The Night Has a Thousand Eyes Chapter 18: XVIII: Long Way Back From Hell, a kuroshitsuji fanfic

AN: Annnnnd here we go again. Work has been crazy busy! But summer is nearly upon us here as the second wave begins. I bought an air conditioner since I'm not going home. Hope everyone is staying as safe as they can be!

Here's an extra long chapter to make up for my late updates.

Warning: Minor spoilers from chapters 51-66, Book of Atlantic or Luxury Liner Arc.

Chapter XVIII

Long Way Back From Hell

He reacted once the last burning candle light was snuffed.

The light of the full moon flooded down from the high windows above, creating a wave of pure pale blue. His eyes glowed darkly from the shadows. Hands balled into fists. Energy that no longer existed returned like a flash of quick lightning. The iron ring in his hand burned like ice. And he leaped from his iron throne, chains thrown and clattering the ground after flashing next to the White Devil and grabbing her blood-stained wrist.

His face was stern, showing no pain, but his insides still burned from the metal poison. He felt the weakness flowing throughout his body, the iron hiding in his palm feeding it. But seeing Lotte on the ground, blood pooling from her body, her eyes now closed like she was merely resting, fueled Sebastian's power. He couldn't help risking it.

Lilith's head turned to him; her grin - vile. Her face was dirty, painted with dust and blood. She was pissed, he could feel the pure hatred and animosity radiating off of her. Her annoyance of not getting her way like a five-year-old child not having candy. This was her revenge.

This was her retribution for proving she was not to be underestimated.

But Sebastian had other plans. Plans which would change the course of everything.

At least that was his hope.

The dagger in her hand dripped with Lotte's blood and Sebastian glared, holding her wrist tighter, hoping the weapon would drop. But her hand was a stone - never moving, never flinching. She remained like his own expression. He knew she was wounded – mentally, of course. The fact a mere human had stood up to her, escaped from her, then managed to overtake her with the same dagger she was holding, had to have wounded her pride deeply.

From witnessing the whole thing, as weak as he was, Sebastian had figured it out.

Lilith had a weakness.

So, he planned to strengthen it.

"Michael," the hissing voice of the kneeled female echoed, grabbing his full attention, "you know you cannot win against me in your state." A slight scoff. "Frankly, you wouldn't even be able to if you were at your full strength."

"No? Perhaps you are correct," he replied, emotions not wavering. "However, you don't truly know my full capabilities, do you?"

Her grin widened; red irises gleaming, white teeth vibrant in the moonlight. "Do I? Shall we find out then?"

Her other hand holding Lotte's neck moved to his wrist, and in mere moments he was thrown to the other side of the foyer, crashing into one of the pillars. He felt his head crack on impact, shooting pain throughout his body. He hissed, hating how weak he had become after losing his memories. All the power he had gained, all he was before this, gone.

But was it?

He leaned forward, spitting out red liquid. His lips painted red. His own eyes glared at Lilith's standing form on the opposite side. She started to stagger forward slowly.

"What can you do, Michael?" she growled with anger. "Look at you! You are weak! You are powerless! Your brothers would be ashamed at what you have become! Succumbing as a slave, a dog, …a puppet!" She continued to stalk to him as her words changed to a mere whispering hiss. "You really proved now that you are nothing."

Not yet.

His eyes moved from her oncoming figure to the girl lying unconscious behind her.

Not yet.

Then his eyes moved to a moving shape in the darkness – one of Lilith's own slaves.

And he smirked.

Now.

He moved like a flashing spark to the shadows, and moments later he held the head of the demon's host body by its hair. Black blood dripped from the open wound where the head was once attached to the body, raining drops on the floor. Smoke evaporated and disappeared from the headless flesh. He remained smirking as Lilith stood there emotionless.

"Really?" she asked, unimpressed by his action. "Do you really think you can prove to me you have power? Killing my spawns won't do anything, Michael. I have an endless supply of them at my disposal."

He blinked slowly, still holding his expression. "No, but I can prove something else."

"And what is that, pray tell?"

"That you need me."

Lilith let out a laugh that filled the entire manor. "You jest! A fool you are, Michael! What can you do that I need?"

He threw the head in her direction and it landed at her feet. "Leverage."

"I already told you…" she leaned forward. "You have no power. You'd be worthless to me."

"Really? Because from what I just did and as weak as I am, I proved I had enough strength to take out one of your own demons. Face it, Lilith, your little spawns are as weak as ants on the ground. I can do much more than them once my strength in this form returns." He kicked the headless body aside. "Use me."

"You're joking." She crossed her arms.

"I vow upon my own existence that I am completely serious." He bowed. "Set me free and I am yours at your willing."

"Michael," she moved forward, kicking aside the discarded head away from her path. "Sweet, sweet, Michael. Don't think I know what you're doing. Trying to lure me away from what I want."

"And what do you want?" he asked, standing straight again.

"Everything," she simply answered.

"And you think I'm fooling you? That I can't help you with that? Look at me, Lilith. Look at who I am. I am Michael, the Archangel. The White Horseman. I am Pestilence. And I can give you power. Indirect power."

"What do you mean?" her eyes narrowing.

"Think about it. The return of Michael the archangel after all these centuries at the side of the most powerful demon. Others will be swooning, fearful of the power you hold. They will wonder how you managed to take control of me. How you were able to make me follow you. They will cower before you. With me under your black wings, you will prosper far greater than you ever dreamed of."

"So, you knew all along what I wanted." She stated.

Sebastian shrugged. "I knew the moment my memories returned." He stepped towards her, meeting her in the moonlight. "Having me by your side not only makes you unstoppable, but over time will recruit more under you. They will follow without fail, growing a greater army than your own father. Lucifer will be powerless with the numbers we have. His army of grim reapers will fall like dead flies at your feet."

She raised an eyebrow. "You won't have your full power though, Michael. You'll still be as you are now."

"I don't need my full power to fool those who are weaker than me. My presence will be enough to create fear they have towards you."

She clicked her tongue. "Even if I did allow you to follow me, what's in it for you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play. I'm not a fool, Michael. Every deal, even with you, comes with a price. Sure, you come with me and do what I say, but what do you wish in return?" She quietly gasped, realizing. "Don't tell me…her?"

He was quiet for a second, contemplating the proper way to say it.

"And what do you want to do with…her?" she asked.

"Let me save her. Let her go," he answered shortly.

Lilith laughed again, shaking her head. "Now I know you're taking me as a fool."

He shook his head, stern. "That's all I ask."

"You realize I need her soul, don't you? Or have you been so mindless these last few centuries to know that?"

"I am fully aware of what you need, Lilith." He then held up the iron ring between his fingers; the sapphire stone gleaming in the moonlight. "Even more of a reason to trust me at this moment."

"So, now you're threatening me, Michael? Not very smart if you want to save the girl over there and get me to trust you."

He kept pushing her. "Let me save her. Let her go and live her life. I'll give you the ring and I'll be yours to do whatever you wish."

"Let her go? After all I worked for? Come now, Michael."

He shrugged again, looking over at Lotte. He felt a sting in his chest looking at her condition. He closed his eyes unable to look at her anymore and said, "She's mortal. She'll die soon anyways. What's a few decades to build your strength and army in the meantime?"

Sebastian opened his eyes once more to meet Lilith's. She walked to him, stopping just inches from him, and smiled softly, still showing the black widow inside ready to capture her prey. "And if I refuse? If I kill her now, what will you do?"

He moved the ring between his fingers. "I'll destroy it before you can get to her."

She shook her head. "Empty threat there, Michael. You can't destroy what you don't know how to destroy. Truly, what can you do? You don't have anything to kill me with once this is all through. The ring cannot be destroyed so easily either. Like I said before, you have no power. So, I'll ask again, what if I refuse your offer."

He clenched his jaw, feeling the anger rise. He would not let her words taught him. He was the White Horseman after all. So, he gave her a small smile and chose his words carefully. "Then let's not think of 'what ifs' and think of right now. It's your choice, Lilith. I gave you an option, a tool to use. It's up to you whether you want to have me as your own and build on what you can have, or break what you have now to get what you want without knowing the true consequences in the end."

"Which are?" she breathed on him.

He gave her a handsome smile. "That will remain my little secret, which you do not have to concern yourself with if you let me save her."

She snickered, shaking her head. "Using my own words, I see. Oh Michael, you aren't going to give up, are you?" Then she licked her lips, asking, "And if she conceives offspring in those years? Then what? Do you really think I want to continue chasing this family's spawns around like a cat chasing a mouse? I'm tired and I want this damn bloodline to end."

Her words created a sudden strange feeling in Sebastian's stomach. Like a stone had been dropped, crashing and shattering on the ground. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I shall make sure it ends with her. Just let me save her and have a normal life."

"She means so much to you, doesn't she? And yet, you'd take away her fertility? Just so she could have a normal, full life? How… awfully heroic of you, Michael." She grinned intimately at him. "Pure evil."

"So, do we have a deal?" he asked, not reacting to the closeness of her, trying to ignore her comments.

"I just want to be clear on one thing. You will become mine. You will no longer be tied to the Phantomhive family under my command, and therefore, you will no longer be tied to her. She will live a normal, full life or however long she lives, as you said, but once her life ends, her soul will belong to me. In the end, you will never see her again."

He breathed out. "I understand."

"Also, one more thing, just to spice things up," she leaned forward. Sebastian tasted death on her breath, "if she comes after you and tries to interfere with your service under me, the deal is off. I will kill her the next full moon and take her soul as mine. You will be responsible for breaking her freedom and have her death on your hands."

Sebastian paused, repeating her words in his head. Lilith was no fool. He knew she would create some sort of loophole in all of this. A way to squeeze herself out like the worm she was and still get what she wanted. However, Sebastian knew Lotte's strength. He knew, if given the chance, she could have a normal life away from the supernatural world. She deserved it, even though deep down inside it created a hole in his chest. The fact he may never see her again….

The fact if she tried to go after him, she would die because of him.

Too early….

And without even living.

He had to try it. All he wanted was for her to have that chance…even if he was no longer in her life.

He felt Lilith's hand wrap around the same fist the ring burned inside. "Do we have a deal then?"

"Deal."

Then he felt her cold, stone lips on his. A dark power running through his veins like black poison. Seconds passed like minutes. The taste of death - unbearable. But he felt some sort of chain being released. A lock being opened from an impossible barrier. It was then he knew he was free from being imprisoned in this hell of a house.

He opened his fist, letting her boney fingers reach in and take the ring.

Moments later he moved away, appearing beside Lotte's unconscious body. Her skin was cold and pale. Her breathing faint. Her pulse barely noticeable. She was merely clinging onto the final strands of her lifeline. His eyes moved to the deep laceration just above her left breast. His hand moved over it gently, knowing it just missed her heart.

Still, she had lost a lot of blood.

Hold on, my mistress.

He took a piece of broken wood beside him and cut his palm, deep enough to draw blood. It worked before when Lilith fed Lotte his blood, so he knew it would work this time. She would come back.

But at what consequences? He never fed a human his blood before and frankly, he didn't know the long-term side effects it would bring. What would happen to Lotte?

He shook his head, knowing that saving her life would be enough.

He dripped the blood into her mouth, hoping she would open her eyes. He knew his blood was powerful and since she already had some of it in her system from before, he didn't want to overpower it. If the effects were drug-like, he definitely didn't want to give her more than she needed.

The red liquid dropped like rain from a leaf, entering her mouth. He waited and waited and waited. Then he noticed the skin around the wound slowly knitting together. Etching itself until its colour turned into a pink slash the size of his finger. It would go no further. He shook his head as he noticed the other wounds around her hands and wrists had healed fine, only leaving a faint pinkness that would disappear with time. But those lacerations didn't run as deep. This one did. Sebastian realized as he traced the new scar with his finger, he had created a mark that would forever be tattooed on her skin. He cursed at himself at the lack of power he still had.

Forgive me.

His hand then moved to her abdomen, stopping and resting where life would form if not for the life she had. The deal made with Lilith staining his mind but not burning enough to hurt. He looked up to Lotte's still pale face, teeth clenched behind lips, a silent growl in the depths of his throat. And he realized he couldn't do it.

I can't take that happiness away from her. I won't.

He moved his hand up to cup her cold cheek, rubbing his thumb against the dried blood on her skin. He could feel her heartbeat growing stronger, but would she wake?

"So," Lilith's voice breaking the silence, "is it done?"

He didn't answer her. He only moved forward towards the human girl until his forehead was resting against hers. He closed his eyes, breathed in her scent and whispered, "Wake up, Lotte."

xXx

Wake up, Lotte.

Lotte groaned at the distant voice. Eyes clenched tight. Feeling the cold nip her skin. She mentally cursed, wanting nothing more to sleep forever.

And to have another blanket.

But she knew her fantasy would never come true.

Wake up!

A loud buzzer entered her ears and her eyes shot open to see her annoying alarm clock beside her bed. Her hand moved under the warm blankets and pressed the button, flooding out the sound. She blinked, feeling hazy, confused. She moved into a sitting position, glancing around her apartment bedroom, as early morning light slowly crept through her thin curtains and distant sirens replaced the sudden silence.

She ran her fingers through her dark loose strands of hair, feeling a slight headache. Everything felt strange, as if she was suffering from a hangover after a crazy night out. Her mind raced at the dream she went through. Hunting demons as a profession. Moving back to England. Inheriting a giant manor and money. Meeting and trying to kill this demon called Lilith to avenge her insane father. But stranger still, living with a demon butler who ended up being the archangel Michael, and at which she realized she was in love….

She shook her head, trying to grasp everything she saw and went through.

A whole life she felt she lived…was actually just a crazy dream.

She groaned again, moving slowly out of bed, feeling stiff.

Man, what did I do last night? She mentally thought, leaning forward as another wave of slight pain ran through her temples. "Fuck…."

She was no demon hunter though. She was a new FBI agent. She never moved back to England and never would, forever living in New York City. She did come from a wealthy background, but everything was sold when she moved stateside. Her father died of cancer when she was young and her mother followed the same fate years after arriving in New York. There was no insanity running through her bloodlines. She had wonderful parents and no issues growing up. She never even knew a Lilith, although a girl she knew in the tenth grade named Lily was quiet evil from what Lotte remembered. But all this supernatural crap sounded just ridiculous.

And her falling in love with a demon…archangel Michael…whatever….

Sounds like a cliché love story I once read in college. She chuckled at the thought. "Ridiculous."

Again, she was no demon hunter. She was a new FBI agent.

So, she took a deep breath, looked at the clock, and realized….

"Ah, fuck! I'm going to be late!"

She rushed to get ready, still feeling off, but pushed it aside from being tired and recovering from her strange dream. She knew such things happened once and awhile. And the fact that she was possibly hungover did aid to the slight confusion and fuzziness in her brain. All she saw and felt would soon pass. There was no time to worry about things that only happened in her head after all.

A quick shower did help regain some clarity to her brain. Feeling refreshed and slowly removing the dream from her memories, she quickly wiped off the steam on the mirror to see her reflection for the first time that morning. There she paused, confusion returning when her finger traced a light pink mark the size of her finger above her left breast. It stung slightly when she pressed on it, but she was more concerned of where it came from. Although still slightly cloudy in the head, she would've remembered having a scar so visible on her body, especially one that big. She shook her head, trying to grasp the new discovery, and tried even harder to remember where the hell she got it from.

"The hell happen to me?" she muttered to herself.

Then taking a deep breath to refocus, Lotte shook her head, and hid the mark behind her buttoned up white shirt.

No time to worry.

It's was all a dream.

She raced out of her apartment and out into the busy city. Walking swiftly through the streets, she rushed towards the station, not noticing the passing stranger in a white suit and shoulder bumping into them. She apologized quickly, looking back again after feeling the ping of familiarity. But brushing the feeling aside like everything else that morning.

She started to run, barely making her train, and barely making it to the morning meeting at the office. She arrived, exhausted, breathing heavily, and sweat glistening on her forehead.

So much for that shower. She thought, entering the room.

There she met with a room full of male figures. All taller and older than she. Lotte was having a hard time brushing this feeling away. Intimidation. She was the only female here and the shortest person at that. But she was going to show them she was meant to be here.

Time to put on your brave face, Phantomhive.

The meeting was going slow. Lotte's mind started to drift after the Captain started to speak about the fifth murder case. She glanced outside, her mind going back to her dream and a life she never lived. There, the odd sensation returned, and a lot more powerful. Her eyes began to follow the new falling raindrops on the window. Memories she thought were real, but were just a dream, appeared in her mind. Moments before they ended and she awoke that morning flashed. Red eyes. Blood everywhere. Candle light and dark shadows. A man in a chair. A woman in white. Pain. Oh, so much pain.

Lotte's hand moved subconsciously to the unknown scar on her chest.

Her eyes followed a red raindrop streaming down the window. She cocked her head, watching it curiously.

Where did I get it from?

More red drops appeared.

More flashes of the dream.

A full moon…light streaming down from high windows.

Stars…so many stars in the dark sky… all watching.

And a voice.

Lotte.

"Phantomhive!"

She blinked out of the trance, looking up to see all eyes on her. The Captain giving her a stern expression. She stood up from her chair. "Sir."

"Back from day dreaming I see. You're with Lawson today. Try not to fall behind," he announced.

She gave a nod in return as the Captain wrapped up the meeting. But as she was about to leave, he called her back into his office.

"Sir," she began before he had the chance to lecture her about paying attention, "I'm sorry I'm a bit out of it today. Didn't sleep well last night and…I had the strangest dream…I-"

He raised his hand, cutting her off. "Phantomhive, I don't need to know the details of why you are so called 'out of it'. You're here and that's all that matters. But I need to warn you of some things. This is a tough job as you sure are well aware of, and that means taking risks."

"I know that, sir. I'm-"

He cut her off again with his hand. "Well, this job is also very male centered. You are the first female ever recruited on the team. And not only that, the youngest." He sighed heavily. "Many of the men here have told me they don't think you deserve to be here, but I think better of you. Besides, your grandfather was a close friend of mine, and he, as the founder of the FBI, I feel you have a birthright to carry on your grandfather's legacy. God rest his soul."

Lotte nodded. "I understand, sir."

He planted his hands on his desk and leaned forward. "See that you do, Phantomhive. I don't want to regret recruiting you if you continue to daze off into space at important times. Don't make me let you go and erase your existence in history as an FBI agent."

"I understand, sir."

He sat down, sighing, and returned to the stack of papers on his desk. "You may go."

As she was about to leave the room, she paused and turned. "If I can ask one thing, Captain?"

"What is it, Phantomhive?" he asked, not looking up at her from writing.

"What was my grandfather like?" she asked suddenly.

He paused his writing and looked up at her, showing a small smile. "He was an honorable man. Your mother was lucky to have had him as a Father. You as well. He would be proud of you."

She reflected his smile and left.

As she entered the hallway, she met with her partner of the day, Paul Lawson, leaning unimpressed against the wall. His blond hair combed back, showing his icy blue eyes and pale, handsome face. He gave an once glance in her direction and began walking towards the exit, her following close behind.

When they entered the car, her in the passenger seat, he spoke to her in a plain tone. "Let's make one thing clear," he began as he started the car, the engine matching the boring deafness to his voice, "I'm not going to go easy on you just because you're a girl. We're both agents, and therefore, have a reputation to uphold. But if you make a fool out of me just for a second during today, I will report you to the Captain on misconduct and misbehaviour as fast as a bullet runs through the air. Got that?"

She only nodded, looking forward, already tired of hearing him.

He continued. "Just let me do the talking, and if something else happens let me deal with it. I'd rather not have possible screw up - due to you - glued on my record."

Her jaw clenched, eyes still staring forward. Hands were now balled into fists. She was only one word away from punching him in the face. Thankfully he didn't speak again.

Asshole.

The drive took them to the harbor. A dozen of other cars were already parked, with people from different line of work moving about. Yellow tap stretched across the scene in front of them. Lotte got out and smelled human decay mixed with salt water. She held back a gage.

"Don't go barfing on me, Phantomhive," Lawson commented as they trekked through wet dirt to the crime scene.

If I do, I'll make sure it's on you. She wanted to say. "Don't worry. I'm fine."

She walked under the tap and stopped in front of a grey looking body lying flat faced in a puddle of mud. Lawson was already leaning down and questioning the officer.

Lotte followed the conversation.

33-year-old male.

Identity unknown.

Deceased for at least five days.

Cause of death unknown.

Lotte kept tracing the body with her eyes, trying to find clues. Lawson stood up. Lotte noticed something on the deceased's neck.

She kneeled down. "What's that?" Then with her gloved hand – and Lawson's orders to not touch - she pulled back the collar of the trench coat to reveal two puncture wounds.

The police officer kneeled beside her, commenting. "So, our culprit is Dracula?"

Lotte knew he was trying to be funny, but this was a crime scene and she was an FBI agent. "These aren't bit marks though. At least not normal ones. See how far they are apart? If they were human, is should be only a few centimeters, but these are at lease five."

"So…a werewolf then?"

Lotte gave the officer an annoyed glance, and continued to move the collar down more to reveal more of the neck. There she noticed more marks, ones she had never seen before in person. These were black streaks, like a giant lightning bolt had been drawn on his body. She knew lightning strikes could cause this kind of markings but she recalled no thunderstorm moving through here during the past few days. Plus, there was the fact it was nearly winter.

"It looks like they run all the way down his arms and back," Lawson commented.

Lotte so desperately wanted to turn his body over and investigate it more. But she knew she could go to far and dwell into an occupation that was better suited for those trained in it. Her job was to find whoever did this, whatever they did.

So, standing up, she looked around at the scene, watching people pass by doing their job. In the distance, she noticed several onlookers – local workers – watching from afar. It was there she felt the odd sense of memories of her dream rush forward as she saw one stranger in particular.

It was a man dressed in a white suit with black hair.

This man looked familiar.

"Phantomhive," Lawson called. "We found something."

She looked back at him for a moment, before glancing quickly back at the crowd to notice the white stranger had disappeared. Feeling goosebumps suddenly appear on her skin, she walked back to the two men and the dead body to see another officer had joined them and was holding a clear bag with a short top hat inside.

"Found it by the shoreline." He said, handing it to Lawson.

"Odd hat to be wearing these days. Did this guy come from England or something?" Lawson commented.

That was when Lotte felt something strike her brain unexpectedly. She gasped out, feeling overly worried, anxious, and nervous. It felt like she couldn't control her body in that moment. And without realizing, she moved back to the body and in one motion turned it over.

"What the hell are you doing, Phantomhive?!" Lawson snapped.

The man had a sharp face, handsome, with a small bit of stubble around his chin. His messy, brown hair was long, hiding his well opened eyes. But the stranger thing was…

"I think I know him," she muttered.

"Pardon me?"

She ignored him as she moved the hair aside to confirm her suspicious feeling. Lotte's skin crawled. In her dream she remembered a man with similar features. But that was just coincidence. It had to be. However, she did clearly remember the man had a physical feature that separated him from all the others.

And then she saw in front of her a pair of deep, purple eyes staring blindly back.

What the…?

"Phantomhive! What are you talking about?"

She shook her head and stood silently. She knew him…at least, she thought she did. Flashes of her dream rushed through scene by scene but she couldn't remember…

"Phantomhive!"

"Sorry, I thought…he looked like someone I knew but he didn't have purple eyes," she lied.

Then she heard Lawson sigh heavily and suddenly moved the plastic bag in his hand behind her. She turned to see him looking through the film at something inside the hat. His mouth moved into a line. "Looks like we may have a name here."

She watched him as he smoothed out the plastic and spoke a name that made her skin turn to ice.

"Raphael."

xXx

The week blurred and before she knew it, she was sitting on a stool at her favourite bar downing her second glass of gin.

The rest of the week was followed up after confirming the victim's death and identity.

Raphael Smith.

Born London, England.

Death caused by electric shock.

However, what kind of electric shock remained a mystery. Something so powerful to create such a mark made Lotte's head hurt. Even more so than the headache that continued to rain down on her. Plus there were those two puncture wounds. Lotte learned later on that was the entrance site to whatever tool shocked him, but that was it. She shook her head. What a way to go.

But what puzzled her even more was how familiar he looked. She knew she had seen his face in that dream of hers, and yet, it still didn't feel right. Like a massive piece was missing to a thousand-piece puzzle.

Then there was the mystery of the stranger in the white suit she saw that day. She cursed just thinking about it. He could've been a suspect!

She groaned, placing her head in her hands. Still feeling the same off-ness she felt that first morning. Still seeing odd things that she couldn't explain. Everything still felt hazy. And the scar on her chest even started to burn.

Then there was the fact this week went by so fast she realized she was living a routine-like life day after day. And it just didn't feel right.

Lotte didn't feel like herself. As if a piece of her life was missing. As if she had to do something but couldn't remember what.

An answer to a question she didn't know.

Her head continued to spin and it wasn't the gin.

Like living in my own personal Hell.

She motioned to the bartender for another drink and was greeted with another glass.

"Third one's a charm, huh?" a female voice creeped up beside her.

Lotte looked up from her place to see another familiar face. A dark-skinned girl with curled back hair. She had an expression not to mess with. She was tough, Lotte could tell. But who was she?

The girl wrapped her arm around her shoulders, motioning the bartender for a drink.

"Come on, girl. Spill it. You trying to get laid tonight or…tough week at work?" she asked.

Lotte tried to remove her arm, taking a sip of her own drink.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Tough week at work! Is it a good one then?"

Lotte move her head to answer the girl straight on when the bartender handed her the drink. "Here ya are, Maggie."

Maggie…that name….

A flash of a dead girl with the same face appeared in her memories.

Shit.

Maggie sat down beside Lotte, taking a sip of the drink. "Wanna talk about it?"

Lotte looked away. "No."

Another sip.

Shattering of glass echoed from the back of the bar. Angry voices followed. The bartender shouted to take it outside. Lotte then felt a sudden ache on her right shoulder blade.

"Another Friday night it seems," Maggie commented, smirking. "Are you going to stop it, Agent Phantomhive?"

"I'm off the clock," Lotte said shortly, hearing another glass breaking and more shouting.

Besides, she was tired. Her shoulder continued to ache as well as her head. All she wanted to do was sleep.

"I think I'm just going to-"

A sound like gunfire blasted through the bar. Screams and shock followed. Lotte and Maggie were up on their feet, Lotte's eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Seconds later she rushed towards the forming crowd, pushing people aside with Maggie close behind. She shouted who she was and broke through the barrier, staring at a wall of blood and a male below with a gaping hole in his chest, clearly dead.

"What the hell happened?" she demanded, looking over at the other men covered with the victim's blood.

They staggered, obviously in shock. "It happened so fast," one said in an English accent. "We didn't have time to-…fuck, what the fuck!"

"Who did this?" she asked again, more calmly.

"He…" another man spoke. "He…"

"His eyes…red eyes…" the first one spoke again. "Like a demon!"

A sting erupted at her shoulder when the word was spoken. Like a trigger for a bomb.

"Dude…" she heard Maggie comment.

Lotte glanced at the dead figure on the floor. The feeling of familiarity flooding her mind. Shaggy hair and a bloody torn raincoat. Flash. Flash. Flash. A glass of gin. A foul smell of breath. A thick English accent. She looked in his lifeless eyes and saw…

"Yellow eyes?" she muttered.

A name ran through her mind. Daryl….

"What is your friend's name?" she asked with a hint of anxiety in her voice.

The friend paused from his shock and answered simply, "Gabriel."

Gabriel…? But- Another shot of pain ran through her shoulder blade. She cringed, and asked another question. "Did you see who did this? What he looked like?"

The men all looked at each other nervously, and then the same man answered. "Besides the glowing red eyes…he...he wore a pure white suit. I…I don't even think a speck of blood even got on him either!"

A white suit? Lotte's eyes flashed to the darkness behind the crowd, trying to see if the culprit was still here.

Then she saw it.

It was only for a moment and Lotte didn't even know if it was real or if she was in shock herself, but she saw a flash of white exit the bar.

She moved back into the crowd again, Maggie calling her out, asking where she was going. But Lotte needed to capture this guy. She needed to know who he was.

The pain in her shoulder began to burn.

The scar on her chest burned more.

She exited the bar into the cool night. Passing people glanced in her direction. She huffed heavily, looking up and down the street, but seeing nothing but a sea of people.

"Lotte! What are you doing?" Maggie asked behind her.

"I thought I saw…" she struggled to speak with the growing pain.

"Saw what? The person who did this?"

Lotte shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe someone I…" Someone I knew? Wait, do I know who this is?

Lotte tried to remember his face but only a shadow appeared.

"I thought I saw an old friend," she said shortly, surprised at her own answer, still staring down the crowded sidewalk. Old friend?

"Okay, well maybe this isn't the best time go running after old friends," Maggie stated. "We need to stay behind to report what we saw to the police."

Lotte clenched her shoulder with her hand. She breathed heavily from the pain. "Fuck."

"Are you okay?" Maggie's concerned voice asked.

"It's just my shoulder…it feels like it's burning."

Maggie's hands were on the shoulder. "Let me see it."

Lotte felt her leather jacket fall off her shoulders, revealing her tank top strap and her bare skin. Maggie made a small hum.

"Did you get a tattoo removed or something?"

Lotte glanced over her shoulder. "What?"

"Or maybe burn yourself somehow? You have a massive round, red mark on your skin."

She could barely see it from the dim street light shining down on them. "I…I don't…"

Sirens blared from a distance. Blue and red lights appeared. Lotte felt the burn fade back to the dull ache.

She watched as the police arrived, then asked Maggie. "Do you remember where I got that scar on my chest?"

But Maggie only answered, "What scar?"

xXx