The Phantom

Sicily was sunny and hot. In the past half a year or so, Italy had worn Ciel down with its weather, even though the high temperatures didn't bother him and the bright sunlight didn't torment his demonic eyes. He had left his homeland of England over a hundred years ago, but still everything that was different from it made him anxiously yearn for home. For what had been home once. In front of the hotel room mirror, the young demon adjusted the lapels of his beige summer jacket and put his hat on. No matter how much the world's fashions changed, he still dressed in such a way that he recognized himself in the reflection. Of course, he hadn't changed in appearance since one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five, but each day there was less and less of the old Ciel in this young man. Before stepping away from the mirror, Ciel looked into his own blue eye, the left one not hidden by the strands of long bangs. That same blue, inherited from his mother, was now rarely visible; almost all the time, both eyes beckoned with an obsidian haze. “I can't believe we found nothing in Italy,” Ciel said in a low voice. Even a faint whisper would make it out to the person for whom the words were intended. “What a rich history, what a wise civilization, and no one has ever tried to make deals with demons?” The butler appeared in the doorway. He had just finished packing the suitcases and was just handing them to the porter (along with a generous tip), not even bothering to pretend that they were heavy. “They have,” he answered calmly. “Every step of the way, just like everywhere else.” Shaking his hands down in a demonstrative gesture, the butler, a tall figure in a black jacket, emerged behind his master's back and faced his reflection in the mirror. He could easily control the form he took, so his eyes, brown, even with some unnatural tint, were not intimidating in any demonic way. Such skill was beyond Ciel's grasp. “But making deals and unmaking them are incredibly dissimilar,” the butler continued in a softer tone. He bowed to Ciel briefly. “We'll figure it out.” The elder demon was rarely so understanding: the relationship between the butler and his master could only barely be called friendly. However, the unpleasant consequences of the century-old deal concerned them both, and they would not allow each other to despair. Ciel, who had excused himself for a moment of weakness, pulled himself together and turned to leave the hotel room. “Where to next?” asked the butler, opening the door for him. “I have no idea.” Ciel didn't even look at the senior demon as he walked down the hall toward the stairs. “After we finish our business in Palermo, I was thinking of heading to Germany first, marvel at the Rhine, and then... well, I don't know.” The hallways of the hotel were empty. The most famous, most expensive hotel in the city of Taormina was almost completely reserved for the upcoming celebration. The young man fell silent, stopping in the middle of the stairs. The foyer on the first floor was crowded. Ciel knew that there would be a wedding here today: some of the guests had arrived yesterday and had been buzzing about it for a day already. Other guests were arriving only now, resplendent in expensive clothes and filling the whole walk to the reception hall with a variety of foreign languages and dialects. The butler, too, looked at the excited people, but his gaze, full of condescension, unlike Ciel's, held not an ounce of interest or longing. The nobles of this world had not changed for centuries, and nothing new could amuse the ancient demon. But what attracted his master's attention had nothing to do with an interest in the habits of men or a pining for his own life as an aristocrat. It was something personal, a very sharp stab at a long-forgotten humanity. “Sebastian,” Ciel called, and the butler was surprised that his voice still sounded proud and calm. “I'm seeing it,” the butler replied. A girl in a delicate powder-pink dress was walking down the foyer of the first floor. As she walked, she gathered strands of her golden hair into an updo, fastened with a golden barrette. For a moment it seemed to Ciel that she was about to look up with familiar green eyes, see him on the stairs, smile and wave, but the girl passed by without even noticing him. “Who is that?” the youngest of the demons wondered. “I don't know,” said Sebastian. He was so genuinely surprised by the coincidence that he didn't even have time to make a sarcastic joke about it. “Certainly not the one you're thinking of.” “Find out everything you can about her. That's an order!” It had been a long time since Ciel had used that tone, so Sebastian was momentarily taken aback. “Certainly,” the butler bowed. “I-” “What are you waiting for?” Ciel interrupted. “You'll blend in with the guests without any trouble. Go. I'll get to Palermo by myself and wait for you there. I hope you'll be done by midnight, won't you?” “Yes, my lord,” the butler bowed again, lower this time, smiled dazzlingly, and disappeared. Left alone on the stairs, Ciel leaned against the banister and took a deep breath. Things were happening.