Hospital For Souls (M i c h a e l i s) [Kuroshitsuji 3]{Completed}

Chapter VIII : One Hot-Headed Murderer

Have you ever took a blade to your wrists?

I found it difficult to believe that the severity of my injury was so much so that I had been out for two days. But I realized that this when I was inside the hansom cab that would take us back into London town, and less than two minutes down the road, my head was spinning again.

Ciel was wrapped up in a high necked, double-breasted coat, the navy colour contrasting beautifully against his creamy skin, and he was wearing an apprehensive expression. Deep blue eyes regarded me warily, as though I were a ticking time bomb. "Are you alright?"

"I feel a little dizzy," I replied, gripping onto the edge of the door. Sebastian, who was seated opposite me, let the shade over the window up a fraction so that a sliver of icy air blew into the cab. "That is much better, thank you."

"Celeste, you and I will be interviewing Herman Greenhill, while Sebastian will be seeking out Lawrence Bluer."

"What of the other two?" I asked, trying to suppress my nauseous groan. Oh, Lord, take me now.

"Edgar Redmond has disappeared without a trace," Ciel answered, "And Gregory Violet committed suicide. We feel that Bluer and Greenhill are the pair most likely to talk, anyway. Sebastian will leave at Charing Cross, and we will continue onwards to Compton Avenue. Are we clear?"

"Crystal –" I began to speak, but cut myself off with a tiny whimper as the carriage rolled over a pothole. "I am never willingly stepping foot in one of these things again."

"It's only a hansom," he replied dryly, arching a sarcastic blue brow. "One would swear you had been forced to ride bareback across the North York Moors."

"May as well have been," I muttered, pushing my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket, and burying my face in the collar. This helped me to ignore the rocking motion of the cab a little easier, quashing my nausea.

We came to a grinding halt at where I could only assume was Charing Cross, and Sebastian climbed gracefully from the structure; I could hear the splash as his expensive shoes came into contact with muddy street water. Beautiful, although it was hard to imagine anything he wore becoming filthy for more than five minutes; everything about him seemed immaculate.

"Were you staring at my butler's rear end?" Ciel asked dryly.

"What?" The bizarre question yanked me out of my thought, before I realized that we were moving again.

The teenage boy sat opposite me with an expression that I had seen him wear a handful of times – a malicious, curling smirk. Playful animosity glittered behind his pellucid blue eyes as he waited for me to respond.

"I most certainly was not," I shot back, crossing my legs and folding my arms across my chest – which was, in fact, quite difficult considering my ample assets. "How dare you accuse a lady of such a thing?"

"You're not a lady, you're a whore," he replied cheerfully. I opened my mouth to respond, to try and protest; but after the way I'd had Sebastian treat me in the drawing room, I wasn't exactly in a position to defend myself.

"And you are a salacious little man-child who holds absolutely no regard in the matter of social standing and manners!"

"Touché, Miss Bennett, you have excellent conversational skills." He was grinning widely, baring snow-white teeth.

"Are you comparing me to the protagonist of Pride and Prejudice?" The woman who happened to nearly run off with every man she saw?!

"How astute of you; and you can read, what fun!"