A Young God (P h a n t o m h i v e) [Kuroshitsuji 4]

Chapter VII: The Conversation

He says 'Ooh, baby girl, don't get cut on my edges....'

"No, no – I just looked away for a minute and she was gone. We started callin' for her straight away – did you listen? Did you listen to what she was sayin'? She said this man came after her in the –"

"Miss Sinnett has been arrested, we're not looking into any assault charges at this current moment. We shall 'ave to 'old her the night, at least – can you leave your master's address with the warden? 'e'll have to be notified as soon as is convenient for 'im."

"Hang on, a young woman was just assaulted and you're sayin' that you're gonna do nothing about it? What sorta police are you?"

I could hear Bardroy's disgust echoing down the corridor from where I was huddled up in the corner behind my cloak, the rusty taste of someone else's blood still caught in my teeth. They'd put me in a cell just by the door and they'd given me a blanket, too, which was wrapped up most tightly around my legs. I had made a little fortress for myself in the hopes that it would block out the loud, reckless laughs of the other prisoners in there with me. I couldn't stand to hear them calling, calling over like pigs – I couldn't. Every time I heard a snatch of a comment – about my legs, my bottom, my breasts – my stomach rolled again. He and Mey-Rin, how wonderful they were, trying to get to me. However, there was no way that they were going to get me out. I would have to spend the night in that horrific place.

"Ciel, Ciel Phantomhive. Ring him up and tell him – go on, tell him that you've got his wife's handmaid in the lock-up and see how he takes it, eh? Lady Elizabeth won't exactly be happy."

"Lord Phantomhive?" The air of the policeman's tone was doubtful and I felt tears starting to leak into my blanket again. I hadn't even stormed out, determined to rebel after that night my master had so kindly reminded me of my social standing. I had merely decided to take the chance of going to the town with my friends, two weeks later, when he had failed to show up for nightly French lessons thirteen days in a row. I had hovered outside that door every single night. How pathetic I had been. "Best leave that until tomorrow morning, wouldn't want to disturb 'im."

"You give him a bell, we're not leaving her in there with all those drunk chaps!" Mey-Rin insisted. "He'll flip a lid, our master will, when he finds out that you didn't ring him straight away."

"'ow is it that you lot don't know when to shut your mouths?" With a heavy, moustachioed sigh, little hairs ruffling against his lip, I heard him picking up the phone from the hook. "I heard those old servants up at the Phantom'ive mansion were odd, but..."

"Ey, watch your tone," Bard muttered.

"Hello? My deepest apologies for disturbing you tonight, Lord Phantomhive, but this is Constable Stanley 'ere, of Scotland Yard...I'm afraid I've got one of your wife's handmaids in the drunk-tank, Estelle Sinnett? She claims that she 'ad a man lay 'is touch on her without her permission.... Mhm... Of course, we've got men out on foot investigating right away... we reckon she just 'ad too much to drink, though. 'Course. 'Course – Bardroy Kilrow? Yessir. Alright, thank you. You 'ave a good night, now."

"So?" Mey-Rin demanded, as soon as silence had a second to invade. "Are we allowed bring her home?"

"You watch out and don't let her wander off," the bobby said, a threatening ring to his voice.

"Alright, alright. Just go and grab her and we'll be outta here."

There was the swipe of something metal off the desk, the jangle of keys as the policeman plodded out into the half-shadowed corridor, looming like a giant whilst the rest of the men and women inside screamed and laughed and threw things at him. He unlocked my door with a little grunt, motioning for me to scramble out into the corridor. He did not look impressed.