This Immortal Coil, Part 5
Title: This Immortal Coil
Chapter: 5
Series: Kuroshitsuji
Summary: William searches for answers after a mysterious attack leaves Grell's life hanging by a thread, though he finds himself dealing with some long-buried emotions about his old friend.
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: William, Grell, Ciel, and Sebastian with references to Soma and Agni.
Word Count: 6,004
Warnings: Descriptions of past tense murders and illnesses, descriptions of the desecration of holy objects(if anyone is sensitive to that).
Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji and recognizable characters belong to Yana Toboso.
This Immortal Coil
Part 5: Let the record show
16 March, 1890
Reaper Dispatch Offices - London
8:26 a.m.
It took around sixty to ninety seconds in real time for a reaper to view a full Cinematic Record, naturally that depended on the age of the client and the amount of detail in each narrative. In that sixty to ninety seconds, the reaper saw every frame of the narrative down to the last detail; they viewed every memory as perceived by their client.
A projected replay of a collected record was only done in the rarest of instances and only in the case of a reaping with significant incident. The viewing would take longer in real time as a natural rule, though the exact length depended on how the projector had been set up. Sometimes it was decided that only a specific reel related to the client’s death would be shown for the investigating team, though in the case of Matilda Cornwall the entire collected record was played.
William estimated that it had been about ten minutes and the record was halfway through the original printed narrative, up to the point of her marriage to her husband. So far the record reflected her upbringing in a wealthy family. Her father was a longstanding member of Parliament and her mother was a socialite. She was raised in a loving household, though the regular references to her strict religious upbringing raised flags for William.
He could hear the other managers around him scribbling down notes and hastily turning a few pages. There were around ten reapers in total in the room sitting at two different conference tables. All of them were management level and all from different executive departments: Assignments, Archives, Safety and Security, Internal Affairs, etc. William could see the mid-length, stark white hair of the one Council representative, Melvyn Eddols to be exact, sitting in the front.
Matilda Cornwall married her husband Nathaniel, a prosperous businessman, and they raised four children. Both of them were active in social circles, though Mrs. Cornwall was even more active as a laywoman in her church. She raised her children with a similar reverence for God. Then her husband suddenly died of a heart attack, his death emotionally wrecked her, but her grown children and her faith gave her strength and support. Five years after her husband’s death, her son was shot by a robber and died on the street. A few months later her daughter was diagnosed with consumption and died after spending nearly a year in a tuberculosis hospital.
The day after her funeral, Matilda rounded up all of the Bibles and crosses in her house and burned them in a woodstove. She screamed curses at God and wept violently while watching them burn. William could hear the furious scribbling around him and see all heads turned upward. She had the motive for killing those priests, though such a display of symbolic blasphemy tended to attract attention. William waited for the sudden appearance of an angel or even a demon wishing to form a contract, though only saw her isolate herself from the world. Maybe the angel already contacted her, but removed itself from her Cinematic Record. William paid closer attention.
Mrs. Cornwall practically lived as a shut-in for years, there was still no mention of an angel or anyone calling her to do “God’s work” by killing priests. She wasn’t doing anything but walking around her house, though the initial record had full descriptions of the priests’ deaths. About a year ago, she grew more and more ill, barely leaving her bed and barely eating. She developed severe nosebleeds to the point where she called in a doctor. After weeks of grueling tests, she was diagnosed with advanced leukemia and told she had but a few months to live.
For the first time since cursing God after her daughter’s death, she went on her knees before her bed and prayed. That was when a white mist enveloped her room and assembled into a human form before her. Pens scratched furiously around William. She cried to the angel for God’s forgiveness, the angel put a misty hand on her head.
“Have no fear, my child,” the thing said. “You have known struggles and you have been tested and I am delighted with what I see. You, Matilda, are my chosen one. Carry out my wishes and you will be rewarded.”
“What are your wishes, my Lord,” she said.
“Sacrifice the impure and I will give you a personal audience with God.”
William looked to the side and exchanged some concerned glances with a few of his colleagues. The mist slowly merged into Mrs. Cornwall’s body, she said in the narrative she felt well again; infused by the Grace of God. Her first victim was her old minister; she worked with him for years at her church. The reverend greeted her warmly and took her back into his office for tea and to counsel her. As soon as they were up the stairs, she pushed him down. He fell on his head and died instantly and she fled. She said she felt guilty for a moment, but her angel told her this man was a monster who deserved to die.
The angel gave her the strength to enter more churches and meet with more priests. Her narrative voice took on an unearthly tone that put a chill through William’s form. It started out as a few accidents; more pushes down stairs, pushes out windows. She would put arsenic in their drinks and they would died in a matter of days.
The carnage only grew; more priests and ghastlier murders. Vicars stabbed in their vestment closets, a rabbi cut down in the hallway of a Jewish orphanage, an old Irish priest strewn up on his cross, a Brahman draped around a statue of Vishnu; so much bloodshed, so many forms of blasphemy. William could even see some headshakes around him. Soon her voice was not her own, the narrative was now being told by someone else with a fair voice between male and female; the voice of an angel. The angel reveled in the carnage, cursing out each of the victims.
The demon’s words were proving accurate thus far; Cassius the fallen angel who takes an immaterial form and possesses the bodies of ill people. He then makes them kill priests, the crime that resulted in his expulsion from Heaven. Perhaps the demon had little reason to lie to him; the truth was the best delivery method for bragging, though bragging was often the result of embellishments.
At last she had a brief encounter with Earl Phantomhive in a form of polite conversation, though Cassius immediately recognized the “unclean spawn of Hell” standing behind him. Cassius and his host knew a battle was imminent.
At last the 15 of March came, Mrs. Cornwall’s condition was gradually worsening. She was up all night with fits of coughing, her body wracked with excruciating pain.
“I promise you, dearest Matilda, I shall deliver you to Paradise soon,” the narrative said in the angel’s voice. “We will have to vanquish one more foe; the demon will be here today and we shall destroy anyone who dares to join him.”
Mrs. Cornwall was bedridden, growing weaker though her pain was subsiding. Cassius then warned of a demonic presence in the house joined by a tainted human, warnings that grew more incessant the closer demon and master got to the room. At last the door swung open, Earl Phantomhive entered with his dog behind him. The confrontation began; the earl was up front with his accusations. Mrs. Cornwall sat up in bed, emitting a chilling laugh.
“The Judgment is upon us,” she screamed. “And I have been the herald for the doomsday. The false prophets have been warned.”
“Was that your intention?” the earl said with a huff. “Though simple cold murder sounds about more accurate to me.”
“You would know more about sin and damnation, you weak human who sells your soul to the Devil for power,” she yelled, though this sounded more like Cassius’ opinions on the matter. “I can grant you salvation; order your hellspawn to come to me and be subject to my judgment. All I ask for is the demon and salvation can be yours at last.”
Earl Phantomhive let out a sharp cackle that should never come from a boy his age.
“Salvation? Don't make me laugh,” he said, drawing a gun on her. “I am beyond saving and the same will be true of you too.”
Cassius warned Mrs. Cornwall that another presence had entered the room; the presence of death incarnate. A reaper “awash in wickedness and sin” had some to claim her precious soul. William’s stomach turned; a tiny, weak voice in the back of his mind begged Grell to run. It was a ridiculous thought, though William allowed himself a smaller measure of the unease. It was only natural to feel this before knowing one would be watching his colleague seriously hurt.
This word seemed to shake Mrs. Cornwall. She sat up in bed and more blood gushed from her nose. She grabbed a handkerchief and held it to her nose, glaring at the two in front of her and trying to see the third presence.
“My body may be weak, but I will be whole with God soon,” she said. “The spirit lives within me and shall embrace me in the end.”
“The spirit that called you to murder those people?” Ciel said, keeping his gun aimed. “Don't continue this act with me, Matilda Cornwall. I saw what you did to your last two victims; you were hardly weak when you mounted them on those walls.”
She let out a fit of coughing, her gasps and wheezes pierced through the room.
“The blasphemers shall be sacrificed upon their altars, their blood purifying the corruption wrought upon God,” she gasped out.
Her words mixed with Cassius’ narrative. She was a puppet for him now though maintained some weak consciousness.
“I am cleared of my own sins, thus promised the pure one,” she said amidst more wheezing. “The weak flesh shall be purified and made whole by the Almighty.”
The demon stepped forward from the shadows; Cassius let out a sharp hiss.
“Might I inquire who this ‘pure one’ is?” Sebastian asked. “Though I know the answer.”
William could hear pages turning around him, a roomful of poised pens and eyes staring straight ahead.
“I believe eight victims were found though I'd hazard a guess there were a few that remained unnoticed, but just who were they?” Sebastian said with a wicked smirk; that same dung-eating smirk he wore after killing Cassius. “Priests, friars, vicars, pastors, and a few rabbis thrown in for good measure. It was that one Brahman that first drew our attention, our Indian friends were none too pleased about that.”
Mrs. Cornwall’s quiet voice started to whimper. Cassius reassured her he would not let her come to harm.
“All who supposedly died of accidents or illnesses though too many to be a coincidence,” Ciel said. “You got sloppy; you left a trail of churches you attended in the past year. Then there were those last two hanging from the ceiling over their altars. That bloody dress is still in the laundry room downstairs."
“Though as we well know it wasn't the woman who got sloppy, nor was she capable of that last display,” Sebastian said.
She started to cackle, her laughs catching on her wheezing.
“Naturally, and you hoped we would overlook the murderer if it were simply a dying old woman,” Ciel said. “The benefits of having the Devil by my side.”
“A devil we shall destroy, my child,” Cassius whispered to Mrs. Cornwall. “Him and that scavenger of souls who has yet to show his horrible self.”
“‘For so my righteous path against the blasphemers has been thwarted by mine own kind, I shall declare my own path,’” Sebastian said. “‘The truly righteous shall become part of me and we shall gather as a rock to smash those false prophets of the Almighty.’”
The reapers around William were scribbling notes furiously, William joined in on his own notepad. It was the exact same story the devil had told him, perhaps Sebastian Michaelis bragged though truths.
“How long has it been since that promise was made to a cruel God?“ Sebastian said, taking a few steps closer. “‘The Prophecy of Cassius,’ the promise of a fallen angel; one who murdered human holy leaders under the presumption no human could ever understand God's true message. Cassius expected the rest of the Choir would rally toward the cause, instead it resulted in being banished from Heaven and cursed to walk the earth in an immaterial form. You have been trying to regain power, I presume even your superiors didn't think you capable of eating souls.”
William swore her heard gasps of wonderment from the archivists. They had just stumbled across a major piece of angelic lore and watched it played out before them. It would be wise for them to contain much of their giddiness; such lore nearly came at the price of a reaper’s life.
“Matilda, my child, I do not believe you can withstand any more,” Cassius said to her.
Her quiet voice was barely audible, but the word “Thanks” was clear.
“Go to sleep, my child, and you shall witness the spoils when you awaken.”
The reel went black for several frames. William stared at it closely for any shadows, though it merely looked as though she lost all consciousness. Several frames later, the large letters “End” appeared on a frame and the reel stopped. The lights in the room rose and the head librarian Thomas Andrews came out to collect the reel from the projector. Everyone looked at each other in a still silence for a moment.
“It appears the angel sealed off the rest of her consciousness and took over,” said Councilor Eddols. “How much of what we saw is in her written record?”
“I swear to whatever is divine, sir, there was no mention whatsoever of any angels or angelic involvement in the initial record as the assignment sheet was prepared,” David Garland, the Head Assignment Manager, said.
Garland rose from his seat and placed a piece of paper on the flat-top projector, it was the exact assignment sheet that appeared on the death list. William flipped to his copy of the sheet and followed as Garland read the basic narrative as shown:
“On the 15 of March, 1890, Matilda Cornwall will be in her bed wracked with her illness. Around 11 a.m., she will be confronted by in her room by Ciel Phantomhive accompanied by his demonic servitor known by the name of ‘Sebastian Michaelis.’ After exchanging words, Matilda Cornwall will die at 11:22 a.m. of massive organ trauma and blood loss.”
Future narratives tended to be vague in the case of murder. Accidents, suicides, and natural causes had a clear source, though there was a natural block in the records from naming a specific person as someone’s would-be murderer. It was assumed this was because a person’s specific actions are hard to predict, or a block was programmed in to prevent a reaper from trying to stop the murderer. The narrative only said the person would die under foul play but not whose foul play. After the person was murdered, the name of the murderer would be recorded.
“Her completed record tells the rest of the story,” Andrews said.
He took out her written record and placed it on the projector. The end of the narrative bore blocks of red text; the sign information had been suddenly added to the original record. All of the red text was the details about the angel, all of the black text was everything mundane. All text added by way of the managerial pen was pink for a reason; red meant the data entered itself. Red text was almost always the result of an angel’s edits to a Cinematic Record that for some reason did not hold; usually this was caused by the death of the angel.
A collective of gasps and whispers went through the room.
“We had no way of knowing an angel would become involved in this case,” Councilor Eddols said with a sigh. “Though Mr. Sutcliff intervened before the changes became permanent. Is anyone familiar with the name Cassius?”
His sights went on the two head archivists for the Library of Extraplanar Entities and Occurrences. Their primary focus was angels, demons, fae, and the like though they took upon themselves research of other oddities such as vampires, werewolves, extraterrestrials, and the like except for ghosts. Ghosts were handled by the Division of Lingering Souls (less kindly known as “Alumni Relations”), which acted more as a social services office for voluntary ghosts and requested dispatchers for souls that had yet to be collected.
The more common name for the Library of Extraplanar Entities and Occurrences was “Special Projects,” the less kind name was “The Freakshow.” The work of Special Projects was of the utmost importance, though exposing oneself to the less desirable members of the planes made one a little eccentric. Then again most reapers would admit their own arrogance toward other beings.
“The name is obscure in all forms of literature we have gone through since Mr. Spears brought back the name,” said Bernard Kittredge, the Chief Archivist. “However it has popped up from time to time, almost always in connection with a rash of murders of clerics. It appears Cassius picks his chosen ones every ten to twenty years. Angels naturally do not eat souls the same as demons, though the act of absorbing a soul is such a powerful one that it appears an angel will stay sustained on the power for longer periods of time. It is perhaps comparable to a drunkard needing more alcohol to stay drunk for a longer time whereas an otherwise temperate man who drinks would remain drunk for hours.”
“I will say there have been similar stories in other offices across Europe of a person, usually a woman, whose soul is to be collected after she murdered several clerics, only when the reaping occurs there is no soul or Cinematic Record to be found,” another archivist named Charles Rollins said. “These instances have been so rare and so scattered over the past hundreds of years that no one noticed any patterns. The nature of the crimes and the loss of a soul were, in all cases, attributed to demonic involvement.”
“The offices in Paris, Berlin, Florence, and Madrid all had similar stories dating back to the 1300s,” Kittredge said. “There has only been one other occurrence in the United Kingdom in Canterbury during the reign of William and Mary. Five ministers and a bishop all fell to a mysterious series of misfortunes. At the time it was believed to be a plot against the church given an ongoing sentiment that England should return to Catholicism. The Archbishop was put under heavy protection for a period under the supposition that the murders would lead to him. The deaths suddenly stopped with the death of a local washer woman under similar circumstances.”
“And now we have the Cinematic Record of a woman whose soul was saved,” Councilor Eddols said. “I believe that alone earns Mr. Sutcliff a strong commendation; from Mr. Spears’ information he saved her soul from both the malicious angel possessing her and the demon lying in wait. However, I do want to see how this story ended. I believe examining Earl Phantomhive’s record is more than appropriate.”
“Already prepared,” Andrews said, walking forward with another volume in his hand.
The book was clearly labeled as the continuing record for Ciel Phantomhive.
“Start with the beginning of the investigation on Matilda Cornwall, Mr. Andrews,” Councilor Eddols said.
Andrews ran his finger down the year tabs then flipped the pages for the past few weeks, laying it down on the projector. Practically all the reapers opened blank pages and filled their respective pens.
The first page told of the earl’s knowledge of the murders from what he had read in the newspapers, seeing a continuing trend of priests dying under mysterious circumstances. Two weeks ago he observed his housemates Soma Asman Kadar and his servant Agni in the midst of weeping and prayer. When inquiring (a bit abruptly), the two told him a Brahman was found murdered in his apartment in the East End; the killing done in such a way to desecrate a sacred statue of Vishnu. It was then when Ciel began to see the pattern.
Andrews kept a finger poised on the pages, flipping the page when enough reapers gave him the signal to do so.
Ciel and the demon began a preliminary investigation anticipating word from the queen. Sure enough the queen’s letter came a day later; Victoria was disturbed by these crimes against men of God and wanted her watchdog to do something about it. It was not an easy investigation. There was no pattern of victims and all the killings seemed random. Just when he thought he had a lead on one pattern, he would learn of a previous death that was considered an accident or an illness at first that would throw off his reasoning. The fact Sebastian had to stay at least five meters away from a holy building was not helping the investigation at all.
Ciel found the one piece of evidence that gave them a toehold; the name Matilda Cornwall in two different prayer request books. After finding her name in a third book, he made a sizeable donation to that church. While he was passing the check to the vicar over tea, he inquired about Matilda Cornwall. She was a lovely older lady, the vicar said, alas she was dying of cancer and wanted to make peace with God. He gave him a full physical description. Ciel said he wanted to support the most downtrodden of parishioners while filing the information away for future use.
The investigation went undercover, he located Matilda Cornwall and had Sebastian tail her when he could. She seemed to stay in her home mostly, though occasionally ventured out. She displayed a pep in her step sometimes that a woman in her condition should not have. Sebastian told Ciel one night that something did not feel right about that woman; she did not have a typical human smell. No, she herself was human but something just felt amiss.
She would be observed going to a church in Kensington, the next day their priest turned up stabbed to death. Sebastian reported a few days later that he found her skulking around a Jewish orphanage in the East End. The next morning Scotland Yard reported the murder of a rabbi. They had their culprit. One grisly murder in a Catholic church in Clapham, however, threatened to topple their pattern; the priest was found hanging from his cross high on the wall. It was then when Sebastian first mentioned Cassius; saying this all sounded too familiar.
Matilda Cornwall was a sitting duck for them now. They made the agreement to confront her alone in her house; that way Sebastian could take care of the angel and Ciel could clean up the rest of the pieces as they landed. The perfect day to spring the trap was the 15 of March. Getting into the house was hardly difficult, though Sebastian advised caution. Cassius seemed much stronger now, this could get ugly. Naturally he said this with a smile. They entered a laundry room and found a dress hanging up covered in blood. This simply sealed the matter. Ciel walked right into her room and confronted her. The rest was the same exchange observed in Mrs. Cornwall’s completed record, though this time with Ciel’s observations.
After the statement of “Weak flesh made pure by the Almighty,” Ciel took a look back to see his butler standing aside at the ready. There was another form beside him that caught his attention; unmistakable red hair and his aunt’s red jacket, a nasty-looking scythe poised in his hand. William could just picture Grell leaning against “Bassie” and waiting for his time to play. The thought soured his stomach even more.
Ciel had gotten used to seeing Grell Sutcliff and not look on him with absolute contempt, the narrative said. This time, however, he knew the end of this adventure would be soon. At the very least he had another immortal present to contain the angel. Ciel smiled and threw a subtle nod to Grell, who gave a light wave. The confrontation continued with Sebastian stepping out further for his revelation. The narrative said that Grell remained out of sight.
“You have been trying to regain power,” Sebastian said. “I presume even your superiors didn't think you capable of eating souls.”
Mrs. Cornwall’s narrative ended here, Earl Phantomhive’s narrative continued. She sat straight up in bed, her eyes taking on a purple glow and one trickle of blood ran from her nose. Cassius must have taken over from here.
“Eat souls?" she said, Ciel observed the sudden, inhuman echo in her voice. “Only demons eat souls. Demons devour them, destroy them; I give them a new purpose. These souls live in a paradise I created for them, they are free of their dying bodies. They willingly gave themselves to me as a noble offering knowing that I would grow stronger to work toward the cleansing of humanity.”
More pens scribbled around the room.
“You absorb souls to gain sustenance, you're no better than my kind," Sebastian said with a chuckle. “No, you are much worse, you are a deluded weakling. Do you want to know how I learned of your story? Because it has made the rounds among demons for the past several hundred years as a farce, as a running joke; to demons you are a laughingstock.”
Hence “Cassius the Laughingstock;” the demon apparently had much to brag about.
Blood gushed from the woman's nose and her head bowed for a moment, only to snap back up and glare at Sebastian. She slowly sat up further in the bed looking much more limber than she was before. She held out her hand and a beam of light projected from it, taking the form of a white sword.
“Naturally as your host dies you grow stronger,” Sebastian said. “However a millennium of walking the earth makes one weak. You do realize you're outmatched, Cassius. You've bit off more than you can chew.”
“I am much stronger than you or that scavenger of death that stands behind you,” Cassius said through Mrs. Cornwall.
Ciel saw the woman rose in the air, body glowing, eyes pure white; raising the sword in hand. Matilda Cornwall was safely tucked away during all of this; Cassius was either absorbing her or protecting her from the ensuing mayhem.
“I shall bring the heads of Death and the Devil to the gates of Paradise,” the angel said.
“Oh come on with it, Bassie, can we start playing now?” Grell called from the side.
A melee ensued between the three. Ciel ducked into a large, walk-in closet to avoid the flurry of blows from three powerful inhuman creatures and kept an eye on the action through a crack in the door. Cassius was putting up a good fight, though Ciel was annoyed at how Grell and Sebastian seemed to be going about this like a sport. So typical of these two. It took him but a moment to realize the perfect way to end this. Sebastian mentioned Cassius will fuse a human’s soul at the right moment. What would happen if that moment was interrupted.
Ciel counted down exactly three minutes until he intervened. The 180 second count was done, Cassius had taken some nasty blows but this was far from done. Ciel leapt from his perch, firing at will into the woman’s body until he emptied the clip. Matilda Cornwall toppled like a tree and lay on the floor, her body glowing and shaking violently. His theory was proven correct.
“You mentioned something about ‘fusing with the soul at the right moment’ Sebastian?” Ciel said, his smoking gun still poised in his hand. “That moment has been interrupted.”
The body twitched, white mist pouring from her mouth and from the holes.
“Now stop playing and end this!” Ciel shouted.
Grell powered his scythe and cut a deep gash across the woman’s chest. William saw a few grimaces from the corner of his eye and knew what was going through everyone‘s heads; did he need to be that messy? Ciel assumed Grell and Sebastian were observing her Cinematic Record by the way they stared above her intently. White mist poured from her body and collected into a large, humanoid form; the exact same way Cassius appeared before Mrs. Cornwall originally. Ciel knew they weren’t done with the angel though it had to have been weakened. Grell then marked his book while keeping an eye on these developments, the book then immaterialized and he raised his scythe; his pointed teeth exposed in a lewd grin.
“Now this gets serious,” Sebastian said.
Ciel resisted the urge to groan; he was tempted to tell them both to get it over with, though he did not want to gain the angel’s attention. Instead he returned to the open closet as the melee ensued, readying himself to find a way to go out the window unobserved and let the two supernaturals take care of this. Cassius was putting up more of a fight this time, though William knew he would ultimately unleash his last weapon. William couldn’t help the sweat building on his palms; he knew what he would be reading soon.
The angel threw Sebastian across the room through a window. Ciel saw his hands gripping the broken window, his gloves bloody from the broken glass though he tried to find a grip. The misshapen mass that had been the angel’s head suddenly materialized into a fair face with flowing white hair. Ciel saw it open a misty maw, a loud, unsettling hum filled the room. Nearly all the scratching pens around William ceased.
Ciel felt a strong grip around his body and felt himself suddenly lifted up against his aunt’s coat. He glared daggers at Grell and flailed against his grip, though he was powerless against the sheer force. Grell glanced at him for a moment and ran across the room. The hum grew louder to the point where Ciel felt as if his eardrums would rupture. Grell kicked in the window, glass flew everywhere.
He felt Grell throw him forward and out the window. He fell helplessly; a small instinct told him he was going to die. Grell Sutcliff took advantage of the chaos to kill him at last. Suddenly he felt another strong grip around his body and he realized he was flying upward. Ciel saw Sebastian’s coat in his peripheral vision; Sebastian did his duty and saved him.
The windows exploded and a strong force knocked against him, though Sebastian kept his grip as they flew through the air. Grell was now falling backwards from the window and plummeting downward, making no effort to land or steady himself. He just fell like a tossed rag doll; Ciel looked through the falling glass and saw a blank expression on his face. Ciel immediately knew something was greatly amiss.
He yelled Sebastian’s name, Sebastian reached a hand down and grabbed Grell’s hand. The three dipped down in the air for a moment before Sebastian steadied himself. Grell dropped from Sebastian’s grip, though this time he fell in a strategic stance like a cat. He landed on top of a low-hanging ease and scrambled to his knees, dropping his death scythe next to him. Grell then steadied himself on his hands and knees and vomited over the side of the roof, Ciel noticed him shaking.
Ciel looked up and saw Sebastian’s form turning to black shadows sweeping a trail of black feathers; he was entering his true form. Sebastian gently placed Ciel on the roof, his form now a large cloud of inky shadows with the form of a man in high-heeled black boots and long claws in the center. Sebastian swept into the building to take care of Cassius. Ciel looked back down at Grell to see him slowly come to his shaking legs. He was pale and it looked as if he was grimacing in pain.
Ciel was trying to wrap his head around everything that happened, though he made a few connections. Grell threw him out the window just before the room exploded. Now Grell looked to be in some form of distress; what could do that to a reaper, what would the same force have done to him?
William’s pen froze in his hand. He couldn’t be reading what he thought he was.
Grell glanced at him with a weak smile. Ciel could only say his name: partially to get his attention, partially to ask for answers, partially to make sense in his own mind what this man had done. Grell managed to leap upward, his form flickering for a moment before it was gone. Ciel stood and stared at the empty space where the reaper had been. Dead reapers did leave behind a body, he had seen them die before. Grell must have returned to his own realm, though what would become of him when he returned?
He was left alone on the roof, looking into the room where he had once been and seeing only inky shadows. Occasionally there was a flash of white light, sometimes he heard a screeching moan. Their angel problem was being fixed. Ciel regained more of his senses and took a seat on the window gable waiting for Sebastian to be finished. After a bit of time, Ciel suddenly saw William T. Spears leap on the roof next to him followed by two other men in suits carrying what must have been death scythes.
“This is where we entered the scene,” William said, adjusting his glasses and trying to find more of his voice.
“Shall I continue further,” Andrews said.
The reapers looked down at their notes, a few exchanging some whispers. William shook his head, followed by most of the others.
“I have seen all that I need to for now,” Councilor Eddols said. “We have Mr. Spears’ report from this point forward and both records match up. I believe Mr. Sutcliff is due a few more commendations from what we have seen, though we will need some further discussions to decide what those are. Mr. Spears, what was the last update you received on Mr. Sutcliff’s condition?”
“According to the report from Dr. Sutherland around 7 o’clock, his condition is serious but stable,” William said. “He remains unconscious, his motor functions and reactions remain promising, though there has been little further improvement in this short time. I was told this is expected.”
“I will be having a conversation with Dr. Sutherland regarding his on heroic part in this,” Councilor Eddols said. “As for you, Mr. Spears, what do you make of Mr. Sutcliff’s actions before the angel’s attack?”
“I will be honest with you, I do not know what to make of them at the moment,” William said. “Mr. Sutcliff, as we know, it unpredictable enough. It is a decision that I shall have to come to once I have processed what I have just seen.”
“An understandable sentiment,” the Councilor said with a nod. “I believe a break is in order for all of us. I say we adjourn for this morning, I will be contacting each of you for your further assistance as we require it.”
William nodded and picked up his papers. He was indeed going to need a long time to make sense what he had just seen.
Chapter: 5
Series: Kuroshitsuji
Summary: William searches for answers after a mysterious attack leaves Grell's life hanging by a thread, though he finds himself dealing with some long-buried emotions about his old friend.
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: William, Grell, Ciel, and Sebastian with references to Soma and Agni.
Word Count: 6,004
Warnings: Descriptions of past tense murders and illnesses, descriptions of the desecration of holy objects(if anyone is sensitive to that).
Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji and recognizable characters belong to Yana Toboso.
This Immortal Coil
Part 5: Let the record show
16 March, 1890
Reaper Dispatch Offices - London
8:26 a.m.
It took around sixty to ninety seconds in real time for a reaper to view a full Cinematic Record, naturally that depended on the age of the client and the amount of detail in each narrative. In that sixty to ninety seconds, the reaper saw every frame of the narrative down to the last detail; they viewed every memory as perceived by their client.
A projected replay of a collected record was only done in the rarest of instances and only in the case of a reaping with significant incident. The viewing would take longer in real time as a natural rule, though the exact length depended on how the projector had been set up. Sometimes it was decided that only a specific reel related to the client’s death would be shown for the investigating team, though in the case of Matilda Cornwall the entire collected record was played.
William estimated that it had been about ten minutes and the record was halfway through the original printed narrative, up to the point of her marriage to her husband. So far the record reflected her upbringing in a wealthy family. Her father was a longstanding member of Parliament and her mother was a socialite. She was raised in a loving household, though the regular references to her strict religious upbringing raised flags for William.
He could hear the other managers around him scribbling down notes and hastily turning a few pages. There were around ten reapers in total in the room sitting at two different conference tables. All of them were management level and all from different executive departments: Assignments, Archives, Safety and Security, Internal Affairs, etc. William could see the mid-length, stark white hair of the one Council representative, Melvyn Eddols to be exact, sitting in the front.
Matilda Cornwall married her husband Nathaniel, a prosperous businessman, and they raised four children. Both of them were active in social circles, though Mrs. Cornwall was even more active as a laywoman in her church. She raised her children with a similar reverence for God. Then her husband suddenly died of a heart attack, his death emotionally wrecked her, but her grown children and her faith gave her strength and support. Five years after her husband’s death, her son was shot by a robber and died on the street. A few months later her daughter was diagnosed with consumption and died after spending nearly a year in a tuberculosis hospital.
The day after her funeral, Matilda rounded up all of the Bibles and crosses in her house and burned them in a woodstove. She screamed curses at God and wept violently while watching them burn. William could hear the furious scribbling around him and see all heads turned upward. She had the motive for killing those priests, though such a display of symbolic blasphemy tended to attract attention. William waited for the sudden appearance of an angel or even a demon wishing to form a contract, though only saw her isolate herself from the world. Maybe the angel already contacted her, but removed itself from her Cinematic Record. William paid closer attention.
Mrs. Cornwall practically lived as a shut-in for years, there was still no mention of an angel or anyone calling her to do “God’s work” by killing priests. She wasn’t doing anything but walking around her house, though the initial record had full descriptions of the priests’ deaths. About a year ago, she grew more and more ill, barely leaving her bed and barely eating. She developed severe nosebleeds to the point where she called in a doctor. After weeks of grueling tests, she was diagnosed with advanced leukemia and told she had but a few months to live.
For the first time since cursing God after her daughter’s death, she went on her knees before her bed and prayed. That was when a white mist enveloped her room and assembled into a human form before her. Pens scratched furiously around William. She cried to the angel for God’s forgiveness, the angel put a misty hand on her head.
“Have no fear, my child,” the thing said. “You have known struggles and you have been tested and I am delighted with what I see. You, Matilda, are my chosen one. Carry out my wishes and you will be rewarded.”
“What are your wishes, my Lord,” she said.
“Sacrifice the impure and I will give you a personal audience with God.”
William looked to the side and exchanged some concerned glances with a few of his colleagues. The mist slowly merged into Mrs. Cornwall’s body, she said in the narrative she felt well again; infused by the Grace of God. Her first victim was her old minister; she worked with him for years at her church. The reverend greeted her warmly and took her back into his office for tea and to counsel her. As soon as they were up the stairs, she pushed him down. He fell on his head and died instantly and she fled. She said she felt guilty for a moment, but her angel told her this man was a monster who deserved to die.
The angel gave her the strength to enter more churches and meet with more priests. Her narrative voice took on an unearthly tone that put a chill through William’s form. It started out as a few accidents; more pushes down stairs, pushes out windows. She would put arsenic in their drinks and they would died in a matter of days.
The carnage only grew; more priests and ghastlier murders. Vicars stabbed in their vestment closets, a rabbi cut down in the hallway of a Jewish orphanage, an old Irish priest strewn up on his cross, a Brahman draped around a statue of Vishnu; so much bloodshed, so many forms of blasphemy. William could even see some headshakes around him. Soon her voice was not her own, the narrative was now being told by someone else with a fair voice between male and female; the voice of an angel. The angel reveled in the carnage, cursing out each of the victims.
The demon’s words were proving accurate thus far; Cassius the fallen angel who takes an immaterial form and possesses the bodies of ill people. He then makes them kill priests, the crime that resulted in his expulsion from Heaven. Perhaps the demon had little reason to lie to him; the truth was the best delivery method for bragging, though bragging was often the result of embellishments.
At last she had a brief encounter with Earl Phantomhive in a form of polite conversation, though Cassius immediately recognized the “unclean spawn of Hell” standing behind him. Cassius and his host knew a battle was imminent.
At last the 15 of March came, Mrs. Cornwall’s condition was gradually worsening. She was up all night with fits of coughing, her body wracked with excruciating pain.
“I promise you, dearest Matilda, I shall deliver you to Paradise soon,” the narrative said in the angel’s voice. “We will have to vanquish one more foe; the demon will be here today and we shall destroy anyone who dares to join him.”
Mrs. Cornwall was bedridden, growing weaker though her pain was subsiding. Cassius then warned of a demonic presence in the house joined by a tainted human, warnings that grew more incessant the closer demon and master got to the room. At last the door swung open, Earl Phantomhive entered with his dog behind him. The confrontation began; the earl was up front with his accusations. Mrs. Cornwall sat up in bed, emitting a chilling laugh.
“The Judgment is upon us,” she screamed. “And I have been the herald for the doomsday. The false prophets have been warned.”
“Was that your intention?” the earl said with a huff. “Though simple cold murder sounds about more accurate to me.”
“You would know more about sin and damnation, you weak human who sells your soul to the Devil for power,” she yelled, though this sounded more like Cassius’ opinions on the matter. “I can grant you salvation; order your hellspawn to come to me and be subject to my judgment. All I ask for is the demon and salvation can be yours at last.”
Earl Phantomhive let out a sharp cackle that should never come from a boy his age.
“Salvation? Don't make me laugh,” he said, drawing a gun on her. “I am beyond saving and the same will be true of you too.”
Cassius warned Mrs. Cornwall that another presence had entered the room; the presence of death incarnate. A reaper “awash in wickedness and sin” had some to claim her precious soul. William’s stomach turned; a tiny, weak voice in the back of his mind begged Grell to run. It was a ridiculous thought, though William allowed himself a smaller measure of the unease. It was only natural to feel this before knowing one would be watching his colleague seriously hurt.
This word seemed to shake Mrs. Cornwall. She sat up in bed and more blood gushed from her nose. She grabbed a handkerchief and held it to her nose, glaring at the two in front of her and trying to see the third presence.
“My body may be weak, but I will be whole with God soon,” she said. “The spirit lives within me and shall embrace me in the end.”
“The spirit that called you to murder those people?” Ciel said, keeping his gun aimed. “Don't continue this act with me, Matilda Cornwall. I saw what you did to your last two victims; you were hardly weak when you mounted them on those walls.”
She let out a fit of coughing, her gasps and wheezes pierced through the room.
“The blasphemers shall be sacrificed upon their altars, their blood purifying the corruption wrought upon God,” she gasped out.
Her words mixed with Cassius’ narrative. She was a puppet for him now though maintained some weak consciousness.
“I am cleared of my own sins, thus promised the pure one,” she said amidst more wheezing. “The weak flesh shall be purified and made whole by the Almighty.”
The demon stepped forward from the shadows; Cassius let out a sharp hiss.
“Might I inquire who this ‘pure one’ is?” Sebastian asked. “Though I know the answer.”
William could hear pages turning around him, a roomful of poised pens and eyes staring straight ahead.
“I believe eight victims were found though I'd hazard a guess there were a few that remained unnoticed, but just who were they?” Sebastian said with a wicked smirk; that same dung-eating smirk he wore after killing Cassius. “Priests, friars, vicars, pastors, and a few rabbis thrown in for good measure. It was that one Brahman that first drew our attention, our Indian friends were none too pleased about that.”
Mrs. Cornwall’s quiet voice started to whimper. Cassius reassured her he would not let her come to harm.
“All who supposedly died of accidents or illnesses though too many to be a coincidence,” Ciel said. “You got sloppy; you left a trail of churches you attended in the past year. Then there were those last two hanging from the ceiling over their altars. That bloody dress is still in the laundry room downstairs."
“Though as we well know it wasn't the woman who got sloppy, nor was she capable of that last display,” Sebastian said.
She started to cackle, her laughs catching on her wheezing.
“Naturally, and you hoped we would overlook the murderer if it were simply a dying old woman,” Ciel said. “The benefits of having the Devil by my side.”
“A devil we shall destroy, my child,” Cassius whispered to Mrs. Cornwall. “Him and that scavenger of souls who has yet to show his horrible self.”
“‘For so my righteous path against the blasphemers has been thwarted by mine own kind, I shall declare my own path,’” Sebastian said. “‘The truly righteous shall become part of me and we shall gather as a rock to smash those false prophets of the Almighty.’”
The reapers around William were scribbling notes furiously, William joined in on his own notepad. It was the exact same story the devil had told him, perhaps Sebastian Michaelis bragged though truths.
“How long has it been since that promise was made to a cruel God?“ Sebastian said, taking a few steps closer. “‘The Prophecy of Cassius,’ the promise of a fallen angel; one who murdered human holy leaders under the presumption no human could ever understand God's true message. Cassius expected the rest of the Choir would rally toward the cause, instead it resulted in being banished from Heaven and cursed to walk the earth in an immaterial form. You have been trying to regain power, I presume even your superiors didn't think you capable of eating souls.”
William swore her heard gasps of wonderment from the archivists. They had just stumbled across a major piece of angelic lore and watched it played out before them. It would be wise for them to contain much of their giddiness; such lore nearly came at the price of a reaper’s life.
“Matilda, my child, I do not believe you can withstand any more,” Cassius said to her.
Her quiet voice was barely audible, but the word “Thanks” was clear.
“Go to sleep, my child, and you shall witness the spoils when you awaken.”
The reel went black for several frames. William stared at it closely for any shadows, though it merely looked as though she lost all consciousness. Several frames later, the large letters “End” appeared on a frame and the reel stopped. The lights in the room rose and the head librarian Thomas Andrews came out to collect the reel from the projector. Everyone looked at each other in a still silence for a moment.
“It appears the angel sealed off the rest of her consciousness and took over,” said Councilor Eddols. “How much of what we saw is in her written record?”
“I swear to whatever is divine, sir, there was no mention whatsoever of any angels or angelic involvement in the initial record as the assignment sheet was prepared,” David Garland, the Head Assignment Manager, said.
Garland rose from his seat and placed a piece of paper on the flat-top projector, it was the exact assignment sheet that appeared on the death list. William flipped to his copy of the sheet and followed as Garland read the basic narrative as shown:
“On the 15 of March, 1890, Matilda Cornwall will be in her bed wracked with her illness. Around 11 a.m., she will be confronted by in her room by Ciel Phantomhive accompanied by his demonic servitor known by the name of ‘Sebastian Michaelis.’ After exchanging words, Matilda Cornwall will die at 11:22 a.m. of massive organ trauma and blood loss.”
Future narratives tended to be vague in the case of murder. Accidents, suicides, and natural causes had a clear source, though there was a natural block in the records from naming a specific person as someone’s would-be murderer. It was assumed this was because a person’s specific actions are hard to predict, or a block was programmed in to prevent a reaper from trying to stop the murderer. The narrative only said the person would die under foul play but not whose foul play. After the person was murdered, the name of the murderer would be recorded.
“Her completed record tells the rest of the story,” Andrews said.
He took out her written record and placed it on the projector. The end of the narrative bore blocks of red text; the sign information had been suddenly added to the original record. All of the red text was the details about the angel, all of the black text was everything mundane. All text added by way of the managerial pen was pink for a reason; red meant the data entered itself. Red text was almost always the result of an angel’s edits to a Cinematic Record that for some reason did not hold; usually this was caused by the death of the angel.
A collective of gasps and whispers went through the room.
“We had no way of knowing an angel would become involved in this case,” Councilor Eddols said with a sigh. “Though Mr. Sutcliff intervened before the changes became permanent. Is anyone familiar with the name Cassius?”
His sights went on the two head archivists for the Library of Extraplanar Entities and Occurrences. Their primary focus was angels, demons, fae, and the like though they took upon themselves research of other oddities such as vampires, werewolves, extraterrestrials, and the like except for ghosts. Ghosts were handled by the Division of Lingering Souls (less kindly known as “Alumni Relations”), which acted more as a social services office for voluntary ghosts and requested dispatchers for souls that had yet to be collected.
The more common name for the Library of Extraplanar Entities and Occurrences was “Special Projects,” the less kind name was “The Freakshow.” The work of Special Projects was of the utmost importance, though exposing oneself to the less desirable members of the planes made one a little eccentric. Then again most reapers would admit their own arrogance toward other beings.
“The name is obscure in all forms of literature we have gone through since Mr. Spears brought back the name,” said Bernard Kittredge, the Chief Archivist. “However it has popped up from time to time, almost always in connection with a rash of murders of clerics. It appears Cassius picks his chosen ones every ten to twenty years. Angels naturally do not eat souls the same as demons, though the act of absorbing a soul is such a powerful one that it appears an angel will stay sustained on the power for longer periods of time. It is perhaps comparable to a drunkard needing more alcohol to stay drunk for a longer time whereas an otherwise temperate man who drinks would remain drunk for hours.”
“I will say there have been similar stories in other offices across Europe of a person, usually a woman, whose soul is to be collected after she murdered several clerics, only when the reaping occurs there is no soul or Cinematic Record to be found,” another archivist named Charles Rollins said. “These instances have been so rare and so scattered over the past hundreds of years that no one noticed any patterns. The nature of the crimes and the loss of a soul were, in all cases, attributed to demonic involvement.”
“The offices in Paris, Berlin, Florence, and Madrid all had similar stories dating back to the 1300s,” Kittredge said. “There has only been one other occurrence in the United Kingdom in Canterbury during the reign of William and Mary. Five ministers and a bishop all fell to a mysterious series of misfortunes. At the time it was believed to be a plot against the church given an ongoing sentiment that England should return to Catholicism. The Archbishop was put under heavy protection for a period under the supposition that the murders would lead to him. The deaths suddenly stopped with the death of a local washer woman under similar circumstances.”
“And now we have the Cinematic Record of a woman whose soul was saved,” Councilor Eddols said. “I believe that alone earns Mr. Sutcliff a strong commendation; from Mr. Spears’ information he saved her soul from both the malicious angel possessing her and the demon lying in wait. However, I do want to see how this story ended. I believe examining Earl Phantomhive’s record is more than appropriate.”
“Already prepared,” Andrews said, walking forward with another volume in his hand.
The book was clearly labeled as the continuing record for Ciel Phantomhive.
“Start with the beginning of the investigation on Matilda Cornwall, Mr. Andrews,” Councilor Eddols said.
Andrews ran his finger down the year tabs then flipped the pages for the past few weeks, laying it down on the projector. Practically all the reapers opened blank pages and filled their respective pens.
The first page told of the earl’s knowledge of the murders from what he had read in the newspapers, seeing a continuing trend of priests dying under mysterious circumstances. Two weeks ago he observed his housemates Soma Asman Kadar and his servant Agni in the midst of weeping and prayer. When inquiring (a bit abruptly), the two told him a Brahman was found murdered in his apartment in the East End; the killing done in such a way to desecrate a sacred statue of Vishnu. It was then when Ciel began to see the pattern.
Andrews kept a finger poised on the pages, flipping the page when enough reapers gave him the signal to do so.
Ciel and the demon began a preliminary investigation anticipating word from the queen. Sure enough the queen’s letter came a day later; Victoria was disturbed by these crimes against men of God and wanted her watchdog to do something about it. It was not an easy investigation. There was no pattern of victims and all the killings seemed random. Just when he thought he had a lead on one pattern, he would learn of a previous death that was considered an accident or an illness at first that would throw off his reasoning. The fact Sebastian had to stay at least five meters away from a holy building was not helping the investigation at all.
Ciel found the one piece of evidence that gave them a toehold; the name Matilda Cornwall in two different prayer request books. After finding her name in a third book, he made a sizeable donation to that church. While he was passing the check to the vicar over tea, he inquired about Matilda Cornwall. She was a lovely older lady, the vicar said, alas she was dying of cancer and wanted to make peace with God. He gave him a full physical description. Ciel said he wanted to support the most downtrodden of parishioners while filing the information away for future use.
The investigation went undercover, he located Matilda Cornwall and had Sebastian tail her when he could. She seemed to stay in her home mostly, though occasionally ventured out. She displayed a pep in her step sometimes that a woman in her condition should not have. Sebastian told Ciel one night that something did not feel right about that woman; she did not have a typical human smell. No, she herself was human but something just felt amiss.
She would be observed going to a church in Kensington, the next day their priest turned up stabbed to death. Sebastian reported a few days later that he found her skulking around a Jewish orphanage in the East End. The next morning Scotland Yard reported the murder of a rabbi. They had their culprit. One grisly murder in a Catholic church in Clapham, however, threatened to topple their pattern; the priest was found hanging from his cross high on the wall. It was then when Sebastian first mentioned Cassius; saying this all sounded too familiar.
Matilda Cornwall was a sitting duck for them now. They made the agreement to confront her alone in her house; that way Sebastian could take care of the angel and Ciel could clean up the rest of the pieces as they landed. The perfect day to spring the trap was the 15 of March. Getting into the house was hardly difficult, though Sebastian advised caution. Cassius seemed much stronger now, this could get ugly. Naturally he said this with a smile. They entered a laundry room and found a dress hanging up covered in blood. This simply sealed the matter. Ciel walked right into her room and confronted her. The rest was the same exchange observed in Mrs. Cornwall’s completed record, though this time with Ciel’s observations.
After the statement of “Weak flesh made pure by the Almighty,” Ciel took a look back to see his butler standing aside at the ready. There was another form beside him that caught his attention; unmistakable red hair and his aunt’s red jacket, a nasty-looking scythe poised in his hand. William could just picture Grell leaning against “Bassie” and waiting for his time to play. The thought soured his stomach even more.
Ciel had gotten used to seeing Grell Sutcliff and not look on him with absolute contempt, the narrative said. This time, however, he knew the end of this adventure would be soon. At the very least he had another immortal present to contain the angel. Ciel smiled and threw a subtle nod to Grell, who gave a light wave. The confrontation continued with Sebastian stepping out further for his revelation. The narrative said that Grell remained out of sight.
“You have been trying to regain power,” Sebastian said. “I presume even your superiors didn't think you capable of eating souls.”
Mrs. Cornwall’s narrative ended here, Earl Phantomhive’s narrative continued. She sat straight up in bed, her eyes taking on a purple glow and one trickle of blood ran from her nose. Cassius must have taken over from here.
“Eat souls?" she said, Ciel observed the sudden, inhuman echo in her voice. “Only demons eat souls. Demons devour them, destroy them; I give them a new purpose. These souls live in a paradise I created for them, they are free of their dying bodies. They willingly gave themselves to me as a noble offering knowing that I would grow stronger to work toward the cleansing of humanity.”
More pens scribbled around the room.
“You absorb souls to gain sustenance, you're no better than my kind," Sebastian said with a chuckle. “No, you are much worse, you are a deluded weakling. Do you want to know how I learned of your story? Because it has made the rounds among demons for the past several hundred years as a farce, as a running joke; to demons you are a laughingstock.”
Hence “Cassius the Laughingstock;” the demon apparently had much to brag about.
Blood gushed from the woman's nose and her head bowed for a moment, only to snap back up and glare at Sebastian. She slowly sat up further in the bed looking much more limber than she was before. She held out her hand and a beam of light projected from it, taking the form of a white sword.
“Naturally as your host dies you grow stronger,” Sebastian said. “However a millennium of walking the earth makes one weak. You do realize you're outmatched, Cassius. You've bit off more than you can chew.”
“I am much stronger than you or that scavenger of death that stands behind you,” Cassius said through Mrs. Cornwall.
Ciel saw the woman rose in the air, body glowing, eyes pure white; raising the sword in hand. Matilda Cornwall was safely tucked away during all of this; Cassius was either absorbing her or protecting her from the ensuing mayhem.
“I shall bring the heads of Death and the Devil to the gates of Paradise,” the angel said.
“Oh come on with it, Bassie, can we start playing now?” Grell called from the side.
A melee ensued between the three. Ciel ducked into a large, walk-in closet to avoid the flurry of blows from three powerful inhuman creatures and kept an eye on the action through a crack in the door. Cassius was putting up a good fight, though Ciel was annoyed at how Grell and Sebastian seemed to be going about this like a sport. So typical of these two. It took him but a moment to realize the perfect way to end this. Sebastian mentioned Cassius will fuse a human’s soul at the right moment. What would happen if that moment was interrupted.
Ciel counted down exactly three minutes until he intervened. The 180 second count was done, Cassius had taken some nasty blows but this was far from done. Ciel leapt from his perch, firing at will into the woman’s body until he emptied the clip. Matilda Cornwall toppled like a tree and lay on the floor, her body glowing and shaking violently. His theory was proven correct.
“You mentioned something about ‘fusing with the soul at the right moment’ Sebastian?” Ciel said, his smoking gun still poised in his hand. “That moment has been interrupted.”
The body twitched, white mist pouring from her mouth and from the holes.
“Now stop playing and end this!” Ciel shouted.
Grell powered his scythe and cut a deep gash across the woman’s chest. William saw a few grimaces from the corner of his eye and knew what was going through everyone‘s heads; did he need to be that messy? Ciel assumed Grell and Sebastian were observing her Cinematic Record by the way they stared above her intently. White mist poured from her body and collected into a large, humanoid form; the exact same way Cassius appeared before Mrs. Cornwall originally. Ciel knew they weren’t done with the angel though it had to have been weakened. Grell then marked his book while keeping an eye on these developments, the book then immaterialized and he raised his scythe; his pointed teeth exposed in a lewd grin.
“Now this gets serious,” Sebastian said.
Ciel resisted the urge to groan; he was tempted to tell them both to get it over with, though he did not want to gain the angel’s attention. Instead he returned to the open closet as the melee ensued, readying himself to find a way to go out the window unobserved and let the two supernaturals take care of this. Cassius was putting up more of a fight this time, though William knew he would ultimately unleash his last weapon. William couldn’t help the sweat building on his palms; he knew what he would be reading soon.
The angel threw Sebastian across the room through a window. Ciel saw his hands gripping the broken window, his gloves bloody from the broken glass though he tried to find a grip. The misshapen mass that had been the angel’s head suddenly materialized into a fair face with flowing white hair. Ciel saw it open a misty maw, a loud, unsettling hum filled the room. Nearly all the scratching pens around William ceased.
Ciel felt a strong grip around his body and felt himself suddenly lifted up against his aunt’s coat. He glared daggers at Grell and flailed against his grip, though he was powerless against the sheer force. Grell glanced at him for a moment and ran across the room. The hum grew louder to the point where Ciel felt as if his eardrums would rupture. Grell kicked in the window, glass flew everywhere.
He felt Grell throw him forward and out the window. He fell helplessly; a small instinct told him he was going to die. Grell Sutcliff took advantage of the chaos to kill him at last. Suddenly he felt another strong grip around his body and he realized he was flying upward. Ciel saw Sebastian’s coat in his peripheral vision; Sebastian did his duty and saved him.
The windows exploded and a strong force knocked against him, though Sebastian kept his grip as they flew through the air. Grell was now falling backwards from the window and plummeting downward, making no effort to land or steady himself. He just fell like a tossed rag doll; Ciel looked through the falling glass and saw a blank expression on his face. Ciel immediately knew something was greatly amiss.
He yelled Sebastian’s name, Sebastian reached a hand down and grabbed Grell’s hand. The three dipped down in the air for a moment before Sebastian steadied himself. Grell dropped from Sebastian’s grip, though this time he fell in a strategic stance like a cat. He landed on top of a low-hanging ease and scrambled to his knees, dropping his death scythe next to him. Grell then steadied himself on his hands and knees and vomited over the side of the roof, Ciel noticed him shaking.
Ciel looked up and saw Sebastian’s form turning to black shadows sweeping a trail of black feathers; he was entering his true form. Sebastian gently placed Ciel on the roof, his form now a large cloud of inky shadows with the form of a man in high-heeled black boots and long claws in the center. Sebastian swept into the building to take care of Cassius. Ciel looked back down at Grell to see him slowly come to his shaking legs. He was pale and it looked as if he was grimacing in pain.
Ciel was trying to wrap his head around everything that happened, though he made a few connections. Grell threw him out the window just before the room exploded. Now Grell looked to be in some form of distress; what could do that to a reaper, what would the same force have done to him?
William’s pen froze in his hand. He couldn’t be reading what he thought he was.
Grell glanced at him with a weak smile. Ciel could only say his name: partially to get his attention, partially to ask for answers, partially to make sense in his own mind what this man had done. Grell managed to leap upward, his form flickering for a moment before it was gone. Ciel stood and stared at the empty space where the reaper had been. Dead reapers did leave behind a body, he had seen them die before. Grell must have returned to his own realm, though what would become of him when he returned?
He was left alone on the roof, looking into the room where he had once been and seeing only inky shadows. Occasionally there was a flash of white light, sometimes he heard a screeching moan. Their angel problem was being fixed. Ciel regained more of his senses and took a seat on the window gable waiting for Sebastian to be finished. After a bit of time, Ciel suddenly saw William T. Spears leap on the roof next to him followed by two other men in suits carrying what must have been death scythes.
“This is where we entered the scene,” William said, adjusting his glasses and trying to find more of his voice.
“Shall I continue further,” Andrews said.
The reapers looked down at their notes, a few exchanging some whispers. William shook his head, followed by most of the others.
“I have seen all that I need to for now,” Councilor Eddols said. “We have Mr. Spears’ report from this point forward and both records match up. I believe Mr. Sutcliff is due a few more commendations from what we have seen, though we will need some further discussions to decide what those are. Mr. Spears, what was the last update you received on Mr. Sutcliff’s condition?”
“According to the report from Dr. Sutherland around 7 o’clock, his condition is serious but stable,” William said. “He remains unconscious, his motor functions and reactions remain promising, though there has been little further improvement in this short time. I was told this is expected.”
“I will be having a conversation with Dr. Sutherland regarding his on heroic part in this,” Councilor Eddols said. “As for you, Mr. Spears, what do you make of Mr. Sutcliff’s actions before the angel’s attack?”
“I will be honest with you, I do not know what to make of them at the moment,” William said. “Mr. Sutcliff, as we know, it unpredictable enough. It is a decision that I shall have to come to once I have processed what I have just seen.”
“An understandable sentiment,” the Councilor said with a nod. “I believe a break is in order for all of us. I say we adjourn for this morning, I will be contacting each of you for your further assistance as we require it.”
William nodded and picked up his papers. He was indeed going to need a long time to make sense what he had just seen.