Mute - Revised (A Black Butler Fanfiction)

Chapter 6

Mary-Clara's POV

Ugh . . .

What happened?

I remember running . . . and Lauren knocked me out . . . but why-

Dahlia.

I jump off my bed. No one else is in here, just me and a flickering candle. It's still night, but how much time did I waste? How long was I out?

I start to change out of my dress and into some trousers and my father's jacket. I need to get to her, now! She can't defend herself when with a baby!

I brush my fingers against my gun, allowing myself one moment of cool relief to flood through me at its familiar touch before throwing open the door, beginning the march to the entrance. I pass no one on the way. What time is it? Midnight? Two? Too late?

I turn the corner to see Lauren standing guard in front of the door. His eyes widen when he sees me. An irrational sense of anger towards him clenches my heart, and I keep walking.

"MC! I'm sorry, but I can't let you out. I don't know why you want to get out but you need to stay inside! I heard wolves and-" I tried to walk past him so he grabbed the back of my jacket.

My father's jacket.

I spin around, whipping out my handgun and pulling the trigger. The bullet misses his head by less than an inch.

But I meant to miss.

I stare into his eyes, pure determination in my own. He collapses on the ground, cupping the part of skin the bullet almost touched. He's probably in shock

I feel guilt start to build in my lower chest but I force myself to ignore it, turning and storming outside into the pitch black darkness of the night.

Ciel's POV

A gunshot.

I stumble out the door and run in the direction I heard it coming from. "Sebastian?"

"Yes my lord?" he says, right behind me.

"Who fired the gunshot?"

"Mary-Clara, my lord."

I stop in my tracks, turning to look at Sebastian. "Mary-Clara? She shot a gun? For what reason does she have to shoot a gun at this time of night?"

He gestures ahead of me. I push open the door and walk into the front entryway.

The door is wide open, a window opposite it shattered. The doorman is sitting against a wall being soothed by another butler. He appears to be in shock. Lady Carlotta is standing there in her ruffled nightgown, her back to me. Her mother is nowhere to be seen.

"I can't believe this," she growls, her voice steadily rising to a shout. "I can't believe this! Mary-Clara goes and fires off a bloody gun in the middle of the night and she didn't even die! Mother sleeps with wax in her ears, so she gets plenty of beauty sleep, but me? ME?! NO! Mary-Clara knows I don't sleep with wax, so she purposefully shot off that gun to wake me up, get me all upset, mess up my sleep cycle so I'll wake up groggy and have no time to do my makeup! And then that Phantomhive brat will think I'm not attractive enough to be his wife and he'll take some other bitch as his fiancé, and I'll have lost my first chance at getting myself a good, rich life, all because MARY-BLOODY-CLARA SHOT A GUN OFF FOR NO BLOODY REASON!"

I watch, disgusted, as a nearby butler offers her a pitcher of ice water and a glass. "Oh, yes, thank you." She slowly pours herself a glass, placing the pitcher back on the tray. She stares into the water for a moment before hurtling the glass at the butler's head.

Sebastian catches the glass and all of the water before it can hit the butler, who has dropped the tray to raise his hands in defense, which Sebastian also catches.

Carlotta gasps, her face paling with panic as she sees me standing in the other doorway. "CIEL!! I mean - Phantomhive - Earl Phantomhive - I sincerely apologize! I - I did not know what I was saying! The - the gunshot had me dreadfully spooked, a-and . . . um . . ." she chances an uncertain smile.

I lock eyes with Sebastian and nod. He turns and moves to hand the glass back to Carlotta, but his hand slips, and the icy cold water is flung from the glass onto her front.

A shrill shriek escapes her lips, and she flees the room.

I survey the butlers all staring at us before swiveling around and making my way back to my guest room. "Sebastian?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Follow Mary-Clara and be sure she remains within the Auntumnvale property. I don't know where's she's going, but a runaway, while I'm on the premises , could do further damage to my reputation and cause more problems than we need."

"Yes, my lord." I don't need to glance behind to know he's already gone.

Mary-Clara's POV

The fact that's it's pitch black doesn't mess up my sense of direction - I know the way to the stables by heart. But it does mess up my mind.

Every shadow, every leaf rustling, every branch shaking is a wolf, or a gunman, or a demon, or -

The list goes on, my imagination giving me goosebumps, and a strange prickly feeling at my nape.

I make it to the stables without incident, and see the doors wide open, light flooding out. I run forward to see . . .

Dahlia.

And her foal.

ALIVE.

My  lungs empty the anxiety from my system, feeling the trembling of my adrenaline-fueled muscles as they relax.

I watch Dahlia lick her foal clean. She must have given birth just a few minutes ago, though the placenta is gone already. I'm guessing she ate it. That's okay, it's packed full of nutrients and won't harm her. I replace the hay with some clean layers from the corner. It isn't until after they fall asleep I stand to leave.

A twig snaps outside.

That's all it takes for the fear from earlier to surge back with such intensity you'd have thought it knew this would happen and was waiting in the back of my mind for it's chance. I've already got my gun in my hands and twist to aim it at the stable entrance.

Nothing.

I walk, step by painstaking step, toward the outside. Were the wolves out there? Could they smell me? Could they see me? Was I about to die? Would I be able to protect Dahlia and her foal? Would they die, too?

I freeze in the doorway, my silhouette stretched out on the gravel - a lone shadow surrounded by light.

A pair of yellow eyes, low to the ground, races right for me.

I turn, slamming the door shut and throwing the bolt in place. A loud thud and a shuddering of the door tells me the wolf body-slammed it. It starts growling, scratching at the door. The sounds triples - no, the whole pack is out there!

That bolt is old and rusted. It won't hold forever.

The sudden urge to fall to the ground and start sobbing is so strong it holds me in place for a good ten seconds. I sniff once and shakily slip my gun away, grabbing the nearest hay bale and drag it in front of the door. I do this to a few others, stacking some against the oldest wood and windows. The wolves start howling, scaring Dahlia and her foal. Scaring me. I gratefully pull my pistol out again, lean against the back wall and anxiously wait for the door to break down.

Or for them to leave.

Whichever comes first.