WANTED (Sequel to One Hell of a Maid)

Chapter 9: Paw Prints and Raven Feathers

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Now that I'm writing my book Hero's Journey and that summer is about to begin (I have much to study for end of the year finals) I can't continue updating every three days. So, I'd like to do it every Monday and Friday. Besides it seems more official then just every three days, so now you'll know the days that I'll update.

I'm sorry if this inconveniences or annoys you in any way.

~Ashlee💕

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After I'm sure everyone is gone I leave the house and pay a young lad to drive me to the seaport where I'm sure the ship is being repaired. If I'm lucky I can find something out by interrogating one of the engineers, if I'm unlucky I'll have to sneak in and look around for myself. That, or plan C.

The carriage arrives and pulls to a stop a couple of minutes walk to the docks. I promptly pay the lad and step out on to the ground.

Compared to the small town I now live in the port is a bustling city, filled with people working and strolling idly about.

I go on to the docks and manage to find a worker dressed in brown sackcloth.

"Excuse me but do you have a clue where the ship being repaired is?"

"Miss there are a lot of ships under repair and preparation but if it's the one with the busted engine that just came back then yes. It's just a little while down the docks. Her name is the S.S. Victoria." He says, pulling on his shirt, anxious to get back to work.

"Thank you much," I smile before following his directions down the dock.

As I walk I make sure to read the names of the ships as I go but it's hard not to be distracted by the heavy scent of saltwater and brine in the air mixed with the oil and mechanical sound of machinery. Not to mention the many people and working children shuffling past with the duty of work shining in their eyes.

My steps halt as my eyes catch on the name of the nearest ship. The S.S. Victoria, most likely named after the Queen is a large ship with three masts and a metal exterior. It's very modern and heavy but despite its weight looks to be able to easily cut through the rolling waves of the Pacific.

I get closer to the ship and the golden sprawling lettering of the ship's name on its side becomes far more prominent and it almost seems like the ship becomes more humongous.

I stop at the edge of the deck where I can just see the curling foamy crests of the teal waves from where I stand. The sea reflects the storminess of the grey-blue sky and I can already feel the drip drip of rain every once in awhile being leaked from the fat grey clouds above.

I find a group of workers near the entrance of the ship and go over to talk to them.

"Excuse me but are you working on the engine of this ship?" I ask, gesturing towards the looming grey ship.

"Yeah, what's it to ya?" One answers rudely.

I smile appealingly, if being a Siren taught me anything it was charm and the way to manipulate. Though I do hate to use that manipulating charm of my femininity and looks it already seems like these men are going to be disagreeable.

"Because of your technological prowess I was wondering if you knew how the engine broke down in the first place?"

"It was a bloody act of terrorism that's what," another of the workers answer, this one with a British accent.

An accent I had also acquired since being in England for the length I was.

The man, (an American) the one that spoke before him elbows him, "That's a stupid rumor but why do you wanna know?" He asks evasively.

Despite his words his eyes tell me that there is more truth to it than a rumor has.

"Curious is all. I've been hearing these rumors and my cousin was one of the ones on this ship. I was just wanting to know what exactly went wrong," I lie easily.

"Who's your cousin?" The American asks.

"Earl Ciel Phantomhive," I don't hesitate.

The American's and the British's eyes both widen.

"Ciel Phantomhive?" The American drawls.

"Yes, I am Lady Lucretia Phantomhive, daughter of George Phantomhive brother to my dear cousin's departed father."

Both of their jaws drop, "So I ask you again how did the engine break down? I don't like flexing my power as a Lady of England but you're disagreeable manner has given me no choice. So please shut your mouths and answer me, it's an urgent matter."

I inwardly smile, I haven't lost my touch at telling false as easily as truth. It's quite a useful trait really.

The men close there mouths, the Brit is the first to speak. "There are signs of vandalism," he admits.

"When,was it while the ship sailed in the sea or when it was still docked?"

"The best we can guess is when the ship was still docked," The Brit answers.

"May I take a look?" I ask.

The American rubs at his head, "It's restricted to outsiders."

I glare at the two with the terrifying regal air of an aristocrat, "I am no outsider sir."

They both nod and scramble up into the ship to show me the engine room.

The engine room is a cold room, with almost a futuristic look to it. Everything in the room is metal except for the workmen and myself. I won't be surprised of they turn out to be automatons.

"This here is the engine room, the scene of the crime," the American announces.

"Is there any evidence?" I ask, searching the room with my eyes.

"Yes Lady Phantomhive but I doubt you'll believe me."

"Try me."

"Paw prints. Itty bitty paw prints that saunter lazily up through the dust layering the floor and then turn into small human feet." The American explains in a mocking sort of voice.

I nearly snort at this, or at least I would of if I hadn't seen the things that I've seen throughout my time working for Ciel.

Speaking of which, my young master would be very angry if word got to him that I was pretending to be a relative of his that never existed. But he isn't my young master anymore so it doesn't really matter. My loyalty to him has been snipped, I am no longer his maid, my loyalty now lies with my new master Simon.

Even as I think it I know it not to be true.

"Is that all the evidence you have?" I inquire.

"That's all the evidence but we still have more information and speculation to share Lady Phantomhive," the Brit says.

"Go on," I say with a faux yawn.

"The person who toyed with the S.S. Victoria's engine had to have been very smart in mechanics. He had to be or else the engine would of stopped working much sooner. They almost put some sort of internal timer in the engine so it would stop working far from these ports. The men think it's some sort of devil-man and I agree. Who else could do something like this?" The Brit explains.

The American sniggers, "I don't believe that mumbo jumbo but I did see some sort of tall dark figure striding through the halls near the engine room, well at least I thought I did but when I rounded the corner all I saw was shadow and some black feathers."

"Raven feathers, a bad omen," The Brit adds.

The American rolls his eyes at this, "But yeah that's all we have, now Lady of England or not get off this ship before we're all caught and thrown into the brig."