Retreat (Secret Name 18)

Chapter 18: Retreat

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The bar is still dark, but a globe of warm light halos my aunt. Simultaneously, it obscures most of her expression from me, and draws my eye to Grell. He stands dressed in what looks like my Aunt’s red coat, and his hair is as fiery as hers is.

It’s all rather unreal. Later, I suspect the shock of it will come down on my double-fold. For now, I just try and follow what’s going on.

“What do you think of my real look, Sebastian?” Teeth flash and Grell gives a showmanly spin.

Sebastian doesn’t so much as smile. He looks down on Grell. “You disgust me.” He steps out into the cleared space, and his heels sound softly on the tile. Ever so slightly, he bends at the waist.

I tap my fingers, impatient for my orders to be carried out. This needs to end. But I don’t need to wait long—Grell runs at Sebastian, his chainsaw held at an angle. His laughter echoes off the close walls.

Sebastian rallies, spinning and bounding out of range. His feet leave the ground, and he flies upward in an astounding jump. His coat flaps around him, and his silhouette seems longer in the light.

Aunt Anne doesn’t spare me a glance, engrossed in watching the two of them. Sebastian told me I was in shock for the past few days. It looks like she might be now. “Look what you’ve done. If only you hadn’t said anything, we could still play games of chess.” She is quiet for a moment.

Grell bounds inspite of his high heels, and for a few steps, he walks on the walls instead of the floor. As quick as a snake, he catches up to Sebastian, snagging his black coat on that saw.

Fabric shreds.

“My sister’s child.” Finally, she turns to look at me, hurt pride and anger masking any affection she might have felt for me. “How did it come to this?”

Closing my eyes, I shrug. “How could I play chess with a murderer? Or have tea with my parents’ enemy?”

She scoffs. “It always comes back to that with you. Don’t you realize? It was never about them.” She raises her hand, and looks at her manicure. I wonder how she sees it? The dainty finger-bones look all too prominent to me…I can’t imagine her wielding something as uncouth as a butcher’s blade. Ican barely imagine her cutting up women and selling their pieces.

As if to answer my thoughts, she raises her eyes. “Do you think it’s about right and wrong, good and evil?” Her voice is raw, hoarse. “Nothing’s right or wrong. It’s all chance.”

Behind us now, demon and reaper leap in a parody of a dance; they are graceful and ruthless, every move executed with the skill of world-class athletes.

I hear Sebastian’s breath. I can see strange blurred whizzes even when he’s not in my sight, and it distracts me. I rub at my eye.

“Sebastian…you knew I what I was, didn’t you?” Grell croons. “You always knew.” Taunting, smooth, and hateful.

“Shut up.” I mutter.

Sebastian snorts. “What if I did?” there’s a sound like footsteps, and then he calls back at Grell, a few more barbs in his voice. “You should have stayed neutral. You know that Reapers aren’t meant to be on this—”

“And it’s all right for you to play with the mortals? Just admit it, Sebastian. You love me.”

Above me now, their voices fall down like rain. “Filth.” He murmurs. “I have my reasons.”

“And you won’t leave, even when faced with a Death Scythe?”

“I made a vow to the moon…” Sebastian laughs.

“…what a dishonest man…” Grell puffs out, and something sparks. One light goes out in a shower of sparks.

With it, her temper. “Do you think it was fair, that it was right for those people to take you?”

What is she saying? I stare at her, eyes wide.

“That the sins of the father should be carried by the son?” White foam flies from her perfectly painted lips. Somewhere along the line, she’s gone from detached victim to enflamed (would be) martyr.

“What do you know about that night?”　My voice is cold, like my anger.

“Nothing, Ciel. I had nothing to do with it.” Her words are quiet, bitter. She watches Grell and Sebastian trade blows, and her hands clench tightly.

She needs some motivation to speak, I think.

What weapons do I have? I have Sebastian and his contract, and what else? I may have ordered Sebastian to take care of the reaper— I want to kill him, to stop the murders—but what to do with my aunt? Aside from violence, what else do I have?

Alois’s abbreviated instructions float back into mind. “In the dark. Take your hand and make a circle. Say these words, and you’ll have light.”

Memories of my aunt playing with fire in my childhood reminds me of Alois’s magic…my latest brush with magical fire being the result of Alois’s spell, I’m not exactly eager to give his new spell a try. But I pull out the paper anyways. My aunt has studied magic. She’ll understand what it means, or assume it’s some kind of attack.

I flourish the spelled paper before me. Madam Red gives me her full attention, her sharp eyes on the new threat. She lights fire in her hand in an instant, the flames casting shadow on half her face. “Ciel, what gifts do you have, mmm? You never let on that your magic developed more than reading spell books. Books you never used.”

But I don’t have time even decide to make a circle—something unexpected happens.

The paper flares a brilliant purple light, and my eye smarts with pain. There’s something hot and scratchy on my eye—I rub it, and the colored contact falls out, dried and misshapen.

Of course, it was Alois’ spell. Who knows what it was really for—maybe he wanted to know for certain what I’ve done with Sebastian. But sure enough, there is light. Light in the darkness than strains my eyes. Half truths. Half lies.

Looking at me, Madam Red gasps. “Ciel, baby. What have you done?”

Too late, I realize she’s seen the contract sign. And she knows what it is…how could she not? Belatedly, I try and cover it with one hand.

To my side, Sebastian’s eyes are also reacting to the paper, crumbling into ash in my hand. He and Grell approach us.

Suddenly, the reaper grabs Madam Red’s hand. He pets her cheek, leaving a streak of Sebastian’s crimson blood there. “It’s a devil’s contract.” Sharp teeth glisten, and his glasses shine. “And soon, it comes due.” Behind the lenses, his yellow-green eyes are like those of a cat.

Sebastian stands before me, frowning as he touches my hand, pushing it away. He examines my eye. “I told you eye contacts were not a good idea…let me see,” he fusses.

I slap his hand away.

“Ah.” Sebastian murmurs. “Pride.” He tilts his head. “A heady flavor, Ciel. Best not leave too much of it.”

With another cry, Madam Red falls to her knees, all her anger spent. Tears come to her eyes. She shakes her head. “Foolish, stupid boy.”

Grell laughs, bearing his pointed teeth. “He’s afraid, Madam. He’s striking out before it all is over.” Touching his lips, he makes a pout I’m probably intended to think is cute. “I mean, what boy wants to die?”

Ignoring the reaper, Madam Red struggles to her feet. She shakes with emotion I cannot accept. “Ciel, a contract like that is blood magic— you’ll—” Her concern, her pity is like acid.

“--lose his soul. Poor dear.” Grell interrupts. “And we can’t let him talk before he goes, so, might as well say goodbye early. Save his soul and all that crap.” Grell leans forward, too fast even for Sebastian to block.

Instead of waylaying Grell, Sebastian shoves me to the side, blocking the vicious blade with the thick metal support from part of the building. It breaks, and Grell is on him like a shark smelling blood.

Flesh rends.

Sebastian frowns, and staggers to the side. Red blossoms on his crisp white shirt.

“Did you really think you could match my Death Scythe with nothing more than a little metal stick?” Grell crows.

I stare at the raw edges of the weapon.shiny with Sebastian’s blood. Why does Sebastian bleed? Does he really have blood?

Grell turns to me, the grisly saw held high. He runs forward. Heading for me.

“No!” Her voice is anguished. So like my mother’s…

There’s a hissing, sizzling noise as Madam Red’s fireball strikes the blade. Nothing seems to happen at first, but Grell frowns and stops. “Oh, darling. He’s going to die anyway.” He shakes his head. “Show me that spirit, that vicious intent! Kill him, and we can continue our forbidden romance with death, Madam.”

But Madam Red shakes her head. She opens her mouth to speak. “I can’t. He’s my sis—”

But the words go unsaid. Grell, ever swift, lunges and strikes. Merciless and inhuman, he cuts her down with a blow to her stomach. He pulls up, cracks her ribs. The sound is terrible.

Aunt Anne, Madam Red, the murder. Some link to my parent’s murder. Her body flies through the air, eerily slowed by some sort of light and moving pictures streaming from the wound.

Frozen, and somehow still falling, she cries without sound.

In the darkness,
her lips pressed thin, my aunt gives in. She sighs

and memory

is upon us.