. Grimsby leapt to his feet, teeth bared in a furious snarl. "Are you kidding me?! On top of being trapped in here, I'm being treated as a criminal?!" He looked ready to launch himself at the businessman's neck if not for Irene who had her arms wrapped around his waist. Charlotte wanted to ask her to back off; at least if the situation got violent it would serve to liven up things a little.

"Please calm down!" Arthur said, holding his hands up in a pointless attempt at somehow placating the situation. "I'm not saying that it's as simple as tha–"

"Simple or not, I don't care! I've had enough!" Fists slammed down onto the table, causing the china and silverware to jump and clatter against the mahogany. Ciel and Charlotte's eyes widened at the barbaric treatment of the furniture. "I don't want to stay in this godforsaken place!"

"Where are you going to go?" The earl asked coolly with an undertone that was only just somewhat mocking. "In this weather? Under these circumstances I'd like you to refrain from acting on your own."

Woodley rounded on him, eyes wide and dilated, his teeth bared like an animal that had been poked and prodded and backed into a tight corner. There were no peanuts but the tea sandwiches were very good. "You're saying that to me?! You're the one that's-!"

He stopped, stopped by whatever meagre bit of self-preservation he had left. Ciel steepled his fingers and leaned forward, his eyes wide in a do go on sort of way.

Woodley grappled silently with himself, his fingers flexing. Then he cracked and pointed at the young boy with a diamond-laden finger. "I-I know! It was you who planned this all along, wasn't it?"

A loud crack of lightning punctuated the end of his declaration, for a split-second moment illuminating Ciel's face and making it look terrifyingly otherworldly. In the lamplight the boy's smile looked sweet, amused. "I'm not sure what you're trying to say, but please calm down," he said earnestly.

"You wanted to finish us off from the beginning, so you gathered us here!" Woodley screamed, his voice rising in pitch and growing almost unhinged. "You, the Queen's Guard Dog!"

The silence after this was thick and punctuated only by harsh pants but no flash of lightning or thunder. Arthur looked confused. Everyone else was watching with bated breath.

Ciel and Woodley stared at each other, and then the latter turned on his heels. "I'm going home," he muttered, turning his back on Ciel like some sort of idiot. "Like I'd let myself be killed!"

"Please wait!" The writer got up to follow him, to get him to sit down and calm down before he got himself hurt or worse. "It's impossible in this storm! You should stay here to avoid suspicion as-!"

Woodley spun around and lashed out blindly, landing a glancing blow on Arthur's face that sent the other man crashing into the table, stunned but not necessarily in pain. Woodley snarled at him. "I don't take orders from a doctor!"

Gasp, not the wordsmith! He's my favourite! Charlotte thought, not moving an inch other than to take another large bite out of the sandwich in her hand.

Ciel fixed the man with a stern, cold glare. "Woodley," his voice was dark and eerily calm. "The one who's telling you to sit down is me. So sit down already."

The man stiffened, and he spun around, a fist raised. He must have been crazy out of his mind, Charlotte thought, to try to attack the earl in his own home like some sort of idiot. "Don't order me around!"

Before he could even so much as move a grey blur shot in front of him, and in a second he was pinned facedown on the ground by Tanaka.

"My apologies Mr. Woodley," the old butler told him cordially. "While you are within this manor, you will not lay a single hand against the young master. My fellow servants and I do not take kindly to that."

He grunted and tried to get up, but Tanaka's grip was too firm, and he was far too blinded and winded even attempt to throw him off. "Dammit, what the hell is with this place?"

"Wh-What was that? I didn't see him move at all!" Arthur gaped, eyes wide. Despite the blow not being a solid one there was still an impressively dark bruise on his cheek that he appeared to be ignoring.

"I believe it's a style the Japanese call baritsu," Lau told him. Arthur repeated the word as he jotted it down in his notebook and scooted much closer to him. "I'm sorry, but could you give me more details about this baritsu?"

"Tanaka." The butler shifted his eyes to the young master. "You can let him up. He'll behave now, I'm sure." With a nod the butler obeyed and let the much more subdued man get up. Woodley glared at Ciel who ignored him to focus on more important things. "Well then, currently the only one who couldn't have been the criminal is Mr. Wordsmith," he laced his fingers together. "I think it would be safest and fairest to put him in charge of deciding our actions from now on."

The writer started, interrupting his own jottings with a shocked scratch of ink to stare at him with wide eyes. "M-Me?"

Ciel nodded evenly. "Yes. I don't particularly want a criminal prowling around my manor, and you seem to be the one of the few people with a clear head." The suggestion, though it really wasn't one, was met with abashed stares and mumbles of agreement. Ciel nodded sharply, "Then it's decided. There's plenty of time until the storm dies down anyway. Let's thoroughly corner this criminal."

He smiled and all Charlotte could think was that children truly could be the cruellest beings on the earth.

"The thing I'm most stuck on," Arthur began after an uncomfortably long silence during which he seemed to come to some unpleasant decisions about Ciel, "is the whereabouts of the key to the ear's room. According to the original scenario, the only person who killed have killed Mr. Phelps was Sebastian. However, the key might have been passed on to someone else, and that makes the situation far more complex."

"In that scenario," Ciel cocked his head, a small frown on his face. "Would I be right in thinking that the person who currently holds the key and killed Sebastian is the criminal?"

Grey sat up straighter. "Well, first let's confirm whether or not the butler is carrying the key himself. Although there's a possibility that could end our theory entirely…"

"Also," Arthur held up a finger. "When we move, I'd like us to move as a group. Since it would be difficult to ask a woman to accompany us to the storage room, I'd like Ms. Irene to stay here with Mr. Grimsby. Also," he glanced at the other man nervously, "I'd like Mr. Woodley to stay back too."

Woodley huffed and muttered something crude under his breath. In addition to him, Lau and Ran-Mao stayed back as well because they claimed they wanted more tea.

Once that was decided, Bard and Finny led Arthur and Grey down to the cellar storage room while Tanaka, Mey-Rin and Charlotte were left to look after the remaining guests.

Grimsby and Irene huddled together, murmuring and cooing soothingly to each other in a sickening way. Lau on the other hand was poking about the room like it belonged to him, munching cheerfully on a sandwich while Ran-Mao sat sedately on the chair and played Look-Away with Charlotte. It was a very intense match, neither of them had blinked in over a minute.

Charlotte lost when Lau popped up at her side, startling her. "Ms. New Maid! How long have you been working here?"

"Oh, a month or so," she replied, scowling playfully at Ran-Mao whose expression hadn't changed but somehow looked a tiny bit smugger. "My name is Charlotte by the way. Charlotte Blanc."

"Blank?" He repeated, deliberately obtuse. "Or Blanc? You're French then? How interesting! You don't have the accent though."

Charlotte smiled but didn't take the bait. Lau grinned at her and led her to the couch like they were old friends about to catch up. Charlotte poured herself a cup of tea and sipped it – ugh, badly filtered loose leaf tea was the worst – while Lau settled Ran-Mao on his lap. Charlotte chalked their strange dynamic up to them being foreign, and to Lau's seedier occupations.

"So, Ms. Charlotte," he started genially, "why is someone like you working for the little lord?"

"Oh, you know," she replied vaguely, smiling into her tea, "it was available. I couldn't stay on at my old vocation, you see. You could say it was kind of a circus."

He chuckled though he probably didn't get her little joke. "Oh that's too bad, but at least you'll never be bored working here."

"I certainly hope not," Charlotte took another sip of her tea. Honestly this tea was abysmal, why could none of the servants brew a proper pot of tea? She wondered if they could at least do coffee, or hot chocolate with an abundance of sugar and cream. Mmm…

Sebastian could probably make some, Charlotte thought. Once this was over she was going to demand a frothy cup of creamy chocolate.

The five men returned a few minutes later with no luck; the key hadn't been anywhere on him. "We should check his bedroom," Arthur suggested next.

Sebastian's room was Spartan in appearance; spotless, spacious, and barely lived-in. To one side was a neatly made bed, and a chest of drawers, and at the other was a cold fireplace, a dry sink, and a wardrobe.

"Let's search in places where one might keep valuables," Grey suggested. Ciel eyed his desk, Bard poked at the clean fireplace, Finny and Arthur peered under the mattress and the bed, and Gray checked his chest of drawers with the same wherewithal that Lau exhibited only his felt much less welcome.

Only the wardrobe was left unopened and unchecked. Charlotte rolled her eyes as she wandered over to it, certain that it was filled with rows and rows of identical black suits and white gloves. And then she shrieked in surprise when several cats came bounding out from the empty closet. They were all different colours, patchworks, stripes, calico designs. Some had one leg or one eye or one ear. Some were still damp from the rain.

Charlotte thought it was the cutest thing she'd ever experienced. At least until Ciel started sneezing and screaming for someone to get the felines out while simultaneously cursing Sebastian's name to high heaven until Arthur escorted him out of the room.

Heh, 'high heaven'. I'm telling Papa that one.

The cats were finally herded back into the closet, which honestly wasn't as hard as the popular saying had led Charlotte to believe. Not if you had about fifty different catnip toys anyway. Grey peeked into the final drawer, humming quietly. "He really doesn't seem to have a lot of personal items," he picked up one of said cat toys. "Isn't it good to have some things from your original home? Where did he come from anyway?"

THE DEPTHS OF HELL, Charlotte wants to call out but doesn't.

"No one knows," Bard answers nonchalantly. "None of us servants knows where he came from, or even what he does on his days off. The only thing we do know is that he's ridiculously good at his job."

BECAUSE HE'S FROM THE DEPTHS OF HELL.

"Maybe the young master knows about him," Finny piped up, turning to Ciel for more information as he had just come back into the room.

He shrugged, face half covered by a handkerchief. "I don't know either. I don't know what master he served before, or what he did in the past. I never had any interest in that; back then anyone was fine as long as they would be devoted to me and grant my wishes…"

Grey arched an eyebrow. "Back then?" He echoed, prodding. Ciel shot him a dark glare over the top of the cloth and refused to say anymore on the topic. Charlotte stared at the young boy quietly, wondering what his back-story.