In silence, he sat reconsidering all of the garbled details that had been thrown at him.

"They are connected," Ciel frowned, picking up his tea cup,"The matter of the painting and the maid..." Between sips of tea, Ciel hissed, "Yes...Mara is practically the Buddhist equivalent of the Devil. And Mirana has him in her arm."

Ciel put his cup down.

CRASH. Shards of delicate material fell upon the floor.

But, his teacup was still in tact.

Whatever soup she had made before now was splattered on the kitchen floor along with tomatoes, broken glass, and the blood of six bodies.

"Mara, you've made quite the mess."

Mirana's gray eyes did not contain their usual placidity as they glowered at the butler. Her right hand, the cursed hand, was clenched around a long kitchen knife. She strode towards him quickly with the blade extended in the direction of his pale neck.

"Thank you," he caught her wrist and moved her sleeve upwards to observe the tree, "Mirana, can you regain control? Mara's tree is glowing red."

"Mirana has cleaned up the kitchen. And the windows will have new panes by tomorrow."

"I could not care less about the state of the kitchen, Sebastian."

"My Lord-"

"Sebastian, you do realize that upon the bodies was the mark... the same mark that I have. And all of them, all that broke into the kitchen, had guarded the painting of the Mara- you should recognize their faces from the pictures. They came here to attack Mirana or the Mara. We are going back to Phantomhive Manor."

Sitting in the carriage, Ciel took immediate notice of how puzzled she was. Her right eyebrow curled up in disbelief while her pupils concentrated on the bits of the horizon that stuck out from the forest's cloak.

"Mirana, are you alright?"

Her head whipped around in a fluid motion to address him with a nod, and after adjusting her body to face him as well, she nodded again as a sign of reassurance in her remark.

He redirected his gaze to the same sights that she had concentrated on. The trees were becoming more dense and the bits of horizon that had fascinated her were unable to pierce through the thickness that now surrounded the carriage. With reluctance, he peeled his eyes away from the scenery and back to Mirana.

She was waving her hands and snapping her fingers.

"What are you doing?" Ciel found himself awfully close to laughing.

She frowned, frustrated. With a brief wave of her hands, she conveyed the message to him: Never mind. Then she bowed her head again to apologize.

He frowned, "Were you trying to get my attention?"

She brought her hand a bit above her right shoulder and in a clean fashion brought it to the same spot above her left shoulder. She had pantomimed the action of cutting her neck. The message was clear: FORGET ABOUT IT.

"Throats are slit?" Ciel teased.

Mirana rolled her eyes and a simper came to her face. He referenced the fate of the six zombies that broke into the kitchen.