The Final Curtain (Kuroshitsuji)

Chapter Twelve: The Tale of Bryony Redruth

"What the devil do you think you're doing?" Ciel snarled at the Queen's butler.  "I order you to move out of my way this instant!"

    "Sorry, little guard dog," Charles Grey gently turned his sword over in his hands, glancing down at the earl.  "I'm not your butler. I do not answer to your feeble orders. Now I shall ask again: where are you off to in such a hurry? Surely Her Majesty would not be happy to find you bounding off through the theatre in such a cumbersome fashion, drawing attention to yourself and your work."  He sneered, waiting for an answer. 

    Ciel glared at Grey, clenching his fists and finding it harder than normal to contain his anger.  "Her Majesty would certainly not be happy with you for interfering with my ability to put her mind at ease," he practically spat.  "I told you to get out of my way!"

    Without thinking, Ciel shoved the butler with both hands.  Ordinarily the earl's thin arms would not have been able to move the butler one bit.  Now, with his new demonic strength, Ciel sent Grey flying into the wall; not hard enough to crack the wall, or even to knock him out, but enough to stun him into brief paralysis and give the earl enough time to run into the bottom floor audience and get lost in the crowd. 

    Grey sat against the wall, a pained groan escaping his wide-open mouth.  His eyes - as large as dinner plates in his fear - followed Ciel through the theatre.  Her Majesty will want to know of this, he thought to himself. 

    Ciel reached the stage just as he saw Matilda helping Bryony to her feet.  Pushing through the last of the dancers, he made his way to the women with enraged strides that were almost stomps.  Matilda saw him and pointed him out to Bryony before he was very close, and they met him in the middle of the stage near where the trapdoor remained open. 

    "What do you mean by running off like that?" Ciel demanded. 

    "Forgive me, young master," Matilda apologized sheepishly.  "But I'm afraid you have another guest tonight." 

    The earl's eyes shifted to the ballerina.  "Bryony Redruth, I presume."  His voice was flat.  "Yes, certainly.  Come back to Phantomhive Manor with us; I have some questions for you anyhow." 

    Just then, Sebastian appeared at Ciel's side; startling all three quite a bit, for they had not seen him walk in their direction.  "Young Master," he began.  "I was unable to locate the Loric sisters themselves; however, I found their butler, and between the two of us we have arranged a business meeting over afternoon tea tomorrow." 

    "Thank you, Sebastian." Ciel replied, not taking his eyes off Bryony.  He stared a moment longer before turning his attention to the gaping hole in the stage.  He drew closer to it, intending to inspect it, but a gloved hand held him back by his shoulder. 

    "Perhaps I should perform this task, my lord," the butler suggested, though it was obvious that it was far from a genuine suggestion.  If the earl protested, Sebastian would find excuse after excuse to keep him away from the trapdoor.  "This is too dangerous for you." 

    Ciel glared but said nothing, giving the butler a passive nod after a brief standoff.  Sebastian passed the party to the trapdoor and bent over it, cocking his head from one side to the other before motioning over his shoulder. 

    "Matilda," he said.  "Come here please." 

    Matilda reached the butler in less than five long steps, peering into the opening with him.  She had to blink once for her eyes to pierce the darkness, but slowly she began to perceive the wood flooring where performers would ordinarily land during a production.