29. Fireside
Fireside
W hatever illusion of civility had been forming between her and Culis was destroyed.
On his orders, she continued to use her power to scour crowds and determine who amongst them was a demon, but she executed the task with resentment and loathing. She’d tried to refuse it outright, but she’d been swiftly met with the choking weight of the vasium necklace when Culis had simply stalked off to try pursue the next one without her help. The power of that vile piece of jewellery was quickly becoming apparent. Culis could throw her into a river if he fancied, and she’d drown as he walked away from her.
So, against her will, she continued to lead the hunting party around the Highlands in search of demons, remaining sullen, and rejecting all gestures of friendship from Baird or any of the others. She’d learned that no matter the external warmth they showed her, they would each betray her to Culis in the blink of an eye.
For the next few days, despite being back in the familiarity of her homeland, she’d never felt more surrounded by enemies .
Things changed when the next demon came willingly. The demon Tarett was a young man with a round face, soft chin and bright brown eyes, who lived in the village of Lyndonberry. His family of humans loved him, and unlike Mila’s, they had risked their own lives to keep him hidden and safe after his power appeared.
Mila sensed him as he was leaving the bakery and followed him until they reached a road on the outskirts of town that seemed empty and safe enough to talk. She was so nervous that she felt physically ill, acutely aware that Culis and the hunting party were watching the exchange from the forest, ready to fall upon them and seize Tarett as they’d done Natalee should this go wrong.
However, this time, her pitch fell onto receptive ears, and Tarett cautiously accepted. He loved his family and wished to spare them the life of secrecy they’d volunteered for, not to mention the heresy they were committing daily by lying about him to everyone they knew.
Culis was delighted. He accompanied them to Tarett’s house with the contract in tow, transforming from angry kidnapper to kind benefactor in an instant. At the house, he shook Tarett’s hand with warmth and smiled broadly during their discussions. He even embraced Tarett’s mother when she began to cry.
Mila was disgusted by the act, but it worked. Tarett signed the contract within a day, although Mila noted that he looked both exhausted and determined when he stated quietly, “If this will truly change things for demons, how could I not help but try?”
Tarett’s power was highly unusual. He could place large objects into far smaller objects, such as a loaf of bread into a coin purse. Culis was beyond delighted when it was revealed that he carried a black dog around with him, concealed completely (and apparently unharmed) inside his small breast pocket.
“This is…incredible. You’re a thief’s dream,” Culis gasped .
“Well, there are a few limitations,” Tarett cautioned. “The less compatible the sizes of two objects are, the more my horns extend as I’m carrying them. And the weight of both objects remains the same, so I could hardly steal a horse. But jewellery? Certainly.”
“Incredibly useful for thieving.” Culis nodded, impressed. “Or smuggling. You’re worth an absolute fortune. Regardless of whatever price I ask of a buyer, they will surely believe they’ve won the better end of the bargain.”
As he spoke, he threw a challenging glance towards Mila, as though daring her to accuse him of being secretive about his financial stake in this endeavour. She only scowled. She hated the way Tarett blushed at his words, as though he found the way Culis was talking about the financial viability of his powers to be a compliment. But, she supposed, in some twisted way, it was. No human had ever appreciated or admired demon powers before in the way Culis now openly did. And certainly no one had ever attached monetary value to them before.
The night before they departed Tarett’s village, Mila sought Culis out to beg him again to free Natalee. She figured, surely, now that they had Tarett, the other woman’s coercion wasn’t required.
She found him sitting by the fire, listening to Arran and Baird discuss the latest politics from Traders Bay.
“They call 'emselves Children of Midas,” Arran scoffed. “Not very original if you ask me.”
“And they want…what?” Baird asked. “To overthrow the Church?”
“Wanna replace Abbott,” Arran corrected. “But they’re all cut from the same cloth as the Church. They’ll try ter convince folks that they 'ave the true interpretations of the 'oly Texts, regardless of 'ow much bloodshed and up’eaval that causes, not cause they actually care, but cause they want the power tha’ comes with being Midas’s chosen. They all just want power. ”
“I’m sure they care – ”
“They don’t,” Culis jumped in, firmly agreeing with Arran. “We’ve seen it over and over again in our travels, Baird. The ones who are truly spiritually enlightened don’t give a rat’s arse about enforcing that onto someone else. They lead by quiet example, content within their own knowledge that others will find their way to the correct path if that is what the god intends – like you, like Philomena.”
“That’s quite a self-righteous opinion,” Mila said, “to be held by a man who’s proven himself to be quite comfortable with kidnapping.”
Culis’s head snapped around at her approach, and he had the good grace to look extremely uncomfortable at her presence. Beside him, Baird looked solemn, but Arran turned his head away to hide a wide grin. Mila was angry with him too. He was a fellow ikarei, and he was enabling Natalee’s imprisonment as much as Culis was.
“What can I do for you, Mila?”
“You can let her go,” Mila said softly. “You have a willing demon now. Others will come. Please. Why must you keep Natalee?”
Culis kept his face neutral when he replied. “Even if I wanted to release her, I can’t. I’ve sent her back to the manor with Nemecca. I didn’t think the chains, gag and her thunderous, outraged presence would inspire other demons to believe we are here in good faith.”
“Well, you aren’t,” she accused quietly.
To that, Culis had no response. He glared at her for a moment, and then his gaze seemed to soften. “This is good,” he finally said, then turned back to Arran. “See?” he said to the other demon. “This is good! No one else challenges me like this.” He turned to face Mila again and seemed sincere when he said, “Thank you, Mila.”
Mila was confused. “For what?”
Culis paused before replying, as though weighing how much his response might inadvertently reveal, and then deciding to proceed anyway. “For helping slow the steady descent of me becoming my father.”
“It’s very convenient that you have such an unlikable father, upon whom you can lump the blame for your piss-poor morals,” Mila shot back.
“True.” Culis didn’t argue the point. He rose from the fire and stretched his arms above his head. “I think that’s my cue to retire. Goodnight, Arran, Baird…Mila.”
She watched as his back disappeared into the night.
“How can you willingly serve him?” She rounded on Arran as she sat down across the fire from them. “You’re one of us, and you’ve seen how he truly feels about our kind. You’ve seen what he did to Natalee, and you know the shackle he uses on me to keep me compliant. He’s despicable.”
“No, Christopher Culis is not a bad man,” Baird interjected quietly into the crackling fire, before Arran could answer. “I’ve known him a long, long time, and his father even longer. Now, while the decisions he’s made regarding that demon woman may not have been…his finest – ”
Arran huffed in agreement.
“ – to understand him and his actions,” Baird continued, “you have to understand how he was raised.”
“It’s true,” Arran agreed. “Once you know…it accounts for a lot.”
"Well," Mila said. "You'd better share it if you don't want your master stabbed in his sleep at some point over the next few nights."
Arran chuckled at that but when he turned to Baird he said. “I’m not sure 'ow much Master Culis would be comfortable for us to share with 'er.”
“I’m sure the gist will be fine. If she wants details, they can come from him.”
Arran nodded, satisfied with that response.
Baird picked up a stick and poked the fire as he began his story. “Christopher and his brother, Martin, were raised exclusively by Frank. I’m not sure who their mother was, or if they even had the same mother. Martin certainly had a darker complexion than either Christopher or Frank. Either way, when I met the man, he had these two little boys in tow, and there was no mother in sight. He raised them in a way I have never seen before or since. They were not taught to be men, but to be princes of his empire, and their values were anything but what one would consider normal.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for example, from the time they could speak, they had to barter with their tutors for their food, always had to have something to trade, be it an acorn, or their unquestioning obedience. Nothing ever came without conditions. The boys weren’t allowed friends. Even at their most tender ages, they could only have conquests. If Frank saw a connection happening between another child and one of his boys, he’d pull them aside and demand the child recite the ways in which that connection benefited the Artor Trading Company, and how it could be exploited if required. If Christopher or Martin could not provide a satisfactory answer, they were whipped.”
Mila listened with her eyes wide and horrified, remembering the long whip Frank still carried at his side.
Baird continued. “Christopher received his father’s special attentions in this instruction. I think Frank knew it was likely that Martin would die at thirty-five, due to the curse.”
“Christopher didn’t actually kill him, did he?” Mila asked softly.
Baird lowered his voice even more when he replied. “I truly don’t know. They were raised to be bitter rivals their whole lives, but there were certainly some moments that I saw where they were close and confided in one another. But…Martin was an exceptional horseman who died from a fall from his horse. My gut tells me that was no accident, and Frank seems determined to blame his youngest son…or praise him for it, depending on the day.”
Mila sat back, processing the information.
“So, you have to understand,” Baird continued, “Christopher was raised to see the world around him, and the people in it, as only something to exploit. Personal connections were not valued, only wealth, power and intellect. Any concept he holds of honour or trust or friendship has come over the years from…well, from us.” Baird gestured around at the sleeping members of the hunting party who lay around them. “And he has been an astute student. He truly loves us as his family. He enjoys us challenging his worldview.”
“It’s true,” Arran agreed. “In the time I’ve known 'im, 'e loves talking about it and figuring 'imself out, separating 'imself from the teachings of 'is father. It’s 'ard, though, cause he loves the lifestyle. You can see it in 'is eyes whenever we leave the manor walls. 'e desperately wants to travel, wants ter buy, sell and barter. Wants ter play tha' ancient game of opportunity versus risk versus reward. It lights a fire in 'im like nothing else…but 'e’s still figuring out 'ow to 'ave one wit’out the other. 'e’s never known a way to do it without being…”
“Evil,” Mila finished the sentence for him.
“I was gonna say an arse.” Arran laughed. “But I guess it must seem evil to you. Now I’m not trynna excuse the decision 'e made regarding tha’ other demon woman.”
“Natalee.”
“Yeh. Natalee,” Arran said. “The business with 'er? Tha’ was messy. We can all agree on tha’. 'owever, an’ I’ll finish this conversation on one last note, you’ve gotta remember tha’ Christopher was trained by his father ter act and react quickly under pressure. So, 'e'll often make harsh, snap decisions. It also means tha’ when the dust settles, 'e’s usually able ter see his mistakes, and he’s not too proud ter change 'is mind if 'e can be convinced that a gentler way forward is the better path.”
“Well, I hope he comes to his senses quickly,” Mila said, staring into the fire. She tucked this new information deep inside her mind. Despite her fear and anger towards Culis, she now at least felt like she understood him a little, which was comforting. Mila knew that to defeat a shrewd enemy like Culis, understanding him would be key.