Right of the Injured Party, Part 3
Title: Right of the Injured Party
Chapter: 3
Summary: After the Campania incident, Grell is allowed a final act of revenge on an imprisoned Undertaker thanks to an old, obscure
reaper code.
Characters/Pairings: Grell/Undertaker, William, and Ronald with brief references to Ciel and Sebastian.
Rating: MA
Warnings: Graphic violence and sexual content, character death.
Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to Yana Toboso. I just play with them in horrible ways.
Author's Note: The final chapter of "Right of the Injured Party."
Right of the Injured Party
Part 3
I pulled out from him, giving him a strong shove for good measure. I wasn’t even using all of my strength, yet his body bounced off the wall with the jingling of his chains. He threw his head back and cackled; this one breathy yet shrill. It sounded like post-coital giddiness, God knows I was feeling my own but in a much different way.
I put my cock back in my trousers and refastened the buttons. I had his blood and gravy all over my stomach; it felt soothing right now though I’d want a proper bath later. My wound was scolding me harshly, I looked down and saw it was all red, though all the stitches were in place. Perhaps I should go to the infirmary and get it cleaned off after this. At the same time I could show Ronnie the residuals of my little play, I was sure he would be rather pleased with what he saw.
I leaned down and picked the whip, dismissing it into my stores. Then I retrieved my razor from the floor. This was a nice little toy and we were recommended to have a mundane secondary weapon. Perhaps this beauty did have a higher purpose, it certainly served me well tonight. The sick bastard kept right on laughing, it echoed through the cell like the call of an overly amused banshee. Let him have his fun, I sure as hell did.
“Happy, darling,” I said, walking up to him.
“Ohhhhoho that was a delicious last meal hehehehe,” he said. “Soooo spicy, what a wonderful bite it had hehehe.”
“Oh I found it rather yummy myself, so very juicy,” I said. “Alas, lover, I must leave you. You have a date with a death scythe in just a few hours. Wouldn’t want you to go unprepared.”
I was tempted to leave him with his trousers around his ankles, though keeping them there would make what happened a bit obvious. That didn’t exactly concern me on an aesthetic level and I really didn’t do anything against the rules that needed hiding. However, the bosses were a tricky lot not to mention stodgy as hell; you never knew what they could use against you even for future use. Perhaps a tiny bit of tidying was in order. I crouched down and pulled up his trousers, giving the tip of his prick a tiny bite hard enough to make him flail back with a yelp before I pulled his pants back to their original position.
“You going to be there when I go under the scythe?” he said. “Will you be there in your sweet lover’s last moments?”
I folded my arms and leaned on his chest.
“Indeed I will,” I said. “I wouldn’t miss watching your head drop for the world.”
“Such a sweet little Molly, you are,” he said with a snicker.
“What’s it like knowing you’re going to die in just a few hours?” I asked, one finger batting his braid. “How does it feel knowing that centuries of existence is going to end in one clean cut, or perhaps one messy cut?
He gave a dark chuckle.
“I’ve accepted my fate,” he said, leaning further down into my face. “I have no regrets whatsoever. I’m ready for that one final laugh. And you, dearest darling, have made my farewells to this hell of existence a little sweeter.”
I stroked the side of his face with one hand.
“Oh you are such a dear,” I said. “I’ll always remember you; you demented little bug.”
I just loved the way his face tightened and how the blood spurted from his neck with my little swipe. The gush covered me, so sweet and warm it was. I took a couple steps back, the razorblade poised in my hand. He didn’t make a move, he probably suppressed that natural human urge to draw breath and took the cut for what it was. A stream of blood flowed from his lips.
I leaned in one more time and kissed them, savoring those soft lips and lapping up the sweet red. He puckered up too, his kiss smearing more of his blood over my mouth. I drew back and walked for the door, blowing him one last kiss. His mouth curved into a goofy smile. He looked to be laughing though the air only went as far as the hole in his throat; the wound wheezed a bit more and spurted blood in the pattern of a chuckle.
I folded the razor and placed it in my pocket, taking out the key Jimmy the Gaoler had given me to get out of here. I buttoned my shirt and wiped some blood from my lips with the sleeve, then I placed the key in a small keyhole in the door and turned it. The ward snapped with the same heavy force and the locking mechanism opened. I slid open the door and walked out of there. The hole in Johnny’s throat would be closing soon and I had little desire to hear any more of his nonsense. I would be seeing him in a much more agreeable venue later on.
I closed the door behind me, seeing the gaoler walking down the hallway right towards me. He looked me up and down with a snicker.
“Looks like you had a jolly good time,” he said.
“Words cannot describe it,” I said with a wide smile.
“You remembered your toys I take it; one iron poker and one cat-o-nine-tails,” he said, looking down at the clipboard in his hand.
“Indeed I did,” I said.
He lead me down the hallway and back to the same storeroom. Jimmy opened the door and ducked in, coming out with a large tin box.
“Place your items in here, we’ll be cleaning and cataloging them later,” he said.
I produced the two items and placed them in the box. He closed it and placed a lock on it, ducking back into the room and presumably leaving it in the appropriate place before emerging.
Jimmy then lead me to the lift, I couldn’t wait to be out of this dungeon. I welcomed the smell of fresher air, even if it was in the higher levels of the prison. At last we reached the main floor, he bade me leave the door and go back into the lobby so I could get my scythe. The door latched and Jimmy was back in his booth. He asked me for the key, which I placed right on his desk for his taking. He then went into the metal cabinet and brought out my lovely death scythe, gently handing it back to me. I then dismissed it back into its proper place, I so couldn‘t wait to use it properly again.
Jimmy signed a few more papers and bade me my leave.
“Be in Courtyard #1 in this building, preferably before 4:15 a.m. if you wish to witness the execution,” he said.
“Thank you for the information, good sir,” I said.
I turned around and walked from the prison ward. I knew I looked a mess; my clothes were covered in blood. Thankfully no one was in this building…wait, what the hell did I have to hide? I hadn’t done anything wrong, what was so unusual about a reaper coming home from a particularly bloody encounter? Yeah we could clean the blood and fluids off our clothes with a thought, but what if I didn’t feel like it now? Let’s see how many people figured where I came from, let’s see how many people turned their noses up at it or silently applauded.
I stood in the lobby and mustered enough energy to phase to the infirmary wing, though I damn near fell on my face when materializing. I had to grip the wall for a second and let the wave of dizziness pass. I wasn’t in full health when I went for those moments with the Undertaker and I hadn’t exactly been resting since. I stared at the floor, then heard footsteps practically running in my direction.
“You hurt, Mr. Sutcliff, or just exhausted?” a female voice said. It was Dr. Eliza Kingsbury, one of the staff physicians; a stern lady, a bit plain looking, but very skilled.
I looked up to see her practically in my face. That mousy brown hair of hers was actually in a ponytail and not it’s usual messy bun, it suited her a bit better
“Not to worry, doctor, this isn’t my blood,” I said with a grin.
She looked over me with a cocked eyebrow, carefully pulling my shirt back to have a look at my wound.
“I thought I’d bandaged this up earlier,” she said. “And it doesn’t look like you’ve been resting it at all.”
She grabbed my shoulder and pushed me towards the main examination room.
“I can already tell your energy’s low,” the doctor said. “I warned you when I checked you out to take it easy.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, going through the open door of the exam room.
I sat on one of the padded benches. She took my shoulders again and gently pushed me down to lay on the bench. I obliged, putting my legs up and taking a full recline.
I was dreadfully lightheaded, but still rather giddy. It was like the early stages of drunkenness only this time it was purely natural. She unbuttoned my shirt with nearly no regard for the bloodstains and took a careful look at my wound. I could see her eyes wander to the other stains over my body, though she had no reaction. She pulled my shirt off my shoulders, I helped by sliding my arms out of the garment and letting her take hold of it. She hung it up on a hook on the wall and took another close look at the angry red line, her finger tracing down the line of stitches.
“All the stitches are intact, though a few pulled a bit,” she said.
She walked over to a cabinet and produced a bottle and a small cloth.
“So you were aware of what I just got done doing,” I said, unable to hold back a snicker.
“Most aware, in fact Mr. Spears gave me a warning this order might come down around the time you were discharged,” she said. “This is just a cleaning solution, should take care of the swelling and clean it out a bit.”
Dr. Kingsbury said, twisting out the cork and putting it on a table then dabbing some solution on the cloth.
“You don’t think our dearest Undertaker has anything catching, do you?” I said with a little laugh, though I wasn’t overly concerned.
“As a matter of fact necromancy carries its own set of communicable hazards to which our kind are vulnerable,” she said, positioning the cloth over the end of the mark near my side. “This might sting a little.” She lightly dabbed the cloth. It did sting a little, though weak enough so I barely noticed it. “There are numerous supernaturally based infections and curses that can befall one who messes around with that nonsense.“
My smile relaxed a bit and I heeded the little glare she gave me.
“However, we tested him for everything when he was brought in,” Dr. Kingsbury said. “Even called in a gent from Ireland who’s rather knowledgeable in these sorts of things. John Pennington was clear of everything, meaning he knew what he was doing and protected himself when he fooled around with such monstrosity. The problem is you didn’t know if he was clear of any infections or curses before you lay into him full bore with your own fresh wound, Mr. Sutcliff; not to mention you took the bloody bandage off and left your shirt open so you were fully exposed.”
“That was indeed careless of me,” I said, legitimately relieved at such a word. “I shall take better heed. Though fortunately I have no intention to do such exercises anytime in the future.”
“Good,” she said.
She got done wiping the wound, then proceeded to wipe down the rest of my chest and midsection with the cloth, swipes going away from the line. The Undertaker’s blood was cleared off as was his caked-on milk. She didn’t make any reaction the whole time, only cleaned me off.
“I’m not going to ask what you did with him, but I will say necromantic curses can also be transmitted through any genital fluids as well,” she said a bit bluntly. “Keep that in mind before dallying with anyone who’s played around with that rubbish.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle a little, she had a good idea what happened.
“I told Mr. Spears I wanted to be around when he delivered that order, though apparently he got a bit jumpy,” she said with a huff. “Alas I was called away; one of the kids got careless with cleaning his blade and sliced himself pretty bad.”
“Poor little sod,” I said.
“Yes, well he just needed a few stitches on his hand, though I’d have hope Mr. Spears waited before handing you that certificate. That’s when I would have told you Mr. Pennington was clear of everything.”
Will just couldn’t wait to give me my toy. What a thoughtful beauty he was, I was getting chills just thinking about it.
“Alas I’m the only one on duty tonight,” the doctor said. “Dr. Sutherland is resting for his own unfortunate duty in the morning.”
It took me a moment to think of what she was referring to, but I nodded with the understanding.
“He’s going to be the one who makes sure old Johnny’s gone for good,” I said.
“That he is,” she said, cleaning off the rest of Lord Johnny’s residue.
She put the bottle and the cloth down on a little table, then went into a side cabinet.
“Can I ask you a personal question, dearest doctor?” I said. “Or rather it is less a question than a moral opinion.”
I heard her give a small, annoyed chuckle.
“And just what would that be?” Dr. Kingsbury said.
“If you were in my position, would you have taken the bosses up on that offer? Would you have gone for that kind of lovely retribution, Hippocratic Oath and all that considering?”
She walked away from the counter with a syringe and a vial of some sort of med in her hands. Dr. Kingsbury placed both on the table, then poked the top of the vial with the needle and drew in the contents.
“This is a saline solution infused with a bit of energy, it should get you up to a better level than you are now,” she said. “I will personally take you back to your room right after this and I order you rest and use no further powers for at least the rest of the day. If you wish to witness the execution, I’ll instruct Mr. Spears to escort you down to the Security building in the morning. But you need to get proper rest, especially after straining yourself so much tonight.”
“I had hoped to pay Ronnie a visit, let him know how everything went,” I said. “Unless he’s still fast asleep.”
“He is actually, and I’d rather he rested too,” she said, taking hold of my upper right arm. “However you will get to see him in the morning. He has healed sufficiently so I gave him leave to attend that hideous show accompanied by one of the nurses.”
“Oh that’s indeed good news,” I said. “He so wanted to watch that piece of pig droppings get his head lopped off.”
Hopefully he would also get to see the residuals of my little fun. I was sure he would be appreciative.
She poked the needle into my arm. It stung pretty good for a moment, though backed right off. She pushed the plunger down and I felt a bit more together in an instant. I actually breathed a sigh of relief. The doctor slid the needle out and placed it on the table. She then collected her items and disposed of them or put them away in their proper fashion.
Dr. Kingsbury returned to me with a bandage roll. She motioned for me to come to a sit, which I did so a little easier thanks to the injection I just got. She then proceeded to wrap my torso and chest as it had been earlier. I didn’t exactly regret taking them off before my bit of fun, I wanted the Undertaker to behold his splendid work.
“In perfect honesty, Mr. Sutcliff, I would have to consider such an opportunity carefully; though I would hold no objections to at least considering something so extreme,” Dr. Kingsbury said, her voice a bit less severe.
I smirked a bit at this answer.
“Fortunately I have never taken a wound as bad as you and Mr. Knox did,” she continued, continuing her careful wrapping. “Though if those wounds were on me, I can’t say for certain I’d refuse; Hippocratic Oath and all that considering.”
I couldn’t hold my dirty chuckle.
“Hence you will have no judgment whatsoever from me,” she said, looking right into my eyes. “You did what you had to do to satisfy your anger. I just hope you had the satisfaction you need.”
I took a hard breath, my smile widening a bit.
“I can tell you with the utmost honesty. Dr. Kingsbury, that I most certainly did.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” she said, tucking the end of the bandage. “Now you keep this on. When you get back to your room, you get some rest. I want you back in your room and resting after this ordeal is over.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
She threw me back my shirt, I slid it back on though I knew for certain it was irredeemable. I could have attempted to clear it, though in truth I would rather have a souvenir.
I got off the bench and she took my arm. A flash of light later, we were outside my room. She kept me steady after materializing, enough for me to walk on my own back to my room. I bade her a warm goodnight and then went through the door. I turned on a lamp, seeing the clock on my wall reading close to midnight. I would only have about three hours of sleep, though any rest at this point sounded most lovely.
I set my watch to chime at 3, then I undressed and changed into my red nightgown. I washed off the blood and makeup on my face and gave myself a good scrub with this American witch hazel I had grown fond of. Brushing my hair could wait for the morning. Instead I crawled into my bed for the first time in quite a while and drifted off to a nice cozy sleep.
The chime woke me as expected, I opened my eyes and moved a bit to feel my wound aching rather nicely. It was enough to prompt me upright and onto getting ready to see Johnny off. I approached this as a bit more somber occasion. I went light on my make-up and chose a simple black suit with a standard black tie. Perhaps I did feel I was going to a funeral, or maybe a tiny part of me wanted to look respectable when the bosses saw what I did with the boy of the hour. Perhaps I did become a bit more conscious of decorum in the wake of recent events.
Maybe I took my words to Johnny a bit more seriously, though I recall what I told Ron after boarding that ship: being a reaper is the best profession in the world. I’d held a few different professions in my living days, this had them all topped. Yes the higher-ups were a stodgy lot, yes there were things like codes and paperwork to mind. Those were merely details to me; I love being a reaper. It took me almost losing this gift through my own idiocy to fully appreciate that. I counted my blessings everyday that I had this second chance. I just couldn’t respect anyone of our kind who would throw that all away so gleefully.
What were the odds Johnny sat in front of his own mirror at my age and thought the exact same thing? What if John did love this job at one point, what if the passing centuries stole that passion? Such is the mystery of immortality, who the hell knows what will happen in an hour let alone a millennium? That was what made this all so exciting.
I was told I could be back on duty in another week, maybe less. I was just itching to get back to the routine; the routine this Undertaker so hated. In the end it was his loss and no one would shed any tears for him.
At last I got the knock on the door around 4, Dr. Kingsbury indeed kept her word. I got up and looked out the peephole, seeing the handsome William standing right outside my door. I opened the door and was a bit amused to get a look-over.
“Dear God, you’re actually dressed respectfully,” he said.
“I felt it only appropriate to mark a bit of a somber occasion,” I said, straightening my tie for emphasis.
“Appropriate to dress for such a formal good riddance celebration,” he said.
“Well he always said such occasions were one’s final party.”
“Only he will have the opportunity to witness most of his.”
“Indeed.”
I put out my arm for him.
“Shall we off, darling,” I said.
He huffed a little before stiffly grabbing my arm.
“Don’t even start with me this morning, Sutcliff,” he said.
He lead me for two steps and we phased from the hallway, appearing in the lobby of the Security building. I stumbled for another few steps, actually feeling Will grab my shoulder to steady me.
“Such a gentleman, you are,” I said.
“If that’s what they’re calling it these days,” he replied.
I snickered and walked down the hallway beside him. He was in a rather charming mood this morning, I was most entertained. We were soon joining a few others looking to be on their way to the same destination. All of us moved to another part of the building adjacent to the prison ward which soon lead into a bit of a dark hallway. Another guard lead us through a steel door off to the side through a more severe looking corridor. This reminded me of the hold Johnny had been thrown in. Perhaps his final destination would look the same.
At last we assembled into a wide, boxy room, a wooden fence looped around a center stage and everyone was standing. I’d hoped it would be a good old-fashioned scaffold outside with plenty of witnesses there to throw things at the condemned. Alas this looked to be a small party of managers and assistants in what looked like a small indoor coliseum. I recognized both the London boys and the visitors from Sheffield. This had to be a banner moment for those lads; fifty years of hunting after this murderer officially ended today. They were all as stoic as usual, though I saw that tiny gleam of glee in their eyes.
I saw Thomas Cranston, the Director of Security Services standing on the main stage with a few guards in the standard buttoned up blue coat with pikes for scythes. There was another gentleman beside him, I think I recognized him from the library though his name escaped me. He held what looked like a record book in his hand, perhaps that’s where Johnny’s Cinematic Record was going. I would so love to have seen what juicy details had passed in his 800 years, but alas all of that was likely held for privileged eyes.
Father Michael Smith was up there, the head chaplain for those immortals who still held the church in some respect. Father Michael normally wears a suit and takes regular duty. This was one occasion where he wore full white funerary vestments, The Book of Common Prayer clutched in his slightly trembling hands. I immediately recognized the gentlemen in a lab coat with dirty blonde hair and a thick moustache as Dr. Ian Sutherland. Normally Dr. Ian is a very cheery fellow, though this time his expression was the grimmest I’d ever seen. I felt bad for the poor boy, that had to be an awful task for a physician.
William pointed to our prime spot in the front row and had me go in first. I immediately saw Ronnie at the end of the line and my heart leapt a bit. He was in a full suit, though leaned heavily on a cane. The boy was looking a bit better, though was still incredibly pale. A lovely young nurse with wavy blonde hair wearing a plain white dress stood beside him; I think I recognized her as Annabelle, one of his favorite pastime activities. I walked up to him and have him a handshake with a little clap on the back.
“So happy you could make it,” I said.
“You kidding, I wouldn’t miss this show for anything,” he said.
He leaned a bit further toward me.
“We going to see your handiwork?” he murmured in my ear.
“I duly hope so,” I whispered back. “I gave him some lovely going away presents.”
Ron gave a rather warming chuckle.
“Blimey I wish I could’ve had my own go at the fucker,” he said. “I’m nice and jealous now.”
“Don’t worry, I think I did enough for two of us.”
I just loved how he grinned at this.
“Knowin’ you, Mr. Sutcliff, that warms my black little heart.”
I smiled and had a little snicker myself. I looked down at my watch, 4:25.
Almost on cue, a wide door opened in the back of the hall and the guards parted formation. Another contingent of guards entered holding chains, and there in the middle was Lord Johnny himself. I saw a few eyes widen around the room, a couple glances went in my direction though most eyes stayed forward. Wills face remained as stony as ever. I loved how Ron’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened to saucers.
“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding,” he whispered to me in the midst of a surprised laugh.
Johnny wore the same simple attire he did last I visited him. His body was caked in dried blood. The skin over his chest reformed as pale pink putty, the lines from the whip were a shade of dark auburn. There were still large scabs from when I hit him with the poker and I saw large marks of blue and purple underneath the dried blood. That nasty cut across his throat healed closed for the most part save for a single gaping superficial wound. His face was still a little puffy from where I smacked him a few times. It looked like he did have enough energy to heal most of what I gave him though some shadows of the real damage remained. What were the odds he delayed his healing to give us all a little show; I wouldn’t put it past him.
His arms and legs were still in the cuffs, the chains in the hands of the guards. That once flowing white hair had been hacked to the base of his head, likely to create an easier space for the scythe. Naturally the Undertaker was smirking a bit as he was lead forward; he had accepted his fate after all.
His eyes scanned his surroundings, though were soon locked on mine. I smiled and gave him a little wave. He gave me a feral grin in return.
The parade stopped on the stage. A reaper in a black cloak with the classic black hood over his head then stepped forward, a large axe was poised in his hand with the blade bearing the tell-tale shine and coloring of Gray Metal. This deadly-looking beauty had to have been made for a specific purpose, it was a bit too large and ornate for an everyday scythe. I was a little disappointed to see Johnny wouldn’t be going on his own scythe, the same one that sliced into Ron and I. Perhaps such was a rule of decorum reapers didn’t violate; I wasn’t exactly that familiar with elimination proceedings and that was for the best in my estimation.
Tom Cranston opened a small book in his hands, presumably his keynote address for this celebration. He then proceeded to read:
“John Pennington, by the authority of the Reaper Council, you have been sentenced to elimination on the following charges: the murder of four reapers, the murders of 1,548 humans, the attempted murders of two reapers, manipulating Cinematic Records, manipulating corpses with death energy, malicious manipulations of death energy, and abuse of your powers to cause grievous harm. All of these are crimes that have rendered your existence void and the most correct remedy for all you have wrought is to end that existence here on this day. Do you have any final words?”
Johnny smiled a bit and chuckled as always.
“It was fun while it lasted,” he said. “I’ve had plenty to laugh about.”
I saw William’s eyes narrow dangerously. He looked at this man with complete and utter contempt. No wonder why he wanted to give me my certificate so quickly. He might have been deliciously cold, but Will was so loyal to our own kind. How it must have warmed his heart to see such a traitor suffer.
John was pushed down to his knees, the executioner’s gloved hand positioned his neck on a black stone block. Father Michael opened his prayer book to the usual liturgy:
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”
The executioner faced his blade toward another guard, who examined it and nodded.
“He maketh me lie down in green pastures, He leadeth me beside the still waters.”
The executioner poised his axe, waiting for the signal from Mr. Cranston. Father Michael continued on a few more lines.
Johnny looked right up at me with those pretty, cruel eyes of his. I felt a slight pressure in my temples, apparently he saved a little energy to tell me something though was taking his time to do it. I took a brief look down at my watch; 4:29.
“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.”
John smiled at me, the connection growing a bit stronger though he was keeping quiet and I was getting no images. I should have blocked out his intrusion, who knows what hoary images he wanted to implant in my brain.
“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. Amen.”
The executioner leaned his axe down to guide his swing before raising up his weapon.
“Goodnight, goodnight,” I heard John’s voice echo through my mind. “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”
“See you in hell, Johnny,” I responded over the connection.
Johnny smiled and I saw him give that one last chuckle. Cranston nodded and signaled. The executioner swung his axe down, the blade swiping clean through the Undertaker’s neck.
The connection severed like pulling a plug right out of my head. I flinched for a moment and felt a bit dizzy, though I got back my bearings quick. Ron and William glanced at me with a bit of surprise, though I shook my head and waved a hand in dismissal. John’s head dropped into a large basin below the block in a spray of blood. That beautifully marred body twitched for a moment and them went limp. I blew a kiss to Lord Johnny one last time.
Glowing reels emerged from the stump where his head once was. The librarian opened the book and positioned it right in front of the playing record, the pages absorbing every flickering strand. They did make sure no reels were visible, though the room was flooded with that familiar silver glow. A few guards huddled around the librarian, I think his name was Stephen, as he caught the many reels. This was a record of 800 years of immortality, 800 years of service, 800 years of madness. If some human record could go haywire, I didn’t even want to think of what the record of such an old and demented reaper would do.
At last the final reel sunk into the book, the flickering light faded into the pages before the librarian closed it with thud. Dr. Ian then leaned down, examining the wound across his neck, then reaching in the basket presumably to examine John’s severed head. I caught a brief glimpse of the Undertaker’s face; his eyes were gently closed, mouth curved into a wide smile. Dr. Ian stood up and then nodded grimly. Father Michael crossed himself.
It was over. Lord John Pennington, the Undertaker, was gone for good. I did feel a bit sentimental, though I couldn’t help but think it couldn’t have happened to a better person.
I would want to return to my room for a nice nap after this, maybe do some sketching later. After I went back on duty I would probably track down the earl and sweetest Bassie to give them the final update. They had already given all their information to Her Majesty, this would just close the book on this sordid tale.
In the meantime, my own comfort and well being was the my top priority; a charge I was happy to carry out to the absolute letter.
THE END
Chapter: 3
Summary: After the Campania incident, Grell is allowed a final act of revenge on an imprisoned Undertaker thanks to an old, obscure
reaper code.
Characters/Pairings: Grell/Undertaker, William, and Ronald with brief references to Ciel and Sebastian.
Rating: MA
Warnings: Graphic violence and sexual content, character death.
Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to Yana Toboso. I just play with them in horrible ways.
Author's Note: The final chapter of "Right of the Injured Party."
Right of the Injured Party
Part 3
I pulled out from him, giving him a strong shove for good measure. I wasn’t even using all of my strength, yet his body bounced off the wall with the jingling of his chains. He threw his head back and cackled; this one breathy yet shrill. It sounded like post-coital giddiness, God knows I was feeling my own but in a much different way.
I put my cock back in my trousers and refastened the buttons. I had his blood and gravy all over my stomach; it felt soothing right now though I’d want a proper bath later. My wound was scolding me harshly, I looked down and saw it was all red, though all the stitches were in place. Perhaps I should go to the infirmary and get it cleaned off after this. At the same time I could show Ronnie the residuals of my little play, I was sure he would be rather pleased with what he saw.
I leaned down and picked the whip, dismissing it into my stores. Then I retrieved my razor from the floor. This was a nice little toy and we were recommended to have a mundane secondary weapon. Perhaps this beauty did have a higher purpose, it certainly served me well tonight. The sick bastard kept right on laughing, it echoed through the cell like the call of an overly amused banshee. Let him have his fun, I sure as hell did.
“Happy, darling,” I said, walking up to him.
“Ohhhhoho that was a delicious last meal hehehehe,” he said. “Soooo spicy, what a wonderful bite it had hehehe.”
“Oh I found it rather yummy myself, so very juicy,” I said. “Alas, lover, I must leave you. You have a date with a death scythe in just a few hours. Wouldn’t want you to go unprepared.”
I was tempted to leave him with his trousers around his ankles, though keeping them there would make what happened a bit obvious. That didn’t exactly concern me on an aesthetic level and I really didn’t do anything against the rules that needed hiding. However, the bosses were a tricky lot not to mention stodgy as hell; you never knew what they could use against you even for future use. Perhaps a tiny bit of tidying was in order. I crouched down and pulled up his trousers, giving the tip of his prick a tiny bite hard enough to make him flail back with a yelp before I pulled his pants back to their original position.
“You going to be there when I go under the scythe?” he said. “Will you be there in your sweet lover’s last moments?”
I folded my arms and leaned on his chest.
“Indeed I will,” I said. “I wouldn’t miss watching your head drop for the world.”
“Such a sweet little Molly, you are,” he said with a snicker.
“What’s it like knowing you’re going to die in just a few hours?” I asked, one finger batting his braid. “How does it feel knowing that centuries of existence is going to end in one clean cut, or perhaps one messy cut?
He gave a dark chuckle.
“I’ve accepted my fate,” he said, leaning further down into my face. “I have no regrets whatsoever. I’m ready for that one final laugh. And you, dearest darling, have made my farewells to this hell of existence a little sweeter.”
I stroked the side of his face with one hand.
“Oh you are such a dear,” I said. “I’ll always remember you; you demented little bug.”
I just loved the way his face tightened and how the blood spurted from his neck with my little swipe. The gush covered me, so sweet and warm it was. I took a couple steps back, the razorblade poised in my hand. He didn’t make a move, he probably suppressed that natural human urge to draw breath and took the cut for what it was. A stream of blood flowed from his lips.
I leaned in one more time and kissed them, savoring those soft lips and lapping up the sweet red. He puckered up too, his kiss smearing more of his blood over my mouth. I drew back and walked for the door, blowing him one last kiss. His mouth curved into a goofy smile. He looked to be laughing though the air only went as far as the hole in his throat; the wound wheezed a bit more and spurted blood in the pattern of a chuckle.
I folded the razor and placed it in my pocket, taking out the key Jimmy the Gaoler had given me to get out of here. I buttoned my shirt and wiped some blood from my lips with the sleeve, then I placed the key in a small keyhole in the door and turned it. The ward snapped with the same heavy force and the locking mechanism opened. I slid open the door and walked out of there. The hole in Johnny’s throat would be closing soon and I had little desire to hear any more of his nonsense. I would be seeing him in a much more agreeable venue later on.
I closed the door behind me, seeing the gaoler walking down the hallway right towards me. He looked me up and down with a snicker.
“Looks like you had a jolly good time,” he said.
“Words cannot describe it,” I said with a wide smile.
“You remembered your toys I take it; one iron poker and one cat-o-nine-tails,” he said, looking down at the clipboard in his hand.
“Indeed I did,” I said.
He lead me down the hallway and back to the same storeroom. Jimmy opened the door and ducked in, coming out with a large tin box.
“Place your items in here, we’ll be cleaning and cataloging them later,” he said.
I produced the two items and placed them in the box. He closed it and placed a lock on it, ducking back into the room and presumably leaving it in the appropriate place before emerging.
Jimmy then lead me to the lift, I couldn’t wait to be out of this dungeon. I welcomed the smell of fresher air, even if it was in the higher levels of the prison. At last we reached the main floor, he bade me leave the door and go back into the lobby so I could get my scythe. The door latched and Jimmy was back in his booth. He asked me for the key, which I placed right on his desk for his taking. He then went into the metal cabinet and brought out my lovely death scythe, gently handing it back to me. I then dismissed it back into its proper place, I so couldn‘t wait to use it properly again.
Jimmy signed a few more papers and bade me my leave.
“Be in Courtyard #1 in this building, preferably before 4:15 a.m. if you wish to witness the execution,” he said.
“Thank you for the information, good sir,” I said.
I turned around and walked from the prison ward. I knew I looked a mess; my clothes were covered in blood. Thankfully no one was in this building…wait, what the hell did I have to hide? I hadn’t done anything wrong, what was so unusual about a reaper coming home from a particularly bloody encounter? Yeah we could clean the blood and fluids off our clothes with a thought, but what if I didn’t feel like it now? Let’s see how many people figured where I came from, let’s see how many people turned their noses up at it or silently applauded.
I stood in the lobby and mustered enough energy to phase to the infirmary wing, though I damn near fell on my face when materializing. I had to grip the wall for a second and let the wave of dizziness pass. I wasn’t in full health when I went for those moments with the Undertaker and I hadn’t exactly been resting since. I stared at the floor, then heard footsteps practically running in my direction.
“You hurt, Mr. Sutcliff, or just exhausted?” a female voice said. It was Dr. Eliza Kingsbury, one of the staff physicians; a stern lady, a bit plain looking, but very skilled.
I looked up to see her practically in my face. That mousy brown hair of hers was actually in a ponytail and not it’s usual messy bun, it suited her a bit better
“Not to worry, doctor, this isn’t my blood,” I said with a grin.
She looked over me with a cocked eyebrow, carefully pulling my shirt back to have a look at my wound.
“I thought I’d bandaged this up earlier,” she said. “And it doesn’t look like you’ve been resting it at all.”
She grabbed my shoulder and pushed me towards the main examination room.
“I can already tell your energy’s low,” the doctor said. “I warned you when I checked you out to take it easy.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, going through the open door of the exam room.
I sat on one of the padded benches. She took my shoulders again and gently pushed me down to lay on the bench. I obliged, putting my legs up and taking a full recline.
I was dreadfully lightheaded, but still rather giddy. It was like the early stages of drunkenness only this time it was purely natural. She unbuttoned my shirt with nearly no regard for the bloodstains and took a careful look at my wound. I could see her eyes wander to the other stains over my body, though she had no reaction. She pulled my shirt off my shoulders, I helped by sliding my arms out of the garment and letting her take hold of it. She hung it up on a hook on the wall and took another close look at the angry red line, her finger tracing down the line of stitches.
“All the stitches are intact, though a few pulled a bit,” she said.
She walked over to a cabinet and produced a bottle and a small cloth.
“So you were aware of what I just got done doing,” I said, unable to hold back a snicker.
“Most aware, in fact Mr. Spears gave me a warning this order might come down around the time you were discharged,” she said. “This is just a cleaning solution, should take care of the swelling and clean it out a bit.”
Dr. Kingsbury said, twisting out the cork and putting it on a table then dabbing some solution on the cloth.
“You don’t think our dearest Undertaker has anything catching, do you?” I said with a little laugh, though I wasn’t overly concerned.
“As a matter of fact necromancy carries its own set of communicable hazards to which our kind are vulnerable,” she said, positioning the cloth over the end of the mark near my side. “This might sting a little.” She lightly dabbed the cloth. It did sting a little, though weak enough so I barely noticed it. “There are numerous supernaturally based infections and curses that can befall one who messes around with that nonsense.“
My smile relaxed a bit and I heeded the little glare she gave me.
“However, we tested him for everything when he was brought in,” Dr. Kingsbury said. “Even called in a gent from Ireland who’s rather knowledgeable in these sorts of things. John Pennington was clear of everything, meaning he knew what he was doing and protected himself when he fooled around with such monstrosity. The problem is you didn’t know if he was clear of any infections or curses before you lay into him full bore with your own fresh wound, Mr. Sutcliff; not to mention you took the bloody bandage off and left your shirt open so you were fully exposed.”
“That was indeed careless of me,” I said, legitimately relieved at such a word. “I shall take better heed. Though fortunately I have no intention to do such exercises anytime in the future.”
“Good,” she said.
She got done wiping the wound, then proceeded to wipe down the rest of my chest and midsection with the cloth, swipes going away from the line. The Undertaker’s blood was cleared off as was his caked-on milk. She didn’t make any reaction the whole time, only cleaned me off.
“I’m not going to ask what you did with him, but I will say necromantic curses can also be transmitted through any genital fluids as well,” she said a bit bluntly. “Keep that in mind before dallying with anyone who’s played around with that rubbish.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle a little, she had a good idea what happened.
“I told Mr. Spears I wanted to be around when he delivered that order, though apparently he got a bit jumpy,” she said with a huff. “Alas I was called away; one of the kids got careless with cleaning his blade and sliced himself pretty bad.”
“Poor little sod,” I said.
“Yes, well he just needed a few stitches on his hand, though I’d have hope Mr. Spears waited before handing you that certificate. That’s when I would have told you Mr. Pennington was clear of everything.”
Will just couldn’t wait to give me my toy. What a thoughtful beauty he was, I was getting chills just thinking about it.
“Alas I’m the only one on duty tonight,” the doctor said. “Dr. Sutherland is resting for his own unfortunate duty in the morning.”
It took me a moment to think of what she was referring to, but I nodded with the understanding.
“He’s going to be the one who makes sure old Johnny’s gone for good,” I said.
“That he is,” she said, cleaning off the rest of Lord Johnny’s residue.
She put the bottle and the cloth down on a little table, then went into a side cabinet.
“Can I ask you a personal question, dearest doctor?” I said. “Or rather it is less a question than a moral opinion.”
I heard her give a small, annoyed chuckle.
“And just what would that be?” Dr. Kingsbury said.
“If you were in my position, would you have taken the bosses up on that offer? Would you have gone for that kind of lovely retribution, Hippocratic Oath and all that considering?”
She walked away from the counter with a syringe and a vial of some sort of med in her hands. Dr. Kingsbury placed both on the table, then poked the top of the vial with the needle and drew in the contents.
“This is a saline solution infused with a bit of energy, it should get you up to a better level than you are now,” she said. “I will personally take you back to your room right after this and I order you rest and use no further powers for at least the rest of the day. If you wish to witness the execution, I’ll instruct Mr. Spears to escort you down to the Security building in the morning. But you need to get proper rest, especially after straining yourself so much tonight.”
“I had hoped to pay Ronnie a visit, let him know how everything went,” I said. “Unless he’s still fast asleep.”
“He is actually, and I’d rather he rested too,” she said, taking hold of my upper right arm. “However you will get to see him in the morning. He has healed sufficiently so I gave him leave to attend that hideous show accompanied by one of the nurses.”
“Oh that’s indeed good news,” I said. “He so wanted to watch that piece of pig droppings get his head lopped off.”
Hopefully he would also get to see the residuals of my little fun. I was sure he would be appreciative.
She poked the needle into my arm. It stung pretty good for a moment, though backed right off. She pushed the plunger down and I felt a bit more together in an instant. I actually breathed a sigh of relief. The doctor slid the needle out and placed it on the table. She then collected her items and disposed of them or put them away in their proper fashion.
Dr. Kingsbury returned to me with a bandage roll. She motioned for me to come to a sit, which I did so a little easier thanks to the injection I just got. She then proceeded to wrap my torso and chest as it had been earlier. I didn’t exactly regret taking them off before my bit of fun, I wanted the Undertaker to behold his splendid work.
“In perfect honesty, Mr. Sutcliff, I would have to consider such an opportunity carefully; though I would hold no objections to at least considering something so extreme,” Dr. Kingsbury said, her voice a bit less severe.
I smirked a bit at this answer.
“Fortunately I have never taken a wound as bad as you and Mr. Knox did,” she continued, continuing her careful wrapping. “Though if those wounds were on me, I can’t say for certain I’d refuse; Hippocratic Oath and all that considering.”
I couldn’t hold my dirty chuckle.
“Hence you will have no judgment whatsoever from me,” she said, looking right into my eyes. “You did what you had to do to satisfy your anger. I just hope you had the satisfaction you need.”
I took a hard breath, my smile widening a bit.
“I can tell you with the utmost honesty. Dr. Kingsbury, that I most certainly did.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” she said, tucking the end of the bandage. “Now you keep this on. When you get back to your room, you get some rest. I want you back in your room and resting after this ordeal is over.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
She threw me back my shirt, I slid it back on though I knew for certain it was irredeemable. I could have attempted to clear it, though in truth I would rather have a souvenir.
I got off the bench and she took my arm. A flash of light later, we were outside my room. She kept me steady after materializing, enough for me to walk on my own back to my room. I bade her a warm goodnight and then went through the door. I turned on a lamp, seeing the clock on my wall reading close to midnight. I would only have about three hours of sleep, though any rest at this point sounded most lovely.
I set my watch to chime at 3, then I undressed and changed into my red nightgown. I washed off the blood and makeup on my face and gave myself a good scrub with this American witch hazel I had grown fond of. Brushing my hair could wait for the morning. Instead I crawled into my bed for the first time in quite a while and drifted off to a nice cozy sleep.
The chime woke me as expected, I opened my eyes and moved a bit to feel my wound aching rather nicely. It was enough to prompt me upright and onto getting ready to see Johnny off. I approached this as a bit more somber occasion. I went light on my make-up and chose a simple black suit with a standard black tie. Perhaps I did feel I was going to a funeral, or maybe a tiny part of me wanted to look respectable when the bosses saw what I did with the boy of the hour. Perhaps I did become a bit more conscious of decorum in the wake of recent events.
Maybe I took my words to Johnny a bit more seriously, though I recall what I told Ron after boarding that ship: being a reaper is the best profession in the world. I’d held a few different professions in my living days, this had them all topped. Yes the higher-ups were a stodgy lot, yes there were things like codes and paperwork to mind. Those were merely details to me; I love being a reaper. It took me almost losing this gift through my own idiocy to fully appreciate that. I counted my blessings everyday that I had this second chance. I just couldn’t respect anyone of our kind who would throw that all away so gleefully.
What were the odds Johnny sat in front of his own mirror at my age and thought the exact same thing? What if John did love this job at one point, what if the passing centuries stole that passion? Such is the mystery of immortality, who the hell knows what will happen in an hour let alone a millennium? That was what made this all so exciting.
I was told I could be back on duty in another week, maybe less. I was just itching to get back to the routine; the routine this Undertaker so hated. In the end it was his loss and no one would shed any tears for him.
At last I got the knock on the door around 4, Dr. Kingsbury indeed kept her word. I got up and looked out the peephole, seeing the handsome William standing right outside my door. I opened the door and was a bit amused to get a look-over.
“Dear God, you’re actually dressed respectfully,” he said.
“I felt it only appropriate to mark a bit of a somber occasion,” I said, straightening my tie for emphasis.
“Appropriate to dress for such a formal good riddance celebration,” he said.
“Well he always said such occasions were one’s final party.”
“Only he will have the opportunity to witness most of his.”
“Indeed.”
I put out my arm for him.
“Shall we off, darling,” I said.
He huffed a little before stiffly grabbing my arm.
“Don’t even start with me this morning, Sutcliff,” he said.
He lead me for two steps and we phased from the hallway, appearing in the lobby of the Security building. I stumbled for another few steps, actually feeling Will grab my shoulder to steady me.
“Such a gentleman, you are,” I said.
“If that’s what they’re calling it these days,” he replied.
I snickered and walked down the hallway beside him. He was in a rather charming mood this morning, I was most entertained. We were soon joining a few others looking to be on their way to the same destination. All of us moved to another part of the building adjacent to the prison ward which soon lead into a bit of a dark hallway. Another guard lead us through a steel door off to the side through a more severe looking corridor. This reminded me of the hold Johnny had been thrown in. Perhaps his final destination would look the same.
At last we assembled into a wide, boxy room, a wooden fence looped around a center stage and everyone was standing. I’d hoped it would be a good old-fashioned scaffold outside with plenty of witnesses there to throw things at the condemned. Alas this looked to be a small party of managers and assistants in what looked like a small indoor coliseum. I recognized both the London boys and the visitors from Sheffield. This had to be a banner moment for those lads; fifty years of hunting after this murderer officially ended today. They were all as stoic as usual, though I saw that tiny gleam of glee in their eyes.
I saw Thomas Cranston, the Director of Security Services standing on the main stage with a few guards in the standard buttoned up blue coat with pikes for scythes. There was another gentleman beside him, I think I recognized him from the library though his name escaped me. He held what looked like a record book in his hand, perhaps that’s where Johnny’s Cinematic Record was going. I would so love to have seen what juicy details had passed in his 800 years, but alas all of that was likely held for privileged eyes.
Father Michael Smith was up there, the head chaplain for those immortals who still held the church in some respect. Father Michael normally wears a suit and takes regular duty. This was one occasion where he wore full white funerary vestments, The Book of Common Prayer clutched in his slightly trembling hands. I immediately recognized the gentlemen in a lab coat with dirty blonde hair and a thick moustache as Dr. Ian Sutherland. Normally Dr. Ian is a very cheery fellow, though this time his expression was the grimmest I’d ever seen. I felt bad for the poor boy, that had to be an awful task for a physician.
William pointed to our prime spot in the front row and had me go in first. I immediately saw Ronnie at the end of the line and my heart leapt a bit. He was in a full suit, though leaned heavily on a cane. The boy was looking a bit better, though was still incredibly pale. A lovely young nurse with wavy blonde hair wearing a plain white dress stood beside him; I think I recognized her as Annabelle, one of his favorite pastime activities. I walked up to him and have him a handshake with a little clap on the back.
“So happy you could make it,” I said.
“You kidding, I wouldn’t miss this show for anything,” he said.
He leaned a bit further toward me.
“We going to see your handiwork?” he murmured in my ear.
“I duly hope so,” I whispered back. “I gave him some lovely going away presents.”
Ron gave a rather warming chuckle.
“Blimey I wish I could’ve had my own go at the fucker,” he said. “I’m nice and jealous now.”
“Don’t worry, I think I did enough for two of us.”
I just loved how he grinned at this.
“Knowin’ you, Mr. Sutcliff, that warms my black little heart.”
I smiled and had a little snicker myself. I looked down at my watch, 4:25.
Almost on cue, a wide door opened in the back of the hall and the guards parted formation. Another contingent of guards entered holding chains, and there in the middle was Lord Johnny himself. I saw a few eyes widen around the room, a couple glances went in my direction though most eyes stayed forward. Wills face remained as stony as ever. I loved how Ron’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened to saucers.
“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding,” he whispered to me in the midst of a surprised laugh.
Johnny wore the same simple attire he did last I visited him. His body was caked in dried blood. The skin over his chest reformed as pale pink putty, the lines from the whip were a shade of dark auburn. There were still large scabs from when I hit him with the poker and I saw large marks of blue and purple underneath the dried blood. That nasty cut across his throat healed closed for the most part save for a single gaping superficial wound. His face was still a little puffy from where I smacked him a few times. It looked like he did have enough energy to heal most of what I gave him though some shadows of the real damage remained. What were the odds he delayed his healing to give us all a little show; I wouldn’t put it past him.
His arms and legs were still in the cuffs, the chains in the hands of the guards. That once flowing white hair had been hacked to the base of his head, likely to create an easier space for the scythe. Naturally the Undertaker was smirking a bit as he was lead forward; he had accepted his fate after all.
His eyes scanned his surroundings, though were soon locked on mine. I smiled and gave him a little wave. He gave me a feral grin in return.
The parade stopped on the stage. A reaper in a black cloak with the classic black hood over his head then stepped forward, a large axe was poised in his hand with the blade bearing the tell-tale shine and coloring of Gray Metal. This deadly-looking beauty had to have been made for a specific purpose, it was a bit too large and ornate for an everyday scythe. I was a little disappointed to see Johnny wouldn’t be going on his own scythe, the same one that sliced into Ron and I. Perhaps such was a rule of decorum reapers didn’t violate; I wasn’t exactly that familiar with elimination proceedings and that was for the best in my estimation.
Tom Cranston opened a small book in his hands, presumably his keynote address for this celebration. He then proceeded to read:
“John Pennington, by the authority of the Reaper Council, you have been sentenced to elimination on the following charges: the murder of four reapers, the murders of 1,548 humans, the attempted murders of two reapers, manipulating Cinematic Records, manipulating corpses with death energy, malicious manipulations of death energy, and abuse of your powers to cause grievous harm. All of these are crimes that have rendered your existence void and the most correct remedy for all you have wrought is to end that existence here on this day. Do you have any final words?”
Johnny smiled a bit and chuckled as always.
“It was fun while it lasted,” he said. “I’ve had plenty to laugh about.”
I saw William’s eyes narrow dangerously. He looked at this man with complete and utter contempt. No wonder why he wanted to give me my certificate so quickly. He might have been deliciously cold, but Will was so loyal to our own kind. How it must have warmed his heart to see such a traitor suffer.
John was pushed down to his knees, the executioner’s gloved hand positioned his neck on a black stone block. Father Michael opened his prayer book to the usual liturgy:
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”
The executioner faced his blade toward another guard, who examined it and nodded.
“He maketh me lie down in green pastures, He leadeth me beside the still waters.”
The executioner poised his axe, waiting for the signal from Mr. Cranston. Father Michael continued on a few more lines.
Johnny looked right up at me with those pretty, cruel eyes of his. I felt a slight pressure in my temples, apparently he saved a little energy to tell me something though was taking his time to do it. I took a brief look down at my watch; 4:29.
“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.”
John smiled at me, the connection growing a bit stronger though he was keeping quiet and I was getting no images. I should have blocked out his intrusion, who knows what hoary images he wanted to implant in my brain.
“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. Amen.”
The executioner leaned his axe down to guide his swing before raising up his weapon.
“Goodnight, goodnight,” I heard John’s voice echo through my mind. “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”
“See you in hell, Johnny,” I responded over the connection.
Johnny smiled and I saw him give that one last chuckle. Cranston nodded and signaled. The executioner swung his axe down, the blade swiping clean through the Undertaker’s neck.
The connection severed like pulling a plug right out of my head. I flinched for a moment and felt a bit dizzy, though I got back my bearings quick. Ron and William glanced at me with a bit of surprise, though I shook my head and waved a hand in dismissal. John’s head dropped into a large basin below the block in a spray of blood. That beautifully marred body twitched for a moment and them went limp. I blew a kiss to Lord Johnny one last time.
Glowing reels emerged from the stump where his head once was. The librarian opened the book and positioned it right in front of the playing record, the pages absorbing every flickering strand. They did make sure no reels were visible, though the room was flooded with that familiar silver glow. A few guards huddled around the librarian, I think his name was Stephen, as he caught the many reels. This was a record of 800 years of immortality, 800 years of service, 800 years of madness. If some human record could go haywire, I didn’t even want to think of what the record of such an old and demented reaper would do.
At last the final reel sunk into the book, the flickering light faded into the pages before the librarian closed it with thud. Dr. Ian then leaned down, examining the wound across his neck, then reaching in the basket presumably to examine John’s severed head. I caught a brief glimpse of the Undertaker’s face; his eyes were gently closed, mouth curved into a wide smile. Dr. Ian stood up and then nodded grimly. Father Michael crossed himself.
It was over. Lord John Pennington, the Undertaker, was gone for good. I did feel a bit sentimental, though I couldn’t help but think it couldn’t have happened to a better person.
I would want to return to my room for a nice nap after this, maybe do some sketching later. After I went back on duty I would probably track down the earl and sweetest Bassie to give them the final update. They had already given all their information to Her Majesty, this would just close the book on this sordid tale.
In the meantime, my own comfort and well being was the my top priority; a charge I was happy to carry out to the absolute letter.
THE END