I just had to start again.

I couldn't help it. I couldn't; the moonlight was perfect, and the temptation to begin the book that I had not held in my hands for years was much too great. When I opened it, onto the first page, I ran my fingers across the smooth, creamy paper; reveling in the sensation underneath my fingertips. It was so thick, thick and luxurious, reminding me of the hours and hours that I used to spend, curled up in library in my old home with a stack of books beside me.

Reading the opening lines of the preface was like slipping on an old, comfortable robe again, wrapping myself in the smell, the warmth.

"The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim. The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things..."

And I had no regrets, even though I was exhausted by the time that the dawn rolled around. Once the light begin to claw its way through the chink in the curtains, I knew that I should put the book down and try to sleep – so I slipped the hardbacked volume underneath my pillow. It almost seemed that I had only just drifted off when the bell that signalled ten-thirty sounded throughout the house, waking me with a disgusting, jarring scream.

Grace stirred sleepily in the bed beside me, stumbling out while I moaned a little and retreated underneath the covers again. Her feet hit the floor with a soft pad as I heard her retreating towards the washroom.

Ah, Grace. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, settling my nightgown appropriately, and climbed out of the bed myself, making sure to carry my newly-gained treasure with me tucked safely underneath my arm. The golden sunlight of the beautiful autumn morning filled the main hall, and made me smile. Oh, it was wonderful.

I clambered down the carpeted steps, my sights set on the parlour where I knew I could collect my breakfast. Ciel would still be in bed, his breakfast served to him by the butler.

Or so I thought. Once I shuffled inside, trying to make my messy black curls look a little tidier, Mey-Rin immediately seized me by the arms in a flurry of magenta hair and heavy navy fabric, and dragged me back into the hall.

"Mey-Rin--?" I began to say, a little shocked, but she shook her head.

"The young master wants to eat in the dining room with you today, Miss Celeste."

"Oh. Why?" Clearly confused, I tried to stop, but Mey-Rin just kept on walking.

"I don't know, but he said to bring you there as soon as you got up, Miss."

"I can find my own way." I put my hand on her arm and nodded, gentle. "Thank you very much."

"Of course. If you need anything--!"

"Course, course." I gave a little nod, and turned down the second hallway by myself, to where the dining room door was standing slightly ajar. So I knocked tenderly.

"Come in," the rich voice of Ciel Phantomhive told me, slightly muffled by something, and I entered.

He was sitting at the table in his nightshirt, inky hair tousled over his forehead, his black eyepatch lying on the table beside him coiled in its own strap. He appeared to be shovelling eggs into his mouth with such a ferocity that I thought he might choke; it seemed that Sebastian was also of that opinion, as he kept a watchful eye.

What was going on?

"Good morning," I said cautiously, sitting down opposite Ciel and crossing my legs, hoping that I appeared a little more 'pressed' than the good Lord Phantomhive.

"Enjoying that book?" Sebastian asked quietly, but I ignored him; he didn't even deserve a glance in his direction.

"You asked to see me?"

"I did." He swallowed, and nodded, placing his utensils down against the plate and seeming slightly disappointed that he had to stop eating to speak to me. "We believe that we may have found a possible lead as to the location of the Undertaker and his woman."

"Really?" I sat up a little straighter, interested now.

"Yes, up in the North of the country, towards Scotland. It is our plan to pursue him."

"But... that could be dangerous." I blinked. "This Shinigami, you have gone up against him before and lost."

"Correct. I am not fearful of total failure, I have Sebastian."

Of course, I thought bitterly.

"And there is the woman to consider. Undertaker will try to protect her. And he will be weak."

"You're going to use her as leverage?"

"She is on the run with a convicted criminal," Sebastian input smoothly, his arms folded across his chest. "Charlotte Farrow is guilty by association."

"You can't possibly think that hurting her would solve... anything." I blinked. "You've seen the state that Grace was in, don't tell me that you feel no pity for her whatsoever."

"This is not the time to let our actions be ruled by our feelings," Ciel said, his dark, mismatched eyes focusing on me. "We must do what we can to bring him to justice."

"And what happens if the pair of you fail?" I snapped, pushing my chair away from the table. "Hm? What happens then, Ciel?"

"Celeste, calm down." Sebastian moved from the other side of the room, towards me. "You're working yourself into quite the state."

"Don't touch me." They were horrifically emotionless, the both of them. "What about me, Grace? What is your plan for us? When you're finished, you're just going to throw us out on the road, hm?"

"We were rather hoping that you would come with us. Your assistance has proved most valuable," Ciel answered, stoic. "And as for Grace, we will make the suitable arrangements when we need to. Will you? We leave as soon as I finish my breakfast and make myself ready."

"You can forget it. Forget all of it. Go off and get yourselves killed, I don't care." I stalked from the room, feeling anger trembling through all of the muscles in my body. Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.

Did the pair of them have no compassion at all? – Alright, did Ciel have no compassion at all? Surely, there must be an easier way. Wait until they had backup, maybe. Someone to help them apprehend the Undertaker, take him into custody safely.

"Celeste?" Grace said, a little bewildered as I stormed past her.

"Those – they're going to run off and get themselves killed by Undertaker! The idiots!" I swept into our bedroom, ripping my nightgown over my head and dropping down to search for my corset underneath the bed.

"What do you mean? What can be the matter, that's why both of us are here. This is what they were looking to achieve, is it not?" The young girl was clearly, very confused. I shook my head.

"I didn't come here to ruin somebody else's life – come here, lace me up."

"Oh – um, okay." Grace shuffled forward, twisting her rope of auburn hair nervously over her shoulder before taking my corset strings in her cold hands and beginning to pull, tight. "But... maybe the Undertaker won't kill them. He always showed mercy when I was there."

"He had you murdered," I groaned, pressing my face to the cool bedpost in frustration. "Christ, does anyone around here have a brain?"

"I don't – what, they want to hurt him?" Her voice was alarmed.

"That's the only way. He won't exactly let himself go quietly, will he?" I asked sarcastically.

"Oh, no, they can't."

"That's what I'm saying!"

"But not for the reason you mean! He – he only did what he did because he loves her."

"And your Violet only did what he did because he loved you. Dorian only did what he did because he loved me. And look what happened. They're dead. Dorian was killed by a Shinigami and Violet committed suicide. If someone else has got to die, then it should be someone who is truly guilty."

Grace was silent for a moment. Then, she spoke. "You're worried about Sebastian, aren't you?"

The very thought sent a shiver through me. "Of course not! That man isn't even a man, he's a monster."

"And that is very hypocritical, coming from you."

"That's not the point!" I bristled. "He's coarse, unkind, and flirtatious. I could never care for him."

"We all know that you were trying to have sex in that closet, everyone heard," Grace said quietly, and I froze, my cheeks beginning to glow.

"Oh, no, please, no."

"You're very loud," she said doubtfully.

"Just – just because – that doesn't mean anything, Grace." I gripped on tighter to the voice in front of me. "For God's sake. It doesn't matter, anyway. Let them go off and die, I really couldn't care less."

"That is a lie, and you know it."

I shook my head, and sighed heavily as she tied a neat bow over my tailbone. "Well... thank you for the book, anyway. It was very kind of you to think of me."

"What book?"

"The – The Picture of Dorian Grey. I found it last night, on my bed, after coming back from the bathroom." I picked up the volume, flashing it at her in confusion. "You didn't give this to me?"

Outside, we heard voices, the sound of horsehooves crunching on gravel. Grace took the book from me, turning it over in her hands as I stepped into my light daytime dress.

"I've never seen this before, Celeste. It certainly wasn't – there's a message, look." She was peering at the back cover, her slim finger picking out the script engraved there.

"Show me." I eagerly glanced over her shoulder, my black curls brushing against the side of her neck as I fought for a look.

"Behind every exquisite thing, there was something tragic.

According to Sir Oscar Wilde. Forgive me."

"Sebastian," I breathed quietly, the words barely passing through my lips. "I – it was Sebastian."

"Sebastian, the demon?" Grace blinked.

The anger I had felt towards him since last night had already started to melt away, my heart beginning to warm again. How could he have known? Unless he was listening when Grace and I were talking.

"He must have given me the book, Grace. This is a quote from it, look – it refers to Dorian Grey. " Almost as soon as the gesture had touched me, I felt a sense of panic washing over my form. "I dread that I've made a most terrible mistake. Oh, God, he's going to go off and get himself killed!"

"Well – I don't – no, Celeste, you can't --!"

I abandoned Grace in the bedroom and took the grand stairs two at a time, down into the kitchen.

"Bardroy!"

"Yes, Miss Celeste?" The American cook pulled his head out of the pot on the stove in front of him, blinking. He had a cigarette clamped between his lips – oh, disgusting things. "What can I do for ya?"

"Sebastian and Ciel," I said breathlessly. "They have not yet left, have they?"

"I think they're going now, ma'am."

"Damn it all to hell!" I snarled, turning and running back out into the hall again, making towards the door. It was heavy, difficult to get all of the bolts open, and I skinned my knuckles as I desperately tried to pull them all back and trip outside, into the warm sunlight.

"Ciel!" I shrieked, hiking my skirts up around my knees and flying past Mey-Rin and Finny, the gardener. "Ciel – stop the carriage!"

The man atop the cab pulled on the reins with a curse, but I was already caught up with them. I grasped onto the door handle and yanked it open, pulling myself inside.

"I'm coming with you."

"I thought you might change your mind," the young Lord smiled, pleasant. He took my hands in his, cool leather soothing the sting of the wounds. "You seem to have injured yourself."

"I have." But I wasn't looking at him. I was looking up at Sebastian, the tall, cool, haughty form of a man with eyes that burned as red as coal. So familiar, yet so strange to me.

I was not going to let him leave again.

Don't forget to vote for this story in the Kuroshitsuji wattys, details on how are at the bottom of the last chapter! Tell your friends xo and I promise I'll get around to responding to all comments soon :')