Two days after Ciel's initiation, he and Sebastian come back from a shopping trip to find Aunt Anne chatting with Lau, who lounges upon one of the couches, filling the room with the cloying smell of opium that always lingers around him.
"…I see we have guests," Sebastian says, with forced cheer.
"Ah! Earl!" Lau says brightly. "I was wondering when you'd get back."
"I can see that," Ciel says. "Is this a social call? Or Men of Letters business?"
"It's a warning, that's all," Lau says, sounding supremely unconcerned. "It looks like someone from that smuggling ring got a good look at you, and now they've decided to kidnap you for ransom."
"…Lovely," Ciel says.
"What are you going to do about it?" Lau asks.
"Do you know who's behind it?"
"If you mean all the individuals involved, then no."
Aunt Anne smiles tightly. "Really, Ciel," she says, "only days after you take up your position and already you're a target? You have quite the talent."
"Indeed," Sebastian agrees. "Well, young master? Shall I take care of them for you?"
"Of course," Ciel says. "However… if we don't know who is involved…"
"You could always use yourself as bait," Lau says.
"Excuse me?!" Aunt Anne shrieks, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him. "Are you saying my dear nephew should try to get himself kidnapped?"
"Of course. How else will he find out who wants to kidnap him?" Lau asks.
"It's not a bad idea," Ciel says. "I can have Sebastian follow me at a discreet distance, making sure I'm not in any danger; and once they take me to the ringleader, we can make an example of them."
"In that case, bring Grell along too," Madam Red says, finally letting Lau go. "I would feel much more settled in my mind if you did…"
"Grell?" Ciel and Sebastian echo dubiously. The timid butler, who has been standing by Madam Red's shoulder all this time, bows slightly.
"Of course, milady."
/
"So, what does this require?" Ciel asks, a little hesitant. He remembers the outcome of the last spell he practiced with Sebastian. And to be sure, a tracking spell doesn't fall under the Black Arts, but he's never heard of anyone scrying who wasn't a witch. Right now, the small glass globe sits inert in Sebastian's palm. It is the next day, and by now everything has been put in place for his incipient kidnapping.
"Nothing at all, except a belonging, or a piece of hair—something that helps with the focal point."
"It's not going to be destroyed?" Ciel says. "Or altered in any way?"
"No, not at all."
"Then take this," Ciel says, pulling the blue family ring from his finger and holding it toward the demon.
"That ring is not an item that belongs to you alone, it is the Phantomhive ring," Sebastian says. He doesn't reach for it.
"So an heirloom won't work?" Ciel says. He puts the ring back on his finger and brushes the gemstone, relieved that he won't have to part with it, even for this short time.
"It may, but I'd prefer something more closely tied to you alone."
"This is just your excuse to take a lock of my hair," Ciel grouses. "Well, go on then."
Sebastian reaches into his bag for a small pair of snips and twists a small piece of Ciel's hair between his gloved fingers. A moment later, Ciel hears it cut through, and Sebastian reaches back with a small piece of dark, silky hair held in his hand. "Chances are you will never have the power to perform this spell, but it is still worth knowing," Sebastian says, "so listen well. Ostende mihi illum quem quaero." A colorful mist and lightning fills the globe, and a moment later Ciel sees his own face within the surface. "At the short distances we'll be dealing with, I can keep such a thing up for hours. So do not worry—even when they take you, you will never be out of my sight."
"I'm not worried," Ciel says, looking away from his reflection. "This hardly even counts as a kidnapping—we have everything planned, down to the very location where I'll be attacked."
Indeed with Lau's help it hadn't been difficult to spread the word of when Ciel Phantomhive would be expected on an errand. While Grell, serving as the carriage driver, steps into a sweets shop to buy something, Ciel will be summarily grabbed and dragged through the nearby alley.
After that Sebastian and Grell will take the carriage (if they can) or follow on foot (if they cannot). Furthermore if something looks like it's about to go terribly wrong, Sebastian will teleport to Ciel's side immediately.
/
The worst part of it is just the waiting. Ciel sits alone in the carriage, trying to look nonchalant and bored, and wondering exactly when his attackers will arrive. But finally the door is pulled open from the street side, and before Ciel has the time to do anything more than gaze toward his masked attacker, a hand holding a rag is held over his mouth, and he struggles to breathe through the sterile-sweet smell of chloroform.
Just relax, Ciel thinks, and feign unconsciousness if you must. The most dangerous part will be if he ingests too much of the stuff. Chloroform, though a remarkable anaesthetic, has been known to kill people with fair regularity. Ciel lets himself go limp and is relieved when in something close to three minutes by his count the rag is taken away from his face. Although he has not fully lost consciousness he does not think he could run; he feels confused and heavy.
Then he wakes up in the back of a bumpy cart, with his hands and feet tied together with rope.
I suppose I was a little overconfident with my estimation that it hadn't knocked me out, Ciel thinks blearily. The kidnappers haven't bothered to blindfold him, and from the angle of the sun he can tell it's been an hour or more since he was last aware. He feels headachey and horrible, and the bumping cart doesn't help one bit. Although he would like to remain feigning sleep for a while longer, Ciel finds that his nausea is too strong and he is retching onto the wood by his cheek and all over the front of his jacket.
"Looks like Sleeping Beauty is awake," says a harsh, laughing voice.
"He's making a bloody mess back there—how much did you dose him? He's a kid, remember? You were supposed to cut back."
"I did cut back! He's fine, just being a bitch." The man speaking turns around in his seat. "Oy," he says, "stop mucking up our carriage, you blasted earl."
Even if he wanted to, Ciel can't exactly oblige. No further thought avails him until the carriage stops and he's being pulled roughly over one of the men's shoulders; he gets a good view of the cobblestones and then a succession of wooden floors before being shoved unceremoniously into what seems to be an underground storeroom of some kind, filled full to the brim with dusty crates. At least there is one small window, high up on the wall, that must look out upon the street; though even standing Ciel would not be able to reach it, and it is barred besides. His kidnappers leave him be for some time, and Ciel fights back waves of nausea and a pounding headache, drifting into an uneasy slumber.
Somewhere in a confused dream he becomes convinced that he is in the cage again, although he can see the warehouse walls and those endless crates around him, piled up to the ceiling. He looks around and is not surprised to see Ciel wearing the ill-fitting clothes they had provided, knees drawn up to his chest, shackle around his ankle fading away into darkness. He tries to reach for his brother, but can't.
"Don't try," Ciel says quietly. "They tied your wrists and ankles, remember?"
"Oh," he says. "Right." He feels like crying. "I was dreaming. I was dreaming we got out, and we were living in the townhouse, and…" he trails off, realizing it would be worse than useless to imagine things that can never be.
"Hey kid, wake up!" A sharp kick to his side brings Ciel back to consciousness. The sensation that he is in the cult, and his brother beside him, all fall into the realm of disturbed sleep from whence they came. He gives his kidnappers an unimpressed glare, the effect of which makes the man falter for a moment. It's ruined, however, by another burst of nausea that sends heaves of bile down Ciel's front. The kidnapper smirks.
"Not so brave now, are you?" he says, and kicks Ciel again with his steel-toed boots.
"I've got the money you requested." The voice is coming from an adjoining room but Ciel can't miss it. He smiles grimly in the kidnapper's direction.
"Ah, I see," he says. "So you decided it would be easier to get cash directly from the Phantomhives. I would say it was a smart choice, however, considering the circumstances, you've proven yourself to be exceptionally dim-witted."
"What the hell are you going on about?" the kidnapper says.
From outside the voices are still talking. "This won't take long. Just put the money down and let us have a look."
"I'd rather have my master back first, if it's all the same to you," Sebastian says politely.
"It's not. Put it down."
There is a short silence from outside the door, then: "As you wish," Sebastian says.
"Although," Sebastian continues, with a sudden flash of mischief, "now that I'm here, I'm starting to wonder if my young master is really too much trouble. Perhaps I should keep the money and let you take the boy?"
"…What?"
"No?"
Ciel sighs. "Sebastian, could you get on with it?" he calls out.
"Hey, stay quiet!" his kidnapper says, backhanding him across the cheek. The door to the storage room creaks open, and Sebastian peers through, surrounded by a group of wary-looking kidnappers.
"How impatient, young master," Sebastian says. "You really have no manners, do you?"
"Hey, what's this?" Some men are gathered around the briefcase in the next room, looking into it with consternation.
"Pure silver, I assure you," Sebastian says over his shoulder. "I assumed it would be acceptable?"
"I was kind of expecting cash," one of the kidnappers mumbles.
"Whatever. It'll do," the leader says.
"Excellent!" Sebastian says, with a wide smile, clapping his hands together. "Well, I'll be going then." He turns toward the exit.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Ciel says, scathingly.
"Hm?"
The kidnappers are looking back and forth, obviously baffled at Sebastian's apparent unwillingess to take the hostage he came all the way over here for.
"I'm afraid I haven't heard the magic word," Sebastian says.
"It's an order, Sebastian. This has gone far enough."
"Oh, very well," Sebastian says. He cracks his knuckles. Something flies out of the briefcase into his hands: an array of silver knives and forks. With one careless gesture they've shot out again, impaling themselves into his kidnappers with such force that they go straight through flesh and bone and out the other side, thunking into the walls. Sebastian's eyes flash red, and then everything in the room is flying about, throwing themselves at the already horribly injured men. There are screams that trail off into silence. Ciel stares in interest, wincing a little as a splatter of blood flies by him.
Sebastian takes special time with the man who had backhanded Ciel. He has him pressed up to the wall and carefully hung while he is ripped to shreds.
"Was that a good show, master?" Sebastian says.
"Tolerable," Ciel says. "My feet are going numb."
Sebastian kneels in front of him to free them, rubbing the ankles gently between his hands as Ciel hisses in pain and fails to stop himself from vomiting all over Sebastian's tailcoat.
"Dear me," Sebastian says, picking him up in his arms and making his way carefully across the bodies that pile through the bloody room. "Your aunt is quite right—you do know how to get in trouble."
When they get outside, Grell is waiting with the carriage. "Hm?" he says, blinking when he sees them. "It's over so soon? Are all of them really dead?"
"Indeed," Sebastian says. "If I couldn't do a simple thing such as this, what kind of a butler would I be?"
/
"Don't take us back yet," Ciel says to Grell. "Drive around the city first a bit, would you? I don't want to arrive in front of Madam Red only to vomit on her."
"Of course, sir," Grell says. When Ciel and Sebastian have gotten into the carriage he cracks the whips and the horses start into a trot. Sebastian takes off his coat and tucks it about Ciel's shoulders, and Ciel leans against his shoulders, fighting dizzy drowsiness.
"Everything went fine on your end?" he asks.
"Indeed, my lord. I watched your every move, and Grell and I were never more than two streets behind you at any time."
"Ah," Ciel says. "That's good."
"I would have known, my lord, if you came close to death," Sebastian says gently. "I hold your contract."
"I know," Ciel says. He brushes his finger across one of the shining buttons on Sebastian's coat, wrinkling his nose at the scent of sick that clings about him. "I know I was safe. It's just… I ruined your clothes."
"Nonsense," Sebastian says with a smile. "A little soap and it will be good as new."
.
.
.