The Return of the Order: Act 41

Louisa stepped over the fallen reaper dropping the sword as she moved to embrace the now shaking Margaret, “are you okay, Margaret, are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. But, Ciel, Lord Birch, they were injured.”

Louisa released Margaret and turned to where Malphas and the twins now knelt over the prone figures of Ciel and Lord Birch. She wrapped her arm around Margaret, steading her as they watched the three of them work to untangle Ciel and Lord Birch from the bodies that lay strewn across the floor.

As Malphas lifted his master from the wreckage, Louisa gasped. The limp body was covered in blood, his torn clothing revealed deep wounds across his chest and arms. Louisa cursed herself for not realising what had happened sooner. She had been so relieved that Peter's capture and word of the sword's existence had ended the fighting. The relief had encouraged them to drop their guard and miss the small party that crept into the manor. Only hound's roar had alerted them to the intended carnage. As Malphas swiped the papers from the desk and laid his master down, Louisa turned her attention to where the twins stood with Ciel. While supported by Raven, he was at least awake and standing. She followed his gaze over to the prone bodies of the two hounds. Their breathing was shallow, but even as she stood watching the deep gashes on the hindquarters of one of the hounds were beginning to close. Louisa smiled, even the enchanted scythes of the reapers had not been able to keep their monstrous pets down for long.

A cry of pain brought her attention back to Malphas and his master. Guiding Margaret to a seat, she went to join them. As she neared, she could see the extent of Lord Birch’s injuries. It was a miracle that he was still breathing. She raised her eyes to catch Malphas’ gaze. He shook his head.

“Even with my exceptional skills, there is little I can do. His human body simply cannot fight the effects of the enchantments.”

Louisa wrapped her arm around Malphas’ shoulders, his emotionless mask was slipping as he stood watching the life slowly drain from his master. Lord Birch coughed, bloody bubbles forming at the corners of his mouth as his hand reached out limply grabbing for Malphas. Tears pricked the corners of Malphas’ eyes as he took the offered hand. Louisa tightened her grip on his shoulders as his brow furrowed and his free hand slipped into hers and squeezed tightly.

“Our business is concluded, is it not?” Lord Birch managed in little more than a whisper.

“Yes, my lord. Those that took your family are punished, it is done,” replied Malphas, his own usually measured voice trembling.

“Then take what is yours,” Lord Birch coughed again, his whole body shaking with the effort of speaking.

Louisa squeezed Malphas’ hand, knowing the dilemma that coursed through him. As he brought his gaze up to meet hers, she gave a weak smile.

“The choice is yours, and yours alone my love,” she said, leaning in and kissing Malphas’ cheek as a new step of footsteps entered the room and moved towards them. As the sound approached the other side of the desk, she continued, “but it would seem that time is short, and a choice must be made.”

Louisa and Malphas looked up to see Undertaker, scythe and book in hand. He laid the book on the desk next to Lord Birch and ran his free hand across the cheek of the dying lord. Without breaking eye contact with Lord Birch, Undertaker spoke.

“Yes, short indeed, but ask the question Malphas, there is time enough for the answer that you seek.”

“Where is his soul destined to go, if I do not consume it.”

“He does not belong where he should be heading, only the contract made that so. But destiny is a fickle beast, that requires a little poking now and then.”

“And, will you poke the beast once more, Undertaker.”

“If he is willing and capable of completing the task, then yes, I will test the patience of destiny one last time.”

Louisa smiled as she felt Malphas tug at her hand. Without a word, he led her back to where the hounds laid. Dropping her hand, he stopped and lifted them, one under each arm and made for the door. Louisa collected the sword, held her hand out for Margaret and motioned for the others to follow.

*****

Lord Birch looked around him at the now silent room. He could see very little from his position on the desk, but as his eyes flitted back to Undertaker, he realised he could feel no pain.

“The pain is gone, am I dead?” he questioned

Undertaker sniggered, “not yet, lord. You are in a space out of time that I have created. I cannot hold it for long, but it will allow you to see things more clearly.”

“Why hasn’t Sebastian taken my soul?”

“I once told you that while he would not make the same mistake again, your passing may not bring you the peace that you expected. He does not want to condemn you to your fate, nor does he want the tortures that await your soul in hell.”

“But the contract is done. I have nothing here to live for, and my actions put his family at great risk.”

“They may have also been the actions that stopped the threat from consuming many others, fate is fickle and never easy to read.”

“Then where does my fate rest now?”

"In your own hands, Lord," Undertaker produced a knife and placed it in the palm of Lord Birch's hand. "Our numbers need replenishing, and you wish to atone, but the decision and the action must be yours and yours alone."

Lord Birch lifted his head and stared at the knife in his hands. He had dreamt for so long of joining his wife in the afterlife. Then of the peace that would come as his soul was devoured. Now he was being asked to make a different choice, one that would give no rest and offer no certainty.

Undertaker’s voice cut through his thoughts, “time is short, the choice must be made.”