When a terrible fire claims his parents, Ciel Phantomhive must step up as the head of his father's company and as Earl Phantomhive. It would be a lot for the young boy to handle were it not for his faithful butler, Sebastian.

Ever at Ciel's side, it seems there's little Sebastian can't do, whether it's saving a dinner party gone awry or probing the dark secrets of London's underbelly. He's almost too good to be true...or at least, too good to be human...

Grelle's chainsaw-like scythe cuts through anything, quickly overpowering Sebastian as Madame Red attacks Ciel. Grelle kills her when she refuses to kill Ciel. Memories of her sister and her sister's husband the Earl of Phantomhive are played out, an effect of the scythe.

Sebastian attacks Grelle and tangles Grelle's chainsaw with his coat. Sebastian tries to kill Grelle with the scythe but the shinigami William Spears stops him. William apologizes for Grelle's actions and takes Grelle away for punishment. After Madame Red's funeral, Ciel is warned against sinking into darkness. Ciel's aunt and fiancée visit the estate. Ciel and the Marchioness engage in a hunting competition but when the group is attacked by a bear, Ciel protects Elizabeth and Sebastian kills the bear, although it appears to be the Marchioness' handiwork. The Middlefords and the servants wish Ciel happy birthday, the true purpose of the visit

And you thought your adolescence was scary.

Suburban Seattle, the mid-1970s. We learn from the outset that a strange plague has descended upon the area's teenagers, transmitted by sexual contact. The disease is manifested any number of ways - from the hideously grotesque to the subtle (and concealable) - but once you've got it, that's it. There's no turning back.

As we inhabit the heads of several key characters - some kids who have it, some who don't, some who are about to get it - what unfolds isn't the expected battle to fight the plague, or bring heightened awareness of it, or even to treat it. What we become witness to instead is a fascinating and eerie portrait of the nature of high-school alienation itself - the savagery, the cruelty, the relentless anxiety and ennui, the longing for escape.

And then the murders start.

As hypnotically beautiful as it is horrifying (and, believe it or not, autobiographical), Black Hole transcends its genre by deftly exploring a specific American cultural moment in flux and the kids who are caught in it - back when it wasn't exactly cool to be a hippie any more, but Bowie was still just a little too weird.

To say nothing of sprouting horns and moulting your skin . . .