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xxstraymoonchildxx · 4 months

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This Couple is Unusual

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Chapter 2 This Couple, investigating

cw: bad humor, graphic description of a corpse in the second half

You didn’t know who looked more perplexed. Satan or the, admittedly handsome stranger with the pitch-back hair. They still stared at each other, both bent down to touch the felines, it was almost comical. Slowly they stood up, both with a kitten in hand. Satan cleared his throat. The other person did the same. They eyed each other for a long moment, the felines meowing and tugging at their dress pants begging for attention. It reminded you of Mammon and Asmo.

“I did not expect to run into another person with a love for cats,” the stranger said while bowling politely with a practiced smile on his lips.

“Likewise. Well, there is much to appreciate about them obviously.”

You weren't sure but it looked like they were bonding telepathically.

/Is this the beginning of a new romance?/

Whatever it was that was happening in this non-verbal dialogue, it was cut short quickly.

"Sebastian, what are you doing?!”

A small person a few feet away appeared out of nowhere, a scowl on his young face. He couldn't be much older than twelve or thirteen. It was obvious that he tried to appear more mature from his fashion choice - a top hat and high-heeled shoes and in his hand a walking cane like the other gentlemen walking around the area.

He clicked his tongue, watching the cats with disdain. The blue shade and style of his hair reminded you of Belphegor’s and he had the youngest sibling-energy around him to match; now you couldn't unsee it (It would be funny if he had a twin).

“Please excuse me, it was my pleasure, Sir. Farewell.”

“I apologize for the wait, young master.”

“Tch, let's hurry already.”

“That was weird. But they kinda remind me of some people I know,” you deadpanned, watching the duo with the interesting dynamic leave until they vanished between buildings.

Satan checked into the hotel. Not that you weren’t capable of doing it yourself but you had to follow the customs in this era whether you liked it or not.

It did come with a bonus. Satan was in uncharacteristically high spirits from the moment you stepped into the hotel room together. Unbeknownst to you he was happy that he could spend this and the coming nights with you, in the same bed, without having to worry that one of his brothers would barge in, demanding time with you - and way too kind you, usually folding.

You readied yourself for bed, longing to sink into the mattress from this exciting day but first you had to shower - technically you’d have to do with a sponge bath but luckily you were a sorceress and had the right spells on hand to do the trick, courtesy of Asmodeus. Satan helped you with your dress, opening the back for you. The outer material pooled at your feet. “This dress sure has many layers,” you couldn't help but complain as you stepped over the striped dress, untying the padded bustle from around your hip, shaking off the thin petticoat and the corset cover. Satan watched you twiddling with the lacing of your corset while walking into the bathroom. He respectfully looked away, pulling out his nightwear, a dark blue pajama.

In the modest bathroom, you dropped the rest of your undergarments “Spirit of water and wind, I, the sorcerer y/n command thou to clean and dry my earthly vessel.”

After everything was done, you changed into a simple tank top and a pair of satin shorts and handed the bathroom over to Satan, who joined you in bed fifteen minutes later.

There the two of you lay, snuggled up together with you tucked under his arm and him with a book in hand for you to read.

Wasn't all this wonderfully domestic?

The next day

Bold letters hung above the entrance door, spelling the word “Undertaker” and a skull on top of the sign.

You decided to visit him after getting an approval letter from Scotland Yard. The wine did wonders! Anyway, the funeral parlor looked very interesting from the outside! On the right two anthracite coffins and three sotoba - you had to ask Satan what those even were - were leaning against the brick wall. On the left were two tombstones and a flag leaning against one of them. The cobwebs were a nice detail, too. /Guess you need to stand out from the competition/

A little bell jingled when you stepped inside. It was dark and it took a moment for your eyes to adjust. The candle chandelier didn't do much to illuminate the place. Satan didn't have this problem, his bluish-green eyes observing the unfamiliar room.

Coffins were standing around, even the counter was a massive exemplar. Large shelves with various bottles and jars containing questionable items crosses on the wall, skulls, and a human skeleton in the back. The place had cobwebs inside and out and needed a good dusting.

Not that he was any better with his room back in the House of Lamentation but at least it was squeaky clean.

“Hehehe”

The coffin on your left suddenly squeaked open. A set of dark long nails tapped the wood, pushing the lid to the side.

“What a nice surprise, customers in the making!” the man said in a squeaky voice, giggling like a madman. An interesting entrance for sure. As unique as the person itself. A crooked top hat sat on top of long silver hair, the bangs hid his eyes, leaving only the lower part visible which displayed a wide, crazed smile and a prominent scar running from his cheeks up and over his nose.

With swift steps he glided over the floor, stopping himself just right in front of Satan, leaning in. “What brings you to me, care for a test lay in one of my first-rate coffins? We have a pair, brand new~ Care for a fitting?” Irritation oozed from the blond, so you decided to step in. “Excuse us, Mister...eh” His head snapped towards you, still grinning “Undertaker~”

“Yeah, I can see that?”

“Hehe, no, that's my name,” he slyly boobed your nose with his long index finger or rather his nail. Asmo would love to paint them.

“Oh, like a pseudonym for an artist. Noted.”

Undertaker twirled around, the long black coat fluttered along with his movement and the mourning lockets around his waist clicked together. “Artist! Oh my, how flattering! It sure is, preparing my guests for their most important day.”

“So?” the funeral director drawled out, propping himself up against the counter and crossing his legs. (You noticed the slight shift in his demeanor, planting the thought inside your head that he looked kind of cool when he didn’t act like a weirdo). Satan cleared his throat “My name is Holmes and this is my wife. We are journalists from America and have permission to write about the Whitechapel murders in all their detail. We were informed you are in charge to autopsied the victims”

His wife. You blushed.

You did talk about playing a married couple while undercover but hearing the term from his mouth and addressing you made your head all fuzzy while Satan felt pride swelling in his chest that rivaled Lucifer's.

Undertaker hummed like he already knew about you. “It will cost you,” he grinned.

“How much?” Satan was ready to pick out his wallet but Undertaker beat him to it. In the blink of an eye, he dashed forward, halting close to Satan’s face. “I don’t desire the queen’s coins. What I want is…”

A dramatic pause.

“...a Joke. Make me laugh~”

/This human is unreal-/ Satan’s left eye twitched.

“Well, they do say ‘A kingdom for a joke’” you chirped in while Satan gave you a side eye. Undertaker giggled excitedly, plopping down on one of the coffins. You raised your hand as if in class. “Let me try!”

You took a moment to ponder over your options, searching for a joke that wasn’t too modern.

“A man and his son are driving past a graveyard. Suddenly the son leans forward asking “Do they ever bury two people in the same grave?”

Surprised the father said “Of course not! Why ask such a question?” His son replied “Well, I read a gravestone that said “Here lies a lawyer and an honest man”

Silence. Satan sweatdropped.

You were worried for a moment, thinking /Maybe I should have told the orphan/ graveyard joke/

“BWAHAHAHA”

To your surprise, the silver-haired director threw his body back, maniacal laughter blasting through the building. He held his belly, kicking his feet like a child. He laughed for two minutes straight, without taking a breather until he finally calmed down, sitting himself up properly and rubbing his eyes with the long sleeves of his coat.

“Wonderful,” he quaked “Consider the payment done. My newest guest just arrived today and I was about to start the autopsy before you came in”

Undertaker hopped down from his coffin and with the movement of his finger, he ordered you silently to follow him down the stairs.

A disgusting smell of blood, disinfectants, and death hung in the cold air and instantly hit your nose. It smelled disgusting and you were glad you skipped breakfast this morning. Satan was less affected, the lucky demon! The reason for the stink was lying on two metal tables each, partly covered by an old linen cloth. Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddowes were the recent victims of Jack the Ripper as the silver-haired man informed the two of you.

“I must warn you, this is not for the faint heart” Undertaker warned but nevertheless guided you towards Eddowes, carefully petting her hair peaking out from under the fabric “This one was not as lucky as her friend over there”

“How so?” Satan asked, confused as both women were dead after all.

With a knowing smile, Undertaker pulled away the cloth over Catherine's body, showing you all the gruesome work of her murderer. Thank whatever deity that you skipped the breakfast. The intestines had been stuffed back messily into her body, perhaps for the transportation of the corpse, and her throat had been slashed open. Her eyes were wide open from horror, having faced the killer just upon her death and mutilated nearly into unrecognition.

“The killer slashed both victim's throats first, but this one was mangled much worse,” Undertaker explained, amused by your ever-changing facial reactions to the unsightly sight. “The killer was perhaps disturbed and searched for the next victim, finishing their work on dear Catherine here~ She was found with her intestines hanged over her shoulder, so they could reach for something else” He pointed towards her uterus, or rather where it should have been “My guest isn’t a whole woman anymore to add to the insult of dying in their own puddle of blood. The left kidney is missing as well, a minor detail but might be important as well.”

/This is disgusting af/ you tried to stop breathing the foul odor in, holding a tissue to your nose. How Satan, who was deep in thought, was able to handle it was beyond you. “The kidney taken could mean the killer was involved with organ trafficking but the uterus? Very unusual…” He said it more to himself than anyone. “But the unsub very likely has experience in the medical field. They must be right-handed judging by their slashing movement”

“You refer to the killer as ‘they’, Mr. Undertaker,” you chimed in “The Yard and the public usually address Jack the Ripper with a male pronoun. Do you think the culprit could be a woman?”

The mortician hummed “That is a possibility yes, although they prefer poison, well, judging by my usual patronage.”

“Nevertheless, the unsub most likely has personal feelings towards prostitutes in general. The victims have done something to anger the killer, the uterus and kidney are most likely some sort of trophy, usual for serial killers. As you said, the uterus is exclusively female and the kidney has significance in several cultures. In Egypt, for example, they were left in mummies because they connected the kidney with judgment and moral decisions. In Hebrew, it was understood as the seat of emotion together with the heart and bowl. And during medieval times they were regarded as the seat of our conscience. Fascinating.”

/Satan - Google, who?/

Undertaker regarded the blond with a cheeky smile “You sure are a smart one, Mr. Holmes. Interesting deduction.”

You beamed, proud of your husband. If Undertaker looked closely, he could see the hearts floating above your head.

“We thank you for your time, Mr. Undertaker” You curtsied politely, glad you finally left the mortuary, which bad smell hopefully didn’t stick onto your clothes and hair. “It was my pleasure. I hope you’ll tell me another joke one day.”

Satan deadpanned (He loved you, but those dad jokes…)

“Oh, I have one for free. Wanna hear?”

“What do you call it when an orphan visits a graveyard?”

“Oh, please tell me~”

“A family reunion”

Silence.

/Too offensive?/

A chime of a little bell forced all of your attention to the entrance door. The young boy from the day before stepped inside forcefully, the man dressed in black from head to toe by his side. “Are you here, Undertaker!?”

You were not sure that the funeral director started to roar with laughter just because of your joke.

What an unusual man, that Undertaker.

Sorry for the long wait. Hope you like it.

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