At Your Service

Chapter 29- First

 Carlisle stared at the slip of parchment as its yellowed surface stared back up at him, as if expecting a response or reaction, a choice, from him itself. He'd never failed before, and he never had the choice to stay or leave. The parchment shook ever so slightly in his fingers.

They loved Carlisle?

They loved Carlisle. They said so the previous night, but no one had ever truly loved him before, so this all felt surreal to him.

He could return to Hell and wait for his next calling, the next desperate human. He thought this was the easiest option, because he could disappear in the snap of his fingers and be gone without a trace on the planet, as if he'd never met the Vandiver family; however, as he sat there on that bench by the pond, he couldn't bring himself to make a move when it was supposed to be so easy.

His second option was to go to the hospital and take care of Ansel and of his own free will, take care of the most wonderful master he'd ever served, and perhaps cultivate more from their blossoming relationship.

Carlisle smiled wide as he neatly folded the letter and inserted it into his pocket. Ansel was expecting him to leave and Ashley was begging for it, and the last thing the demon wanted was to give either of them what they were expecting or wanting from him, anything to starve their stubborn spirits. So, the demon did what anyone would do and headed to the market.

"Where do you think he is?" Marjorie whispered.

"He left," Huko grumbled. "Ain't it obvious?"

Finn sighed sadly. "Poor master will be heartbroken."

"He was one hell of a butler, though," the maid sighed sadly.

"He was one hell of a bitch, if you ask me!" the chef huffed bitterly.

"Mr. Ansel gave Mr. Lomen the choice," Solomon reminded the other three servants, but he, too, felt mournful. "Mr. Lomen has made his choice."

Ansel very abruptly opened his eyes and turned his head to the right. Marjorie was sat in a chair close to the bedside while Huko stood behind her with his arms crossed over his chest. He whipped his head to the left to see Solomon and Finn standing beside each other. "Hi."

Solomon smiled wide and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Welcome back, master." He gently patted the young witch's shoulder.

"What's on my legs?" He could feel pressure on his thighs and a thumping, like the back of a massaging chair.

"Those are massaging your legs to prevent clotting," Solomon answered. "Very important."

"How did it go?"

"Everything went very well," the old man assured him. "You were in surgery for three hours. It was all removed without complications. Dr. Hahn did, however, have a bit of trouble getting you closed up, being the beanpole you are." He stroked their cheek with the back of his wrinkly fingers. "He said he had to get creative because you're so thin, but that was his one complaint."

Ansel smiled. "Is my arm okay?"

"Your arm is just fine, Mr. Ansel," Marjorie responded, a little confused.

Ansel looked even more confused. "But... it was on fire."

"Ah, that was just the anesthesia being injected," Solomon assured him. "It will wear off in its entirety in a day or so."

Ansel stared at the glass of the automatic doors of the post-op room with an unreadable expression. "Carlisle isn't here," he murmured, looking up at Solomon with teary eyes.