At Your Service

Chapter 34- Directed

 Carlisle was in the kitchen preparing a salad for dinner, cutting grape tomatoes in half and shredding some parmesan cheese, and was startled when Mephistopheles was suddenly leaping onto the counter. His tiny dark eyes were narrowed as he stared at the demon, who set his knife down.

"Yes, tiny one?" The kitten sat down, flicking his tail in annoyance. "What?" The cat tilted his head. The demon put his hands on his hips and huffed. "I can't just..." He paused, listening to the cat. "I've got three servants who could walk in here at any moment." He pointed to the doors into the kitchen. "If they caught me, all Hell would break loose." The cat expressed his lack of care, his tail flicking some more. "Uch. Fine." He snapped, and everything was prepared so Huko could actually make it. "Well, now that I've got all of this free time, what would you have me do?" The cat leapt off of the counter and began prancing towards the doors, so the demon followed, grabbing the tray with a teapot and two teacups on it before leaving.

Mephistopheles led Carlisle to the study, lightly headbutting the door when he reached it. The butler was only confused for a moment, as he felt Ansel's presence within. "Good kitty," the demon murmured before shifting the tray of tea into one hand so he could open the door with the other. "Master?"

Ansel looked up from the book resting on his thighs. "Yes, Carlisle?"

"I've brought tea... and, apparently, Mephistopheles wants me to join you." Carlisle entered, closing the door behind himself and the familiar.

"Well, do you want to join me?" Ansel chuckled and watched as the cat led Carlisle to one of the bookshelves. Mephistopheles approached and was suddenly climbing vertically up the shelves as though they were rungs of a ladder. It stopped on the sixth shelf up and slinked over to a large, black leather-bound, fairly old book, though it did not appear as old as others books, such as the one on demon-summoning, and patted it with one of its paws.

Carlisle grinned as he slid the book from between the other books on the shelf. "Of course, my Lord." He walked over to the couch with the book, familiar in tow, and sat on the opposite end of it from Ansel. "How are you feeling?"

Ansel shifted a little. "As well as I can, I suppose," he sighed. "I'm feeling a little nauseous... and, the pain is pretty, uh, there. I've been taking the medications as directed, though."

Carlisle pursed his lips. "Give it time, Ansel."

Ansel let out a gentle sigh before grinning softly. "Yeah." He watched Carlisle finally look at the title of the book the cat had directed him to read. "I wonder what Mephistopheles wants you reading Manipulations of the Mind for."

"I suppose it makes sense," Carlisle noted as he turned the book to the table of contents. "From what Ashley told me about his wife, she has extreme manipulative powers. Yes, while Ashley can seduce the mind and distort its judgement-making capabilities, his wife is far worse. She not only does that, but she can also induce hallucinations, read minds, and have a certain degree of control over the person, as if making her victim a puppet. My guess is that Mephistopheles wants me to learn how to do what she does so I can be, at the very least, equal to her."

"Have you met her?" Carlisle shook his head. "Do you even know her name?"

"Ashley was very strict about keeping me as distant from her as possible. He always had me in a separate home so that we never lived together or interacted. I don't even know what she looks like."

Ansel frowned. "Well, it'll be all right. And, if you need any practice, I'm willing to be your test subject."

Carlisle looked up at Ansel, eyes and grin wide. "Bold choice, master." Mephistopheles hopped up onto the arm of the couch that Carlisle was next to and curled up into a tiny ball, his dark blue eyes locked on the demon. "Bold choice, Mephistopheles," he chuckled as he rested a hand on the cat's back and scratched his neck and head and behind his tiny ears, feeling the soft, pitch black fur and tiny body with his ungloved hand. He looked over at Ansel and the book he was reading, but he did not recognize the book. "What are you reading, there?"

"I am, uh..." The demon watched the witch blush as they closed the book upside down so the title was hidden before standing up and starting to walk towards the bookshelves with their crutches, book tucked under their arm. In a flash, however, Carlisle was behind them.

"What are you reading, Ansel?" Carlisle repeated with a dangerous but playful tone as he tried to grab the book, but the witch dodged his hand, twisting so he couldn't grab it. "Come on, my dear, what could-" Ansel suddenly threw the book, but it flew up and onto a bookshelf. The witch turned around to face the demon with a smirk. The demon stared, eyes wide and glaring, more with annoyance than anger. He snapped, and the book that Ansel had tried desperately to hide came flying into his hand. Ansel's shoulders slumped in defeat, and his smirk turned into a frown. Carlisle looked down at the title of the book. "Torturing Spells, Curses, and Hexes, my Lord?"

Ansel cast their gaze down, unwilling to meet the butler's eyes. "I wanted to see if I could find anything I could use on Ashley or his wife," they whispered. "Spells, curses, hexes, tortures, weapons... anything to cause them pain or death, just so, before they die, they experience as much hurt they have caused me and those I care about." The book floated out of Carlisle's hands and replaced itself in its spot on the bookshelf as the demon frowned gently. Ansel closed their eyes, expecting to hear a lecture from the butler; all they felt was a pair of arms scoop them up. They opened their eyes to see Carlisle walking back to the couch, then sitting down, Ansel still in his arms. "Aren't you going to give me some lecture about revenge or something?"

They looked up at the demon, whose stare and frown were tender. He let out a sigh through his nose and shook his head. "No," he whispered before suddenly laying down, taking Ansel with him so he laid on his side and Ansel laid on his back. He rested his arm across the witch's chest so it stayed away from their abdomen, and his hand rested on the side of Ansel's face and head. "Believe me, I want to hurt them at least as much as you do," he murmured into the crook of Ansel's neck as his fingers began caressing Ansel's cheek. "You, however, don't need to trouble yourself with any of this right now, but I understand your attraction to taking action right away. You're no good to yourself if you are injured and in pain."

Ansel had closed his eyes as they began tearing up. "I wanted to have children." Their breathing was shaky. "I wanted three children. I would've named them Solomon or Sarah, Morgan, and Cecilia or Cecil." Carlisle grinned gently, thinking of the Cecilia he knew very briefly, but he wasn't entirely happy with the memory. "They could've met you and the servants if they're all still there. Solomon probably would have been dead by then."

"He would look down on you and smile, just as your parents do." Tears escaped from Ansel's eyes, so they gave up on holding a sob back. "Go on, now. It's all right."

Ansel let go and started to cry, and they didn't stop, even as they felt Carlisle sit and stand up, the witch still in his arms, and walk out of the study, down the corridor, and into another room after opening a door. Ansel recognized the smell of their bedroom: eucalyptus and cedarwood incense. They felt themselves being laid down onto the mattress of his bed and covered with the sheet, blanket, and duvet of the bed. They heard footsteps walk around the room until Carlisle's weight on the other side of the bed made the mattress dip.

Carlisle curled up on his side right against his master, wrapping both of his legs around Ansel's left leg. He'd taken his shoes, jacket, and tie off. His head rested on Ansel's shoulder, their collarbone pressing into Carlisle's cheek. "I am here to protect you, Ansel. You can allow yourself to be emotional, soft, and vulnerable. You can allow yourself time to grieve and heal without feeling the need to take action. You can cry and rest and take time for yourself, because you can't be productive if you're still hurting." He felt Ansel, still crying, kiss his forehead, and wrapped his arms around them, one arm over his chest and the hand on Ansel's cheek like before and the other under their shoulders. "Please," he whispered as he stroked Ansel's cheek again, "for yourself, if not for anyone else."

Eventually, Ansel cried themselves to sleep, the demon butler never leaving their side.