Narrator's POV

Angelina Dalles hummed the tune of "London Bridge is Falling Down" as she walked through the streets of Brighton.

A wicked smile formed on her red-painted lips as she saw her favorite prey: prostitutes.

Forcing her expression to become neutral, the red-haired woman continued to walk ever closer.

The whore saw Ann as she approached asking, laughing a bit, "Whatsa pro'er lady like you doin' out this late? Lookin' fo' ye hus'and mayhaps?"

Ann frowned, her mind momentarily brought back to that horrible carriage accident, but she made herself placid again, "No, I was actually hoping to solicit your services."

The whore laughed again, "Alrigh', lady, but I'll be changing ye more since ye be a lady."

"You misunderstand me." Ann replied, forcing herself to blush, "My husband and I run a charity of sorts for underprivileged women, for a bit of honest work you would get a paycheck and lodging instead of catching diseases or worse out here on the streets; after all I am certain you have heard about those poor girls in Whitechapel?"

That seemed to get the other women's interest, "What kinda work would it be?"

"Have you heard of the new hotel that just opened? My husband and I own it, all of our female staff are former whores." Ann lied, leading her towards the hotel

"What's the pay?" The prostitute asked

"A quarter of a pound —or five shillings— a day, in addition to food and board."

The other women's eyes widened, she was lucky to make a pound a day just to turn around and spent it all on food and a place to sleep.

Most women only made twenty five pounds in a year, but at the rate this woman offered she could make around ninety pounds a year —assuming she worked every single day.

So, she followed the rich woman to the servant entrance of the hotel.

Much to her surprise, she was lead through a hidden door down to a basement.

Her eyes widened when she saw several women —almost all of them whores she had seen wandering the streets before— laying in beds connected to machines.

Each sleeping woman had what looked like blood being taken from them.

Suddenly yelping in pain, the whore saw the strange woman had pricked her finger and squeezed a few drops of blood into a cup.

"Vega, boring blood for a boring girl." Ann insulted

"What the 'ell is goin' on?" The white asked, terrified

She did not get an answer as she was rendered unconscious and dragged to an empty bed.

She was stripped, an oxygen mask was placed on her head to insure she did not stop breathing and she was hooked up to a transfusion machine.

Ann put in an empty Vega vial to begin collecting blood from her.

In the morning, the head maid —a Servant of the Stars hand chosen by Blavat for their loyalty— would come give all the sleeping women sedatives, nourishment and change out their vials for new ones.

It seems this hotel would be an absolute success, perhaps it was now time to make other blood collection facilities.

***

Ciel Phantomhive, the would-be Earl, smiled as he walked through the hotel.

Astre was busy doing paperwork for his company, Undertaker was down in the basement and Aunt Ann was in town shopping, which meant he was bored.

And it was never a good thing for anyone to let the sadistic teen be bored.

So, he made his way into the hidden blood extraction room.

Walking through the room, he read the label by each women's bed.

"Polaris, Polaris," The blunette read aloud, passing a bed with each word, "Polaris, Canopus, Polaris, Sirius, Vega."

Stopping in front of the bed of the women with Vega blood, Ciel smirked evilly.

To him, Vega was the most boring blood one could have, with forty-four percent of people having it that made being a Vega common.

And Ciel, being a purebred noble firstborn son with the rarest of all blood types, he hated common things.

So, this boring Vega girl, would not be missed and be easily replaced.

Which meant he could play doctor.

***

Washing off his bloody hands, Ciel went back up the stairs to Astre's office.

"Are you done yet, starshine?" Ciel impatiently asked

"Just about, skylight." The younger twin replied, not looking up

The older blunette pouted and sunk down onto the seat beside his brother, he wished his brother was not always so busy in the mornings.

Sensing his twin's bad mood, Astre cuddled closer to Ciel to calm him down.

It worked immediately, nothing could soothe Ciel more than having Astre close.

They stayed like that for about five more minutes as Astre read the last bit of paperwork and signed the name 'Dominick Ghast' when he liked what he read.

Soon, the younger blunette happiky exclaimed, "All done. What do you want to do now, big brother."

Astre knew his brother liked to feel dominant to him, so using nicknames like that always put Ciel in a better mood.

And just like the cuddling, that worked very well.

Ciel took his hand and led him down to the garden, "I am tired of being inside, lets be outside."

The slightly shorter blunette just let it happen, his brain tired from the massive amount of paperwork he just finished.

***

After a week more at the hotel, everything to make the blood collection operation and its resort front fully operational was done.

And so, the Ghast Family departed to go back to London.

Sphere Music Hall lost a piece of its metaphorical soul every time the Lords Sirius departed from it, it was time to put it back together...