Death's Daughter (Black Butler)

Chapter Ten: A Deadly Deal

The scene vanished as another one appeared. My mother sat in her bed at home with my father at her side, holding onto one of her hands. In her arms was a newborn child, none other than newborn me, bundled up in a blanket. Her expression was muddled up, and I was unable to tell if she was experiencing fear, happiness, or concern. She looked down at my father, who simply shook his head. "She's going to die," she choked out, her voice cracking as tears spilled out of her eyes.

I was shocked by the statement. I was always a small and frail child, but I couldn't remember ever being on my deathbed. Soon, the natural sun coming in through the window was blocked by a shadow. Soon, another voice entered the room. "Brielle Marie Lynch. Daughter of Henry Johnathon Lynch and Lydia Anne Griggs-Lynch, born on October thirteenth, eighteen seventy-two. Died the same day by premature birth."

I looked over to the shadow, letting out  gasp. I recognized him as a younger version of Alan, sitting on the windowsill with his Death Scythe in hand. He hopped out of the window and into the room. My mother recoiled away, holding the infant me to her chest. My father leapt up, turning to the younger Alan. "Who are you?!" He spat, running over to Alan and picking him up by his collar. Alan struggled and squirmed, dropping his Scythe so he could try and remove my father's hands from the hold on his neck. "What on earth do you think you're doing?!"

Unable to break the iron hold around his throat, Alan stopped struggling and simply gave up. "M-My name is Alan Humphries, I'm a Grim Reaper," he introduced himself. My father's eyes went wide as he let go of Alan. He fell to the floor on his hands and knees, gasping for air. He reached on and picked up his Scythe, standing back up. He cleared his throat, preparing to speak again. "Sir, I am only doing my job. Your daughter is set to die."

"No!" My mother wailed, tightening her grip on the infant me. She looked to Alan with wide and paranoid eyes. "I can't let you take her from me," she cried out, "she's my child."

"I know, ma'am, but death is inevitable. It's something that you can never avoid, it's bound to happen eventually. It just happens to be your daughter's time right now," Alan sighed as he knelt down next to my mother's bedside, taking my father's place and earning a glare from him in response. My mother was reluctant to let Alan have a look me, but eventually she relented and held the newborn me over to Alan. I watched as she lifted her little arms up, one of her hands reaching Alan's face and squeezing his nose. He scrunched his face up, smiling. Once my mother pulled the baby away, Alan sighed and dropped his head down, facing his lap. "What am I doing?" he muttered to himself. By the sound of his voice, it was obvious that he was starting to cry. "I can't kill a child."

"What can we do?" My father asked, standing next to Alan. "What can Lydia and I do to buy her some time? It doesn't matter how much, I just..." he sighed, his voice trailing off. "I just want our little girl to have a chance at life."

"I understand that, sir," Alan addressed, pondering over the thought. He looked up, turning from my mother to my father and back again. "There is one way, but-"

"But what?" my father asked, "We're desperate here, we'll do anything!"

"Anything?" Alan asked, biting his lip.

"Anything," my father confirmed.

"I was afraid it would come to this," Alan sighed, "if I allow her to live, it means that you two will die only within a matter of years. When you do, I'll have to take her into my custody. And," he paused slightly, "she'll become a Grim Reaper. Do you two think you could make a commitment like that for your daughter?"

My mother glanced over to my father. She removed one hand from her grasp on me and reached out for my father's hand, and of course, he took it in his. They both looked to Alan, my father speaking for both of them. "Yes."