Diamond Eyes - 11. Chapter 11

For the entire night, Bazzelthorpe wandered the manor, restless. The silence made his skin crawl. Only moments ago it seemed Kaufman Manor was crawling with life and wealth, but now there was only a mournful hush. In his absence the Kaufman Dynasty had suffered greatly, and was now on its last leg.

He tried to distract himself from his shame and the anger it felt growing inside him. Daemons didn’t require sleep the way mortals did, so this meant trying to find other ways to pass the time. He visited the chapel, where he offered prayers to the Rephaim. He begged for forgiveness for his failures to fulfill his duties as Guardian to the Kaufman family; and though it wasn't easy to say the words he promised to protect the new patriarch. He went to the library, his favorite place in the whole manor, with the greenhouse being his second. He breathed in the smell of paper, of leather bound books, and hoped it would restore him to the daemon he used to be. He grabbed one of his favorites from the shelf - he found it in the spot where it had always been, so at least that hadn't changed - and sat down on one of the leather lounge chairs for the first time in twenty years. He opened the book to the starting page and tried to engage himself in the story being told.

He could not focus. His thoughts kept getting pulled in other directions, so he closed his eyes, and tried to meditate, the closest thing a daemon such as him could achieve to sleep. The whole time he could feel the anger and resentment crawling underneath his skin like a nasty parasite. The betrayal. The hopelessness of his situation. I've served this family loyally for a thousand years, and this is how I'm rewarded for my services.

Before long, he couldn't still any longer, so he went back to wandering the halls of Kaufman Manor. Eventually he found himself in the kitchen. It didn't surprise Bazzelthorpe to find the greasy-haired orphan girl was already up. She stood at the stove, stirring.

"Morning," she said.

He regarded her wearily, but did not feel the usual stirring of dislike he normally did upon seeing her. “Do you ever sleep?”

She smiled. “Sometimes. I suppose I don’t have to get up, but I’m still used to how they do things at the orphanage. They always woke us up as soon as the first rays of dawn appeared in the sky. Plus things are so quiet here. It was never quiet at the orphanage unless it was nighttime, but then you’re too exhausted to enjoy it. So right now I’m making tea. I’ve always found it relaxing to make tea.”

“Where’s the boy?”

“Still asleep.” She went quiet then, frowning down at the steaming pot. Bazzelthorpe tried not to notice, not to care, but he couldn’t ignore it. “Is something the matter?”

She looked up at the daemon as if only just now realizing he was there. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just worried about Vanus.”

Bazzelthorpe sighed, forcing himself to remain patient. “You do not need to worry about his safety, girl. I won’t let anything happen to him. I’ve been taking care of patriarchs for many thousands of years.”

“I doubt Vanus is like any of the other lords in your charge,” Jill said. “I imagine none of them were raised in an orphanage.”

She has a point there, Bazzelthorpe admitted grudgingly. Perhaps she wasn't as empty-headed as he'd initially led himself to believe. "He is the first," he conceded.

For the next few moments they fell into a strange silence that made his skin prickle. Jill busied herself, pulling out saucers, bread, butter, and cheese before placing them on the table.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked. Then she frowned and chuckled at herself, embarrassed. "Can you even drink tea?"

"I enjoy tea." Bazzelthorpe was beginning to feel amused despite himself. “Anatomically you and I aren’t so different from each other. I just live longer and don’t need sleep. It doesn’t mean I don’t like to indulge myself in certain pleasures from time to time. In short, yes I would like some tea…very much. With cream and sugar, please.”

The girl perked up, using a spoon to scoop two lumps of sugar into his teacup. The sugar was overly bitter, but Bazzelthorpe sipped at it.

“How is it?” she asked anxiously.

Bazzelthorpe grunted. “It’s a bit strong…” He paused at the crestfallen look and hastily added, “But it’s not undrinkable. It doesn’t need so much herb in it. Why are you worried about the boy?”

“Because I can’t protect him,” Jill said. “I can’t do anything for him at all. You don’t even like him and you hardly know him. Why do you hate him so much? He’s done nothing to you…”

The directness with which she asked her question, the lack of fear or hesitation, took the daemon by surprise; so much so that it was a struggle to find the words. “I can’t bare to look at him,” he said at last. There it was, the truth which had made itself known in the park when Vanus had spoken of his life. He’d refused to acknowledge it on the walk back to the manor, but now here the orphan girl was forcing him to reexamine it. “He reminds me of the twins.”

“Vanessa and Henry?”

The daemon nodded. His hands clenched into fists. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the girl, nor could he stop the words from coming out; he was a prisoner of his own emotions. “He looks like Henry, and he acts like him. Not all the time, just the little things he does, like holding up his head. Henry always did that, so arrogant!”

“Vanus doesn’t do it out of arrogance,” Jill said. “He does it to defend himself. Vanus might look like Henry, but I swear on the Seraphim…or the Rephaim, whichever you prefer…he’s not like Henry. I know. I grew up with him.”

Bazzelthorpe could no longer deny his curiosity. “What is he like?”

“He can be frustrating; stubborn, pig-headed. He doesn’t trust easily. To anyone who doesn’t know who he truly is, he would seem arrogant. But he’s also loyal and when it comes to the people he does care about, there isn’t anything he won’t do for them. He’s always been there for me and he’s always protected me from harm. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have anyone. I probably wouldn’t be here to have this conversation with you. But on the streets things were simple, and now things aren’t so simple anymore. He may not show it, but I think he’s in a lot of pain.”

“You mean emotional pain?”

Jill nodded, her mouth twisting cynically. “Neither of us have ever had a family. We never met our parents. Imagine the grief you feel now that everyone has been taken from you in the blink of an eye. We’ve never had those things. It doesn’t mean we don’t grieve. We don’t grieve over the dead, we grieve over the things we’ve never had. But Vanus has it worse. Everyone avoided him at the orphanage because of what he is. Diamond eyes are not common in the Maeville District like they are here.”

Bazzelthorpe shifted in his seat. Why did he feel so uncomfortable all the sudden? So guilty? “I imagine it would be difficult to grow up in such an environment,” he mumbled.

“Can you?” Jill said icily. “Because so far all you’ve done is make sure to remind him how different he is. That he wasn’t and never has been wanted by his actual family. I don’t know why the Kaufman’s gave him up for adoption and I don’t care. Their deaths don’t change the fact that they gave him up, and it doesn’t stop Vanus from having to clean up their mess, so I would appreciate it if you would start treating him with more kindness, because not only does he deserve better, but you are all he’s got. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Before Bazzelthorpe could respond, Vanus entered the room. Judging from the tangled nimbus of his hair and the dark circles beneath his eyes he hadn't slept well, if at all. Jill fussed at him, pushing a plate of buttered bread, cheese, and sliced strawberries in his direction. "You need to eat something. You're exhausted."

Vanus shook his head. "I couldn't if I tried. I've been feeling sick to my stomach."

"It's probably just from the stress…"

The stress. Bazzelthorpe shifted uncomfortably once more. He resisted the urge to leave the room so he didn't have to look at the orphan's face and feel ashamed. He's Vanessa's child. She gave birth to him.

It wasn't until Vanus said his name that Bazzelthorpe realized the patriarch had been speaking to him. "Sorry," the daemon said hastily. "I got lost in thought. What did you say?"

Vanus frowned, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Bazzelthorpe tensed, ready for Vanus to punish him with another scathing remark, but it didn't come. "I have my appointment with the High Priestess today; I'm hoping she will give me Charlie's records, and answer some questions. I want you to come with me."

"It is my duty to go with you," the daemon said.

"I know, but that’s not what I meant. Henry wronged you. He trapped you in that box and took away the only family you had. I know you cared for my mother. You deserve justice.” Now it was the orphans turn to shift about, looking uncomfortable. “Or you could stay here…if you wanted.”

“No,” the daemon said, thinking of all that Jill had told him. “I’m going with you.”

…

Cedric Casteel was not a diamond eyes, but Vanus liked him all the same. He appeared to be Van’s age, with medium-length curly black hair, and dark eyes. “Name’s Cedric Casteel,” he said, pumping Van’s hand enthusiastically. “I’ll be taking you into town today. I promise to get you there safely, and in tip-top shape.”

Bazzelthorpe mumbled something under her breath; Vanus made a point to ignore him. “Mr. Fritz mentioned you’re in need of employment.”

“We can discuss it later, after your employment,” said Cedric. He scratched at the back of his head slo that his hair stood on end. “Get in the carriage and make yourselves comfortable.”

Vanus had no trouble getting in the carriage but the same could not be said for his daemonic companion.

Bazzelthorpe not only had to stoop, but his shoulder pads kept getting caught on the sides of the door, scuffing up the wood. He cursed and grumbled under his breath, glaring at Vanus. “This must be amusing to you.”

“Greatly,” said Vanus. “I think your shoulder pads are getting in the way. Perhaps the next time we go into town we can buy you some proper clothing; the Raphaim knows I have enough money.”

“This is my proper clothing, given to me by Azrael for all my many thousands of years of service to the Kaufman family. It keeps me safe, and helps me to keep you safe I might add.”

"At least remove the shoulder pads; they're getting in the way," Vanus said.

Bazzelthorpe blinked. "They're a pain in the ass to remove," he mumbled. "My fingers are too big to reach the straps."

"I'll help you." Vanus stood.

The daemon's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Before he could speak, Vanus raised a hand and spoke with patience. "I am not making fun of you, Bazzelthorpe. I only mean to help you. You are stuck in the carriage after all, and we have somewhere we need to be."

Bazzelthorpe's nostrils flared, then he nodded reluctantly. "Very well, if you insist." Carefully he backed away, stepping backwards on the ground.

Van did his best to reach the straps of the daemon's shoulder pads, but he couldn't.

"Look at you. You're so short and tiny." Bazzelthorpe did not speak with the usual mockery. In fact his shoulders shook with laughter.

Van couldn't help but chuckle. "It's not my fault you are so damned tall. No wonder you haven't taken off your armor. Cedric, I will be back, I'm going to the tool shed to grab a ladder." He poked at Bazzelthorpe's back playfully. "Stay here, I won't be long."

It wasn't until he'd walked around the house with the tool shed, stables, and the guesthouse were in view that he realized he was being followed. He turned around to face Bazzelthorpe, who looked away as if there was something more interesting that had caught his eye.

"Are you following me?" the orphan demanded.

"No," his guardian said sheepishly. "I just find your company to be preferable…and it's better than standing around bored while you dig through the clutter that has accumulated in the shed."

Vanus eyed the daemon suspiciously, his hands set firmly on his hips. Bazzelthorpe was back to looking around at the sky, trees and birds, avoiding the diamond eye's gaze. Will we ever understand each other, or will we forever be caught in this strange dance? Vanus thought. "Do what you want," he said.

The moment he pulled the shed door open, a cloud of dust exploded out into the air.

Vanus and Bazzelthorpe waved their hands, choking on the dust cloud. "How could Lord Charlie let the property fall under such disrepair?" Bazzelthorpe muttered.

"Well," Vanus said, deadpan, "he is dead."

The shed was crowded with various tools: shovels, hoes, tillers, bags of soil, and seeds. Nothing is ever easy, Vanus thought. Bazzelthorpe and he worked together, pulling out chairs, plant pots and shovels. They found a step ladder at the back of the shed. Vanus set it down on the ground and climbed up to the top of the ladder.

Bazzelthorpe stood before him, facing the shed. A gust of wind blew at Van's back. The daemon shuddered.

"Are you alright?" the orphan asked.

"Just a chill," the daemon said hastily.

Vanus knew Bazzelthorpe was lying, but decided to let it go. He began working on the straps. With his long, spidery fingers they were easy to reach.

"I had a meaningful conversation with Jill this morning," the guardian said nervously.

"So she's no longer the orphan girl, is she?" Van asked with a wry smirk.

The daemon went silent.

Vanus unclasped one of the straps. "I didn't mean to offend you…I was trying to tease you, but I overdid it like I usually do."

"You didn't offend me. I'm just starting to realize how despicable I've been to you and Jill."

Vanus put his hand on the daemon's broad shoulder; his skin felt incredibly warm, as if he burned with an inner frame. "We all have our struggles, Bazzelthorpe. Each and every one of us. I've been quite despicable myself." He removed the second shoulder pad.

Bazzelthorpe turned to face him. Even while on the ladder, Vanus only came up to his chin. "No you have not. I've just been so angry…and confused. Twenty years is not a long time in the life of a daemon, and yet I no longer recognize the world. I've placed all the blame and resentment on your shoulders when none of what has happened is your fault." He bowed his head in shame. "From here on out I promise to be kinder to the both of you."

Before he realized he meant to do it, Vanus reached up and brushed his hand briefly against Bazzelthorpe's cheek. "I promise to be kinder as well."

Bazzelthorpe's hands wrapped around the width of Van's body. He lifted him up gently and lowered his head, sniffing the top of Van's hair before setting him on the ground. "You smell just like your mother. Let the imps deal with this mess. It is their purpose after all."

Vanus could only stare up at him in confusion.