The Secret Name--Kuroshitsuji. (party crashing. 9)

The Secret Name

Chapter　9, of demons and reapers
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"Would you like some time off?" The words slip so innocently from those lips that I almost forget it must be a ploy.

I hold my breath, but that doesn't help. I snicker, and then outright guffah at the outrageous suggestion. I double over, my abdomen bouncing with laughter. At last, it subsides, and I straighten. "It's not necessary." I manage, and disguise one last giggle as a cough.

This is almost as much a hobby as it is a duty, after all. Tormenting souls is a wonderful past-time.

Ciel glowers. "Too bad." He snaps. "You're going to anyway." He brushes off an imaginary spot of dust from a sleeve, and he closes his eyes almost serenely.

The boy is a delight. His fiery temper and equally hot words regale me into a pleasured sort of satisfaction. Ciel. He thinks to get rid of me again…it's an interesting reversion to earlier habits.

"I'm going to a party." He sniffs.

"Very good, young lord." I reply, and his annoyed look sharpens to disdain. His lip curls. My. "Certainly." I change my posture to one of submission.

"Alone."

I straighten and fix him with a serious stare. "I must insist upon chaperoning you."

Ciel's haughty expression falters. I can read something like relief mixed with a healthy dose of annoyance. His lips purse, only to open again in a small, mocking smile. "You can do with your time as you like, I suppose." His voice is soft, daring. I imagine it would taste like wine mixed with fresh whipped cream and cake.

"Any particular wishes?" Forward, but familiar. Perhaps it's what he wishes of me, for he smiles.

"Help me with the costume." He motions impatiently, and a busy day ensues.

---

The game is to follow close enough to Ciel that I might keep an eye on him, and, I might add, to see exactly what it is he's after with these magic users. We spent a great deal of time and energy crafting his dress—complete with a padded bra and curve-creating material around his waist and hips.

Perhaps predicting my intent, though, Ciel has given me several small orders to keep me out of his way. Watching the crowd of party-goers for acquaintances was one of these, and keeping tabs to make certain none of the offending parties would get close enough to recognize his face.

One would think this to be a simple thing. That a child who runs errands for middle managers in no particular organization and deals with important persons mostly digitally would be unknown to nearly anyone here. After all, he ordinarily works through others. Primarily, me.

"Ronald!" Sutcliff calls loudly to a fair-haired man (presumably Ronald) near him.



I observe the unusual pair, each with a pair of glasses. These two have matched eyes, too…catlike in color. Something shifts in my perception. A suspicion of subterfuge, a reminder of too little…challenge of late.


Sutcliff is still talking loudly, though it seems no one in particular is listening. The way that Ronald rarely focuses on any one party-goer, but rather casts his gaze over them is startlingly familiar.

Confident in my abilities, though, I can't see what they might hope to learn by guile.

Sutcliff's chatter finally comes to a high note. "Oh, would you look at that dress!"

Ronald cranes his neck. "That's an interesting color." He observes, and his carefree smile borders on a smirk.

Of course, it's not only pride that makes me think they're speaking of my young 'lady.' He is an artisan, after all, and well accustomed to manipulating fabric of quality into works of art. Granted, of his clothes and dolls are somewhat gothic.

Distracting the two of them might prove difficult, especially if it was Ciel's aunt who brought him here under her invitation…if that is the case, his request that I keep her from speaking with him is rather clumsy. Madam Red will certainly notice if her nephew ignores her, unless he failed to rsvp...

I decide to approach the pair.  "I didn't realize you wore anything but black." I comment airily.

Sutcliff does not turn to face me so much as he jumps at the chance. "Oh, Sebas-chan! I am so delighted to see you!"

Keeping him at arm's length is no easy feat. I manage it with a glass of wine, tilted outward toward him. If he gets too close, it will leave horrible stains on the outfit. "I see you've snuck into the Lady's wardrobe."

Ronald snorts dryly. "That he has."

"Have you any idea what the time is?" I ask him levelly.

"Too late to be at a party," Ronald comments, and his hand reflexively goes to a slim touch-screen in his breast pocket. Exactly where a handkerchief ought to go.

"Let us dance!" Sutcliff shouts merrily, apparently ignoring my comment.

"I decline."

Ronald only rolls his eyes. "Sir, we should get on with it." Ah, his tone is void of anything but resignation. "Tonight is going to be a busy one, and you know I don't want to take all night…"

"So you do work with that." I lower my gaze, staring momentarily at his lips before looking up at his glasses.

Sutcliff stiffens. "This lady, you mean." He sniffs.

Ignoring him, I continue. "Does Madam Red know of your other employment?" I search Sutkliff's face, trying to identify some clue about their profession.

I allow my eyes to roam up and down Ronald's sharp attire. "It seems you're very…business-like for this kind of dance." I cast my eyes down his form, looking slowly from his hair to his pointy shoes. I meet his gaze, laughing. "Do you feel out of place?" I let the words roll of my tongue, suggesting that he and Sutcliff are indeed out classed.

"No. Not at all." He adjusts his glasses, and the smile playing at his mouth is beautifully cold.

Sutcliff lifts a hand, presenting it to me palm down. "This kind of chance, Sebastian…doesn't come every day." His eyelids are half down, and the way attempts a pout is almost sultry.

The urge to crush his annoying expression gets stronger. I scowl out right. "I find being in your vicinity repulsive. It would be far more satisfying to rip your tongue from your throat."

Unexpectedly, Sutcliff laughs, delighted. "Now, now. Don't you know that you're to a kiss a lady's hand before moving up the bases?"

All this time, Sutcliff has played the part of a human servant. So well that I never questioned him…

I close my eyes, remembering the smell of an ancient library. Another century, another contract…I caught word of something between god and humans. Reapers. Things that ferry human souls to wherever-it-is-they-go after death. A great waste, I remember thinking at the time.

Ronald simply rolls his eyes. The young man—a reaper, most certainly—knows to hold his tongue.

"Ah, but where is the lady?" I mock. "There appears to be a reddish hedgehog in stolen footwear and coat, but…I see no lady here."

"Indeed. I should wonder what brings the two of you, Ronald. Grell. To this place and time."

I turn to see a tall, fair skinned and dark haired man. He too has the glasses and eyes of a Reaper, but his attire is much less mussed, as devoid of character as his monotone voice.

The figure straightens. "You've come into contact with a demon." He notices, his tone barely raising at all.

Sutcliff continues with the sniffling. "Will! Don't pay any attention to that." He says with some relish. "While you're here, we can have a dance…"

This Will snips at the offending harpy with what seems to be a pair of garden shears mounted on a pole. "Nonsense." He stares at me with a cool, somewhat hostile expression.

Interesting that he can manage both at once. "It's a pleasure to meet you…" I give a luxurious bow.

"If it is not devouring listed souls, leave it." Will declares.

"Quite the businessman," I murmur dryly, stepping aside as the glasses group becomes a bit more agitated.

Will has taken Sutcliff by the collar, and his very sharp shears are pressed into the small of his back. I should wonder if there will be a new hole in Madam Red's attire. Ronald, apparently smarter than the cross-dressing assistant, just nods and continues on after the two.

It is quite convenient, I must say. The two underdogs were taken care of by an irate, single-minded overseer. I should be able to monitor Ciel much more closely.

"If something comes up," Will continues, his suited figure retreating to the closest door—a balcony, I might add. Not the main entrance. The Reaper don't seem to mind how curious their behavior may seem to anyone watching.

"If the demon gets in the way, kill it."

I continue smiling. I doubt that trio could do the job.

"Have a pleasant evening," I bid.

I've seen the backs of them now, and I know a little more than I had before. I have confirmed the existence of reapers—one in the employ of bribe-dolling Madam Red. I wonder what those bribes are being paid for? Wouldn't Ciel like to know… And one more at this quaint party. How rare to see even one of them, but two? Their purpose, as well as Ciel's remains unknown to me.

Speaking of the little devil. He's hanging on the arm of a tall, light-footed man. They spin in elegant circles, much like balls of old.

Despite his frowns and complaints at women's constricting clothing, he seems to be enjoying the attention. Ah, the little status monger. His closed eyes cannot hide the tiny, self-satisfied smile he's donned.

---

...tbc...