My body stiffens but I manage to turn my head to the side.

"Hello again, Undertaker," I greet him dryly.

Standing next to me, dressed in a white shirt and tie covered by a long black overcoat, and silvery-grey hair down his back with fringe still hiding his eyes, is Undertaker.

I haven't seen him since my funeral all those years ago and yet he hasn't aged a day. Then again, I wonder if reapers can really age? I'm a demon, frozen in this prison of timeless eternity and I've aged. Well, I've changed my appearance to show maturity but I suppose it's not the same as actual aging. I've been living in New Orleans for over five years now, if I stayed exactly as I was when I arrived, suspicions would have no doubt been raised.

Even though I've made myself taller, I'm still dwarfed by Undertaker's statuesque frame and height. A fact made increasingly apparent as he looks down at me. He rests his hip against the edge of the bar whilst a slight smirk forms on his lips.

"My dear Earl, imagine my surprise seeing you here of all places," he begins coolly. "How long has it been? Years?"

"Something like that," I scoff. Of all the places in the world, why is he in New Orleans or better yet, this saloon? "What are you even doing here?" I ask, deciding to cut right to the chase. I am not one to believe in coincidence. Undertaker is here for a reason and I know he's going to make me work for an answer.

"Didn't you know? I'm very good friends with Baron Samedi," he chuckles, making my eyes roll. I should have realized this wasn't going to be as quick as I hoped.

"Baron Samedi? He isn't real, just some voodoo legend." I shake my head, dismissing his rather glib response. "Next you'll say Papa Legba owes you a favor."

"Now you jest but I know him too."

"Of course you do, silly me." I snip.

"Oh my, how novel of a demon to become a realist," he simpers. "Just because you haven't seen 'em doesn't mean they don't exist." He teases and pokes my nose with the tip of his long black lacquered nail. Swatting his hand from my face, I cross my arms, bracing my weight on the bar's edge.

"You could say the same of God but I know he doesn't exist," I quip under my breath.

"I suppose that's true eh? Else you wouldn't be in this predicament," he grins.

Ignoring his jibe, I turn my head to the side. Eyes glance around the room to see if anyone is paying the slightest bit of attention to us. It seems no one is. People are so absorbed in their own conversations about the damned that they don't realize the things they speak of are actually amongst them. I'd laugh at the notion but in this moment the hilarity is lost on me.

"Just tell me why you're here," the exasperation coming out of me with a heavy sigh. I need him to stop dancing around the question and just get to the point.

"I came because I heard this was the place to be, a den of sin," Undertaker slides toward me until he's uncomfortably close. Each muscle in my body tenses, clenching desperately to stifle the shudder it wants to give from the overwhelming discomfort I feel. "I had to see it for myself," he finishes with a smile streaking across his face.

"You took the long boat journey to come all this way just to visit?" I carry on the conversation as though the proximity isn't a bother.

"Among other things," he answers plainly.

The outline of his eyes pokes through the fringe of hair as he examines me carefully; they glitter like two citrine stones in the dim light. Resting his elbow on the bar counter, he draws an index finger across his bottom lip looking me up and down. I want to say something further but the bartender distracts me. He plods back into the room carrying a large box of bottled spirits, sitting it down behind the bar. Coming over to us with a slight swagger and weary smile, he presses his palms against the counter.

"What's your poison?" he asks us. Undertaker continues to study me but I ignore his stare so I can voice my request.

"Two amaretto sours and a bourbon on the rocks," I order. Noting the obvious tension between us, the bartender's eyes dart from me to Undertaker and back again.

"There'll be no trouble here," he warns in a thick Cajun accent.

"No trouble, just our drinks please." I flash a reassuring smile. Grumbling something under his breath in a language I couldn't understand, he shakes his head.

"Comin' right up," he complies and leaves us to set about making the drinks.

"Interesting," Undertaker surmises, tilting his head over to the table I'd come from. My eyes follow and land on Sebastian, who is still entertaining the two women destined to be our meals for the night. He doesn't seem to notice I've been gone for a while or he has and is waiting for the right time to step in. Either way, Sebastian hasn't raced to my side. A fact Undertaker seems to have noticed as well.

"What's interesting?" I inquire.

"You didn't get yourself anything," he grins. Not the response I thought I was going to get but maybe he's reserving any judgment on Sebastian for later.

"I'm not thirsty," I answer. My gaze returns back behind the bar and to the man putting painstaking effort into making my drinks. Slicing the lemons into halves, he picks one up and squeezes the juice into a glass filled with ice. "Besides, it all tastes like dirt to me."

Humming at my comment, Undertaker's face falls for a moment but quickly rebounds with a smile.

"You know I've missed you Ciel," he says earnestly.

"Missed me?" I nearly splutter.

"I've not had any proper entertainment since your funeral," he chuckles in amusement.

"I see," I frown.

"You've grown."

"I have."

"You look so much like your father," he says with a wistful smile playing on his lips. Reaching out, Undertaker strokes the side of my cheek with the back of his fingers. Twisting my head, I shirk away from his touch, which only causes his smile to widen.

"Why are you really here?" I sneer, realizing he still hasn't told me.

He shrugs. "I came to see you and what luck, I found you."

"What do you mean; you've come to see me?"

"I mean exactly that," he affirms.

"How did you know I would be here?" I wonder and he replies with an uncharacteristic silence. "Have you been following me?" I accuse.

"I've been watching you, yes." He nods.

"Watching me?" I reiterate, feeling my nails digging into my palms. My fists ball so tightly I'm sure to draw blood at any moment.

"Those were the words I used," he giggles.

"Stop toying with me and tell me what you're doing here." I demand through gritted teeth. He's starting to rile me and I'm not sure how much more I can stand it.

"It seems you live in infamy," he says plainly, once again, not answering my question.

"Infamy? How so?"

Taking another step closer, his coat brushes the whitened knuckles of my fists and my head lifts to look at the broad smile etched on his face.

"Everyone knows about the demon who executed the beloved Voodoo Queen of New Orleans," he whispers through his smile. Grabbing onto the edge of the bar to brace myself, I feel my knees buckle at the mere mention of Marie.

"How did you know?" The question shakes out of my mouth before I have the chance for properly make sense of it.

"Just because you're no longer around doesn't mean I still don't have my ear to the underground, especially when she passed. And as I've said, I know Baron Samedi."

"I don't understand," I mutter more to myself than him. Undertaker chuckles quietly, rocking his head side to side with the rhythm of his laughter. Fingers roll as though they are tapping the keys of an invisible piano and he plays merrily in his head. "Undertaker," I bark to grab his attention. He suddenly stops but keeps his head high in the air.

"Perhaps you didn't know this but before her… untimely demise shall we say, she was asking around for help."

"Help?"

"For you," he states simply, lowering his face back down to mine.

"Me? Why?"

Putting his hand into his pocket, he pulls out a long black ribbon and slides it behind his neck, bringing up the ends along the side of his head and looping it around itself. In a swift motion, Undertaker gathers his long silvery hair between the ribbon and ties it into a neat bow. The bartender returns with my drinks, his face furrows in a deep frown looking at us in antipathy.

"I'll put this on your tab, pay when you leave." He advises and I nod. Either he can tell what we are or has a natural aversion to us, it doesn't really matter, the bartender leaves us as swiftly as he came over.

"I always knew there was something queer going on between you and the butler," he deftly ignores my question yet again, smoothing the loose strands of hair behind his ears.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I snort.

"I'm just noting how your former collar to the Queen has turned into a collar of a different sort."

"What do you mean by that?"

"It seems you've become a pet," he infers.

"A pet," I grunt under my breath.

"Instead of a vicious guard dog, you're now nothing more than a little pussy cat," he taunts.

"If you're just going to insult me, do it elsewhere, I'm bored of this now."

"Insult you? Not my intention deary, not my intention at all." He titters. "Just making an observation."

"You're making an observation based on the little information you have."

"I have more information than you think," he returns. Pausing for a moment, Undertaker watches my face and my stance as I shift my weight from side to side, mulling over his words. "He will only drag you down Ciel, do you not see that?"

"Is that so?"

Studying me for a moment, he chuckles softly.

"I think you're only with him because you believe there's no other option for you," he grins.

"And I suppose you think there is?" I ask with an arch in my brow.

"I do," he replies quite matter of fact and I cross my arms, leaning my weight against the bar.

"This should be good, please, enlighten me."

"Leave with me," he suggests with a small smile. You could have knocked me over with a feather at his response. My eyes blink to ease their dryness; I've had them open for far too long.

"With you? And why should I do that?"

"Because," he begins, keeping his voice low. "I know he only makes you miserable. Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong."

I don't know what to say, am I miserable? The love I have for Sebastian, the love he has for me, is something I do not want. It's been simple to resign myself to this wretched fate because, as Undertaker has noted, I don't believe I have any other option. However, this is my choice, to stay or to leave, I've made it. This isn't the love I would want but perhaps it's the love I deserve. I have known no more than this, no different. It's not sweet like Elizabeth's love for me, which was something I could never return. It's harsh, vulgar and destroying, the love I have is really all I am good for.

"How would you know how he makes me feel?" The words pour from me before I have the chance to rationalize them.

"I guess I don't," he agrees. "But he doesn't care about you, not in the way you think he does," he concludes.

"I think you're wrong," I dismiss, which makes Undertaker roar with laughter and I frown. "What's so funny?"

"You Earl, you." He bellows, wrapping his arms around his waist to hold his sides. "In all my time knowing you, I never thought you'd be the one to be so, how should I put this? Absurd."

"I'm not," I riposte.

"You are! If you think that creature is capable of being anything other than the monster he is, then you're being absurd." He mocks.

"Am I not also a monster?"

"No," he giggles, wiping a tear from his eye trying to calm himself.

"No?"

"You're not like him yet," Undertaker assures. "You've still got something he has yet to possess but I know him, it's something he wants badly."

"And what's that?" I wonder with mild curiosity. Sebastian has always said that there is a darkness within me, something I haven't given him yet. I don't know why Undertaker would know any better as to what it would be but I'm already down this rabbit hole, I may as well hear what he thinks.

"Your humanity," he states solemnly.

"My humanity?" I repeat.

"Yes," he nods. "That last part of you that keeps you from being the monster he is." I stay silent and he grins. "If you were to give up your humanity, there'll be nothing left of you and then you'll be just like him."

"How do you know this?"

"How do I know anything?" He says flippantly, shrugging a shoulder.

Undertaker observers me with a slight interest, I drop my arms to the sides and rest against the bar. Bowing my head, I can feel his stare firmly on me as I think. If I go with him, what then? I have never entertained the notion of Undertaker caring about my wellbeing. He has warned me numerous times about Sebastian and taking care of my soul but it didn't go any further than that.

"What do you want with me?"

"Ah, well that's my secret to keep," he winks and I chuckle.

"Don't tell me you're worried about me?" I say with as much sarcasm as I'm willing to give in this moment.

"Ah no my dear Earl, I'm afraid you're mistaken," he cracks. "As I said, I miss the amusement you bring and nothing more."

"Then why should I leave with you?"

He takes a step toward me but I remain still. Fingers graze past my forehead brushing the tips of my fringe from my brow.

"Because I like the amusement you bring," he repeats slowly with a smile.

There's something behind his smile I can't seem to figure out, I've seen it before, something wicked and knowing. It's a smile he gives to show control.

"I'm going to need more than that," I retort.

"Very well," he drops his hands to his sides. "How about this, I was sent to fetch you."

"By whom?"

"Would you believe me if I said your dear Marie Laveau sent me?" He answers. My mouth drops open but I struggle for words, opting to stay silent. "Ah, that's got your attention now, hasn't it?"

"No, you're right, I don't believe you," I balk, sliding away from him.

"Why not?"

"Because as you've pointed out, she's dead, I killed her."

He cocks his head. "I wonder, did you really?"

My eyes narrow. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," he sings.

"Then I'm leaving," I huff, twisting around to leave.

"Come now mon petit chou," he smiles and I stop.

"What did you say?" I ask with my back still to him.

"Isn't that what she called you?"

"It's a common term of endearment."

"Indeed it is. All right, then how about this demon, she sent me to help you break free of Sebastian." He states. "Seeing as though being indifferent didn't seem to work. Two horns, same goat. Am I right?"

A sharp bolt races up my spine. There is no way he could have guessed that, even if he tried. Does this mean she's still alive?

"How it is possible?" My voice comes out in a whisper.

"Well, that's my little secret, isn't it?"

I whip around to face him. Eyes wide with an mouth open as I gasp for air.

"No, you have to tell me," I stress. I must look like a creature possessed but I have to know.

"My you're demanding, aren't you?" He simpers. "Unfortunately Earl, you'll have to wait a little longer. It's still too early for you to know just yet."

"To know what?"

"I knew I smelled something foul," Sebastian interrupts me from behind.

"Butler, how are you?" Undertaker smirks, moving away from me.

"Don't give me that, what are you here for?" He asks sharply.

"Why is anyone ever here?" Undertaker remarks facetiously. He's completely unfazed by Sebastian's arrival. Shoulders relaxed and not one muscle in his body is tense as he casually leans against the bar. "I've come for your young master." He says flatly.

"Excuse me?" Sebastian bares his teeth with a snarl.

"You heard me butler, I've come for Ciel."

There is no humor in Undertaker's words, no amusement, or joke. He is clear and almost demanding but how dare he be so bold. Shaking his head with a chuckle, Sebastian darts in front of me to act as a shield but I step aside slightly, not needing his protection. It's been a while since I've seen him like this. He stands with his chest puffed out and the fine hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. My eyes scan the room to see if anyone has noticed this display of demonic bravado but conversations carry on seamlessly to the next topic. Hushed voices remain low, the band plays on and we continue unseen.

"Well, I'm afraid you are going to be left disappointed," Sebastian says calmly. "Ciel is mine."

Watching, I can't help but feel confused as Sebastian starts to growl lowly, which causes Undertaker to smile and shrug both shoulders.

"I think that should be his choice, don't you?"

"It is his choice and he chooses to stay with me."

Moving around Sebastian, Undertaker looks at me with a broad grin.

"Well now, young Earl, what are you to do?"

"I-" I hesitate.

"See now, he stutters," Undertaker remarks over his shoulder with his eyes still fixed on me. "He's wavering Sebastian. Perhaps your hold on him isn't as great as you once thought it was?"

"I think it's best if you leave, now." Sebastian hisses through clenched teeth.

"Do you want me to leave Ciel?" Undertaker asks me. I know he's serious; he's addressing me by my name. My mouth drops open to say something, anything, but my mind can't seem to formulate a response. With his hands in his pockets, Undertaker comes closer to me. "I'm waiting dear Earl," his voice is even and calm. "Should I stay or go?"

My eyes flick from his to Sebastian's. If he doesn't go, I don't know what Sebastian will do but I know there will be blood and I don't want any of the people here to be caught in the crossfire.

"You should go," I decide. Shrugging as he pulls his hands from his pockets, Undertaker rests them on my shoulders.

"Very well," he nods with his ever present grin plastered on his face. Leaning forward he puts his lips close to my ear. "Keep hold of your humanity Earl, you're going to need it." He whispers, sliding his hands down my arms and over my sides, stopping at the top of my hips. A muted growl rumbles in Sebastian's chest before his eyes change to a luminous roseate.

"You've over stayed your welcome, now go." He utters in a low voice. Undertaker hums to himself, squeezing my hips before taking his hands from my sides.

"You know, you really do look like your father." He notes one last time. Finding amusement in his words, he laughs to himself and starts to pass me. "You can't keep him forever butler," he remarks nonchalantly to the side as he walks away.

Sebastian's gaze remains fixed on him, probably ensuring he actually leaves. As soon as Undertaker is out the door, his whole body relaxes with a little roll of his shoulders just before he turns to me with a smile. It makes my skin crawl over how nonchalant he is within an instant.

"What did he want?" He asks.

"He wanted me to leave with him," I answer honestly, folding my arms and shrugging off the discomfort I felt from the tension.

"I gathered that. Did he say why?"

"He said he missed the amusement I bring him."

"How delightfully droll," Sebastian muses to himself. "Anything else?"

"No," I lie, thinking it wise not to divest the whole truth to a demon still provoked.

"No?"

"Of course not, why would there be?" I deliver my line flawlessly, maintaining a cool composure.

"Because I know him and I know you," he ascertains.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're lying, my lord."

"I'm not," I defend. I can't tell Sebastian the truth, in fact, I'm not sure I believe it myself or even if there is a truth to believe. Is Marie alive? What does Undertaker know?

Sebastian studies me for a brief moment, reading my face to see if there is anything in my expression to give me away. The corner of his lip twitches, the lie must be written somewhere on my face.

"All right, I'll choose to believe you for the time being," he concedes with an unnerving smile.

"How gracious of you," I snort, taking care not to make too much of a point. I know he doesn't believe me but I'm not going to push it.

"I'm not going to let anyone or anything take you from me," he informs.

"Why's that? Because you love me?" I almost taunt, using the word love as some tawdry expletive. Sebastian looks at me, his gaze is firm, but his face is soft.

"I meant what I said to Undertaker, you are mine, and you belong to no one but me."

Maybe Undertaker was right and I'm now nothing more than a pet. Possessed and kept like a creature without a will of my own. Suddenly, I'm lightheaded. This has all gotten too much for me now. Looking around I remember exactly where I am, in a place that leaves a rancid taste in my mouth. These people disgust me and I want nothing to do with the two women waiting for us at the table, I want to leave and I want to go now.

"I want to go home," I sigh.

"But what about the lovely women we have at the table?"

"I don't care about them," I almost snap. Sebastian watches me whilst a faint smile creeps onto his lips.

"Very well, I suppose I too have grown tired of this place."

"Make our excuses to the ladies and I'll pay for these drinks," I suggest.

"Very well," Sebastian acquiesces, collecting the two amaretto sours before leaving to head back to the table. I watch as he weaves through the others starting to fill the space. I'm glad he's agreed to go; at least I can consider what just happened in the privacy of my own home. Turning back to the bar to pay for the drinks, I reach into my pocket to take out some money. As I pull the money clip out, a folded piece of paper falls to the ground. After picking it up and unfolding it, I notice it's a note addressed to me. Looking around to make sure Sebastian is nowhere near, I read it.

My dear Earl,

If you want to see Marie again, meet me at the corner of Canal Street and Bienville Avenue tomorrow night at eight – and bring two bottles of your finest rum.

My eyes blink slowly at the slip of paper. Folding it and slipping it back into my pocket, I lean against the bar. I have known Undertaker for a long time and I know he does nothing without a price. So far, it's been nothing but humorous jokes but how can I repay him this time? What does he really want from me and more importantly, did Marie really send him? I am confused but if I want to know more, I will have to find a way to see him tomorrow night.