In This Hell ( V i o l e t ) [Kuroshitsuji 2] {Completed}

Chapter XIV : A Visit to Reading

And these words changing nothing.

"Allow me to just tie this in a little bow - there we are, Grace, you look absolutely ravishing, my dear." Undertaker pinched my cheek with his dark nails and beamed at me. He'd fixed the bloody red cloak that I was wearing so that the bow that was tied sat underneath my chin, cradled away against the hollow of my throat. My head was sheltered by thick fabric, and he had taken to calling me his 'Little Red Riding Hood' whenever I wore the crimson garment.

Violet stood, watching us. He was clothed in a cloak of similar cut, although his was completely and utterly pitch black; he remained silent as Undertaker ensured I was completely covered up.

"Now, darling, you're ready to go." He looked to Violet with a smile. "Say hello to Andrew for me!"

Violet gave a slight nod, and held out his hand for me. I took it; it shook violently. "We should return approximately Tuesday afternoon. Do not expect us to be back before then."

"Don't look so stoic, Violet! I will miss having you two around, you've been awfully fun to play with."

"Bye," I said, waving, but Violet pulled me out the door before I could say anything else. There was a cab waiting outside, different to the city ones - it was a heavier canvas, brown rather than black, and there were no windows. The cabbie was sitting on top, wrapped up tightly in a double breasted jacket.

He held the side door open for me, placing a hand on my back to help me up inside the vehicle. I nestled myself in, pulling my legs across, and by the time that I was comfortable Violet had nudged himself in beside me. The door slammed, he knocked two knuckles on the roof, and the cab began to roll forward.

Violet didn't speak at all. He instead pulled out a notepad and began to draw. I watched over his shoulder - his lead pencil's subject was some sort of winged creature, with broken bones and mottled feathers. He drew one, two, three, more and more until they were in the tens and twenties, all standing in a circle in different grotesque poses. At the centre of the circle was someone hunched, long hair covering their face - all I could see were their fingernails digging painfully into the ground.

"Who's that?"

"What?"

"That." I pointed to the person surrounded by the shadowed figures. "Who's that?"

"That," he smiled without humour, "Is a man that's having an awfully hard time confronting his demons."

"It appears to be an awfully painful experience."

"Trust me," Violet replied, "It is." With that, he snapped the notebook shut, his pale eyes focusing on my face. "Grace?"

"Yes?" I answered, folding my hands in my lap.

"I feel that you should know that we are not going to visit my father," he said hesitantly, still looking to me with an unblinking gaze.

"I know," I said dully.

"How did you -?" Fear flickered behind his lilac irises. "Did Undertaker tell you?"

"No. I heard you and Edgar in the bedroom. I was... curious."

"Oh." He took a deep breath in, seeming to relax slightly. "Oh, alright. That's fine."

"Why didn't you want Undertaker to know?"

"Because I feared that he would punish either one or both of us."

"He wouldn't have hurt me."

"If you say so." Violet traced a finger along the edge of his notebook, staring down at the patterns. I remembered something like that, vague in the back of my concreted mind - the deep blue, shimmering fabric stretched over a hardback cover, its brothers and sisters stacked up high like bricks around it on a market stall. "So then, you heard where we are going."