Black Butler Edward Novels & Stories

“You are my mate. Regardless of whether we have done the ceremony yet, you are my Luna.” My cheeks flushed at his words; the thought of being a Luna had weighed heavily on my mind, but now was not the time to dwell on it. “Come this way,” the butler said, clearing his throat. The butler was a tall, lanky man with hair so dark that it was like charcoal. He walked in long strides, his head held high, and his hands clasped together behind his back.

Momo muttered, blood oozing from his mouth. I gazed at Billy and Kate, who slowly crawled out of the layers of blocks. Their eyes were all white, pleading for a way out of their calamity. “Everyone get behind me.” Pastor Timothy commanded. They scrambled, hoping to get themselves next to the high and mighty Pope Timothy. Kate got herself out of the block, her bones making crackling sounds as she lay on the floor. They stepped back, wondering how a child had managed to crawl all the way out despite the layers of concrete weighing them down.

"Good morning Miss May, Master Edmond requires your presence at the table." I remained silent. Deep in thought as to why Edmond would willingly seek my presence. It took a minute but I eventually opened the door and greeted the butler with a smile. The butler smiled back. He was a good-looking man with brown eyes and the giant suit he was in barely hid the fact that he was packed. He looked more like a bodyguard than a butler. "Should I give you some time to freshen up?" He asked with the kindest eyes ai had ever seen.

“Because isolation is what made him.” Root froze. The fragments kept moving. Charles stared into the darkness. “Father?” A voice answered. Old. Warm. Familiar. The voice from childhood. “Charlie.” Charles collapsed. Thomas stood rigid. The darkness gathered into a man. Edward Blackwood. Late sixties. White hair. Thin face. Kind eyes. The exact face from Project Mercy. But his body was made from millions of faint overlapping silhouettes. Every discarded piece layered behind him. He looked at Charles.

The researchers stepped aside as another figure entered the room. An older man. Tall. Sharp posture. Even through the low resolution of the footage, Damian recognized him instantly. Edward Blackwood. His grandfather. Edward approached the glass chamber slowly. For several seconds, he simply stood there, watching the infant sleeping inside. Then he spoke. His voice carried the same cold authority Damian remembered from childhood. “So this is the result.” The researcher nodded. “Yes, sir.” Edward folded his hands behind his back. “And the other subjects?” “None survived the therapy phase.”

A woman in black crossed the far edge of the frame, head turned away. Then a man entered from the private-wing door. Ethan froze the video. —That is not Edward, Nora said quietly. Ethan did not answer. He did not trust his voice. The man was broad enough to pass at distance, dressed in dark formalwear, moving with his head down. But Edward Hasse was left-handed; this man used his right hand to steady the door. Edward’s hair was silver at the temples; this man’s hair was darker. Edward carried himself like a courtroom. This man moved like someone hoping not to be remembered.

he asked. “Yes, thanks Edward”, Charles nodded, handing the cake to him. “We'll eat it at dessert”. “We? Dessert?” Kate thought confused, her eyes darting between Charles and Edward. Edward nodded in response, making his way to the kitchen already. “Thank you Si __”, Kate paused, seeing as Edward had left already. “I think your butler doesn't like me”, she whispered to Charles. “Butler”, Charles repeated, chuckling. Kate stared at him confused, had she said something wrong.

Ezra said, his hands skillfully poured the tea into the tea cup while nonshalantly talking about the head butler like he’s some kind of friend. Ezra Yeul is not your average butler, at least, not for me. Graduated with flying colors while having multiple combat and leading skills, he’s the black horse my mother assigned to guard me beginning from my early teen years up until I left the house a couple years ago to live on my own. I can say his unique personality piqued my interest just as how much The Flesh sparked my horror.

I flinch before I can stop myself. Edward smiles like he enjoys that. “Stand there,” he says, pointing to a spot near the couch. “Don’t talk.” I move where he tells me. He opens the door. A man steps inside. Tall. Broad. Dressed in black. His posture is straight, alert. His eyes scan the room immediately, fast and sharp. They land on Edward first. Then they move to me. They don’t linger. They just register. “Edward,” the man says. He turns to me. “This is Ethan Cole.” Ethan nods once. “Ma’am.” That’s all he says.

The old butler nodded and turned around to leave the room. Before he got out, Edward's voice stopped him. "Don't let him know I bought it for him. Don't even mention me when you talk to him, understand?" The old butler paused, not understanding as his brows furrowed. "Master Edward, what will that achieve? You have always been strict on Young Master Josh, and have put on an uncaring facade. In the Bluemel household, no one cares for him as much as you do."