I have often wondered what would happen if Ciel Phantomhive and his demon butler Sebastian Michaelis had female counterparts.

Chapter 2
London, England: Friday 2 September 1888: 10:40

Cecelia stand back in her seat as the hansom cab rumbled through the streets of Westminster, London. She looked down at the envelope with the Royal seal in her hand for what had to be the seventeenth time. The letter had arrived earlier that morning while she was having her morning tea with Ciel. “I haven’t been in London more than a day. How could the Queen have known?”

“Simple, Mistress. The young Master informed her that her Alleycat has returned. The Queen has ready need for your services young Mistress.” Savannah told her as they passed a beer delivery wagon. “And rightly so I’m afraid. There have been five young women found dead in unusual circumstances in the past months. The first was found two days after the Summer equinox in the catacombs below Temple Church.”

“Why haven’t these murders been reported in the papers?” Cecelia asked her maid. “I mean something like a dead woman below Temple Church would have drawn more than a passing notice.”

Savannah sighed as she realized the problem. “Unlike in the time you came from Mistress. The reporters of this time can be bribed to keep their mouths shut and turn a blind eye. Especially if there is someone or something more tantalizing to draw their attention.”

“June second the scandal surrounding Edward King the current bishop of Lincoln and his using ritualistic practices in Anglican worship.” Cecelia sighed as she remembered her grammar school history. “That would be enough of a scandal to keep the vultures occupied until Jack came along.”

“Here’s your stop miss.” The driver called out as he pulled to a stop in front of a row of brownstone homes.

“Thank you, sir.” Cecelia said as she exited the cab. “Come along Savanah.”

As the two young women waited for the door to the brownstone to be answered contemplated her upcoming meeting. The two men she was here to meet were not part of her original suspects for revenge. Yet they were also someone she didn’t want to anger without reason. The Metropolitan Police Commissioner, Sir Charles Warren and Chief Inspector Sterling Smith. The door was finally opened after Savannah had knocked on the door a second time. The butler was dressed in the typical uniform for the era. “Can I help you?”

“Countess Cecelia Phantomhive to see Sir Charles.” Savannah answered primly.

“Welcome Lady Cecelia.” The butler said as he stepped out of the way allowing the two young women to enter the home. Once inside Savannah removed Cecelia’s caps and took her gloves. The butler held out his hand to Savannah. “May I take those for you Miss?”

“Thank you, sir.” Savannah said as she handed over the cape and gloves. When the butler waved towards Cecelia’s cane Savannah smiled and whispered. “My Lady is never without her cane sir. She has an embarrassing medical need.”

“That will be enough out of you, Savannah.” Cecelia snapped as she twisted the cane in left hand as she looked at the butler. “Where is Sir Charles? I don’t have all day.”

“This way, my Lady.” The butler said after he hung Cecelia’s and Savannah’s capes on the hall tree. “Sir Charles and Inspector Smith are waiting your arrival in his home office. Maid you can wait for your Lady in the kitchen.”

“Savannah you WILL accompany me during my meeting with the Commissioner and his Inspector. I will not have my reputation impended upon by household gossip.” Cecelia snapped at the impotence of the butler giving orders to her Lady’s Maid. “AS for you sir. You may be in charge of the servants in this household, but don’t ever make the assumption of giving my Lady’s Maid orders again. Do so and I’ll be having words with your employer.”

“I meant no disrespect Countess. I just felt that.” The butler stammered.

“Enough. Show us to your Lord then see if you can make a proper pot of tea.” Cecelia ordered the butler. “If not I’ll send my Maid to handle the task.”

“This way my Lady.” The butler said with bow after he regained his composure at the reprimand by the young woman in mourning black. As he led the two to the home office of Sir Charles the butler couldn’t help but wonder if she was a young widow. She was old enough to have already been married. As he opened the door to his employer’s home office he introduced her. “The Countess Phantomhive and her Lady’s Maid, my Lord.”

“Thank you Reginald. That will all. I’m sure that the Lady’s Maid can see to us in your absence.” Sir Charles ordered his butler. Once it was just him his Inspector, Cecelia, and Savannah, Sir Charles introduced the other man. “Countess Phantomhive allow me to introduce Chief Inspector Sterling Smith. The man who has been investigating these murders.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Sir Charles. Inspector, it is a pleasure.” Cecelia said as she held out her hand to shake his. She was slightly surprised when the Commissioner bowed over her hand and kissed the back of it. Smith followed his superior’s example as Cecelia turned to greet him. “Commissioner, thank you for seeing me today. Though I do wonder at the reasoning behind your request to meet with me. Especially here at your home.”

“Please.” Sir Charles said as he waved his hand towards a highbacked chair. As Cecelia took her seat Savannah moved to stand just behind her to the right of the chair. Cecelia rested her left hand on the pommel of her cane. “Would you care for some tea before we start Lady Cecelia?”

“Savannah see to the tea please.” Cecelia said as she arrogantly waved her hand towards the tea service waiting on the side table. Savannah just smiled gave a small curtsy and turned to handle the task of making the tea. “She is a very able Lady’s Maid. You were going to explain the reason behind meeting here in your home Commissioner. How do you prefer your tea gentlemen?”

“Lemon, only, Savannah.” Sir Charles answered without thinking.

“Cream, one lump, please, Miss.” Stirling said then blinked at as he answered at the unassuming question.

“As you know it is the duty of her Majesty’s Alleycat to investigate all crimes that have connections to the occult.” Sir Charles began only to have Stirling snort dismissively. “That is enough Smith.”

“Sir there is absolutely no such thing as the supernatural. All this poppycock mumbo jumbo is nothing more than a diversionary tactic by the murderer to throw off our investigation. My men have no need of some little girl barely old enough for marriage.” Stirling snorted dismissively of Cecelia. “Let alone tell us how to do our job.”

“There are more things in heaven and earth than the mind can fathom Inspector Stirling.” Cecelia chuckled softly. “Magic and the occult are very real. If there is one thing that I know personally. Magic and those that practice it are not to be taken lightly.”

“What would a child bride know of the world. Especially one who is recently widowed.” Stirling snorted.

“I see why her Majesty, the Queen wants me to investigate these murders now, Commissioner.” Cecelia said as she looked to Sir Charles. “Your Inspector is a blundering fool of an idiot.”

“My Lady is not a widow sir. She has not yet passed her year of mourning for the lost her mother and father in India. Your tea my Lady. It is a gentle bend of New Moon Drop tea.” Savannah said as she presented a cup of tea to Cecelia. Then turning to the two gentlemen she held out a cup of tea prepared the way they asked. “Your tea gentlemen.”

“Thank you, Savannah. Be sure to replace my cousin’s supply as soon as possible.” Cecelia said before taking a sip of her tea. “Delicious Savannah.”

“You’re welcome my Lady. As for the tea if was a gift from Earl Ceil.” Savannah answered dismissively as she moved to stand behind Cecelia’s chair.

“Sir Charles, do you by chance have photographs of the murder sites?” Cecelia asked before taking another sip of her tea.

“No. We do have detailed sketches of the crime scenes though.” Sir Charles answered as he hand over a stake of papers. “The one thing that all five crime scenes is the overlying occult theme.”

Savannah took Cecelia’s teacup while her Mistress flipped through the sketches. In each sketch the setting was the same. A large pentagram surrounded by a double circle with a 4ft tall candleholder at each point of the star holding a thick candle. Laying spread eagle in the center of star was a naked young woman. Sticking out of the center of each young woman’s chest was a large cylinder like object or staff. The more Cecelia studied the sketches the more her hands trembled.

Savannah reached down and gently took the sketches from her hands and handed her back her tea. “It’ll help calm your nerves, my Lady.”

Cecelia took a deep drink of her tea to calm her nerves before speaking. “I’ve seen that ritual before. These girls are all in their mid to late teens. Their heads are all pointed north. Their bodies are covered in a coating of red candle wax. Their eyes are wide open in fear. Carved into the center of their foreheads is a Roman numeral. The five candles are red in color made from a thick tallow. Instead of the more modern paraffin wax. Between the outer circles written in Hebrew is the phrase. ‘Blood for blood, life for life, power for the powerful.’ If we don’t stop these people there will seven more dead women. The murders will happen on the first day of the last week of each month until the next Summer equinox.”

“Excuse me, but I have a few questions Lady Cecelia. First is how you even know about this so-called ritual? And second why on that day of each month?” Stirling asked of Cecelia with more than a little respect. He knew that most of what the young lady had just told them wasn’t visible in the black and white sketches. Only he and his Detective Inspectors Pete Cumming, Abner Adams, and Aubrey Cawley knew what this slip of girl just told him.

“I’ve seen this ritual before during my travels, sir. The last time I saw this ritual it was a young woman of no more than twenty that was used as the sacrifice.” As Cecelia answered Stirling she let her mind go back to that night in the backroom of the Futuristic Demons Dance Club. She knew that she couldn’t tell the Inspector the full truth. So, she shift her story just enough to make the lie believable. “I was with my mother as she investigated a similar series of murders in Delhi. She was able to stop the cult before they reached their final victim.”

“You said that this was a ritual killing. That there will be one every month. What is the significance of the timing?” Stirling asked impressing Cecelia.

“I wish that I knew Inspector. Savannah you were my mother’s Maid at the time. Did she ever find the reason behind the timing?” Cecelia asked of her demon maid. Hoping that the demon would give a truthful answer.

“According to your mother’s notes. The ritual pointed towards the summoning of a powerful demon, Mistress.” Savannah answered with a sly smile. “One powerful enough to change the course of history.”

“Bloody hell. People actually believe that they can change history through the use of magic?” Stirling asked in stunned disbelief.

“Chief Inspector Stirling, the idea of using magic to change the course of history is as old as the human race. Our oral history is full of such stories. King Author and his Knights of the round table, Merlin and Morgana, the Tower Princes, Joan of Arc, Saint Patrick, Queen Teuta of Illyria, are just a few examples of magic being used to change history.” Cecelia explained for the man. She could tell that Stirling was one of the ‘modern’ thinking Inspectors that were slowly replacing the old guard. “Those are just examples from our history. I could give you many more examples from antiquity.”

“So, this isn’t just some fantasy pursued by diluted individuals. These criminals actually believe they can change history.” Sir Charles said with a heavy sigh before taking a sip of his tea. He looked over at Savannah. “This tea is quite good. Thank you, Savannah.”

“You’re welcome, Sir.” Savannah replied with a small curtsy and just the right amount of arrogance. “I am the Lady’s Maid for the Phantomhive family. It goes without saying that I can manage something like this.”

Both gentlemen just chuckled at the pretty young maid’s pride. While Cecelia just sighed. “Savannah by chance was my mother able to figure out what demon those individuals were trying to summon?”

“According to your mother’s notes. The cult of the Chosen Ones of Eternal Doom have always sought the favor of just one demon. Thorgonnoth, Demon Prince of the Eternal Doom.” Savannah adlibbed an answer for Cecelia.

“Miss Savannah, do you know where Lady Cecelia’s mother’s notes are currently?” Sir Charles asked quickly. He figured that if he could get his hands on the former Countess’s notes that he would be able to cut Countess Cecelia out of his man’s investigation.

“Sadly, Sir Charles, my mother’s notes were lost in a fire that destroyed our home in India.” Cecelia answered quickly. “As were most of my family’s personal possessions. It happened during the Thuggee uprising last year. There should be a report of it somewhere with Her Majesty’s Army Command.”

“Was that when you injured your leg, Countess?” Stirling asked politely. “The only reason I ask is I noticed that you have a slight limp and unlike most young ladies. You actually use a cane when walking.”

“Normally I would tell you that is none of your concern sir. However, as you have spotted the truth behind what most men would see as a fashion statement.” Cecelia said as she handed her teacup to Savannah before pushing up out of the chair on the cane. “One of the hazards of living in India is the lack of decent medical care. I spent five months recovering from a broken leg that wasn’t set correctly. Thus, the need for my cane.”

“Now I understand why you demanded for your Maid to stay during our visit.” Sir Charles said with a sad smile. “Not just for your reputation but protection as well. Very prudent, Countess.”

“My Lady is far from a helpless babe, sir.” Savannah said with a sly smile.

“I would not have survived the wilds of India if I had not learned a few skills gentlemen.” Cecelia chuckled. “Skills that most gentlemen not to mention my mother would not approve of in a young lady of breeding.”

“Such as?” Sir Charles asked with a slight chuckle of his own. As a veteran of Her Majesty’s army he could well imagine some of the skills that Cecelia might have learned from her time in India.

“Let’s just say that I learned how to take care of myself in a pinch, Sir Charles.” Cecelia told him with a chuckle as she subconsciously shifted her cane in her hands. “Ever scene my accident I’ve been sure to have an equalizer with me at all times.”

“I noticed that your cane is slightly heavier than a normal lady’s cane, Lady Cecelia. May I have a closer look?” Stirling asked not liking the idea of a woman walking around with weapon.

“I’ll save you the trouble Inspector.” Cecelia said as she pulled the sword from the cane slowly. “As you can see the blade is twenty-three inches of the finest Damascus steel. Forged by the Mithril Sabre swordsmiths. The hilt and fittings are of the finest cast metals with died black leather wrappings. The hardwood shaft is made from rowan and painted black with red accents. My cane’s overall length is thirty-seven and half inches. A family heirloom.”

As Cecelia returned the blade to its sheath she smiled. “I have a two others, but neither of them match the craftsmanship of this one.”

“I need for you turn that over to the nearest Stationhouse my Lady.” Stirling began in a authoritarian manner only to change his tune of voice at the glare from his Commissioner. “Though under the circumstances I think I can overlook your possession of the cane.”

“What the Inspector should have said is he commends you on your very prudent show of self-protection my Lady.” Sir Charles said as he reprimanded his subordinate for his lack of manners. “Especially in these turbulent times.”

“Yes. Jake does have a flair for the dramatic and catching the eye of the news whores.” Cecelia snarled as she let her feelings for the newspapers color her voice. “Some of those men are little better than yellow journalists at the best of times. Even when reporting the facts.”

“I must say that is a very jaded point of view for one so young, my Lady.” Stirling chocked out over the coughing fit that threatened to overtake in shock at such unlady like vehemence. “Please forgive me, but you sound a great deal like one of my Patrol Sergeants.”

“The Countess sounds suspiciously like Superintendent Rollin Walsh.” Sir Charles chuckled as he gave Cecelia a small smile. “A more jaded man you would be hard pressed to find. Any in country.”

“Let’s just say that I have never been one for blinding believing what those men print for profit. Especially when it comes at the cost of others’ misery.” Cecelia explained for the Inspector. “Case in point. The murder of Mary Ann Nichols. An unfortunate struggling to survive the mean streets of our city.”

“You sound as if you sympathize with the woman, Lady Cecelia.” Stirling commented. “You wouldn’t happen to be a Suffragette?”

“No Inspector I am no radical. While I believe that women should have the right to vote. I am not one of these women who believe that they should be the ones in charge. I merrily believe that men and women should be treated as equals.” Cecelia said deflecting Stirling’s suspicions of her political ideals. “Just as the good book says. After all, God created Eve to be man’s companion not his servant. Both equal in the eyes of our Lord.”

“She has you there Stirling.” Sir Charles laughed. “Well argued young lady.”

“I wish that I could take credit for the argument Sir Charles. I have merrily paraphrased a famous American orator.” Cecelia sighed and looked down at her hands resting on top of her cane. “Sadly, like all greater orators he to came to a bloody and violent end.”

“Sadly, that is all too often the fate of the truly great orators. Where were you to hear an American speaking on the rights of women?” Stirling asked once again sniffing at Cecelia’s backstory.

“During my travels home, I had to cross the American continent. Savannah and I had the pleasure of spending a week in the American city of Memphis, Tennessee. The man had a way with words that was truly inspiring.” Cecelia told him with a sly smile knowing that Stirling was trying to use subtilty to interrogate her. “Sadly, he was gunned down in the streets of El Paso, Texas just a few short months later. He was accused of cheating the wrong man at a game of cards.”

“I never knew that the American’s took their cards so seriously.” Sir Charles grunted. “I always knew they could be a violent people but to kill over a card game is a bit of a stretch.”

“Not when there is money and honor on the game, sir.” Savannah said smirking. “Two things that the people of the American west hold in high regard.”

“Sometimes enough to kill over.” Cecelia pointed out. “Make no mistake on the matter gentlemen the American’s are a people of great passions.”

“I see. Thank you for the warning.” Stirling said with real honesty.

“During the two months that it took me to cross the United States I learned a great deal about the people. They are by and large slow to anger, but once angered they are not ones to be trifled with. They do not believe in half measures. You said they are a violent people. I disagree. They are like the North American rattlesnake. They will give you plenty of warning to back off and leave them alone. Fail to heed the warning then you get what you deserve.” Cecelia said with a straight face as she thought about the American service men she had met during her time in the SBS.

“What of the stories surrounding their gunfighters?” Sir Charles asked with real curiosity. “Surely those penny novels are fabrications.”

“Though most of the stories have been exaggerated there is plenty of truth behind the legends. Wyatt Earp, and his brothers, Bat Masterson, William L. Brooks, Doctor John Henry Holiday, Jim Miller, William Bonney, Johnny Ringo, are or were real life gunfighters. Not all of them on the side of the law. What those novelettes leave out is the harsh life that produces such men.” Cecelia said as she thought about the American men and women she knew. “Theirs is a harsh land demanding an even harsher people. It was one such person who taught me how to use both a sword and a pistol.”

“Really an American taught you how to use a sword and pistol in such a short time in the country. I would love to met this man.” Sir Charles said in disbelief. Mainly because he has always believed that only a gentleman could handle both weapons with any true proficiency.

“I doubt that will be possible Sir Charles. He died during the Thuggee uprise that destroyed my family’s home in India. He was a Confederate American expatriate who was part of the local garrison that helped to put down the uprising. Colten Davis was a Captain of Cavalry with CSA Eastern Army. He was also a true Southern Gentleman.” Cecelia let her voice fill with sadness. “He was also my first love and fiancé.”

“I apologize for bringing up unpleasant memories Lady Cecelia.” Stirling quickly jumped to the conclusion that Cecelia desired. “I would also like to apologize for my earlier remark about you being a child widow.”

“Would that were the case sir. I was just fifteen days from my wedding when the Thuggees attacked.” Cecelia chuckled softly. “We had planned on returning to Colten’s home in Charleston South Carolina once we were married.”

“To survive four years of bloody conflict only to die on foreign soil. Truly a rear man indeed.” Sir Charles commented.

“Captain Davis was no ordinary military man, Sir Charles.” Savannah said as she stepped behind Cecelia as if to comfort the neophyte young woman. “He was skill in more than just firearms and swordplay. He was also a tactical genius, a graduate of the United States Military Academy. Most of his classmates were the generals on both sides of their Civil War.”

“Now, I understand where your Mistress learned her skills.” Sir Charles chuckled. “Little wonder with such a fiancé.”

“Lady Cecelia, I have to ask as a member of the Constabulary. Are you armed with more then just the cane sword?” Stirling asked politely.

In response Cecelia just sighed and opened her jacket. “I never go unarmed sir. As a young woman of the Nobility I would be a fool to go unarmed. In the words of my fiancé. God made man; Sam Colt made them equal.”

As Cecelia buttoned her jacket she could tell that Stirling and Sir Charles disapproved of her carrying the pistols. “Gentlemen, until the law changes. I will not surrender my pistols.”

“My Lady, my only worry is not that you have them. But that you can use them with proficiency.” Stirling explained his worried look.

“My Lady hit what she aims at sir. With rifle, shotgun, or pistol.” Savannah told Stirling while looking at his crotch. “No matter how small the target.”

Cecelia giggled, while Sir Charles chuckled at the none to subtle implied threat to Stirling’s manhood. Stirling just blushed. For some reason he knew that the Lady’s Maid mistress was deadlier than either woman was letting on. As he studied the two young women standing next to each other. Stirling had another revelation. The Lady Cecelia is a kitten in comparison to her maid.

“May we return to the topic that brought us here today, gentlemen?” Cecelia politely asked of the two men.

“Of course, Lady Cecelia. You were saying something about this ritual being some kind of summoning. Just how powerful is this Demon Prince?” Stirling asked her with real concern.

“According to legend the Demon Prince Thorgonnoth is reputed to command a full third of Hell’s armies. If someone were to raise this particular demon they would also be able to control time.” Savannah said as she talked about a demon so powerful that not even her bother would defy. At the blank looks from the two gentlemen and the suddenly pale face of her mistress Savannah knew that she needed to explain further. “His power is only great enough that he could move forward through time for a short span. He can only move forward through time for a short period. No more than a few minutes at the most, but long enough for an enterprising individual to take advantage. They could change the outcome of a battle or make changes in the stock market.”

“Bloody Hell! Just the thought of that kind of power in the wrong hands is terrifying!” Stirling croaked out as the implications ran through his mind.

Cecelia could tell that Savannah was leaving something out. She wouldn’t call her out on it in front of the two men, but she would once they were alone. For now, she would just let her maid tell the men what she felt they needed to know. Along with what they should think they needed.

“According to legend sir. That power comes at a cost. A price paid in human lives. The greater the change, to history the greater size of the sacrifice.” Savannah told the two men. A truth that Cecelia knew all too well as she had firsthand knowledge of the power needed to travel through time.

“How great of a sacrifice would be needed to prevent say the collapse of an Empire the size of Great Britain’s?” Sir Charles asked cautiously.

“What cities are you willing to sacrifice Sir Charles? London? York? Chester? Coventry? How many lives would be enough to stop the decline of our Empire?” Cecelia asked him bluntly not letting Savannah answer the man’s question. As Sir Charles turned white Stirling grabbed the side of the desk. “That is the cost for that kind of power sir. Whole cities.”

“By the Gods! If what you’re saying is true then these people must be stopped at all costs.” Stirling blurted out. looking over at Cecelia he asked. “My Lady, I know that you said your mother’s notes were destroyed. By any chance did you ever read them?”

“I’m afraid that I never had the chance, sir. By the time I was old enough for her to start training me to be her replacement as the next Alleycat. I was learning how to use a sword, and pistol from my fiancé. Planning my wedding and our eventual return to Charleston, South Carolina.” Cecelia lied once more to throw off the Inspector from this line of questioning. “When the fire happened, my mother didn’t have time to save the family journals.”

I don’t doubt that, Lady Cecelia. She was most likely more worried about getting you out of the house. Was that when you lost your eye?” Stirling asked as he pointed toward the patch over Cecelia’s right eye.

“No. I lost my eye during my travels home. A slight mishap in a hotel saloon in Kansas City. As we were leaving to catch our connecting train to New York. We had to pass through the saloon area of the hotel. Unfortunately for us a fight broke out between rival cattlemen. Savannah got me out of the way but not fast enough to avoid being injured. I wasn’t fast enough in ducking and was hit right eye by a piece of glass from a broken beer mug. The best the local doctor could do for me was remove the glass from my eye.” Cecelia explained with a believable lie as she unconsciously touched the eyepatch over her right eye. “As I said gentlemen. Americans are slow to anger but once angered they hold on to that anger. Grudges are not easily forgiven by the men and women of the American Western Frontier.”

“Ruffins. Totally lacking any moral fiber or manners. I really do wish that you had let me put that man in his place, Mistress.” Savannah snarled. “Filthy pig, should have gutted the swine when your back was turned.”

“Savannah, I really do wish you would let that go. He had no idea his was addressing a Countess. Remember most Americans have no idea of who are among the Nobility. To them Dukes, Counts, Knights, Earls, are people of grand fairytales. All the young man saw was a pretty young lady in weeds alone at dining room having a meal.” Cecelia sighed as the two men chuckled.

They could see in their minds how things had played out. A brash young American cowboy fresh off the range. A lonely yet obviously young widow of wealth and breeding seating alone in a public place. While the young widow’s Lady’s Maid sees to her evening meal in the hotel kitchen. The only thing missing was the browbeating of the young man in question by the Maid. It was a narrative worthy of Shakespearian comedy. As both men chuckled at Cecelia’s obvious discomfort Savannah shifted slightly with feigned embarrassment.

Before more could be said Sir Charles’ butler opened the door to the study. “Sir, there is a Constable Egerton here to see you and Chief Inspector Stirling. I can show the Countess out if you like?”

“Just show the Constable in Malcom.” Sir Charles ordered. Once the butler left Sir Charles turned to Cecelia. “I left orders that I was not to be disturbed unless there was another murder along the lines of the last five.”

The door opened to allow a young Constable to enter. He took one look at Cecelia and Savannah. “Sir, I don’t think that the young ladies should hear my report. It is not something for the fairer sex.”

“Constable Egerton, I can assure you that I have heard and seen worse in my young life already.” Cecelia snapped.

“Just give your report Egerton.” Stirling ordered the young man.

“Yes, sir Inspector. A little over an hour ago the British Museum took delivery of six mummies complete with sarcophagus. Sir, the delivery was unscheduled. The director for the Egyptian section opened one of the sarcophagus.” Egerton swallowed hard before continuing. “Sir, the mummy inside was… well. I don’t know how to say this.”

“It was a young woman wrapped up like a mummy then covered in paraffin wax. The sarcophagus was filled to the edge locking the young woman in place.” Cecelia said without emotion. “The other five will be the same, gentlemen.”

“How did you know my Lady?” Egerton stuttered.

“I’ve seen it before.” Cecelia said as she thought back to the case that had led her and the Special Response team to the Futuristic Demon Dance Club. Over a period of one year forty-two such mummies had been deliver to the British Museum in her original time. “This will be the first of seven such deliveries. The next delivery will be one month from now.”

“Is this part of these ritual murders we were discussing Lady Cecelia?” Stirling asked of her with real respect for a fellow investigator.

“I cannot be sure Inspector. My mother was unable to connect the mummies to the ritual murders. I do know that there was a total of forty-two such mummies delivered to the Royal Delhi Palace around the same time as the ritual murders that she was investigating. The only deference that I can tell between the two is the lack of sarcophagi.” Cecelia told the man. “To be sure I would need to see the ones delivered to the British Museum.”

“Egerton secure us a carriage. We’ll join you shortly.” Sir Charles ordered.

“Sir.” The Constable said as he snapped to attention and left.

“Lady Cecelia, you said that you weren’t sure of a connection between the two cases. What do you believe?” Sir Charles asked as he led the way towards the front of the house. As they neared the door the butler met them with Cecelia’s and Savannah’s cloaks. “We'll be stepping out for a while Malcom.”

The butler just nodded his head as he helped Savannah with her cloak as she helped Cecelia with hers. Cecelia was taking her time as she thought about how to answer Sir Charles question. She knew that the two cases were related. The problem she faced was how to phrase her answer without tipping her hand to her backstory for this time. So far she had been able to divert Stirling’s inquisitive snooping into her history.

As they stepped outside Cecelia took a deep breath before answering. “Sir Charles until I have seen these new mummies I cannot in good conscience say whether or not that the two cases are linked. Though I have a feeling that they are linked. I just do not have proof.”

“Understandable young lady. Though from the look on your face from earlier I believe that you’re holding back. Care to explain?” Sir Charles countered.

“The absence of proof sir. There were three great influences in my life Sir Charles. The first is my mother who taught me how to be a well breed and educated woman. It was my fiancé who taught me how to defend myself with more than words. Lastly it was my father who taught me how to use my intellect and not be ruled by my emotions. Without evidence to back a conclusion no matter how sound all you have is unfounded conjecture.” Cecelia explained in an extremely prim and proper manner.

“I think I understand, my Lady. Without seeing the actual mummies and sarcophagi you have no point of comparison.” Stirling mumbled so as not to be overheard by a passing Nanny and the children in her care.

“In the words of my father sir. People lie. Evidence never lies.” Cecelia said once the Nanny and her charges were out of earshot.

“You sound like my old Chief Inspector, Lady Cecelia.” Stirling chuckled. “Though he phrased it definitely.”

They waited to continue their conversation as the carriage pulled to a stop. Once they were all on board and Egerton had given their destination Cecelia picked up where she left off back at the house. “I’ll know exactly what we’re dealing with once I have seen these mummies sirs. If they’re even near to what I’ve seen Delhi. Then we have a real problem on our hands.”

“Then let us table further discussion until then shall we.” Sir Charles suggested. To which the three young people agreed. For the next half hour their talk turned to the Whitechapel murder. Both men were slightly surprised by Cecelia’s take on the murder.

“I believe that this will be but the first of several such gruesome murders, Sir Charles. I would direct your Inspectors away from the tradesmen as your suspects.” Cecelia held up her hand to forestall their rebuttals. “The answer is in the way the reporters describe the mutilation of the body gentlemen. Whoever committed this crime has a working knowledge of the human body. Beyond what a butcher, undertaker, or other such tradesman would have.”

“Are you suggesting that the murderer is a doctor, Lady Cecelia?” Sir Charles asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes sir, that is exactly whom I suggest that you look to for in the investigation. Though I would focus my attention on someone who does not have ties to England directly. Yet can easily pass himself off as a native. He’ll speak with an upper-class accent. He’ll have an easily comprehensible command of the Queen’s English. He’ll try to pass himself off as one of the gentry. Most likely an educated gentleman, like a doctor. Though one not trained within the Empire. If I were to hazard a guess I would say one trained in the United States or Canada. Yet is a failure at his chosen profession in his home nation. He will be impeccably groomed. His clothes will be in good repair despite his lack of founding.” Cecelia held back her smile as she described her favorite suspect for the Whitechapel murders of 1888. The man was an American by the name of Dr. Henry Howard Holmes or H.H. Holmes, a well-known American serial killer and conman from the same time.

“Though I would approach this man with extreme caution. He’ll have a violent nature hidden behind a mild-mannered facade. He’ll be quick to anger. He’ll have a knife with him. Most likely a large hunting knife. Possibly an American Bowey knife with a blade that is at least nine and quarter inches long and one and a half inches wide.” Cecelia took a breath and adjusted her seating. “Make no mistake gentlemen your suspect is a ruthless killer. He will not hesitate to kill a Constable as easily as some wagtail.”

“I must say Lady Cecelia. That is a rather detailed description for the Whitechapel murderer. It is like you know the man personally.” Stirling started off with in an accusatory tone. “You won’t want to confess something? You know save us some time.”

“Inspector, if you make one more accusation a long those lines towards my Lady again. You and I will have more than words.” Savannah snarled much to the surprise of both men. “Unlike my Mistress, I grew up in the worse Hell known to man. I have no problems with going one on one with you.”

“Savannah, that will be enough. The Inspector is only showing his ignorance to a more modern way of police thinking. The idea of applying the modern practice of psychology to criminal behavior is a concept that I doubt will gain much acceptance in this era.” Cecelia said as she gently chastised her maid. “Even though it is hobby of mine. I have to understand why people commit the heinous acts they do. Maybe one day we’ll be able to predict crimes before they happen.”

“It sounds like you’re actually trying to get inside the head of a monster, Lady Cecelia.” Stirling shivered then thought about a Doctor that he knew who worked with the insane. “Though I do have a friend who is an alienist. I believe he would find your ideas for classifying and I believe predicting criminal behavior quite fascinating. Do you happen to have a name for this new scientific method of fighting crime?”

“No sir. As I have said. It is just a hobby. I doubt that applying the ideals of psychology to criminal behavior will ever be proven as a workable tool for policing the criminal element of our society.” Cecelia told the young man not wanting to tell him that the idea of criminal behavioral science or profiling is from close to 100 years in the future. It is also something that the basics of is taught to all new incoming police officers. Not just in the UK but in police forces around the world. “In many ways my methods could be missed used to place the wrong individual behind bars.”

"You’ll have to forgive me Lady Cecelia, but right now I would accept whatever methods you want to bring to the table. I don’t care how bazaar they might be, especially concerning these ritual murders.” Sir Charles said bluntly as he gave Stirling a harsh glare. “We got five dead young women and no answers. We do not antagonize those who are trying to help.”

“Yes sir.” Stirling said with a gulp as the mean behind Sir Charles’s words was clear as day. He was to leave the Lady Cecelia’s past alone and quite trying to interrogate the young Lady. “Understood.”

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of the British Museum. As they exited the cab they were greeted by the Curator. “Sir Charles, Inspector Stirling, I sorry for interrupting your morning visit with you guests. I’ll have my carriage brought around to take them home.”

“Get out of my way fool.” Cecelia snarled and turned to Egerton. “Constable can you show me to the mummies?”

“Excuse me young lady, but just who do you think you are to talk to in such a manner?” the Curator snapped at the way Cecelia treated him.

“Countess Cecelia Phantomhive, the Queen’s personal Alleycat. In other words, I the bitch her Royal Majesty sends to investigate the truly weird happenings around our nation. Now you have six very unusual mummies somewhere. Are you going to show them to me or get out of my way? Make up your mind quickly sir as you're trying my patience.” Cecelia grinned evilly as the color drained from the man’s face as he realized that he was addressing a Noble. One who received her authority from the Queen herself.

“Right this way my Lady.” Cecelia, Savannah, Stirling, and Sir Charles all chuckled at the Curator’s sudden change in attitude towards the youngest member of their party. As the four of them walked through the museum to the Egyptian area the click of the women’s heels on the marble floor was accentuated by the metallic tap of Cecelia’s cane tip. As they neared the back area of the exhibit Cecelia spotted the six sarcophagi and stopped dead.

“Sir Charles, please seal this area off and remove all museum personal.” She asked of the man as the ranking member of the Police. “Those are relate to the other case we were discussing in your study.”

Sir Charles didn’t even think twice about questioning the politely phrased order. “Egerton, Stirling, get those people out of there. If they give you any guff. Feel free to dent their heads.”

“Yes sir.” The two men said at the same time. In minutes, the museum personnel were cleared out. Cecelia and Savannah were closely examining the individual sarcophagi. For Cecelia it was like looking at a nightmare to come to life. She knew that inside each sarcophagus was a young woman. Each between the age of 19 to 21. If not younger for this era. They would be wrapped in layers upon layers of linen bandages. They had been mummified alive then placed inside the sarcophagus. Where they would then be covered in clear liquid paraffin wax. Forever sealing them inside their wrappings and to the bottom of the sarcophagus. The one open sarcophagus confirmed this for her.

Walking up to the open sarcophagus Cecelia sighed as she looked up at the mummified young woman. In a voice barely above a whisper she asked Savannah. “Savannah, in my time we could never figure out how the mummies fit in with the other ritual murders. Would you know?”

“The first recorded worshiping of Thorgonnoth by humans was in ancient Egypt, my Lady. They worshiped Thorgonnoth with human sacrifice. Every two months they would mummify one man and one woman alive. Then seal them inside their sarcophagi with a heavy risen. They would then be taken out into the center of the Nile River. Where they would then be dropped over the side of the boat. It was true death obsessed cult.” Savannah shivered with memory. “Ah the feasts from the days of old. Virgins as far as the eyes could see.”

“You do know that the day you get my soul you’ll most likely feast once more upon a virgin.” Cecelia sighed as she examined the lid of the next sarcophagi. “If the ancients sacrificed both men and women. Why would these suspects only use women for their sacrifices?”

“The only reason that I know of for using only women is they are trying to raise a different demon. Why do you ask, my Lady?” Savannah asked as she pulled open a second sarcophagus. “Wait this isn’t a man.”

“They will all be young women Savannah.” Cecelia told her maid then dropped her voice to just over a whisper. “Just like the ones from my time.”

“The Children of Eternal Doom may be trying to raise Thorgonnoth, but they’ve made a terrible mistake.” Savannah chuckled evilly. “The demon that they will raise will feast on their bones. Then return to the Hell that spawned it or strike a deal with an unwitting bystander.”

“You know which demon they’ll raise don’t you, Savannah.” Cecelia said with a sly smile as she thought back to that night just a few days ago. “I do have a question Savannah. If the Children of Eternal Doom are unknowingly trying to raise you. What would happen if you are already raised?”

“Nothing. They will have sacrificed all those maidens for nothing.” Savannah answered with a small curtsy. “Until our contract is fulfilled. I have only one absolute Mistress, that is you.”

At the mention of their contract Cecelia absentmindedly touched her eyepatch. “Could you tell when or where the next attempt to summon you happens?”

“Of course, my Lady. Our contract maybe absolutely binding. I can still feel the affect of a summoning.” Savannah answered but stopped her explanation when Sir Charles walked up to them.

“Well, my Lady. Are these mummies related to the other murders?” He asked.

“I will not lie Sir Charles. They’re related.” Cecelia answered as she turned to leave. “This is no longer a matter for the police.”

“Just what does that mean?” Stirling asked as he walked up. “Murder is murder. That makes it a police matter.”

“That is where you’re wrong Inspector. These two cases are all about magic. Magic specifically for the summoning of a demon. Like her Majesty’s Watchdog, her Majesty’s Alleycat is charged with certain duties.” Cecelia told Stirling bluntly. “It is time for the experts to handle matters, Inspector.”

“What experts? You and your maid?” Stirling snorted dismissively.

“My Lady is more than she appears, Inspector. She has skills and knowledge that far exceed those of your own. She is more than capable of handling the investigation into these ritualistic murders.” Savannah said putting the young Inspector in his place. Then with a small curtsy she said grinning. “As for myself. I am simply one Hell of a Lady’s Maid.”

-----tbc-----