Giving Him Hope {A Black Butler Story}

Chapter 9: Bad News

Sorry for the delay! Four chapters to go after this one! Hopefully I will have more updates soon. I want to get this story done as quickly as possible, so... without further to do, here is chapter nine!

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Ciel sat at his desk, waiting for two separate groups of individuals to show up at his study's door. He had requested that Baldroy, Mey-Rin, and Finny to prepare his usual lunch and tea since Sebastian had insisted to help Grell try to get to the bottom of the missing souls ordeal. Sebastian figured since Grell had been incompetent on the first attempt to retrieve the list that maybe going with him would yield results. Ciel really would have preferred his butler to stay back, but he relented. He honestly didn't want the servants to be doing anything outside their normal tasks, since they tended to mess even those up, let alone make his tea. Yet he had given them the opportunity since Sebastian's talents were needed elsewhere.

He sighed. No doubt this lunch, if he ever received it, would be disastrous. Ciel tapped his fingers impatiently. These servants of his were starting to irk his nerves with their incompetence. Granted, none of them had been hired for their cooking or cleaning abilities, but their façade was still horribly executed. How hard was it to prepare tea, after all?

Just as he sighed, abandoning all hope of getting his lunch, the door to his study opened and Finny stepped into the room, Baldroy and Mey-Rin pushing a tea cart behind him. "Sorry about the delay, my lord," Finny immediately apologized, a sympathetic look on his usually happy face.

"'Ad some technical difficulties," Baldroy added, rolling the cart over to Ciel's desk. "But I think we managed alright."

Ciel said nothing to this as Mey-Rin began pouring tea from the kettle into a cup, spilling it all over the cart in the process. He resisted the urge to smack his forehead out of frustration as the maid began to apologize profusely.

"I'm so sorry, my lord," she said, frantically dabbing a napkin on the spill. "I didn't mean to make a mess, I didn't."

Finny took over and poured the tea properly, setting it and a small plate of food on Ciel's desk in front of him. "She really didn't mean it, my lord," he said quietly, almost as if he was afraid of what Ciel was going to say.

Ciel stared at his servants, fuming quietly for a moment. Had he really grown so cold that they just assumed he would snap over some spilled tea? He shook it off, deciding that getting angry would only fuel these thoughts. "It's fine," he replied. "Accidents happen."

"Well, we 'ope you enjoy lunch," Baldroy stated, pushing the cart towards the door. "Sebastian should be back in time to make dinner."

"I look forward to it," Ciel sighed, watching the three servants leave the room before sinking back into his chair. Ciel stared at his plate, trying to figure out what exactly the servants had prepared him for lunch. It hardly looked edible, and from the tea leaves floating in the tea, that was no better. He sighed; he would just have to starve until dinner. Ciel pushed the plate away and turned to face the window, one thought lingering in his mind.

What's taking Sebastian and Grell so long?

Lord Phantomhive did not have to wait long for an answer. Only moments later, the room's door opened, and the butler and reaper entered the room, grim expressions plastered to both of their faces. Ciel turned to face them, and knew immediately whatever they had discovered could not be good.

"Well?" he asked testily.

"We have intercepted the list for this evening," Grell started. "William sat it out in plain view, so hopefully the reaper stealing the souls will take the bait."

Ciel glanced between the two men, studying their expressions carefully. While on the surface they both appeared to be rather calm, Ciel knew better. He had known them too long to not know when they were lying about something. "What are you not telling me?" he demanded.

Grell shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe you should be the one to tell him, Bassy."

Sebastian sighed. "I'm afraid I have bad news," he admitted, approaching Ciel to hand him a letter. "I feel like this may prove to be crucial to what I am about to tell you, young master."

Ciel eyed his butler as he opened the letter carefully. His eyes drifted down to the parchment in front of him, studying the unfamiliar handwriting suspiciously.

'Lord Phantomhive,

I am writing you on behalf of Miss Whitlock, as she is unable to do so herself.

My lady has fallen gravely ill within the last day or so. The doctors have diagnosed her with a combination of influenza and pneumonia. While her spirits remain high, her physical state continues to deteriorate. We are not sure how long the medicine and treatments will be able to sustain her.

You mean a great deal to her, and I am sure she would like to see you. Possibly for the last time.

If of no inconvenience, please come at once.

My apologies,

Sophie Blackwood'

The letter fell unceremoniously from Ciel's hands onto the desk. Hope was deathly ill. How was this possible? She was in seemingly perfect health last time he saw her a few days ago. His heart rate increased, but he willed it to calm down with a shaky deep breath. He closed his eyes tightly, knowing very well what this all entailed.

"Hope's name... it's on the list, isn't it?" he asked quietly, his eyes still closed as he hung his head. "This illness is supposed to kill her."

"I'm afraid so, my lord," Sebastian answered, a frown on his face.

Ciel didn't say anything for several moments, trying to sort out his emotions. On one hand, he was experiencing a type of sadness and worry he had not felt in quite some time. Yet on the other, he was infuriated that Hope was being drug into this supernatural hell he had come to know all too well.

"As much as I don't want to do this, we will need to ambush this reaper at Miss Whitlock's home," he decided, finally glancing up to look at Sebastian and Grell. "I will not let her fall victim to this. She doesn't deserve it." He paused a moment before looking Sebastian in the eyes. "You will not allow this reaper to take Hope's soul. That is an order."

Sebastian bowed at his waist. "Yes, my lord."

Grell sighed, putting his hands on his hips, his red coat falling to his elbows in the process. "Still with the whole 'yes, my lord' nonsense?" he asked. "The boy is your equal now, after that whole fiasco with that Trancy kid. If he's a demon as well now the formality is just incredibly unnecessary."

The demon butler turned to face the reaper. "Our contract is still withstanding as far as I am concerned," he explained. "In the chance we are ever able to retrieve his soul, our contract will still hold."

"And in the meantime, I am free to do as I please, which is what I may have to do in order for this to end in a way we all would like," Ciel added, his one visible eye flashing red. "While not a conventional contract, it will suffice." He stood, smoothing out the creases in his jacket. "Now... let us not delay any further; we have a reaper to stop."