Diamond Eyes - 6. Chapter 6

Van’s fears that Jill and Mr. Fritz would not get along due to their difference in political affiliation were laid to rest the moment the trio piled into the carriage. It was possible Jill was too excited to begin her new life to give it much thought at the moment, but she seemed to take to the lawyer immediately. They chatted away like two chipmunks in a tree, seemingly unaware of his presence. This did not bother Vanus in the least; if anything it gave him a chance to think.

The orphan was still reeling from all that had occurred the day before. He still had so many questions. But family legacies was no longer the only thing on his mind. Sister Alysious’ words echoed in his mind with the weight of prophecy: Her soul is too gentle for a city that is so full of ugliness.

He’d promised Jill and Alysious he would keep Jill safe, and it was not a promise he’d made lightly. I won’t stay out all night. I won’t gamble or steal or get into fights because I won’t have to. We’ll have everything we need. She deserves to feel safe and she deserves to feel happy. We both do. It sounded simple in his head. Logical. But Vanis was not ignorant when it came to how the world worked. It was easy to make promises, and even easier to break them.

While Mr. Fritz told the orphans of the many things there were to do in the district for entertainment, Vanus distracted himself with the things he could buy with the fortune he’d inherited. He would buy Jill expensive, beautiful dresses, lots of them and he would buy himself suits! No longer would they dress in rags, riddled with holes and tears, made of scratchy fabric that irritated the skin. Eventually the majestic spires of Grand District faded from view, the cobblestoned streets turning into a single long winding brick road with bare trees on each side. A cold mist shrouded everything else from view.

"You didn't say Kaufman Manor's in the country," Vanus said to Mr. Fritz.

"We are hardly in the country m'dear boy. It just so happens Kaufman Manor sits on a ten acre property at the edge of the district."

Jill peeked out the window, wrapping her scarf tighter around herself. "It's so quiet. It's almost…spooky."

Vanus agreed.

Mr. Fritz assured the orphans they would get used to the change of scenery and learn to appreciate the privacy Kaufman Manor afforded them. "And always remember the city is just a carriage ride away. You could walk there if need be, though that will not be necessary. You'll be able to do as you please. You can throw parties."

"Parties?" Vanus and Jill echoed in the day.

"When I was a boy they were always throwing huge gatherings at the Kaufman Manor. My family has always been close to the Kaufman family, so we were always invited. Vanus, I recall your mother always looked so beautiful…"

"Where is my mother?" Vanus asked. "You've told me everything else except what happened to her and what happened to my uncle."

"They're both…dead," Mr. Fritz said in a voice so low it was almost a whisper. "And I haven't told you about these things because I don't know. By the time Lord Kaufman hired me onto the scene, the house and the family were both in shambles. Your mother had passed away not long after you were born, your uncle Henry had been exiled from the estate, and your uncle was going through a bit of a downward spiral."

"How did he die?"

Mr. Fritz shifted uncomfortably. "He…committed suicide by hanging himself from the chandelier."

Vanus let out a dark laugh before he could stop himself. Of course he did.

"Van, don't laugh, that's horrible!" Jill scolded.

Vanus ignored her. At the moment he only had eyes for Mr. Fritz. "So I have a house and a fortune and power, but I'm still an orphan?"

"I'm sure the situation seems dreary from where you're sitting," the lawyer said. "I certainly don't want to give light to it if there's none to be had. But I do hope you can try and see the painting from a different angle."

Vanus spoke through clenched teeth. "What other angle is there to view things from? Or is that all you have to offer, meaningless platitudes?"

"No, m'dear boy. I want to give you hope because I think you've had so little of it in your life. The both of you, really. Tomorrow when the clock strikes midnight you will become the Patriarch of the Kaufman dynasty. Wherever you decide to take it, is where it will go. I can only imagine how impatient you are, and how shocking this all must be to you. But I want to reiterate that you have no shortage of time to find the answers you seek about your family history."

"I could care less about my family history," the orphan muttered darkly.

"Surely you don't mean that. Don't you want to know more about the family who brought you into this world?"

"No," Vanus said dryly. "But I'll take their money and live in their house. It's the least they could do after leaving me to rot in that cesspool."

At long last Kaufman Manor loomed out of the mist as if it had been waiting for him this whole time. Waiting for him to come home. The carriage stopped before a tall wrought iron gate that had been chained shut. The trio climbed out of the carriage into the cold air. Mr. Fritz thanked the driver, tipping him with two silver coins, then the carriage was off until it faded into the mists. Now the two orphans were alone, with the hyper, absent-minded Mr. Fritz to watch over them for the time being. The thought made Van shiver.

Mr. Fritz stood at the gate, pilfering around through the pockets of his tweed coat, muttering and cursing. Van and Jill huddled close together, hugging themselves for warmth. Van looked through the gate at the sprawling estate. The manor stood four stories tall, spanning multiple wings, with wide windows that overlooked a lawn overgrown with neglect. The windows were dark but watchful, like eyes. The house seemed to watch them. In front of the manor was a fountain in the shape of the Rephaim, Azrael. He held the same grim pose, the tip of his staff touching the ground.

“That’s it,” Jill whispered. “That house is huge. And it’s going to be all yours. It’s kind of spooky, isn’t it?”

“I suppose we’ll just have to brighten up the place,” said Vanus. “You’re in charge of the decorating.”

Mr. Fritz grunted, trying to push open the gate now that he had it unlocked. The orphans stepped forward to help him. With the trio’s combined effort, they managed to push it open. The gate’s hinges squealed in agony. They walked up a long limestone pathway. Strong gusts of wind blew at their back, making the trees shake so that their branches sounded like dancing bones. Van’s skin crawled. He eyed the statue as they walked past it. He had the same sensation of being watched as he had when he was with Zephyr in the room of statues. He expected the statue to turn its head and stare sombrly after them, but of course it remained still.

Van breathed a sigh of relief.

Now at the double doors leading into the parlor, Mr. Fritz pulled out a ring of keys. The sound was deafening in the hollow silence of the countryside. The door opened and the dark threshold beyond beckoned. Mr. Fritz stepped forward, unafraid. He seemed insubstantial in comparison to the shadows within the house. He looked back at the orphans who had not moved. “What are two doing standing there looking afraid? No one has been inside this house since Lord Kaufman’s death except for myself, and that’s only to pick up certain documents. There might be some mice scurrying around, but that can easily be remedied with mouse traps. Once all the business with your inheritance has been settled, Vanus, it won’t be much of a chore to hire imps to straighten up and guard your property. It’s what the Rephaim made them for after all.”

If he’s not afraid then why should we be? Vanus thought.

He exchanged looks with Jill. She nodded, her silent way of saying she was ready for anything. They clasped hands and stepped inside.

The air inside the house smelled stale. It was apparent no one had been here in some days. Having lived in an old house his whole life, Vanus sensed these walls had lived a life of their own. There were memories that had nothing to do with him, and yet there was the strange, inexplicable feeling that he had finally found the place where he belonged. This was not felt as the swell of elation but the unclenching of muscles forever clenched. It was like a great weight being lifted off his shoulders. I’ve come home, he thought. The orphan slowly spun around. Helooked up at the tall ceiling, at the great chandelier where Lord Charlie Kaufman had hung himself with a noose. A staircase led up to a landing that veered into different directions. But what caught his attention more than the high ceilings with pointed arches and ribbed vaults were the portraits hanging on the wall at the top of the stairs. Slowly, as if caught in a chance, he climbed up the carpeted stairs, drawn to the faces that stared back at him.

He’d seen portraits like these back at the orphanage, but they were usually of shareholders from the Theocracy who had made “charitable” donations to the orphanage; the reward for their benevolence was to have their portrait painted, framed, and mounted on the wall. There was nothing charitable about these portraits, they were simply an immodest display of wealth. For Vanus it was his first look at the family he'd never known.

Though he’d never seen their faces, he knew the severe looking man in the middle was his uncle Lord Charlie Kaufman. His violet eyes glared at Vanus from his frame as if daring him to defy him; and next to him, sharing a frame together were the twins: his uncle Julian and his mother Vanessa. They sat side by side, hands clasped together. Vanessa looked straight ahead, her eyes distant and sad. There was an emptiness about her, but also a strange sense of longing that reminded Van of a bird yearning to break free. Vanus could recognize the feeling because he'd felt it many times himself while at the orphanage. Julian faced her, his face strong-minded like that of his sister. And like Vanus he had the same silver hair, the same violet eyes, and pale skin. But there was something cold and mocking, maybe even cruel that went from his smile all the way up to his eyes. But that was not it. The way he stared at his sister, watched her, was not the way a brother was supposed to stare at their sister. Vanus felt uncomfortable looking at him, so he went back to staring at his mother.

Slowly he reached up and touched the painting, as if he could somehow reach through it to touch her cheek. Why did you get rid of me? Did you not want me? Was I too much of a burden for you to carry? Or did you somehow think I would somehow be better away from the Imperium?

It wasn’t as if she was around to answer. She, like Charlie, was dead. The only relative he had left alive was Julian, and Julian was nowhere to be found. He could be traveling the world for all Vanus knew or cared. No, the answers he sought would most likely be in this humongous house.

Mr. Fritz's voice bounced excitedly off the walls of the parlor. "This house spans over thirty-six thousand square feet and has exactly forty-two rooms if you include the library, drawing room, and greenhouse. Like you, Vanus, your Uncle had a talent for music, so he had a pipe organ installed in the music room. It was quite something to listen to him play at the parties. Oh…and your mother has her very own art gallery…"

"So all of this is mine?" said Vanus, at a loss for words.

“You look surprised.”

“I guess I wasn’t expecting it all to be so big. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it all.”

“Whatever you want m’dear boy,” was the reply. ”Whatever you want.”

“So…where are the bedrooms?” Jill asked. She looked to Mr. Fritz, then to Van. “Will we be able to pick our bedrooms?”

“That is up to Vanus.”

Vanus nodded at Jill. She tossed her head back, laughing excitedly, before running past him down the corridor. The sound of her feet faded when she turned the corner, out of sight. If she’s happy that’s all that matters, he thought. “Where is my mother’s room?”

“Right next to Julian’s here on the second floor. However, it’s empty. All of the things were packed away and moved up to the attic after she died.”

“I’d like to sleep in there,” said Vanus.

Mr. Fritz nodded, finally understanding. “Then I will show you where it is.” He selected a key from the ring and held them out to Vanus. They jangled cheerfully in his hand. “Since you are the man of the house, I am going to go ahead and give you these. This is the key to your mother’s room. Follow me.”

This is my house, Vanus told himself as they passed under the oak and mahogany archways. He trailed a hand along the wall. Mine. Only it did not feel like his, not yet. Would it ever? Perhaps that brief sensation of arriving to the place where he belonged had been an illusion.

Mr. Fritz stopped outside one of the bedrooms.

His mother's bedroom.

Now it will be my bedroom.

Vanus inserted the key into the lock with shaking fingers. He expected the key not to turn, for Kaufman Manor to deny him entry. He wasn't really a Kaufman, the soon-to-be heir of a great legacy. He was an orphan and he would always be an orphan. No form of fate or magic could change that. But the house did not deny him entry to his mother’s room because it was only a house after all. The key turned quite easily. The locks inside the door turned and it eased open.

Gray sunlight filtered in through the wide window, casting shadows on the floor. The room was empty like Mr. Fritz had said it would be except for a four-poster bed. From the window he could see the statue of Azrael and the gate. He closed his eyes, wondering if he would feel the presence of his mother. Instead, he only felt like a strange boy standing in an even stranger house.