Into These Waters of My Soul

Service to beauty. That is what Sebastian was seeing and thinking about this time, as Phantomhive Jr. was putting a fork with a piece of pink meat into his mouth. To become a piece of food for those pearly teeth to dig into and for that tongue to push it down the delicate throat… to drown it in bitterly transparent saliva. Or to become a fork and let the offering be made on its sharp points; to feel the capture of the lips, warm as southern waters, and suffocation from their strong, short-lived embrace. And it would last as long as the length of its metal phalluses allowed it. A curious discovery: the light had spilt its rays exactly in the spot of the clustering shadows. Weren’t they meant to scatter in fear? Why didn’t they? Why did he keep wandering through all those pictures?.. Service to beauty — this is what I lack. Such was his fleeting thought, a preface to the next vehement and wild fantasy: …To take off his stocking as I put his little foot onto my thigh; to tie the doll-like bows with the care of a loyal servant; to brush his hair — reverently, gently, and yet like a man; to foam his bath, with my sleeve rolled up to the elbow and the mere sight of this strong arm promising to do whatever he desires. One order. One word. My damnation, my salvation. My delight… A game to excite my imagination… I put his slender figure into the heated water and run a washcloth all over his skin. I dissolve, both with my mind and body, and feel the tickling of the soap bubbles coursing from his shoulder blades, his neck, his back, and to my fingertips. A kiss through the soap is the highest of comforts that I can afford. No one has ever come so close before me. I am the first. I am the only one. Is it not that service?.. Beauty has a name. Young, strong, sonorous, blue like the sky, but like the sky above an ocean. Cobalt. Ciel. Ci-el. Perhaps it is their resemblance? asked Sebastian himself. Victoria was like a doll princess: small limps, extremely fragile, defenceless in the wind, with big expressive eyes and a small, lovely mouth. Her shoulder blades were like the roots of wings, her clavicles — the bones of a bird… pride of a princess, and later — these years if only she lived — the heyday of a queen. He always wanted to take care of her and protect her with the zeal of the owner of rare porcelain; no dust would lie on her, the colours of her perfect body would not fade, and the light of her glassy, bright eyes would not dim. For the end of time, he would dress her and comb her hair. He would never grow tired of this. He was forever in love. His wife asked him once, “So what am I to you?” and he could only say a banal “everything”. How true. How stupid… He always lied. So are they similar or not? Vincent asked him something, and Sebastian had to snap out of his thoughts to give an answer. They spoke of business and joked. Ciel mostly talked with Elizabeth and Gabriel. Out of the corner of his ear, Sebastian caught what their conversation was about: unicorns had double hooves, and their tail was not horse-like but like that of a bull, with a tassel, while a basilisk had difficulty moving because it partly had the body of an ordinary rooster. Fortunately, Mrs. Phantomhive explained the mystic talking of the young by addressing them all: “They opened an exhibition called The Mythical Creatures this morning. We are planning to go there after dinner.” Vincent wrinkled his nose. “Who are these ‘we’, I wonder?” Rachel smiled. “We all of us, and you included.” “I hope that you, my dear, don’t expect to see a real unicorn there.” “I expect to distract myself from watching the ocean. To be honest, it makes my head spin.” Elizabeth said in an enthusiastic tone that she had read a work by a scientist who proved the existence of dragons and unicorns. Gabriel almost choked at the word “scientist”. “And as proof, he cited ladies’ novels where knights slay poor lizards. Everything is easily explained: dragons were just exterminated,” smirked the boy. Elizabeth pouted, “Sceptic.” Somewhere behind Sebastian, a stout figure slowly passed by. Sebastian made an effort not to turn around. He found it to be a fat gentleman — he accidentally hit Sebastian’s elbow, and the latter dropped his fork. “Oh God, excuse me.” The man leant down; the fork was looking with its points at Ciel, who was sitting beside him. His ankles were impossibly thin, while the sharpness of his knees was hidden, unfortunately, by the thick fabric of his breeches. And not the fat man, but something monolithic black slipped past this time. He heard it whisper in his ear: I know the thoughts that swirl inside your head. By the time Sebastian picked up his fork, a waiter was giving him another. “I agree with Elizabeth,” Ciel said all of a sudden. “Sometimes one wants to believe in fairy tales. Why not? Even if it’s just a silly exhibition.” “At least Ciel understands us,” said the ladies. “Shouldn’t you stay away from all this ‘devilry’?” Gabriel teased his twin. “If it’s to make everyone laugh and smile, then no, I shouldn’t,” Ciel smiled. “Perhaps you’d like to join us?” Rachel asked the author. “‘Why not’?” he said, reciting Ciel. Their eyes met for a moment, and the boy gave the man a quiet smile. He hasn’t started to read yet, thought Sebastian.

***

A vulgar sign of lilac colour said The Mythical Creatures. The thick black drapes were thrown open like the gates that lead into the local bedlam of culture and entertainment. The scent of burnt myrrh, which apparently was supposed to prepare the mind for the mystical journeys, could be smelled everywhere, mixed with the heavy and coquettish fragrance of ladies’ perfume. People liked it. Despite the evening hour, the place inside was busy. There were many of those who chose to help digestion by visiting that “mystic” other side. The exhibits stared at the onlookers through glass or decorative bars. The largest human mass had gathered around… who would have guessed? “Is it a mermaid?” Elizabeth asked in surprise. Just to make sure, she read aloud: “‘River mermaid. Caught by a group of miners near a small mining settlement. Careful! This little devil robbed one of them of an arm.’ How dreadful!” “What is there to rob of an arm?” Gabriel peered into the “O”-shaped mouth studded with needle-like but thin and almost ghostly teeth. “It looks more like a toothless, dried monkey.” “That’s what it is, I guess,” added Vincent. “A stuffed monkey and some kind of pike.” The man smiled, throwing a glance at Sebastian. But Rachel and Elizabeth were not so sure. “How ugly,” sighed Rachel. The wrinkled creature with its proportions wrong built wasn’t evoking associations. “And it looks nothing like the little mermaid!” echoed Elizabeth. “Why not? If you add hair and throw a string of pearls around its neck…” mused Gabriel. “Alas, ladies, this is reality,” observed Sebastian. “They could have made a prettier mermaid. How is one to ‘believe in fairy tales’ with this?” They moved to the next work. “I recognise the master’s hand,” joked Vincent. “Hard not to see… hm… an otter with horns.” “‘Water devil. The exceptional rarity discovered in the depths of marshes. Caught while attempting to gore a poor fellow,’” read Rachel. Attached to the stuffed otter were deer antlers and kingfisher wings. Sebastian continued his walk. Further on, a group of young ladies gathered to look at a unicorn — a skinny rump of an emaciated pony, a horn of a mountain fallow deer, crooked like a witch’s finger, and a long dirty-white fringe set against a shabby mane. “Nothing like a fairy tale,” said a voice by his shoulder. Ciel sadly looked at the tightly stuffed animal skin, at this outright wretchedness. “People still need bread and circuses,” explained Sebastian. He glanced back at the stragglers: Vincent and Rachel were examining a faun designed in the shape of another macaque, with a flute in its hands and a pair of hooves, while Gabriel was leading Elizabeth to an ornamental tree with a gigantic furry butterfly — the least ugly of all the exhibits. Ciel chose to join Sebastian. They walked from one exhibit to the other. “I believed in fairy tales as a kid. Or rather when I needed it most,” uttered the boy. They stood with their heads bowed over a shelf of Irish fairies’ mummies — a mixture of dirt, and straw, and parts of dragonflies. “Like when?” “Like when I was scolded and sombre.” Ciel smiled. “Or when the weather outside was terrible. The desire of these people to touch something beyond habitual or ugly is quite understandable. They want to turn aside for a moment and remember themselves as children. Don’t you think so?” “I think that you are absolutely right. Only the local taxidermist wasn’t doing his work with his heart or a wish to bring somebody back to their childhood or distract… This is not even a stuffed animal, but a lump of dirt wrapped in rags.” But Ciel didn’t so much as take a glance at the fairy — he was watching Sebastian. “You never believed in anything good as a child?.. So he has started to read. The man shifted his gaze to the boy. In his blue eyes, there was a hint of curiosity and an upcoming wish for changing things. It had just hatched, but the more he read, the brighter it would burn. There it is — an angel’s impulse. Compassion? Sympathy? Oh, Sebastian can turn everything upside-down in the blue of these eyes. What is blue shall be black. But what is black shall never be white or the same. “Never. I was a nasty, naughty child who wished to sow evil mischiefs everywhere and use them to conquer the world. And if I did listen to fairy tales, it was only to lull my nanny, who had to read them.” Ciel smiled. Sebastian took him by the wrist for a moment and slightly squeezed it. “Wait. It’s not true. Something happened to me once… I was about twelve when I had this strange dream. They call a sign, I believe.” But Sebastian was in no hurry to tell any more; he led them through the throng and past the exhibits. He had long since released the boy’s hand, but the latter was walking so close to the man as if their hands were still together. The centre of the hall was overcrowded. It was there that the main exhibit stood frozen, the largest of all and horizontally stretched. The front part of its body was that of a horse, and the tail belonged to a fish. The forelegs had a pair of fins, and another one served as a mane — a rainbow, sharp crest. At the foot of it lay sand and shells. “What is it?” asked Ciel. “Something more or less worthy here. Hippocampus.” “Not this. Your dream.” “Ah, right.” They pushed their way out of the crowd. “But you, young man, will laugh at it.” “In this case, I won’t tell anyone, and you, at least, will amuse me. In the end, there has to be something amusing at this exhibition.” “Fair enough. Well then...” Sebastian brought his face a little closer to his interlocutor. “I dreamt of a boy with a pair of things. He came down to me from the clouds, too real even for the antics of Morpheus. He had piercing blue eyes and a name… so heavenly French… unfortunately, it slips me all the time… Ciel’s face flushed up. Sebastian kept a sly half smile on his lips until he was looked at again. “Do you think that it could be an angel?” “It all depends on the purity of your intention.” “As I have said, I was a nasty child. But don’t the messengers of God visit the sinners?” The face in front of him turned serious, a tiny line appearing between the brows. “Are you playing with me?” “Why would you think so? I told you my secret. It is quite compromising in most companies. In any case, it doesn’t suit me.” “You are right.” The tune of his voice became cold. “Such secrets don’t suit you.” Ciel moved towards the next exhibit. Sebastian stared at his back, feeling cold. Why have I said this? What nonsense. He followed Ciel and stopped him near a black exhibit. “Ciel, forgive me if I have somehow offended you. It wasn’t my intention.” “It’s alright,” said the boy. “I thought that you were playing with the image you created, and it is too… pure to… “What do you mean?” This time, Sebastian was the one to get confused. “I’ve started your book, and there is the image there of this angel with blue eyes. And I thought it was bad to play with it and turn it into a joke. That is all…” A joke? Sebastian could swear that the young man turned red when he saw his own self in the said messenger. Well… It was only now that the man took notice of the exhibit that they found themselves in front of. It raised recognition and a shiver that ran down his spine. The giant figure was hidden inside the black robes. Staring at him from its empty, diabolical eyes was pure horror. It was lightless and yet ablaze with a bright flame of life. Its razor horns were pointed to face a beholder, while the elongated bone of its throat seemed to pour forth steam. Perhaps this one surpassed the sea horse with its realism. But Sebastian didn’t find a tablet to read the description. “What is this?” he asked aloud. Ciel followed his gaze. “What?” Ciel didn’t see the monster. The bony muzzle drew close to Sebastian’s ear, and from its emptiness, he heard a frosty whisper: We both of us know who you are and what it is you want. So what are we waiting for? “Over there.” Sebastian pointed his finger at the centre of the hall. “ It looks like a… harmless horned monster.” “I still can’t see it. Shall we go and take a look?” Sebastian followed Ciel, never turning around. “It’s a centaur. Hornless and… very… scrawny?” announced Ciel when they came to the spot. It was a dwarf okapi joined with the torso… of yet another monkey. “I see. It’s no fun getting old,” smirked Sebastian. “I fancied that I saw a real monster with horns.” The rest of their company joined them. “Here you are. We lost you,” said Gabriel. “Has everybody had the pleasure to behold the legendary blue phoenix in the form of a bold, painted peacock?” “A dreadful sight.” Mrs. Phantomhive gave them a rueful smile. She shook her head. “This was the last of my patience. Shall we leave now?” asked Vincent. He was anxious to play pool with Sebastian before they retired for the night. “One kind lady informed us that they are holding a wonderful performance tomorrow. The famous opera singer Irene is invited,” said Elizabeth not without delight. She was allured by the idea of seeing something beautiful for once and forgetting all about the dried monkey… As were the rest of them. Gabriel leant towards Ciel and mimicked the opera signing, the “O” shape of his mouth like that of the monkey mermaid. Ciel held back for a second or two, but then quietly laughed. At that moment, the twins were only two mischievous boys and not grown-up gentlemen.