- 10 -
The carriage, pulled by a pair of perfectly bred black stallions, rumbled on the rough patch of the cobblestone road and shook violently from side to side when one of its enormous wheels hit a pothole. The clatter of hooves broke out and subsided in Tyki's ears; the noise was so overwhelming, and the shaking so intrusive and bothersome that he couldn't relax for one moment since he boarded the carriage with the Millennium Earl. He had to stretch out his legs across the passenger seat to find a modicum of comfort, but his neck was growing numb and stiff, and his top hat was about to slip over his eyes.
Through the chink in the curtained window, Tyki watched the streets of his hometown slide by him, the well-groomed, tree-lined allées and the serpentine boulevards flowing into busy thoroughfares, which were painfully familiar to him, yet foreign like the wall paintings repainted several times over, with here a new building and there a fence fallen into disrepair. Tyki hasn't been back in his home country for a couple of years, and he didn't plan on returning there for a long while.
The Earl sat in front of him with a thoughtful expression on his aging face, both human and inhuman, bearing all the hallmarks of the Noah Clan, including the stigmata and the amber hue of the pupils. Tyki never dwelt on the question of who the Earl was exactly, and his memories did not contain a clear answer; yet, he knew just enough to understand Road's words about the lifelong debt each of them owed to him. The Earl once died, protecting them from the Heart.
"Is something troubling you, my dear boy?" The Earl's voice intruded into Tyki's thoughts.
"It's nothing, really. Why do you ask?"
"It must be hard coming back home after a prolonged absence. The scenery changes. People you once knew don't recognize you. Everything seems foreign all of a sudden. I know the feeling." The Earl took out a handkerchief out of the pocket on his velvet vest and pressed it to the corner of his eye as if he was holding back tears. The handkerchief was white with a set of florid letters in the corner. Tyki couldn't discern the word embroidered in the golden thread. "Road always complains that I'm such a crybaby."
"I never realized I missed this place until I came back here," said Tyki. "It's so strange. I spent most of my life here, and I've grown quite fond of my hometown, but—"
Tyki always knew that something was amiss. At some point, he felt that he had outgrown his childhood home—it was too small, too comfortable, and separated him from the outside world like a colorful folding screen. And he was insatiably drawn to the outside world beyond the screen. Now, though, even the vast world wasn't enough for him.
Tyki turned away from the window and pulled the top hat over his eyes.
"Did you find Teez useful during your last mission?" asked the Earl.
"The butterflies were a nice touch, Lord Millenium," admitted Tyki. "What made you choose that shape?"
"I just thought they looked cool. One summer, I was sitting on the porch with your brother, watching you chase after butterflies, and I decided to make flesh-eating golems that reminded me of like those butterflies. Of course, I had no use for them until you came along, my boy."
The carriage rolled onto a smoothly paved road, and Tyki surmised that the Kamelot mansion was around the corner. The coachman drew in the reins. The horses whinnied in protest, and the carriage came to a stop. The gate opened with a familiar creak—the mansion's butler frequently forgot to oil the hinges—and the carriage trudged up the gentle slope of a cobblestone road, on both side of which lined up rows of well-trimmed trees like silent, faithful guardians in a perpetual salute. Their bare branches rustled mournfully and quietly in the wind.
The carriage halted, and the coachman opened the door for them and extended the footboard. Tyki was glad to leave the confines of the carriage and stretch out his arms and legs.
It was so strange to be back in his childhood home. The mansion hadn't changed, its massive regal two-storeyed presence dominating the landscape, and in its ever-present shadow sprawled a garden spanning the entire perimeter of the mansion. It was nearly as splendid in the fall as it was in spring and summer, even when the lingering traces of crimson and saffron yellow began to fade away. The grass had withered away, but the round flowerbeds still dazzled with violet asters and effervescent marigolds.
On both sides of the path that ran through the garden, bloomed dark-red and creamy yellow the final batch of roses for the season.
The heavy doors at the top of the marble staircase opened, and Sheril emerged in an immaculate gray suit, followed by a timorous-looking woman, clutching at his elbow. Her face struck Tyki with its pallor and its soft, kind but emaciated features, which betrayed an insidious work of a chronic malady of some kind. She had large, watery eyes of light-gray color, which gave her a perpetually startled look, and thin, bloodless lips.
It had to be none other than Tricia Kamelot, the mysterious wife of the head of the Kamelot household and Road's adoptive mother.
"Welcome home, little brother," said Sheril, flashing his white teeth in a wide smile. "Meet my wife, Tricia." He turned to his wife. "Tricia, darling, this is my younger brother, Tyki. The one I always complain about. And I'm happy that the Earl was able to make it to breakfast with us."
Tyki eyed his brother with a weary expression on his face, but Sheril didn't appear to be in the mood for overly affectionate embraces, so he relaxed a little.
"It's a pleasure, madame," he said with a slight bow, pressing his palm to his chest. Tyki hadn't bowed to anyone in a long time, and he felt that he had grown a bit out of habit of bending his back before the stiff bigwigs and their wives and needed to get used to the movements again. He had probably gotten rusty at dancing, too.
"Please, just call me Tricia," hastily objected Sheril's wife. "I've heard so much about you from my husband and from Road."
By now, Tyki had grown mildly curious about what sorts of things Sheril and Road had shared with Tricia.
"Only good things, I hope," he suggested carefully.
Tricia shook with soundless coughing, covering her mouth with a handkerchief. "My husband is constantly worried about you. He says you were restless even as a child and often got into trouble—"
"My apologies, but my brother makes too much of my foolishness sometimes."
Sheril made a gesture inviting them inside the mansion. "Let's talk on the terrace over refreshments. I've ordered a servant to prepare your favorite black tea, of course, and the Earl's green tea with jasmine."
"You fuss too much, Sheril," muttered Tyki with a frown.
They walked up the majestic marble staircase with handrails and ornate balusters in the shape of miniature vases stacked up one upon the other and entered a wide terrace overlooking the rest of the garden. Birds pecked at seeds on the well-kept footpaths, and a white puppy frolicked about, chasing after them with merry barking. A small lake loomed in the distance—it was Tyki's and Sheril's favorite spot to fish when they were kids.
After they seated themselves at the table, the servants brought them tea, sugar, sandwiches, and cookies on pink porcelain plates.
"My husband tells me that you have a habit of disappearing for months without telling anyone when you'll be back," said Tricia. "It's a bit irresponsible to abandon your duties here, isn't it?"
"It's not like that." Tyki closed his eyes in exhaustion and picked up a cup of strong black tea. Pedantic as ever, Sheril remembered how to brew one of his favorite beverages to perfection. "But you wouldn't want anyone poking around in your business, would you, madame?"
"I didn't mean to offend you… But now that I'm married to your brother, I hoped we could get to know each other. And I thought that maybe I could talk you into staying with us for a while to help my husband with his work. I'm so proud of him. He's done so much good for our country—"
"You'll overwork yourself worrying about our affairs, dear, and it's not good for your health," said Sheril with a sickeningly sweet smile—a sign that his patience was wearing thin.
Tricia reached out across the table to cover Sheril's hand with both of her palms. "I just wanted to let you know how proud I am to be your wife."
Tyki watched the scene in front of him with an amused smirk. Tricia gazed at Sheril with silent adoration, and his brother had that guileful look about him as if he enjoyed his wife's attention like a hunter might enjoy the tranquility of unsuspecting prey. He felt a little sorry for the woman. If Sheril was half the sadistic scoundrel he'd always been outside of the circle of his immediate family, this marriage had to be a web of deceit, manipulation, and infidelity.
"Where's Road?" Tyki asked. "I haven't seen her at all today."
"Road is at school," said the Earl who until then remained silent and pensive. "She'll join us tomorrow. I'd like to cook dinner for us when she returns."
"You shouldn't strain yourself, Lord Millennium," objected Sheril. "I'm sure our servants' cooking is more than adequate to satisfy anyone's fastidious palate."
"It's no trouble for me. I hoped for another opportunity to cook for us since our celebration of Tyki's awakening."
"My party was ages ago."
"That's precisely my point. I miss cooking, so don't try to talk me out of it."
"I'll try to be of help, dear Earl," said Tricia. "Has anyone ever taught you how to cook, Tyki?"
"I'm afraid I'll be useless in the kitchen, madame."
"Please, it's just Tricia—"
"Madame," repeated Tyki with accentuated politeness, tipping his hat. "Sheril, can we talk somewhere in private after breakfast?"
"Of course, little brother. I think that we should catch up as soon as possible."
After Tyki finished his tea and cookies, Tricia showed the Earl around the kitchens and he and Sheril retired to one of the mansion's three drawing rooms. The smallest of the drawing rooms was cozy and well-lit, the light pooling through the double glass doors that led onto the terrace. A tall fireplace gaped in the eastern wall. A pile of wood was neatly stacked on the side. The walls were adorned in blue and creamy wallpaper with extravagant flowery patterns, and the upholsteries on the two armchairs by the fireplace and on the large sofa in the middle of the room mirrored the colored patterns on the walls. A bookshelf made from expensive wood sagged under the weight of thick, dusty books Tyki would not touch even if his life depended on it; across from it, a liquor cabinet hid behind the glass door left ajar to allow the air and light to flood the room.
"Tricia had a point," Sheril said after Tyki settled into a comfortable armchair. "You have a nasty tendency to disappear for months on end."
Tyki took a deep drag from a smoldering cigarette between his teeth. The conversation turned out to be less fun than he had imagined it.
"What does it matter to you? I'm not your kid brother anymore."
Sheril looked at him with unusual seriousness. "I'm afraid, you are still my responsibility. And you'll always be."
"Do you intend to keep an eye on me? It's never worked out well in the past."
"No, I'd like to try to talk some sense into you. You have a place to stay here and—"
"And become your shadow?"
"You'll be fulfilling your duties as my younger brother." Sheril poured himself a glass of scotch from the liquor cabinet and drank it in one gulp. "You can't go on pretending that you don't have family obligations."
"I came back, didn't I?" Tyki fixed an irritated gaze on Sheril.
"How long do you plan on staying?"
"As long as the Earl needs me, I'll stay."
Several moments passed in tense silence before Tyki spoke again. "You have these marks, right?" He took off his right glove and ran his fingers across his forehead, revealing the stigmata. "When did it happen to you?"
Sheril followed his example and transformed into his Noah counterpart, grey-skinned and golden-eyed like the rest of them. "Many years ago," he mused. "You should be able to understand by now why I couldn't tell you. But we had high hopes for you. The Earl was very fond of you, even when you were just a little human brat."
"I was going to ask you about the Earl. I remembered him from those times when I was just a boy. How long was our family involved with him?"
"He showed up out of nowhere when you were nine or ten. Everyone just assumed that he was an old acquaintance of our father… Then it was my turn to awaken." Sheril tapped his fingers on his forehead. "He'd disappear for several years, but he always came back."
Tyki sank back into his deep and comfortable chair and crossed his legs. The cigarette had burnt out by then, but he was too lazy to get another one. "You don't think that it's strange that the Earl got involved with a bunch of humans?"
"I considered it, too, but I don't have an answer for you. Lord Millennium works in mysterious ways."
There was a knock on the door, and Tricia came into the drawing room after Sheril and Tyki changed back into their human form. She carried a tray of cold beverages and set it on the table in front of the armchairs.
"We could invite some of your friends to dinner tomorrow, darling," she told Sheril. "What do you think?"
"I think it's a great idea!" Sheril said, flinging his arms up. "Pay attention, little brother. That's how a good wife should behave. We'll invite Madame Crawd and her daughters, as well as the minister of finance with his wife. What do you say about Madame Crawd's daughters? They'll be pleased to hear that you're back in town."
To the best of Tyki's recollection, Madame Crawd's oldest daughter had nice-looking breasts; or perhaps, he was thinking about some other bigwig's daughter. Tyki made a long-suffering face. "Go ahead. After all, I can't stop you."
"Then it's decided. Send out invitations, dear, and take a break from all the hassle around the house, or you'll feel sick again."
"As you wish, my dear husband."
"Why did you marry her?" Tyki asked after Tricia left the room. "You could have picked someone—"
"Prettier? Cleverer? Healthier?" Sheril baited him with an obnoxiously knowing smile. "A good wife must be humble and obedient unless you want her snooping around the house and meddling in your affairs."
Tyki didn't want to be baited into another unexciting conversation. He refreshed himself with a glass of cold juice from Tricia's tray and hurried to make himself scarce.
Tyki spent the rest of the day doing nothing whatsoever, and he was content with himself. He took a nap in the afternoon, dined with Sheril and the Earl in the evening, and retired for the night early.
Tyki woke up shortly after dawn. At first, he felt disoriented and couldn't figure out where he was; the pillows were unusually soft, the bed sheets smelled of lavender, and the high ceiling was mottled with unfamiliar patterns. He dreamed dark and bizarre dreams, but most of them too vague save for one vivid image that lingered in his mind through the predawn stillness: a narrow alleyway spattered with blood. This view wasn't from a place he recognized. The image was swept into his mind from someone else's memory—a fragment of a story from the past that wasn't his.
Moments later it dawned on Tyki that he was in his childhood home. His bedroom was on the second floor, and a balcony in it overlooked the garden. The sharp gusts of wind blew the gauzy curtains inside, making winged shapes out of them. It rained during the night, and from below rose a damp, sweet smell of roses.
He didn't want to get up, so he tossed and turned in his bed until he slipped back into uneasy slumber.
It was around eleven o'clock when Tyki finally climbed out of his bed and ate by himself because Sheril attended a meeting with the ministers and the Earl was shopping with Tricia at the market. Tyki had the house all to himself, and he headed to the lake to fish. The sunny weather was favorable for fishing despite the overnight drizzle. The gear was in the storage room where the butler always kept it, and Tyki picked out a rod, a chair, and went to the lake. The puppy ran around him, wiggling his tail and barking excitedly, but Tyki paid him no attention, so the dog trailed behind him for a bit before getting lost in the bushes.
Tyki set the chair down on the lakefront, rolled up his pants and sleeves of his white shirt, and skewered several earthworms on the hooks. Once the bait was prepared, he cast the rod into the lake, adjusted its length and loosened up in the chair. The sun hung directly above him, shining into his eyes and giving off pleasant warmth, and at some point, Tyki took off his slippers and dipped his toes into the water.
Tyki spent about an hour fishing without much luck when he heard a quick patter of feet down the beaten path and saw Road running towards him in a flurry of skirts and petticoats.
"Hey, Tyki," she said, climbing on his back and peering over his shoulder into his face, "What'cha doing?"
Road's voice was dangerously playful, and he braced himself for the torment before she painfully dug her fingers into his hair and yanked his head so far back that he could see the sky. Tyki grabbed the fishing rod with his left hand and disentangled his hair from her fingers, one curly tress after another. Her nails were long and sharp, and she must have recently painted them in dark-red nail polish.
"What's the matter, Road? You're being awfully annoying today. Can't you see I'm fishing?"
She jumped off his back, took out the tiny silvery fish from the bowl, and dangled it from side to side in front of his face.
"Fishing? Is that what you call a good catch?" She tossed the half-dead fish into the lake.
"Hey, that was—"
"—the only fish you caught today? I noticed. Poor Tyki," Road said with a wide, sly smile. "You should have asked Papa for help. He knows the best fishing spots. But you and Papa don't like each other very much, do you?"
"Well, Sheril is always going to be Sheril," philosophically answered Tyki, "so I don't have to spend every waking moment in his company. But he's my lousy brother and all. We forget our differences when it matters."
Road clumsily flopped onto her back, stretched out her legs, and folded her arms behind her head.
"Your dress will get all dirty," remarked Tyki, marveling at Road's ability to defy all norms of decent behavior for prissy, rich girls. "And your hair will be messed up, too."
"So what? The servants will clean my dress and do my hair again. You know that we have real servants in this house, not just Akuma?"
"It's good to know we're not surrounded by freaks all the time."
"Speaking of Akuma…" Road's voice had that dangerous note again, playful and capricious at the same time. "What have you done with my messenger, Tyki? She never came back to me like I ordered her. An Akuma can't disobey my orders out of the blue."
"I don't recall meeting any messengers of yours," Tyki lied with a smirk.
"Are you sure? She'd be pretty hard to miss. Her head had these pointy… things," Road pressed the back of her thumbs to her temples and wiggled her index fingers, mimicking the insect's antennae. "Oh, why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Okay, laugh all you want. I don't know the proper word for—well, you know what I mean."
"These 'pointy things' are called feelers."
"I don't pay attention to everything I read in books. Some of those books are so unbearably dull. You can't imagine sitting in a library wondering whether you're going to die from boredom. But you know what?" Road's eyes shone with delight when she looked up at Tyki. "Lately, I've been thinking about all the fun we're going to have hunting exorcists and maybe Crows… I doodled a corpse on the margins of one of my books. It had no heart because that's how you like killing them, and I imagined that we could hang the corpse from a tree."
Tyki couldn't offer an elaborate opinion about corpses hanging from trees. "You're getting ahead of yourself, Road," he said with a shrug.
"Yes, I enjoy dreaming about doing it before I—" Road's voice subsided to a whisper. "So, Tyki," she cut herself short, "what about my messenger?"
"I told you. I haven't seen your messenger."
"You know what I think? You like acting coy."
"And you enjoy being whiny and annoying." Tyki spooled the fishing line on the reels and threw the rod over his shoulder. "I think I'm done fishing for today."
Road lifted her leg in the air and swung her flat-nosed purple shoe from side to side. She was utterly incorrigible in Tyki's mind. "Why are you fishing, anyways? Is it your hobby?"
"Just passing the time before dinner, I suppose." Tyki folded the chair and hoisted it on his other shoulder. "The Earl is cooking today. And Sheril invited some friends of his—"
"Wait, Tricia is coming." Road made a sulky face and jumped to her feet. Her back was covered in brown leaves and blades of grass. "Quick, hide me!"
"What have you done, Road?"
Road didn't answer him and dove behind the thick bushes. Tricia hurried down the pathway, holding up her skirt and looking flustered. She was breathing heavily, and her pale countenance was covered in red blotches from strain and agitation.
"Tyki, have you seen Road?" she asked, trying to catch her breath. "I've been searching all over the place for her."
Tyki darted a quick glance at the bushes where Road was hiding. "No, I haven't. What happened?"
"She tried on the new dress she was supposed to wear this evening. It's an expensive dress Sheril had ordered for her from the clothier. Then she asked me for a cup of tea and while I was brewing her favorite tea, she disappeared with the dress. What am I to do now?"
"And she hasn't turned up by now?"
"It's so difficult for me to deal with Road. Sometimes I think she misbehaves just to spite me." Tricia coughed into the woolen sleeve of her dress. "I've shown her nothing but kindness."
Tricia was seemingly determined to try his patience, but for his brother's sake Tyki forced a small, polite smile. "How about I'll go find Road for you, madame?"
"It's very kind of you to offer your help. As you can see, I'm in poor health. Where do you suppose that girl could have gone off to?" And muttering lamentations to herself, Tricia left whence she came.
"You can come out now, Road."
Road stepped out of the bushes, glowing with glee. "Thanks for not telling on me to Tricia."
"You have a twig in your hair," Tyki said, pointing to a tiny branch that was sticking out to the side amid her straggly, uncombed hair.
Road slipped both of her hands into her hair and shook it until the twig fell out. She looked rather comical and unladylike.
"What are you going to do about your dress? Hate to tell you, but you can't go to a fancy dinner in a short skirt and hideous stockings. Sheril will have a heart attack."
"I intended to ruin the dress because I hated it. Tricia was the one who helped pick out the design, and she… Did you see how ugly her dresses are? Well, this dress is ghastly, too."
"Don't be overly dramatic, Road. The dress is fine." Then Tyki noticed the pattern of tiny green, yellow, purple, and orange floral shapes that studded her corset. "Never mind what I've just said. Let's find you another dress for the evening."
