Spiders and Snakes, Oh My!

~O~

If only these walls could talk…the world would know just how hard it is to tell the truth in a story in which everyone's a liar

-Greg Olson, Envy-

~O~

Like the most on the nose metaphor written by the most clichéd of authors, the storm ended that very night. The winds soon ceased their howling and by morning the clouds parted like a pair of velvet stage-curtains to reveal a sky painted pastel blue and dabbed with fluffy white clouds. The sun showed its yellow face and shone down upon the earth as if it had never left, as if the past few nights and all the events that had transpired had never occurred at all.

Carriages lined up one after the other on the manor's front grounds. The remaining guests chattered gaily to one another as hurried to leave and escape the mansion, as though they could escape the memories and horrors they had seen with laughter and pretence. Charlotte watched them go with a little smile on her face, Ida B. still coiled sedately around her shoulders. She saw Grey and Phipps load Woodley into the back of one of the carriages, his face a haggard mix of anger and despair like he had spent the whole night pleading his innocence.

Grey looked back at the manor and Charlotte caught his eye. Her smile widened and she focused elsewhere. Arthur stood outside one of the cabs and looked back as well. He was going to be the last one to leave if he kept hovering there, she thought to herself as she studied his expression from a distance. He looked ill at ease, less relieved than the other visitors. He frowned back at the looming building like he had forgotten something but couldn't recall what it was.

Charlotte had met authors, poets, lyricists, and playwrights. Such creative minds always saw more than they needed to, a talent that wasn't always a gift.

Ida B. hissed into her ear and Charlotte nodded with agreement as Mr. Rathbone made his way over to Arthur's cab and knocked on the window. The two conversed for a while, likely exchanging pleasantries and the like, until the priest's last words. Whatever they were they appeared to leave the young man stunned even as the carriage began to roll down the pathway and out of sight.

"I love a good ending to a story," Charlotte sighed aloud as they entered the manor and the door shut behind them. "I suppose the actors can take off their costumes now, can't they?"

Rathbone cocked his head at her with a wide smile. "How lucky for me that you didn't spoil the surprise."

"I thought it would ruin the plot if I revealed the truth," Charlotte spun her wrist dramatically. "And what sort of story would that be?"

"It may get more interesting yet," Sebastian said mysteriously. Charlotte arched an eyebrow at him and then blinked when she heard footsteps outside the door. A moment later it flew open, revealing the panting, bent over form of Arthur Doyle. Sebastian – still pretending to be Rathbone – stared down at the younger man. "Why are you so flustered?" He asked. "Did you forget something?"

Arthur shook his head, struggling to catch his breath. "I came back to confirm the truth Pastor Jeremy. No," he shook his head and straightened up to stare at the tall, black-clad man. "Butler. You're the butler, Sebastian."

No one said anything for a moment, and then he began to chuckle. "Excellent work, Mr. Wordsmith," Sebastian raised his hand to his face and began to rip the flesh-coloured mask away in a grotesque display. "It seems that we rudely underestimated your skills."

"Don't mind him. I thought you were wonderful," Charlotte told him earnestly. "You're definitely my favourite character."

"Charlotte stop treating people like they're pieces in a play," Ciel called out.

"Well at least I have the decency to be upfront about it," she called back glibly. "I don't lie about my affections. Do I, Ida?" The snake hissed softly and stared in Ciel's direction with unblinking golden eyes.

Arthur let out a choked noise, bringing their attention back to the man who was now shaking. His eyes were wide and he looked like he wanted to run screaming. Something stopped him from doing that though; call it fear, call it that insufferable curiosity that plagued all creative minds, but he couldn't bring himself to leave before he had an explanation.

"I...I can't believe it..." he murmured. "How could something so unreal be happening...?"

"Oh?" Sebastian tilted his head and stared down at Arthur. "Didn't you come back because you were certain of this? You realise that had you just kept going you would have returned to your peaceful normal reality. So why did you come running back?" He eyed the man from top to bottom. "Trembling even."

As though Sebastian's derision had knocked something loose inside him, Arthur suddenly appeared to steel himself. He stood a little straighter and stared back at the demon wearing the face of a man. "B-Because if my nervousness wasn't just an uncomfortable feeling, if my instincts happened to be correct, then I'd have had to go after the Yard's carriage immediately!"

"He's so noble!" Charlotte pretended to swoon before catching herself with a clever twist of her ankles.

"Your sense of justice is truly remarkable," Ciel chuckled, leaning against the staircase banister. "Just like the knights in the old stories that you admire so much. Didn't you think that, if you knew the truth, I might not let you leave?"

Arthur stiffened and took a fearful step backwards. Gone was the sweet child who stared up at you with wide, guileless blue eyes, and he wondered how much of that innocence had truly been a mask. "You…you can't be serious…"

Ciel blinked down at him, his smile dimming to something a lot milder and a little less terrifying. "I was only joking, Mr. Wordsmith. It's just as you said; Woodley wasn't the criminal. Not here at least." He turned on his heel and began walking upstairs. After a moment of confused hesitation, Arthur tripped over his feet to follow behind.

"What do you mean?"

"Just as I said," Ciel replied flippantly, "but he does deserve to be in that carriage. Let's not stand around and talk though. We might as well have some elevenses prepared. Sebastian."

"Yes, my lord." Arthur startled and backed away from the butler. He had forgotten that the man was standing beside him, he had been so quiet. Sebastian bowed at the waist, a smirk dancing about his lips, "Come, I will direct you to the greenhouse. There's no need to be scared; it's not like we're going to eat you."

"That is possibly the least comforting thing you could have said," Charlotte said with a sighed as she leapt up the stairs with far more flair than was at all necessary. Arthur realised that was probably just her personality. Not all of her movements were necessary, they just were, and the longer he stared at her the more he realised that not all of her movements were humanly possible.

Human…

The greenhouse was a large structure filled with a plethora of flora. The scents of English roses and honeysuckle might have been overwhelming had Sebastian not opened a few of the windows. Arthur could hear the soft buzz of honeybees buzzing amongst the petals and the quiet rustle of lush green leaves. On another day on some other occasion, this might have been relaxing, but he could hardly relax when the person serving him cakes and biscuits was a dead man walking and a woman with a black mamba around her neck.

Human…

"We haven't poisoned it," Ciel said with an amused smirk as he lowered his teacup. "Please, help yourself." Arthur eyed the bite-sized snacks dubiously, steering clear of one that looked like it had been made with strawberry jam, and choosing one topped with a dollop of whipped cream. "So…how did you know he was alive, Mr. Wordsmith?"

"Actually, I had no set conviction," Arthur revealed, "I just had this vague sense of unease. I'm not sure how to properly explain it, but if I had to I'd say that he was just…too perfect."

No one responded for a second, and then Charlotte sputtered with laughter so hard that she nearly choked on her petit-four. Ciel stared at her, unimpressed. "Of course," he drawled, "and what do you mean by that?"

"It would have been natural to feel uncomfortable about the butler's death, and then feel suspicious about Rathbone's sudden appearance, but both were too flawless; too perfect that the whole thing became uncanny instead."

"Clearly someone's been slacking on their detective skills," Charlotte snickered behind another petit-four. "So much for being one hell of butler. It seems someone got a little too carried away."

"Quite," Sebastian's expression remained stoic but an eyebrow twitched in response to Charlotte's taunts. "What tipped you off, Mr. Wordsmith."

"There was no way you could have prepared everything so completely before dying. The food, the owl, even your words to me," he waved his free hand, getting carried away by his thoughts as they began to marshal themselves into a functional narrative. "Then the pastor appeared. He was suspicious no matter how you looked at it, but his alibi was so airtight that there was no logical reason to suspect him. Then the last words he said to me in the carriage…that was when I realised the true reason for my discomfort; the possibility of something unreal."

Ciel cocked his head curiously. "Something unreal?"

"The possibility that the butler had not died," Arthur slumped back into his chair and stared down at the tablecloth. "When that thought occurred to me, I couldn't sit still. I had to come back."

Applause rang out through the garden and all three of them looked at Charlotte. "What?" She shrugged. "I love when dramatic mysteries are revealed. No wonder my lord likes your stories so much."

"Charlotte!" Ciel barked. She shrugged again but kept quiet. "Tell me; how exactly did you figure it out?"

So he did, starting from the beginning when Sebastian had been oh-so-quiet when Ciel was being accused of Siemens's murder, and at every step Sebastian explained the reason behind all of his actions. The more they talked, the more the mystery began to take form in Arthur's mind as blanks were filled.

Finally he covered his face and stared unseeingly at his lap. "I can't believe it. So in the end, the killer was-"

"Lord Grey, one of the Queen's bodyguards," Sebastian finished, serenely pouring more tea.

"You English and your royalty," Charlotte huffed and rolled her eyes. "So much patriotism for a monarch who doesn't do much besides give orders and appear on your stamps and coins," she ate another biscuit, oblivious to the shocked glares behind her. "So, Grey murdered Siemens at the Queen's behest?"

Ciel pursed his lips and then shook his head. "It seems his bank made some worryingly large investments into the development of domestic ships which threatened England's navy. Siemens was a key figure in the German heavy industry, so the Queen planned for him to be crushed and Germany's military development halted."

"And all of that would happen because of his death?" Arthur sounded disbelieving.

Ciel shrugged. "Well, Lord Siemens was only one banker, but it is likely that his death will have some unforeseen consequences down the line. A Butterfly Effect, if you will." He smiled a little to himself and took another sip of his tea. Arthur hadn't seen him eat any of the petit-fours yet

"But why did Earl Grey want to place the blame on you?" Arthur asked.

Charlotte froze with a biscuit just an inch from her lips, and then she rotated her head without moving her body until she was staring at the back of the boy's head with a large smile on her face. "Yes Ciel," she said sweetly and Ida hissed softly as well, "why did he want to put the blame on you?"

He grimaced and, for a moment, Arthur saw something tragic and haunted pass behind his visible eye. Then he blinked and it was gone. "I'm afraid one of my tasks got out of hand," he replied calmly. Behind him Charlotte looked away and the smile disappeared from her mouth but not her eyes. "I had expected some sort of punishment, but to think that Her Majesty would try to pin a murder on me."

"You English and your humour."

The dress the maid wore had a high starched collar but she also wore a lace choker around her throat as well. Arthur tore his eyes away from Charlotte's neck. "But why the innocent Mr. Woodley?" He asked.

Ciel chuckled and finally picked up a pastry. "Didn't I tell you? He deserved to be in that horse carriage, I just hastened his arrest. Up front Mr. Woodley runs a prosperous diamond polishing business, but behind the scenes however, he is a weapons dealer who sells illegal weapons to areas of violent conflict. I wasn't lying when I said the Rose Company's president had been murdered. It only took a little digging to confirm that he was the killer."

Digging, Arthur thought dizzily. He was so out of his depth, a player in a playing field he had no idea how to navigate, and the game master was a shadowy queen and twelve-year-old boy with the devil in his smile.

Ciel leaned forward, his chin propped on his hands. "Since I was going to get rid of him anyway, he was the perfect person to use as a scapegoat, don't you think?"

"It was an elegant solution; it would clear the Queen's worries and ensure that the young master was kept out of harm's way," he stated. "It's two birds with one stone."

"Just exactly who are you?!" Arthur gasped.

"You may refer to me as The Queen's Watchdog," Ciel said with a wry smirk. "And you can refer to her as a nuisance," he gestured to Charlotte who didn't deny it and just grinned and waved. "What happened this time was no more than a game where the Queen reconfirmed whether I still had the talent to keep my position."

Arthur was trembling violently now, shaking hard in his seat. He knew, or at the very least he suspected. This had been a mistake, and now he had stumbled headfirst into something he had no business knowing. "N-No way," his voice shook, as though he was rushing to find the end yet was terrified of what he might find when he got there. "If what you've told me up 'til now is true, then he…that butler is…"

"'There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact'" Ciel quoted as the room began to grow dark, as though someone was slowly covering up the sun. "Wasn't that it, Mr. Wordsmith? It has been right in front of you all along, after all."

"The truth," the butler was suddenly right beside him. His yes glowed red like the fires of hell, like burning iron, and when he smiled his canines were sharp and curved, like the fangs of a monster. "Is that I am not human."

The author screamed and fell backwards. The darkness was nearly complete, and ink-black feathers fell to the ground around him as he scrambled away from the approaching entity that began to look less and less human the closer it got.

"Now that I do know it, I shall do my best to forget it. Was that right, Mr. Wordsmith?" Sebastian quoted as he stalked forward, chasing down the terrified man. Adrenaline gave Arthur the strength to spring for the door, only to meet the demon in front of him again. "One wonders what would happen to you if you were to reveal this matter…"

"I'll never tell!" He begged. "I'll never tell, I swear!"

"Be sure you don't. After all, we're always watching…"

Charlotte listened to the rapid footfalls as the man ran screaming from the house of horrors. Once silence reigned again, she sighed and patted Ida gently. "I didn't see the point of that."

"Consider it a burst of inspiration," Sebastian smirked as he began tidying up the table. "He is a writer; if he goes through a strange experience he will most likely want to document it. You liked his stories, didn't you young master?"

"Mm, and what makes you think he will publish any of those stories?" Charlotte arched a slender eyebrow. "After all, what is he supposed to think after you essentially threatened him into keeping silent about his experiences? Honestly…" she turned away and then frowned when Ida uncurled herself from around her neck and slipped down her body and slithered underneath the table. "Ida? Qu'est-ce que c'est mon chou? Where are you going?"

"Ah, she has sniffed out her brethren," Sebastian ducked down after the mamba and dragged out a giant wooden crate that was large enough to hold a person. "I suppose I should explain Phelps's murder."

Ciel gaped at the crate and then scowled at Sebastian. "I assume you had a reason for not mentioning it earlier? Are you telling me that the killer is in there?!"

"You put Snake in a crate?!" Charlotte screeched. "Let him out!"

Sebastian tilted his head and glanced at Ciel. The boy nodded. "Open the crate, Sebastian."

"Well, if you're sure…" he knelt down and produced a key from his breast-pocket. The heavy padlock sprung open and the chains fell to the ground. The lid rattled and, when Sebastian lifted it, two snakes leapt straight for Ciel's face.

Sebastian caught them mere inches from his nose, staring at the colourful snakes curiously as Ciel struggled to calm his racing heart. "They seem incredibly resentful towards the young master…"

"What the-" Ciel got to his feet but before he could get a look at the inhabitant of the crate, Charlotte screeched and leapt on top of them.

"SNAKE! Snake, oh mon Dieu, I was so worried about you! I've missed you so much!" She pulled the cloth away from his mouth and fluttered her hands about his face and shoulders. "Are you alright? Gods, what a stupid question! But are you?"

"Muffet? Says Wilde," Snake stared at her like he couldn't believe she was there.

"It's me! It's me, mon cherí," she stroked his hair, touching his scaled skin as if to reassure herself that he was actually there. "How did you get here?"

The story turned out to be rather funny, and Charlotte smiled to herself at the thought of Prince Soma unknowingly sending someone to assassinate Ciel. Gosh the man was so kind-hearted. She must remember to thank him for reuniting her with her friend.

For now though. "What are you doing here? Says Wilde," he looked behind her and snarled at Ciel and Sebastian. "Why are you with them?"

The two former circus members turned to Ciel expectantly and the boy exhaled softly. He was going to need a nap after all this brainwork.

Charlotte and Snake are BFFs ya'll. There is nothing romantic there, just pure platonic and familial love.