Not part of Cielizzy Week but I am back in the Cielizzy groove :)
“Hey doll.” Ciel took off his fedora and set aside his cane. “You did great today.”
Lizzy, dressed in nothing but a diaphanous white nightie, sat by the window ledge, cheek pressed against the cool glass and body bathed in pale moonlight. To Ciel, the mafia don who ruled Chicago with an iron first, she looked positively angelic.
“Come sit next to me.” His fiancée murmured, sleepy eyed and serene as she gave him a faint smile. “I’m cold.”
“I’ll get Mey-Rin to start the fireplace—“
“No, silly,” Lizzy giggled, holding out one dainty white hand, “I want you to hold me.”
And, while he’d never admit this to anyone, a faint pink blush appeared on the top of Ciel’s cheeks before he nodded, quietly making his way over to Elizabeth. The Chicago crime boss gently hoisted her up so she could sit on his lap, her satin nightie stark white against the black of his finely tailored Brooks Brothers suit. Truth be told, he loved holding Elizabeth like this, late at night with no one to disturb them; Lizzy was a comfortable, warm weight who seemed to expel all stress and anxiety from his body.
And while he knew it was unbecoming, Ciel allowed himself this one indulgence, pressing his cheek against her shoulder blade and inhaling the sunshine citrusy scent of her perfume.
“You smell like summer.” He sighed unconsciously, breath hot against her cool skin.
Lizzy laughed, snuggling closer to him so that her back rested against his chest, head tucked under his chin. “You’re very sweet tonight, Ciel.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“That Sebastian character is awfully open when he’s feeling cocky.” She noted with a slight hint of amusement. “Is he really the most feared gangster in Birmingham?”
“He is indeed—but that’s probably because London wouldn’t take him.” He pressed a light kiss to her temple. “The sooner we claim the ammunition, the better. I want him out of Chicago.”
Lizzy frowned. “He did seem quite sincere when he talked about not being able to return home. Does Churchill really think Sebastian’s going to sell England out to the Communists?”
Ciel smirked. “Of course not, love. The man’s a career politician, he’s only saying that to get parliamentary support in persecuting one of Birmingham’s most notorious problems.”
“What I can’t understand is why those weapons are so important. There are dozens of arms dealers in Birmingham aren’t there? What’s wrong with the ones Sebastian’s got?”
“It’s who he got them from, Lizzy.” Ciel explained, finger wrapped around a lock of her golden hair. “You see, the artillery Michaelis stole was originally purchased by the British government. The middleman in charge of the deal—Davenport—sold them to Michaelis instead.”
“So the politician who ordered that the weapons be purchased was none other than Churchill himself.” Lizzy deduced, feeling elated when Ciel gave her a kiss on confirmation. “And I’m going to guess that Sebastian didn’t buy them either—he forced Davenport to hand the guns over or else he’d kill him.”
“Oh death is hardly the most torturous thing a person can devise. Michaelis most likely suggested imprisonment at one of his Birmingham camps—or worse, a contract with him.”
Lizzy glanced up, slightly confused. “A contract? What’s so horrific about a contract?”
“You don’t want to get into a contract with Sebastian Michaelis, love. The man claims to be honorable but he’ll exploit every possible loophole to ensure that he doesn’t have to upkeep his end of the bargain. Death will follow you whoever you go and by the end of the whole affair, he’ll be the one with a fat wallet while you’re charged with treason and hauled off to the executioner’s chair.”
“At least he’s not in France. 1924 and they still use the guillotine.” Lizzy wrinkled her nose before putting on her poshest English accent. “How incredibly and unsavorily dull.” She announced, glancing up to see Ciel’s sapphire eyes filled with mirth, lips threatening to break into a genuine smile.
“When did you become so bloodthirsty, Lizzy?” He chuckled, tightening his hold around her waist.
“I’m not!” She protested lightly. “It’s just not stylish to use the guillotine anymore. All that blood and jeering—you’ll ruin your Sunday best just by passing through the crowd! Can you imagine walking down the street and coming out the other side looking as if you’d taken part in the cult of Bacchus? I’d rather not look like I’d just bit the head off a chicken.” She sniffed daintily, elegant manners a direct juxtaposition to her graphic description.
That was it, Ciel couldn’t help it—he laughed out loud, head thrown back and chest rumbling with laughter. But to Lizzy, it was the most beautiful sound in the whole world.
Got word that you were in a bit of bind. How tiresome. Nevertheless, I am obligated by precedence to help you. On the first of February, get yourself to the Rosewood Clearing before midnight. I’ll meet you there.
—William T. Spears
With a lazy—almost detached half-smile—Sebastian checked the calendar that hung by his righthand side.
Only twelve more days.
He closed his eyes, half-amused, half-exasperated. He had no doubt Ciel Phantomhive would try to locate the buried artillery within those few days and while Sebastian had little direct influence on the outcome of such things, he did have the power of guile. All he needed to do was stall the brat long enough for Will to bust him out of this joint—and then he was taking his guns, his company, and a few select others to the wide and open streets of New York City.
If that golden haired little girl didn’t trip him up again.
- Fun fact: the guillotine was used as a form of execution until September 1977.
- Cult of Bacchus…same thing as the cult of Dionysus.
Stoic new poster art with Sebastian, Ciel and Snake promoting the upcoming Kuroshitsuji Book of the Atlantic in the February issue of Animedia Magazine (Amazon US | eBay), illustrated by animation director Yumi Nakayama (中山由美).