Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5646232.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Kuroshitsuji_|_Black_Butler
  Relationship:
      Sebastian_Michaelis/Female_Original_Character, Claude_Faustus/Female
      Original_Character
  Character:
      Sebastian_Michaelis, Claude_Faustus, Annamarie_Phantomhive_(FOC), Ciel
      Phantomhive, Undertaker_-_Character
  Additional Tags:
      Time_Travel, Demonic_testosterone_competitions, Sebastian_Michaelis/FOC/
      Claude_Faustus, emotional_breakdowns
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-01-05 Chapters: 7/? Words: 6842
****** Phantomhive Effect ******
by Silent6Seeker
Summary
     Annie Phantomhive had a talent for finding herself in interesting
     situations. One night, she is taken by a mysterious enemy and finds
     herself face to face with her ancestor, who happens to also be her
     only living family, and two demon butlers all too intrigued by the
     girl A new enemy makes itself known, and seems to be more intent on
     her soul than any.
Notes
     I do not own Black Butler, the plot, the characters. Annamarie
     (Annie) Phantomhive is, however, mine, as well as this storyline.
     This story takes place after the events of season two. Some points
     are based directly on certain episodes of the anime, which I do not
     own.
***** His Butler, Foiled *****
The rainy morning was turning to afternoon as the tall butler entered his
master's quiet study, tea cart grasped loosely as he pushed it along ahead of
himself, halting only when he was near the large desk. Before the servant could
speak, his young lord did. 
 
From behind the newspaper the young earl held, he said in an even, somewhat
bored tone, "There has been another disappearance. This time, just outside of
London."
 
Furrowing his dark brow, the butler replied, "That would make five so far.
Another young woman, I presume."
 
"Yes. Her description is very similar to the others: brown hair, blue eyes,
same height and weight apparently. They're connected, obviously. Have you found
anything that could lead to a suspect?"
 
"Unfortunately, this case has foiled even me. I was considering imploring
Grell." The crimson character flashed in the butler's mind, rather
uncomfortably as usual. "After all, he is a Grim Reaper. He may have some
knowledge regarding the victims."
 
Ciel Phantomhive sighed, unhappy with the idea of interacting with that strange
reaper. "That seems to be our only option. We've had no breakthrough in too
long. Her Majesty is deeply disturbed." Frowning, the boy continued, "How is it
even possible that we've hit a dead end? Not even the Undertaker was much 
help."
 
Preparing his master's tea, Sebastian Michaelis gave a nod. "It seems these
girls are vanishing completely. There are never any bodies to be found. Every
trace, gone."
 
Thunder rolled in the heavens outside. The rain fell in torrents, threatening
to drown all of England, it seemed. Lightning flashed just as the butler handed
the earl his Earl Grey tea, causing the former to appear almost ethereal for an
instant. 
 
The vision of his nigh phantom-like servant gave Ciel an idea. "Could this be
the work of demons?"
 
Sebastian answered, "I doubt that. I would know if there were other demons in
the area."
 
The young lord frowned, sipping his tea.
 
What exactly was going on? 
 
 
***** Her Butler, Frustrated *****
Chapter Notes
     Introducing Annie!
Annamarie sang along to the song that played in the background while she washed
the last of the innumerable dishes. Again, no one was home and for that, she
was glad. For one, her foster family didn't like her musical taste, and that
only served to mess up every room she cleaned almost as soon as she had
finished, as if it were the thing to do. 
 
Some days, Annie felt much like Cinderella. The teenager could totally relate
to the princess -- aside from the fairy godmother, the ball, the prince, and
the recklessly swift wedding that followed. 
 
Despite being somewhat of a hopeless romantic, Annamarie liked to believe she
had more sense than to marry a man she had just met at a ball which she had
attended only because her fairy godmother prettied her up and sent her in a
pumpkin-carriage driven by lizard-men and mice-horses. She was also fairly
certain she didn't do enough drugs to make that happen.
 
In any case, the girl was beyond irritated at the fact that she was cleaning
that house yet again. Only yesterday, she had swept through the basement,
scrubbed every inch of the first floor kitchen, dining room, study, bathrooms,
and halls, tidied each second-floor corridor, bedroom, and bathroom, and
rearranged her attic living space. The floors were dirt-free, the mirrors and
windows spotless, the pictures and shelves clear of dust. Everything was clean
and habitable. 
 
Well, that lasted two hours. And now she was cleaning yet again.
 
Entertaining bitter thoughts toward the foster parents and their blood-
children, twins Lacy and Lana, Annamarie finished up the kitchen, careful to
not break a dish as she set the up to dry or leave streaks on the marble
counters she wiped down. 
 
She dreaded their return, the Dorans. The wife was a witch, the husband was a
fool, and the daughters were evil and maniacal. Along with their horrible
personalities, they all shared bleach-blonde hair, blue eyes, height,
slenderness, and a tan that was only slightly more fake than their hair. It was
downright creepy, how uniform they were. Maybe they were inbred or something. 
 
Heading upstairs to her attic room, Annamarie thought back to how she had ended
up where she was. As of late, she found herself feeling on her tragedy more
frequently. She didn't know why, and she didn't like it. Yet, here she was,
dwelling yet again on the awful incident.  
 
Seven years ago, on her tenth birthday, her parents perished in a fire that
destroyed their home. Being that they were her only known family, she was given
to the foster system, which ultimately landed her with the Dorans. 
 
It was obvious Annie didn't belong with those living Barbies. With her hair a
sandy brown, her eyes a shade of bright lavender, her height hardly 5'3, she
clearly was not an inbred-fake-tan-too-blonde sociopath. Furthermore, she knew
right from wrong, demonstrated manners, was intelligent and kind, caring,
trustworthy -- she was the opposite of a Doran. In order to maintain a degree
of sanity, she needed to leave them. 
 
Oh, how it frustrated her that she couldn't ditch them yet! Well, not legally
anyway. 
 
Resting on the fifteen year old mattress on the floor the wife was 'generous'
enough to donate to her, Annamarie considered running. Doing so would infuriate
the Dorans, since her departure would mean a cessation of funding to the foster
family. Not only that, but the police would get involved to some degree, as
well as the state. 
 
Grinning at the thought of the awful family of roaches that they were being
exposed and pissed, the girl decided to take the risk. An escape shouldn't be
difficult, for she owned very little. Some clothes, a few small items of
sentimental value, a guitar, and that was it. Her possessions could be taken
with ease. And she had a backpack and soft guitar case. Packing up and leaving
would be a breeze. 
 
And so it was decided. She would leave in the night. To spend another year with
the Dorans was to go insane. But she would have to be careful, so much so that
she couldn't even pack yet, lest the wife find out and encage her. 
 
Annamarie didn't want to be caged again. 
 
Downstairs, the front door opened loudly, slamming into the wall hard. The
noisy family entered their home.
 
It was as if those people were raised in a barn. Slamming things, yelling,
stomping...
 
The girl sighed, instantly foul tempered. But, she had control. She could play
nice. For the most part. 
 
Like a 'good little pet', as they were so fond of calling her, the asked
teenager descended the when steps lightly, interesting to greet them as
pleasantly as she could muster. As expected, she found them in the kitchen,
already dirtying it up. "Welcome back," she told them simply, keeping the
enraged beast that would make Steven King's Cujo flee with his tail tucked
between his legs in check. She could play nice.
 
"Oh shut up, pet," the wife snapped, standing erect from her bent position
before the fridge, glaring at the girl. "Why do I smell lemon? I'm allergic to
lemon!"
 
"It's only an artificial scent from the Lysol." Annie had to spell it out to
that woman again? Perhaps all that bleaching fried her brains. 
 
"I'm allergic!"
 
"It's artificial. Real lemon is w-"
 
The wife gasped loudly. "Disrespectful little brat!"
 
It was sad that Annamarie wasn't surprised by how quickly and ridiculously the
situation escalated. Irked as she very well may be, the girl kept calm. If only
for the sake of self-preservation.
 
That manicure on the wife looked fearsome enough. Annie didn't want to risk
being mauled by the psychotic woman.
 
The twins stood by the pantry, sharing a bag of chips, staring with enjoyment
and cruel adjustment, dropping crumbs carelessly onto the clean floor.
 
The husband was watching also while heating something up in the microwave.
Whatever he was attempting to cook popped repeatedly and sounded as if it were
sizzling. 
 
Annamarie frowned at the wife, but kept her mouth shut. Her glare spoke for
her, effectively relaying her utter discontent. 
 
"Get rid of the smell now! I could die!" the wife complained. "And stop staring
at me like that, you pest." She stormed out of the kitchen, her stilettos
threatening to snap with such force, those angry click-clacks too loud on the
white tile. 
 
The husband followed the wife, leaving whatever was in the microwave to burn,
while the twins spat, "Weirdo. Freak."
 
Oh, Annamarie definitely had to leave.
***** Returned Butler *****
Sometimes darkness can feel suffocating and oppressing. In Claude's case,
however, the darkness was just that, except not in a figurative sense. Actual
rock blocked out what dim light shone upon the land and trapped the demon. 
 
As he tried to move, he found his legs were pinned under a rather large
boulder, and something else that wasn't stone lay across his bloody chest. A
blurred inspection of what else lay upon him revealed it to be a corpse. That
white hair and flowery scent were unmistakable. It was Hannah. 
 
Disgusted by the close contact with her, even in her death, Claude shoved her
away with vigor despite his weakened state and began to work on freeing
himself, struggling to push the debris away or pull himself free. 
 
After a few short moments, his full strength returned and he was able to
demolish the boulder keeping him. With a hastened leap, he landed in what could
only be the ruins of the demon's sanctuary. 
 
This confused him. Surely, he must have died. Sebastian Michaelis stabbed him
with that sword. One cannot simply recover from such a powerful and destructive
weapon as if it were a minor scrape.
 
With an amused look, Claude determined that it was his exceptional healing that
saved him. True, one cannot simply heal from an injury caused by a demonic
weapon. Then again, a spider soon would, as such was their trait. Claude
Faustus' body had remedied itself while he was unconscious in the crag.
 
But, though his body was now fine -- albeit covered in dirt and dried blood-
- his clothing wasn't so lucky. It was mostly in shreds, but enough of it was
intact to maintain a degree of decency, not that it mattered. 
 
Then another thought occurred to him. He was alive, but Alois wasn't, neither
was Hannah or the triplets. None of them hindered him now, but he was irritated
that he never got his feast. 
 
But then there's Ciel. Was the young earl still alive? His corpse was nowhere
to be found. The demon couldn't see it, smell it, or even sense it.
 
Claude glanced toward the charcoal-colored clouded sky, thinking. 
 
He was going to find Sebastian. A certain feeling nagged at him, insisting that
Ciel wasn't dead. So, in order to obtain that fear he nearly died for, he would
find that pesky Crow. 
 
Claude may still have his prize..
 
***** Her Butler, Escape *****
Chapter Notes
     There is attempted rape and death in this chapter. You have been
     warned!
Annamarie quickly packed what little she had as soon as the Dorans were asleep,
silent as a phantom. She had a single black backpack, which she skillfully
filled with: her only other pair of pants, her two favourite shirts, her phone,
iPod, chargers for both, her three favorite books, her sketchbook, and the
small heart box that her parents had given her when she was young, which
contained the locket that held a picture of her mother and one of her father.
The girl also packed up her guitar and songbook in its case. Stowing her pocket
knife in the waistline of her jeggings, she began to head downstairs without a
sound. 
 
The wooden stairs leading down from her attic didn't betray her with so much as
a creak or protesting groan as the girl snuck down, her hand sliding against
the wall for balance as she stared with wide lavender eyes at her path.
Perfectly one with the shadows themselves, Annie reached the second floor
without problem or sound. 
 
Slowly passing the room in which the parents slept, the girl flipped them off.
Further along, the twin's door was shut, but they got the same
treatment. Annamarie thought she was home free as she neared the final turn in
that hall, which would yield the staircase that would bring her to the first
floor. 
 
Until a gutteral male grunt alerted her. 
 
Ahead, around that corner, just a few feet down the hall, she saw the door to
the study was open, soft bluish light softly spilling out. The girl could hear
the husband in that room, which could only mean he was having a porn night.
 
The husband would be facing the open door. She might as well have been faced
with a brick wall. How the hell would she get out unnoticed?
 
Perhaps stealth could be abandoned. After all, the husband was distracted, on
top of being a moron. Annie was fit and could be quite the runner if she put
her mind to it. 
 
Deciding it was now or never, not really considering any other option in her
haste to just leave, she leapt into a run, flying past the bluish light and
open door. 
 
The husband saw her. "Hey!"
 
Annamarie wasted no time. Without caring much about noise in her panic to get
away from her pursuer, she took the stairs a few at a time, landing with little
grace but keeping her swift footing nonetheless. Lacking consideration for the
glass panes in the back door, she threw it open violently and rushed onto the
lush lawn. 
 
Perhaps recklessly, the girl had figured the fastest route to freedom was via
fence-hopping. 
 
And perhaps, one day, she'd come to realize that was a very bad idea.
 
As soon as she reached the back fence, she tossed her backpack and guitar over,
hoping her beloved instrument -- which had belonged to her father -- was
undamaged. She lifted herself onto the fence quickly, but before she could
swing her legs over, she was grabbed at the waist and torn from the tall wooden
planks, then thrown into the grass hard. 
 
The force of impact took her breath and stunned her, but she was coherent
still. Annie could see the husband standing over her, absolutely fuming, clad
in only a robe and sweatpants that were too loose.
 
He growled, "You stupid little shit. Trying to run away, are you? Well, you're
not fucking going anywhere." Then, he laughed awfully, such a cruel sound. "You
know what? I think I'm gonna punish you, you little slut."
 
Annamarie immediately understood and panicked, but was unable to escape before
he fell to his knees, straddling her. Pinning her down by taking her wrists and
holding them too firmly between her breasts with one large hand and applying
much of his weight there, he used his other to tug at his pants.
 
Now, she was more than ferociously frantic. Trying to maintain coherent and
rational thought, she quickly realized that screaming wasn't an option. The
only ones who would hear her would be the wife and twins, all of whom wouldn't
stop the husband. In fact, they would probably give him suggestions on how to
further hurt and humiliate her. Those sick parasites would cheer on the monster
holding her down. 
 
Then, Annie formed her plan. 
 
With great swiftness, just as he accidentally slid her hands closer to get
neck, she bit his knuckles hard, causing him to loosen his grip slightly but
enough to allow her to free her hands. She immediately grabbed her knife,
engaging it and stabbing his thigh. 
 
He cried out loudly, likely to wake the rest of the Dorans, and maybe some of
the neighbors. That man tried to get his hands around her neck, but she stabbed
his arm as she swung wildly, grazing his other hand. 
 
As he cringed and howled in pain, the girl tried to shove him off, but only
succeeded in causing him to fall next to her. Determined, he grabbed at her,
trying to clutch her clothing or neck or hair or anything in his fury. With
fear and panic rushing through her and making her nearly feral, she blindly
swiped at him again. 
 
As he grew more aggressive and loud, Annamarie grew more frantic and reckless.
Finally, just as he clutched her throat hard, she slit his. 
 
The husband let go of her in shock, his blue eyes wide. He began gasping,
coughing, sputtering. He was bleeding, writhing.
 
Owl eyed herself, the frightened and panicked Annamarie scooted away hastily.
After a brief moment, a light came on upstairs, reminding her that she had to
go. 
 
With a cry of stark terror, the bloodied and trembling girl hurried to stand,
falling in the process and stumbling too much, so unsteady in her hurry. She
was too loud going the fence, kicking it and falling to the sidewalk hard on
her side, knocking her breath from her and sending sharp pain through her knee,
which had hit the ground first. 
 
Just as she retrieved her backpack and guitar, the backyard light came on. 
 
It might as well have been a spotlight, revealing her to be the guilty killer.
She could almost feel the many witnesses declaring her guilt and calling for
her punishment. Like a deer in headlights, her body was frozen and her mind was
blank. 
 
But she snapped herself out of her daze when she saw the shadow of a moving
form emerging from the house. 
 
Annamarie's escape into the night was accompanied by blood-curdling screams.
***** His Butler, Curious *****
The English morning was a nice one, with a complimenting breeze that was so
gentle and fragrant with the freshness brought by yesterday's rain. However
sunny and bright the day was for the people of London, Ciel's and Sebastian's
was bleak. 
 
The young earl had insisted they visit the Undertaker again to see if he had
found anything out or had a body. As before, he had neither a lead nor a
corpse. 
 
It was with great reluctance that they sought out Grell. Neither was too keen
on the idea, but it had to be done. It seemed to be the easiest option, seeing
as that flaming Grim Reaper was easily drawn out by mere mention of Sebastian.
If the young Phantomhive hadn't been so frantic to solve the case given to him,
he wouldn't have been so quick to seek out the crimson harvester of souls. 
 
After a morning's search brought them no eccentric Grim Reaper, the duo started
back to the Phantomhive manor for lunch. 
 
It was then that a certain red clad Cheshire showed up. "Bassy!" he cried as he
seemingly appeared out of thin air above the earl and his butler. 
 
Sebastian dodged the falling Reaper with ease, who slammed into the ground
quite painfully, face first. With a kind smile, the demon said, "Good morning,
Grell."
 
From his face-down form came a mumbled greeting that may have been a 'good
morning' of his own. Sitting up with some difficulty, rubbing his sore head,
the scarlet character groaned much more clearly, "A little birdie told me
you've been looking for me." Then, with excitement, he exclaimed, "Oh, it feels
so good to know your lover wants some time with-"
 
Ciel wasn't in the mood at all and thus swiftly interrupted with force, "We
need to ask you a few questions."
 
Grell, standing now, frowned. "Oh? Is that it? Well, that's disappointing. But
I'll be happy to answer any question you have. All I ask for in return is a
kiss," he puckered at Sebastian. 
 
Maintaining his kind smile but hardening his brownish-red gaze, the butler said
to the Grim Reaper, "Tell me what we need to know, Grell."
 
"Oh, Bassy! You're so stern!" Grell swooned. "It's so exciting to see you so
cold!"
 
"Grell," Ciel demanded, "do you know anything about the recent strain of
disappearances?"
 
"Hm? Ah, the young ladies." He thought for a moment, crossing his arms with
dramatic movement and furrowing his ruby brow. "You know, I haven't been
informed much of it. I'm sure Will knows more than I do. After all, he's the
one who handles all those boring jobs. But what I do know is the ladies who are
disappearing are taking their souls with them. They're dead, we know that for
sure, but we can't locate their souls at all."
 
"Perhaps a demon is responsible," a new, hard voice accused. 
 
They looked up to the source, the roof of one of the buildings creating the
alleyway in which they stood. There, as professional and cold as ever, William
T. Spears looked down on them. 
 
Sebastian smirked. "You believe a demon is to blame?"
 
The newcoming Grim Reaper leapt down, joining the group. To the demonic butler,
"Besides us, the only other beings who could collect souls are demons and
angels. But seeing as an angel must collect from the Grim Reapers after first
filing an official request, I am forced to believe this is a demon's work."
Pushing his rectangular spectacles up the bridge is his nose with the point of
his Death Scythe, Will added, "You creatures never cease to be absolutely
foul."
 
His smile fading as he caught the look he received from the always-irritated
harvester, Sebastian asked, "Am I to believe you're accusing me of these
crimes?"
 
"You are the only demon in the area, since all the Trancy demons perished."
 
Ciel spoke up, "Sebastian couldn't be responsible. He's bound by the contract."
 
"My young master is correct. As long as I am bound by the contract, I cannot
pursue any other soul," the butler explained. 
 
Grell said, "I don't know of any human who could remove a soul like that."
 
Will gave a nod. "No ordinary human can. As I recall, however, a human can
remove a soul with the help of a demon, a grim reaper, or an angel." Then, the
Reaper glared at Grell. "Come now, you've wasted enough time already." He
started away. 
 
The crimson character grinned, leaning into Sebastian heavily. "Oh, Bassy, we
will meet again soon!" As he bounded away, he added, "Distance makes the heart
grow fonder, my sweet Bassy!"
 
With the two death gods gone, Ciel said, "Well, that wasn't such a waste of
time."
 
"Yes. Now we know this could possibly be the work of a human, with the help of
a demon, a grim reaper, or an angel. Will did state I was the only demon in the
area. Perhaps an angel is the perpetrator."
 
"But how are we to find an angel?" But then the answer came to him, and chilled
him to the core, the very marrow. "Angela Blanc."
***** Her Butler, Encounter *****
Annamarie successfully made it through the first night and powered through the
following day with a constant dose of adrenalin. As expected, come morning, the
police were after her, either to bring her back to the Dorans as a runaway or
take her in as a killer. In any case, she avoided everybody at all times. After
such exhausting fleeing, hiding, and paranoia, she wanted nothing more than to
find refuge and rest. Hell, the girl even wondered -- briefly, very briefly,
before common sense returned to her -- if she made a mistake in leaving in the
first place. 
 
The second night found her starving and weary, as well as wary. She needed
sanctuary and food. And a shower. She was bloodied from incident with the
husband, dirtied as well, and still sore. 
 
But what she got was something entirely different. 
 
As she was making her way down an unfamiliar street, heading anywhere but back,
Annie was suddenly overcome by an odd sensation. Without any warning, a strong
tingling spread throughout her body, causing her to weaken and stumble and
fall. On her hands and knees, her backpack and guitar sliding off her back and
onto the sidewalk, she cried out in pain as the tingling became a fierce
burning. Annamarie felt as though she was spontaneously combusting. Then, the
felt as if she were being pulled into a vacuum. Like she were a grape being
pulled through a straw, she felt such a pressure, the pulling, overall pain.
She couldn't breathe. What was happening?
 
Then, abruptly, all went black, silent, and still.
***** Enemy Butler *****
Ciel Phantomhive had barely walked into the his sunlit London townhouse when
the demon butler holding the door rushed to block his master, taking a sudden
protective stance before the boy. 
 
The young earl gasped in surprise and cried, "What on earth are you doing?"
 
Seemingly to nothing, Sebastian said, "I see you've managed to escape death.
For what purpose are you here?"
 
The young noble was about to demand an explanation, but he was preceded by
another yet unseen. "You have yet to take young Ciel's soul. Rather curious."
 
The earl recognized the smooth voice before the speaker even emerged from his
hiding. Then, slowly, said speaker descended the stairs above, eyeing the pair
with a hard golden gaze. 
 
Claude Faustus.
 
Once visible, the former Trancy butler asked, "Have you had a change of heart,
Sebastian Michaelis?"
 
"It seems revenge keeps eluding my young master," the Crow replied simply. 
 
Ciel shot, "Not like it's any of your business! What are you even doing here?
Shouldn't you be dead?"
 
"Spiders have extraordinary healing capabilities," Claude told the earl. "That
being said, it is not so easy to kill me."
 
"What are your intentions, Claude?" Sebastian asked, wary.
 
"I still crave young Ciel's soul. I've been denied a proper meal for too long."
 
"Naturally. If you wish to fight for it once more, I regret to inform you that
such engagement will have to wait. You see, we are both quite busy at the
moment."
 
"Yes, with the disappearances of those young women." 
 
Ciel stepped out from behind Sebastian, his singular cobalt gaze piercing and
suspicious. "What do you know?"
 
"Oh, you want my cooperation? But why should I indulge you? I am getting
nothing in return." Claude was unfazed, believing he had the upper hand. Such
certainty unsettled both Sebastian and the child earl. What exactly made that
Spider so sure and confident? What did he know that granted him such
arrogance? 
 
Ciel frowned deeply. 
 
"You can't believe my young master's soul is worth that information," Sebastian
scowled.
 
"No. That wouldn't be fair." Claude adjusted his glasses. "But a battle over it
would be."
 
Ciel rolled both of his eyes, though only the one was visible. "You both are
idiots," he muttered.
 
Claude ignored the child. "I'll help you with your case. But when the time
comes, we will fight again for his soul."
 
Sebastian chuckled . "You are persistent."
 
Ciel asked, "Are you even capable? Do you know enough to be of any help?"
 
"Yes, I believe I could be an asset."
 
Glancing at his young master, the butler inquired with surprise, "Are you
considering accepting his offer, young master?"
 
The young noble considered that for a brief moment before finally nodding with
a sigh. "Her Majesty is troubled by these crimes. We have no real suspect, no
bodies, and no information. According to Grell and Will, the women disappearing
are taking their souls with them. We must get to the bottom of this. But," the
earl eyed the intruder on the stairs, "Claude, you will have to serve as my
butler alongside Sebastian for the duration of this case. Is that understood?
You will not try to kill me as you did Alois."
 
Claude descended from the stairs and knelt, bowing his head. "Very well, young
lord."
 
Sebastian frowned deeply at this development, however he remained silent. It
was not his place to argue with his master. 
 
Ciel said, "We will discuss what you know, Claude, over tea."
 
¤-¤-¤-¤-¤-¤-¤-¤-¤-¤-¤-¤-¤-¤
 
The afternoon sun sat high, shone bright, threatening the trees' shadows in
which Sebastian, Ciel, and Claude waited and watched. 
 
The Spider had taken them to the former Trancy estate, which had been
foreclosed and then bought again in the short time since its inhabitants left.
The demon insisted that the new owner was a strange and suspicious character,
who frequently bright large crates and other various items into the manor at
all hours. Women matching the descriptions of those missing were among those
items. 
 
For now, the three merely observed, waiting for any indication of any activity.
Thus far, they were met with a quiet manor and stillness. One would have
assumed the place had been abandoned. 
 
As noon became evening, Ciel grew restless. "Let's sneak in. Nothing is
happening out here."
 
"Follow me." Claude started toward the back of the estate, staying well within
the concealing shadows, Sebastian in tow with Ciel in his arms.
 
Once behind the grand manor, the demons leapt up and entered through an
unlocked window before creeping along the empty -- and unbearably filthy! -
- corridors. 
 
And then, as they snuck silently, they heard a voice. "This is sure to please
Master. This has to please Master..." It belonged to a man, with fluctuations
that suggested sheer insanity and even obsession. 
 
The trio hid in a shadow on the ceiling, watching as the man passed by. He
looked to be nothing more than an average man, niether nobility nor homeless.
Thin and pale, the way he moved was that of a fearful creature and he shifted
nervously and twitched as he walked with an unusual and uneven gait.  
 
The three figured he was working for somebody. Somebody he feared. 
 
The man continued down the hall, the only apparent dweller here. At somewhat of
a distance, the small group followed as the anxious man came to a crude door
that was obviously added into the wall of that dead-end hallway. When pulled
the poorly-constructed wooden for open to descend into the dark depths of the
manor, Ciel boldly followed with his servants close behind. They were silent as
they pursued the man down sloppy 'stairs' insufficiently lit by small lanterns
on random steps. This tunnel was a new addition to the house, and whoever
exactly constructed it was no skilled craftsman. 
 
Upon reaching the bottom, Claude noticed the unsightly renovations of the
basement. The tunnel had been dug into it, through the wall. The original
entrance to this lower level had been blocked by crates, many of which had
apparently replaced all that had been stored there when Alois had lived here.
Open crates sat lined up loosely near the wall the tunnel had broken through,
offering places to hide. The electric lighting had been switched out for
candles on tall sticks, most of which were arranged carefully, spaced neatly
around the wooden stage centered at the far end of the large room and lit,
revealing an elaborate symbol painted into the wood and a girl laying in the
middle of the marked stage. 
 
The girl was unconscious, her curly, sandy-brown hair fanned around her. She
lay on her back, her light and thin white gown revealing a scraped knee and
elbow. 
 
It was also clear to the three that such a garment wasn't intended for public
wear. It was nearly transparent, quite short, and sleeveless. 
 
Sebastian also noted something about her that was familiar, but he couldn't
quite place his finger on what it was about the strange girl. Curious, he kept
that thought prominent as he, Ciel, and Claude quickly hid behind a few crates
lined up near the wall to their left. From the tight spot, they peeked through
the space between two crates. Their vantage point offered a view of the odd man
and a portion of the crude stage. 
 
The suspicious-looking man yelled suddenly, "I am ready, Master! I have
successfully brought the girl here, Master!" 
 
Suddenly, he shook violently, crying out in agony as he curled backward and
contorted impossibly, his matted hair coming within a foot of the cement floor.
Then, just as quickly aa it started, he fell silent abruptly and straightened. 
 
The air around him was different now, his very aura changed. The man no longer
appeared insane or scared, no longer twitching nervously. His tension was lost
and a smirk found its way to his bony face.
 
Now he spoke confidently, his voice strong. "Awaken now, human."
 
At the words, the girl gasped suddenly, looking around frantically before
sitting up quickly, her legs folded under her and her hands shoving the green
of the thin gown between her thighs. She appeared frightened, shocked, but both
were replaced with calm calculation swiftly.
 
That was also familiar to the Crow, how the girl's piercing eyes revealed such
a calm despite a dark situation, revealed a brilliance in the face of an
adversary. 
 
Both Claude and Ciel were curious as to why the girl wasn't panicking. Surely,
this wasn't common for her. Shouldn't someone as young as her be brimming with
terror?
 
The girl spoke, her voice confident. "What the hell are you?"
 
"What a strange question. Shouldn't you ask who I am?" the man chuckled. 
 
"I don't care who you are. What are you? A religious nut? A twisted
psychopath?"
 
"You have a way with words."
 
Ignoring his words, she went on. "Crazy cultist kidnapper? Sociopathic
eyesore?"
 
The strange man's brunette brow twitched. 
 
"What is this anyway? Sacrificial offering? Some whacked out ritual?"
 
He offered no answer, no explanation. 
 
Highly annoyed, she sighed heavily. "You're not going to answer me?"
 
"Are you irritated, human?" he taunted. 
 
She laughed at him. "Please! Not that many people can irritate me anymore,
pest."
 
The man's smirk fell. "Did you call me a pest, human? How insolent."
 
"Did you tie me up here just to talk? Are you that desperate? Well, from what I
can see, I don't think you get company much. This isn't exactly what I would
call a welcoming room. And if this is how you treat your guests..."
 
"You're taunting me."
 
"Really? I hadn't noticed." Her tone was sarcastic. She was ticking the man
off, and she knew it. 
 
The three onlookers couldn't decide if the girl was brave or a fool. 
 
Ignoring the girl's sarcasm, the man explained, "As you see, you have been
prepared for a ritual."
 
"Called it," she said with mock-excitement. "Then again, I had my doubts. This
could have been your usual Tuesday night for all I know."
 
The man frowned at her. "Are you not afraid?"
 
"Oh, I'm afraid alright. Afraid I'll get a splinter. You're a horrible
craftsman."
 
"Irritating little human."
 
"What's with this?" she pulled slightly at the simple white gown she wore. "I
could have sworn I was wearing pants."
 
"It was unbecoming of a lady."
 
"That's the nicest thing you've said yet. Thank you, mother, for being so on
top of my dress etiquette," she mocked. "Seriously though, you want to talk
about etiquette and shit, but you undressed me! What the hell? You perverted
hypocrite. And where did you put my clothes?"
 
The man glanced toward the crate behind which the three hid. Believing
themselves caught, they almost leapt out, prepared for battle, but then the man
said, "Your possessions are over there. You won't need them any longer though."
 
Ciel decided he would try to grab the girl's things. He may learn something
about her. Slowly and sneakily, he positioned himself near the corner of the
large crate to grab quickly at the opportune time. 
 
The girl said, "You sick bastard. You saw me naked, and you didn't even buy me
dinner first. And you talk about my manners, dressing unladylike."
 
The man finally snapped, tensing with anger. "Silence yourself, human! I grow
tired of your constant chatter!"
 
"Deal with it. You'd think I'd sit here quietly?"
 
"Like a good little pet," he told her. 
 
At his words, the girl's expression turned deadly. "You must know the wife."
 
"Who? Oh, it doesn't matter. Soon, I will commence the ritual!" He turned away
from the crate behind which the three hid, stepping toward the crates along the
opposite wall from them. There, he opened a large book and seemed to read it
intently for a moment.
 
That was his chance. Ciel quickly and quietly grabbed the girl's things: a
black backpack, a black case containing something heavy, and her clothing that
the man had removed, which was odd to the child.
 
Claude whispered with a bored tone, "She saw you."
 
Sure enough, when they looked toward her, they found her glaring at them. She
looked both surprised and angry at them, believing she was being robbed.
 
Raising his head slightly, Sebastian placed his index finger to his lips, the
quieting motion. He was trying to let her know that they were not her enemies. 
 
She understood and turned her attention to the man, who now held a dagger in a
large bowl as he turned and made his way to the sloppy stage. Quickly, she
quipped, "What're you gonna do? Stab me?"
 
Ciel began going through the backpack, trying to find some information about
the girl. He stowed her clothing in the process and was curious about her
strange items. These odd cords, and such weird trinkets. 
 
"I intend to do far worse," the man promised darkly.
 
"Like remain in my company? That would be sheer torture!"
 
"Quit mocking me!" the man yelled.
 
"I'm just teasing," she said innocently. 
 
The man set the bowl on the edge of the stage, the dagger within it, leaving
its hilt protruding. Silent, he left the basement. 
 
The girl watched him go. The three also watched before Ciel returned to
rummaging. When the demons looked back at the girl, they saw her reaching for
the dagger, stretching as far as she could with her ankles bound and tied to
the stage. 
 
It was out of her reach, even stretched out on her stomach. The rim of the bowl
wasn't, however, as she rolled onto her side to further extend her hand.
Hitting it just right, she sent the dagger flying toward her, landing blade-
side into her thigh. She started to cry out in pain and shock, but covered her
mouth instead, muffling her pain. 
 
The demons admired her and watched curiously. Would she escape? What was she
going to do? 
 
Biting her lip, she pulled the dagger from her leg and cut her ankles free.
Immediately, the wound bled, and she knew it was deep. She would definitely
need stitches.
 
Just then, the man was heard descending, his step even and heavy.
 
Adrenaline must have kicked in, for she quickly bolted off the stage and began
knocking over the candles with the hand that held the dagger, snuffing the
flame and darkening the room, covering one eye all the while, unhindered by her
wound.
 
Before the man entered the room, darkness consumed it. 
 
The demons could see her, but Ciel froze, binded by the sudden darkness. The
girl made it to them just as the man entered. As she practically ran into an
unsuspecting Claude, falling atop him, the psychotic man let out a roar. 
 
"Stupid girl!" the man yelled before leaving, stomping as he ran out. 
 
Rolling off the stunned demon and into a crouch, she looked to each of them.
"Who the hell are you?" she whispered.
 
Claude sat up, noting her lack of apology. 
 
Sebastian answered quickly. "We are not your enemies."
 
"Good answer," she warned. To Ciel, "Thanks for grabbing my stuff. I'll take it
now." And she did so, quickly getting to her bare feet afterward and rushing
away.
 
Sebastian took his master in his arms again and followed the girl. Claude
lazily started after.
 
Ciel asked, "Who are you?"
 
"You're following me?" she retorted with suspicion. 
 
But the young earl continued,"Why are you here? What are you planning to do?"
He asked the last question when he saw the girl hurry up the steps, silent. 
 
"Tell ya what, we can talk about all that when we get out of here," she said.
She paused shortly, glancing back at them. "Where am I going?"
 
Before anyone could answer, there was a loud crash elsewhere in the manor. That
clamour wasn't far off, so she hurried on, quick and silent like a cat, not
particularly keen on waiting for that madman to return.
 
As they followed, the demons and child earl noticed the lack of hindrance her
belongings caused her. What exactly did she carry that she didn't want to leave
behind? Then there was her injury. She handled that well, most likely due to
adrenaline. 
 
The tunnel had lead to a cortidor, and the girl immediately rushed to the
windows. Fortunately, the first-floor windows were low enough to the ground.
 
Barefoot and loose with only the knee-length gown, she seemed to flow as she
ran away from the series of crashed that sounded behind her. 
 
Soon, they came to an open windiw. The girl dropped her things first, watching
when her cased object hit the ground with a thud and a dull metallic ring. 
 
Sebastian leapt out easily with Ciel while Claude turned to the girl. "I'll
carry you out," he told her. 
 
"Nah, I can do this myself," she told him.
 
Suddenly, an inhuman roar tore through the hall, making her blood run cold.
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