AN: Did I write the first chapter, post it, and then immediately forget this story existed? Yes, yes I did. I blame the ADHD.
Don't take any of this too seriously. I'm just vibing.
The good news is I need something fun and whacky to write, so I have another chapter I'll be posting right away.
Falling through time is not pleasant. If I had to describe it, it is like being squeezed through a space you are too large for, and also simultaneously bloating like a corpse left to rot in a lake. The laws of the universe have no care or compunction about how you land, either. One minute you are standing in the defensive position, the next you are hurtling through space and time, and finally you land rather ungracefully on your ass in an entirely foreign place. And, dear readers, that is only the beginning of the nightmare.
She's almost certain she broke her tailbone. Though there'd been no telltale cracking sound, there was no way someone could land that hard on their ass and not break something.
"Ow, ow, ow," She whines, forcing the wetness of her eyes to recede. Pulling her legs underneath her to take the pressure off of her butt, she carefully sits up to look around. At first, she wondered if she'd fallen through the house (which would not have been surprising, considering the dilapidated state of it), but one glance around proved that impossible. She was clearly somewhere else entirely.
Everything about this place screamed opulence. The carefully laid wallpaper, the glass chandelier, and hardwood floors. She seems to be in a hallway, with doors on either side. Behind her, she catches a glimpse of what seems to be a sitting area, and in front of her, a doorway leads into what looks like it might be a dining room. Beautiful, but outfashioned in her opinion. Even her parents, old-fashioned and conservative as they were, would never furnish their homes in such a way.
There was no one currently within the vicinity, for which she was grateful, but she could hear faint and muffled sounds further into the home. With a few seconds to herself, she took a deep breath and began to examine her situation.
'Okay,' she thought, 'bruised, if not broken tailbone, but fine otherwise. If I had to guess I'm far away from the cultists, though I have no idea where. I'm likely not going to be dinner for a demon prince anytime soon. But…the ring,' It was strange. The ring had called to her, and the second she had touched it, it had brought her somewhere else.
Did it protect her? Or had it led her to a fate far worse?
The ring was still clutched in her hand, and she pulled it closer to inspect it. There were four stones inlaid in the ring, glittering despite the tarnished appearance of the gold. The stones were red, blue, yellow, and black. They were not large, for though the ring looked as if it were meant to fit upon a man's finger, it was rather slim. Each stone was no larger than half the size of her pinky nail. There was also writing inscribed all around the stones, though it looked to be some form of Turkish or old, dead language. It seemed like the type of thing someone would use to summon a demon.
The chain was long enough that she could easily fit it over her head and rest the stone for safekeeping against her chest. The moment it touched the skin above her heart it seemed to warm, as if to tell her it was happy there.
"Oi! Who are you?" The abrupt voice nearly made Syd jump out of her skin. She jolted backward, landing on her ass and hissing in pain. A second later, rough hands were grasping hold of her shoulders, hoisting her to her feet and whipping her around. The world spun and blurred until she was face to face with a man who looked out of a movie. He was oily-skinned with slicked-back hair, and he wore a suit that could've been from as far back as the nineteenth century. There was a gun holstered at his hip, old and definitely a family heirloom. She wondered if it even fired, or if it was just for aesthetic purposes, though it looked well cared for considering what its age must be.
"Well?" The man demanded, giving her a shake that rattled her teeth. She glared at him.
"Syd, I'm Syd, now can you stop doing that? I've been manhandled enough for one day!" She tried to shrug out of his hold, but his grip only tightened and she winced. She could already tell she was going to bruise.
The oily Victorian man turned them both around and began to lead them back down the hallway toward the supposed sitting area.
"Alright, you bastards, who brought a whore here during a business deal?" The man screamed, giving her arm a shove that pushed her several feet forward to the floor in the center of what was indeed a sitting room. There are six men in the room from what Syd can gather off the bat. They are of different hair and facial features, which means their not family, but they all wear the same old suits with antique guns at their hips.
The men around her all seem as baffled as she is, their eyes trailing up over her attire to her face. Syd suddenly feels entirely underdressed in her short pink skirt and matching blouse. It's not the skimpiest outfit in her closet by far, but it must seem outlandish to these fake Victorians.
"Okay, first of all," Syd starts, sitting up and glaring at each of the men. Her father always told her that when dealing with brutes like this, you have to show them you're not afraid; look them in the eyes, chin up, and don't be cowed no matter how scared you are. "The term I think you're looking for is 'sex worker,'. The word 'whore' is insulting to the profession. And secondly, how dare you!"
They stare at her for a few seconds and then look at each other.
"It must've been Anton," One of the men says to the oily Victorian who manhandled her. It takes Syd a second to realize they've switched to Italian, and her mind whirs with the effort to keep up. "He's always bringing girls around here,"
"That cunt," The first man curses, also in Italian. Syd does her best to put on a confused, poker face. She imagines she's not supposed to understand what they're saying. "Azzurro's not gonna be happy. We're still trying to get information out of the Phantomhive brat,"
Syd struggles to keep up; Anton. Azzurro. Phantomhive brat. All important details to a puzzle she didn't know she would need to put together. 'What the fuck kind of names are these?'
"What do we do with her?"
"She seems like trouble, just shoot her,"
'Fuck,' Syd thinks. Before she can think better of it she's up on her feet, a placid smile on her lips. There's a seductive sway in her hips as she approaches the man closest to her, and plops herself down on his lap sideways. She grabs one of his hands and places it on her outer thigh, and then leans forward and runs her lips over his jaw.
"Anton brought me here as a gift for Azzurro; says he's been stressed, lately?" she coos in English. The man beneath her took only a split second to be shocked before a lecherous grin spread across his face. He rubbed his hand over her thigh, the other coming up to rest on her waist, toying with the fabric of her shirt.
If there are any men amongst my dear readers, I just want you to know that you make it too easy. These men were part of the Italian mafia, as I later came to learn. They worked under a man known as Azzurro Vanel, who worked for the Ferro company (which still exists in the modern day). Any good mafioso would've put a bullet through my skull the second they saw an interloper in the middle of such a big venture. But, fortunately, men are stupid.
While my mother was the heiress to an American Oil tycoon, my father was (loosely) attached to the Italian mafia. He grew up in Bari, and though his parents weren't directly involved in any illegal activity, they certainly had family that were. It's why my parents got together. There's wasn't a love match. It was all about power and connections.
After the first time I was kidnapped, Dad brought in one of his cousins from Italy who worked with the mob. They taught me all I needed to know about surviving in less-than-stellar situations in which you are at the mercy of dangerous people. He told me I should never try to climb up the ladder to the higher-ups because they'd be more likely to kill me.
I immediately broke that rule with Azzurro Vanel, but to be fair, it's been a few years since I've been kidnapped and held hostage.
Azzurro Vanel comes across as the type of man who is obsessed with his own power and importance. He reminds Syd a bit of her uncle, who always had a chip on his shoulder because her mom was picked to be the heir over him. He was always doing stupid things to try and prove his worth, and he was always far too serious. Azzurro is tall, clearly Italian from the cigar he smokes and the way he barks at his men in Italian. He has a large scar across his face, and he wears his blond hair up in a ponytail. He also wears the Victorian fashion, though he is more unkempt than his men.
"Who the fuck is this?" He asks, reverting to English seamlessly at the sight of her. Syd puts the sweetest, flirtiest smile on her face. Azzurro is not currently holding a gun to her forehead, so she saunters across the office towards him.
"A pleasure, Mr. Vanel. I'm Syd, Anton thought you might be a bit stressed and need some entertainment," She batted her eyelashes at him, all the while wondering if this shit was actually going to work.
Azzurro scoffed, narrowing his eyes upon her, taking her in from her face to moving down her body, taking in her attire.
"Someone get rid of this whore,"
"Are you sure?" Syd asked sweetly. "I can wait if now's not a good time. I'm a patient girl," She throws her hair over her shoulder, exposing a bit more of her cleavage to him. Azzurro is not enticed. He narrows his eyes at her and rests his hand on the top of his gun.
"Get Anton in here so he can watch me kill his whore," He barks in crisp Italian at the others. "And somebody check to see if the phantomhive brat is here yet!" Syd struggles to keep a straight face. The men who brought her here scramble to exit the office, leaving her alone with Azzurro. She knows if she waits for Anton to get here it's all over.
Time to do something impulsive.
Feigning confident, Syd prances the rest of the way across the room. Azzurro never takes his hand off his weapon, but he doesn't seem to think of her as enough of a threat to actually point it at her, even when she climbs atop his desk and spreads her legs in front of him. She leans forward until her lips are only an inch away from his. He smells of expensive tobacco.
"Are you sure you don't want me, sir? I'll do anything you want," She thinks she's about to get a bullet between the eyes, but instead, Azzurro's eyes darken with lust. There is anger there too, as if he's mad that he wants her. Syd knows she's won the second his hands come up and grab hold of her hips, harshly pulling her down into his lap. She can feel his growing erection, and she begins to move her hips to rub against him.
"Be quick about it, I got work to do," He growls.
"Of course," She waits until his eyes are focused entirely upon her face, and then she reaches to his belt where his gun is holstered. She grabs it, slowly and carefully, making sure his eyes stay on her. She uses her other hand to open his belt, and then she pistol whips him across the temple.
Azzurro curses in pain. Syd curses in desperation. She whacks him again, putting all her strength into this hit. It does the job this time, Azzurro's eyes falling shut and his body going limp beneath her.
A scream bubbled up in Syd's throat. She swallowed it, fighting the urge to let panic sink in.
"Fuck! Shit, fuck, shit-" She cursed every step as she climbed off the mafioso's lap and rushed to lock the office door. A survey of the office proved there was little use in staying here. They were on the second or third floor of the building from the way it looked out the window. There was little to be found in ways of helpful items in the office; Azzurro didn't have a phone on him, and there was no laptop or tablet to be found on his desk. The only other items she could find that would be of use to her were a metal lighter and a small, antique pocket knife.
"Okay, okay, we can work with this," Syd said to herself, reasonably. She paced the floor of the office. "I have two weapons-three, maybe, if you count a lighter. The big bad is knocked unconscious. That's good. His henchmen are on their way here to watch me die, not good. I can't jump out the window without breaking something or dying, also not good. Okay, shit looks bad for me," She released a frustrated sound in the back of her throat.
There was only one real option. She had to leave this room. Syd took several deep, calming breaths and approached the door. She unlocked it. The door handle twisted and someone barged right in.
"Boss! We got the Phantomhive brat- Who are you?"
'Fuck'.
Syd shouts, lashing out with the gun before she can think of a better plan. The God's must be smiling upon her, for the heavy metal of the gun connects with a sickening crack against the man's nose. Blood goes flying, and the intruder stumbles backward before falling flat on his ass out in the hall.
"Fuck!" Syd yelps, taking in the scene before her with wide eyes. The man she'd just hit with the gun was accompanied by two other people; the first was what she could only assume was another mafioso. The man had a hand on the shoulder of a young boy who looked to be in his pre-teens. Syd didn't get much of a chance to observe the child. The man holding him recovers from shock, raising his weapon to her.
She is saved from death by an antique bullet when the child rams his heeled boot into his captor's kneecap. The man crumples with a groan, and the last of Syd's killer instincts kick in to pistol whip on the temple. The man falls unconscious, and she throws herself at the man whose nose she broke, pistol-whipping him too.
"Oh my god!" She pants, turning wide-eyed to the young boy. He is dressed in Victorian fashion too, though he looks more like some kind of little lordling than an Italian mobster. He's also wearing a fancy eye patch, which, despite the situation, she takes a chance to admire. She then rips the gag from his mouth.
"Who are you?" He demands with a posh English accent. Oh God, is she in Great Britain? Where the fuck did this ring take her?
"Sydney, nice to meet you, who the fuck are you?" He blinks in surprise.
"You don't know?"
"I'm assuming you're the 'phatomhive brat'. Aside from that, no. I don't even know where I am," Syd glances down at the unconscious mobster's, and then at Azzurro still slumped over in his chair. She looks back at Ciel. "You know how to use a gun like this?" She asks, kneeling in front of him to untie him.
"You don't?"
"I'm familiar with more modern models. Honestly, I'd be more effective with a baseball bat," She unties the knots around his wrists and then begins to work on his ankles.
"And you're just going to give me the gun?"
"I have a feeling we're both gonna be attacked by angry and armed mobsters in a few minutes here. I think that for the moment we're on the same side,"
"Fair enough," She hands him the gun.
How does one adequately describe Earl Ciel Phantomhive? Spoiled, bratty, impetuous, rude, and surprisingly good company are just a few words I'd utilize. He's smart and clever, but there's no reason he should've made it as far as he did with his circumstances. He has his demon butler to thank for that, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
Ciel and I found ourselves in a precarious situation in which teaming up was the most advantageous option for us. I did not yet know about Ciel's lethal demon butler, but that was probably for the best. We were a bit too busy sneaking around a mobster's mansion, anyway. We were actually doing a pretty good job of it, too.
Of course, I've racked up enough karmic debt that sneaking our way through this was bound to fail.
"Ew, their decor is hideous, what year is it, 1880?" Syd made a face of disgust, pretending to retch as they crept around a corner.
"1889, actually," The boy, Ciel, answers. Syd huffs a laugh and then stifles it when he turns to glare at her.
"Right, quiet, sorry," The manor is sprawling, with long hallways that all look the same. They'd avoided the main staircase, instead searching for the servant's corridors in hopes of avoiding running into any more scary men with guns.
"Oi, where's the Phantomhive brat?" Syd and Ciel both winced at the shout, sharing a look and simultaneously standing to full height and taking off in a run.
"You know," Syd huffed, easily outpacing the child. "It's weird, I'm used to being the abducted child in this situation, it's odd being the random interloper who just showed up here," Ciel said nothing to that. He was panting heavily, clutching his side with his free hand. Syd began to wonder if they should find somewhere to hide when they turned another corner and Syd had to hit a hard break to stop from running into two hundred pounds of pure muscle.
"Oh shit!" She cursed, nearly falling backward at the abrupt stop. The man before her was almost seven feet tall with facial scars and a mean, menacing look in his dark eyes. He only looked at her briefly, before turning his attention to Ciel.
"Found him!" The man called, in perfect Italian.
"Did not!" Syd called, also in Italian. The tall man turned his gaze back to her and suddenly she regretted her actions. She stepped to the side, pointing at Ciel. "You did, you found him,"
"What?" Ciel yelled, still clutching at his side, gun pointed at the ground. She almost face-palmed.
"You're the one with the gun!" She snapped. The boy finally seemed to remember his weapon, only for the gun to be whacked out of his hand in such a display of brute strength that she cringed, rubbing at her wrist. To his credit, Ciel did not cry out at the pain, though the whack to his wrist must have hurt. The big man grabbed hold of his arms, keeping firm despite the boy's wriggling. Syd took several steps back, intent on escaping while the attention was off of her.
A hand grabbed a tight hold of her upper arm. She squawked, turning to lash out at her assailant with her feet until she quickly found herself shoved with her front up against the wall.
"Who's this bitch?" The one holding her yelled. She tried to aim a kick to his ankle and failed.
"I'm Sydney fucking Devoe, asshole, so unless you want to never set foot in Italy again I'd mind your fucking manners," The tight grip on her loosened, but didn't fully let go.
"Devoe?" The man echoed. Syd peered over her shoulder, watching as the brute holding her looked at the brute holding Ciel. "Is there a Sydney Devoe?" He asked. The other brute shrugged.
"Cazzo, I don't know that family is huge,"
"The Devoe's are more into arms trafficking," Syd felt her eye twitch. She might not be even close to the most important Devoe in the world, whether that be the Italian mafia or the American oil tycoons, but her name should be well enough known by those in the business. Also, her criminal side of the family was into all sorts of illegal activities, from arms trafficking to drugs to even less savory things that she preferred not to know about.
Can't choose your family and all that.
She was about to open her mouth and unleash a fury of insults and 'Do you know who I am's?' that would put any good Karen to shame when the air shifted. It was subtle, barely noticeable. The ring on her chest turned cold suddenly. It got quiet. Ciel smirked as if he knew what was coming.
He was so fast she barely saw him move. A blur of black and white, with hints of silver and red. One moment he was at the corner of the hallway, the next he was soaring through the air, tossing silver daggers into the throats of their captors. No, not daggers, she realized. Butter knives.
"Took you long enough," Ciel grumbled, standing and brushing himself off. It didn't do much for him. The kid was covered in bruises with blood dribbling from his nose and mouth. If the rest of him looked like his face he would certainly be sore tomorrow. If she were back at her tea shop she'd make some bullshit story about the healing powers of calendula tea and honey. She wasn't sure it'd sell though. The kid looked like he might be the paranoid sort.
She didn't blame him. Being kidnapped will do that. She used to barricade her closet and sleep under a pile of laundry.
"My apologies, Young Master. Lunch preparations held me up,"
Sebastian Michaelis is beautiful in the exact way you would expect a demon to be. Dark hair and red eyes. Pale-skinned, immaculately dressed. Lithe and tall and with an aura of danger. I, obviously, swooned the second I saw him. What girl wouldn't? I would be lying, dear readers, if I did not tell you I took one look at that man and wanted to climb him like a tree.
You would think finding out soon after that he's a literal demon who eats souls would perhaps snuff out those particular fires.
Dear readers, I may be many things. A scam artist. Gemini. Lazy bitch. Disowned daughter of greedy billionaires. What I am not, is a quitter.
After all, if you're going to die by demon butler, it may as well be one hell of a ride.
AN: Unfortunately not much Sebastian this chapter. Also, not much in the next chapter either. Sorry. We gotta work up to it.
I've decided that I'm really tired of the 'man obsessively chases after the woman and is incredibly horny for her' trope. Okay, that's a lie, I LOVE that trope, but I also want to sometimes see a woman unabashedly horny for an evil, evil man. Syd is like "That man is a walking red flag, and red is my favorite color."