Green Eyes (Ronald Knox) COMPLETE

chapter nineteen

"Look at this body! What marvelous red; the body will look oh so pretty covered in little pink flowers!" Ronald groans, opens his eyes and then frowns; he can see nothing but an inky blackness. He is lying on his back, the tips of his fingers meeting silk. Where is he? The Undertaker's voice rings through the air as the man giggles, "A coffin made of dark wood and soft velvet...perfect for the dead!" Is he dead? Ronald's eyes fall shut and he breathes in hot air. He's in a box...no, a coffin. Is he dead? "Now let's see this body." The Undertaker sings. There is a creak as the lid of the coffin is lifted open. Red flashes behind Ronald's closed eyelids as the light spills onto his face, "Awww. No wounds!" The Undertaker exclaims sadly, "This one is pathetic." Ronald snaps his eyelids open, squinting at the sudden exposure to light. He sits up and watches as The Undertaker stumbles nearly tripping over his long black robe, his silver hair gleaming in the morning light.

"Who are you calling pathetic!" Ronald shouts, his fingers gripping onto the edge of the coffin, "I am not pathetic!" Ronald lifts a finger and jabs his chest, "Not pathetic!" The Undertaker chuckles and his green eyes study Ronald's. Ronald shiver's under the gaze of the man studying him; he has to remember that this ditsy man is the legendary grim reaper who sent Marie Antoinette's soul into hell and had souls practically begging for him to reap them with his death scythe.

"I thought you were dead because you looked so...dead!" The Undertaker breaks into a giggling fit and Ronald sighs inwardly, leaping out of the coffin with ease. He lands on both feet and is surprised to discover that his foot no longer hurts, "You looked hurt and a swollen ankle is not a pretty sight on a dead body! And that shoulder scared me...to death!" The Undertaker says, answering Ronald's unspoken question. "Now tell me, my good living body, what were you doing lying like a corpse in the Earl Phantomhive's garden?" Memories rush into Ronald's mind:

Amber is going to die...

"Sorry sir, I have to-"

"I know what you're rushing about." The Undertaker cuts Ronald off, a wide grin on his pale lips, "And don't worry, I am not preparing a coffin for that lovely girl because her heart still beats."  Ronald's form becomes languish, relief cascading over him like a wave.

"She's alive? How do you kn-" Ronald can feel his frown re-appear as he stares at the legendary grim reaper, "Wait, how did you know that I was looking for her?" The Undertaker's eyes gleam; they are the brightest thing in this gloomy room: the floors are coated with dust, spider webs are filling the holes in the grimy windows, an oil lamp is spitting tiny sparks into the air, there are ill-coloured coffins scattered all over the place..

"A little mousey told me!" Ronald stares at The Undertaker blankly before remembering the tiny creature that had assisted him. On cue there is a squeak from the ground and Ronald drops his gaze, smiling at the mouse sitting on his dirt-caked shoe. Leaning forward, Ronald gingerly holds out his hand to the petite mouse and his smile widens when the mouse excitedly races onto his hand and up his arm, taking it's usual position on his shoulder.

"Thanks Undertaker." He says, stroking the mouse's head with his thumb, "For everything, but I have to find her."

"Of course you do, my living body! Of course!" The Undertaker wraps his long, pale fingers around Ronald's shoulder, shoving the younger reaper to the door. Ronald can't help but notice that The Undertaker's long fingernails are caked with black nail polish and they look sharp enough to cut through skin. Ronald is pushed out of the funeral parlor and out onto the streets of London. People are beginning to trickle onto the streets, and shops are being opened; the smell of warm bread wafts out of a bakery across the street. "She's on a boat." The Undertaker whispers into Ronald's ear, all humor gone from his voice, "The port isn't too far from here."

Alan sits up gingerly, blinking the sleep from his eyes. The pain has diminished slightly and he is able to breathe without feeling the Thorns of Death jab his nerves. But something is wrong...His eyes land on the slightly wilted ericas, the purple petals drooping. Something is seriously wrong; there is a feeling in his chest that strongly resembles nerves and...sadness; a feeling so alien to him.

"How're you doing? Feeling any better?" Alan turns away from the half-dead flowers, his eyes meeting identical irises. He smiles weakly, taking in Eric's disheveled blonde hair and his frizzy cornrows.

"I'm fine." He replies, wincing at the fragility in his voice, "How's Ronald?" Eric flinches, the blood fading from his cheeks,

"Fine." Alan furrows his brows in disbelief; it is obvious that the other reaper is lying.

"Eric..."

"Okay, he's disappeared." Eric sits at the edge of Alan's hopital bed, the wooden frame creaking and bending under his added weight, "William says he woke up and then ran off last night." Alan nods slowly, the strange feeling expanding in his chest.

"Is that all?" Eric hesitantly shakes his head, blonde strands of hair flying across his face.

"There's one more thing." Eric says, folding his hands on his lap, "There is an strange aura of death in one place: a boat near London. William says that a lot of people will die unknown deaths on that boat, and soon..." Alan freezes; those poor people. "And," Eric pulls Alan out of his daze. Eric stares at Alan worriedly, "One girl who dies will be that girl Ronald likes. Her death is known: she will be stabbed through the heart with a knife."

Sebastian Michaelis pulls himself up onto the boat, his suit dripping wet. Pulling his face into a scowl, Sebastian wipes off the crystal droplets, watching as they splatter onto the deck. The boat lurches as it hits a wave.

"He's taking forever Damon! When will he get here?" Sebastian wrinkles his nose in disgust; this entire place reeks of demons and fallen angels. Strange...

"Wait, Lord Johnathan. I can sense his presence." Sebastian briskly paces over to the source of the voices, his heels clicking against the wooden deck, his form hidden by a mountain of crates.

"Shh Damon! I can hear him."

"Yes Lord Johnathan. He arrives."

Sebastian steps into view; his ruby eyes gleaming. There is Lady Amber, bound by ropes with blood oozing from a long thin line across her neck. His gaze slews to her captors: a young man with coal black eyes and a gleaming knife. His hair is a cap of snow, his skin is as white as Lord Phantomhive's delicate china. The other man has lank black hair, falling in waves over his crimson eyes, his figure; tall and lean, a silver mask in his hand.

Johnathan Winters and Damon Desu.

A fallen angel and a demon.

DUN DUN DUHHHHHHH!!!!
No more needs to be said. Sorry if there are any errors grammer and spelling-wise; I'm using my phone.
Sorry if this chapter was short; I was really busy today teaching and painting my brother's room. I'm starting to save my money for a new french horn because I really don't like walking home from school carrying that thing. It is heavy as heck.

Please read Triple Life by GirlzSparkle because it is amazing!!!!!

I'll update as soon as possible :)

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TheAngelOfMusic27