Makings of a Monster

Winski sighed wearily and carried another pile of books to his desk. He had spent the better part of a month studying demonology now, and still hadn't found anything interesting. He had first suspected that Sarevok's descriptions of the presence entering him could just be reflections of his subconscious, echoes of forbidden feelings. But the theory just didn't jibe. The sort of emotions that the presence represented were not the sort that Sarevok was trying to suppress. Before being adopted by Reiltar his very survival had depended on aggression, recklessness and furious willingness to fight.

And if anything, the boy had a passionate nature and a short temper. Actually his fits of temper seemed to be a suppressed form of the presence. After the big sword incident the mercenary captain had taken Sarevok back as his student, but made it very clear that the sword would be off limits a long time still. He hadn't complained again, on the contrary, and probably had signed the fit off as temporary insanity. But Sarevok seemed to seek brawls with other children on purpose, though he usually managed to scare them without actually getting to fight. The smallest frustration easily set him off and he blew up, wanting to destroy something.

A few times Winski had had to assume the role of disciplinarian he disliked: order the boy to go to his room and think about the lessons on self-control until he'd calm down and could discuss the situation rationally. Still, it was better than letting Reiltar deal with it. He'd only beat the boy and make him more angry. Once Winski had Sarevok write an essay titled "What exactly I was hoping to accomplish by tossing Winski's rather decorative ink bottle into the wall so that it shattered, at the same time spilling the ink on the wallpaper, when I was frustrated because I couldn't understand a rather complicated arithmetic problem at the first try". After calming down the boy had admitted that it was a rather good way to make a point.

Another point was that the presence obviously affected Sarevok's physical qualities more than a simple repressed reaction could. That, and the loss of control, and the destructive nature of the presence had made Winski suspect some sort of demonic possession. If a powerful demon was linked to Sarevok's psyche somehow, it could explain a lot and also be exploited, naturally. Then he would also have to take care to protect the boy. Demons should be servants, not masters. But even though he had a considerable amount of reference material on the subject, he didn't find anything like what the boy was going through. Drowsy, he leafed through yet another book, when someone entered the room without knocking.

Reiltar, naturally. Jelena and Sarevok were polite enough to knock. Winski swallowed his annoyance and smiled insincerely.
- "Reiltar. Didn't hear you knock."
- "Maybe because I didn't." The man seemed to be in one of his more charming moods again.
- "I want to ask you about Sarevok," he continued and sat on Winski's couch.
- "Well. I'm glad that his father is showing interest."
- "That... arrangement you have tomorrow night. What do you think of taking him with you?"
- "What."
- "Would do some good to try actual work. He's just expenses now."
He's also ten years old, you bastard.
- "Apart from the immeasurable joy of raising a child and all that, of course. You want us to take your ten years old son with us to break and enter into a guarded mansion of a high-ranking business rival?"
- "Why not? Don't you remember what he was doing when he was adopted in the first place? And he's still small enough to sneak where others can't, should that be necessary."
- "I advise against it. Unnecessary risk. Should something go wrong..." Winski stared at Reiltar as unnervingly as possible. His yellow cat eyes, while not as impressive as Sarevok's, could do that to people.
- "I didn't adopt him to just to eat and study, you know. He should be useful as well. What's the point of adopting a son if he isn't worthy?"
- "I gave you my opinion. I'm sure you'll give it all the value you feel it deserves." Winski looked at Reiltar without blinking, like a sleek, lazy, black cat, who could possess surprising speed and sharp claws. Reiltar averted his eyes and took off, leaving Winski anxious and worried.

Sarevok arrived for the lessons of day. His eyes were shining and he was in great spirits.
- "Winski! Father said that I get to come with you for a real job tomorrow!"
Father. Not "the bastard".
- "He said that, didn't he." Winski's voice was dry and emotionless, and Sarevok stopped in his tracks.
- "Wh... aren't you glad to take me?" Gods, he looked so hurt. His eyes so huge.
- "It's... you are still so young. I wouldn't want to put you at risk."
- "I want to! I'm not scared!" That stubborn expression, the hurt still in the eyes.
- "Oh, little one. I know you are not scared. You are probably the most non-scared person I have ever met. But this is not about that. This is about risking something very dear... erm. I mean, Reiltar has all the thugs of the Throne at his disposal, including the dreary old me, and he wants to put YOU at the risk!"
- "I thought you like me MORE than he does." His voice was small, little more than a whisper. He tried to keep the tears in bay.
- "Gods, Sarevok! I thought you more intelligent than that!" snapped Winski, now hurt himself. "Do you really think I don't want to take you because I DON'T like you?"
- "So that's it then. You don't think I'm intelligent. You think I'm too stupid for the job. You probably would want that he would kill me and adopt a better son who you could teach who would never get angry and..." the boy was working himself up into hysterics, crying, and before Winski knew, he felt a furious jolt of hurt and slapped the boy, rather hard.

Sarevok stopped his hysterical litany abruptly, just staring, not believing, the enormous hurt in his golden eyes. Winski slowly rose his hand to cover his mouth, not believing either. A few seconds of staring in the tense silence, and Sarevok bolted away from the room, running and slamming the door behind him. Winski spent the next two hours rubbing his forehead and drinking brandy. The brandy didn't work. It didn't diminish the least the feeling that the best he could do now would be to chop his hand off with an axe, or perhaps saw with a rusty dagger. Finally he worked up the courage and went to Sarevok's door. He knocked. No sound, but he could feel that the boy was in there.

- "Sarevok. May I come in?"
No sound, just a sullen presence. Winski quietly opened the door and went in. Sarevok sat at his desk, all the muscles of his back tense. Winski tried to touch his shoulder, which only tensed some more.
- "I know you are very angry to me. You have all the reason to be. I'm fully aware of the irony here. I have been lecturing you on controlling yourself, even punished you for not doing so, and now I lose my own control and break your trust. Hit you. It is doubly unforgivable considering what you have to endure."
The boy just sat, but his shoulders shook a little.
- "I can make no excuses for doing it, Sarevok. It is just that we usually get so well along, and I was not prepared... I know you didn't mean what you said, you were upset, but the very idea that I'd want Reiltar to kill you..." Now Winski cried silently himself. "It hurt me, and I lost my temper. I ask you to forgive me."

Sarevok turned to face him, crying.
- "Do you love me, Winski?"
Oh, gods. In how many intellectual discussions had he explained how love was simply an immature, maudlin concept designed to give some mythical glory to practical arrangements meant to ensure the controlled satisfaction of reproductive needs? But he had never felt anything so deep and engaging than the willingness to protect Sarevok, share his company, see him grow into his full glory.... to the Abyss with cynicism! He held the boy and whispered: "Yes, I love you. I love you very much."
- "I wasn't sure... you never said that. Mother says it a lot."
Winski smiled.
- "We are quite different, your mother and I."
- "Will you take me tomorrow?" The eyes again, full of hope.
So this was the price. No way protecting him now. "Yes, Sarevok. We all go tomorrow night."
- "You'll see. It'll be fine."
- "I hope so. I really hope so."
- "I forgive you hitting me."
The man and the child held each other a long time, silently.