Page 24 of Runes To Rain
He shoves his hands into his pockets and regards me with a sneer. “Why are you spying?” he snarls.
I remain frozen, and after a few breaths, he steps forward with another snarl. “You will tell me.”
“I don’t know why you are so angry. I was just curious what you were doing,” I grit out. Anger is crashing through me at the way he is treating me.
“I’m angry because I recognize what you are, and this behavior is unacceptable.”
That strange intelligence must have understood somethingthat my own mind has not yet because, before I recognize them, words emerge from my lips. “And you want to control me? You want me to just go away? What is it you see in me that is making you so angry?”
He takes another step towards me, his whole body shaking. He pulls his hands out of his pockets and clenches them into fists at his sides as he snarls at me, louder this time. “I see a spoiled brat with an addiction who, through her actions, is endangering the people who are trying to help.”
My chest heaves, “Addiction?” I splutter out, “What does that even mean?”
Dio throws his hands in the air in a wild gesture as a mirthless laugh leaves his chest. “What a surprise. She denies it,” he says as he takes another step towards me.
I remain in place as he closes the distance between us. My feet are still, but my brain is running, trying desperately to understand the meaning of the words he is throwing at me. They feel like knives despite my lack of understanding. I know it’s important for me to figure it out if I have any chance of survival in this sudden and unexpected battle.
Of course, my brain chooses this particular, clearly important detail to not understand. The strange intelligence granted to me by the little boy, which has led me through so many important and mundane interactions in this world so far, doesn’t help with this.
“Look, just like a good addict when confronted, she doesn’t have anything to say,” Dio spits at me.
My body does what I tell it, which is nothing, and stands still in the same spot as he closes in and stands directly in front of me. My chest is tight, breathing is difficult, and despite the absence of physical pain, my eyes begin to water.
Suddenly unable to deal with the feelings in my body, I spin and walk quickly, nearly run, away from Dio. I go to my room, the only sanctuary I can think of at the moment.
“I’d recommend you stay in there until we decide what to do with you,” says Dio, darkly from behind me.
I break into a real run until I crash through the door to my room and slam it closed.
I don’t understand Dio’s anger. He caught me watching something private, but his emotion seems too violent for that alone. Tears slide down my cheeks from the brutal interaction.
After a few moments, I give up trying to understand and decide to ask one of the much more reasonable boys about what “addict” means when I see them. With that decided, I scrub the tears from my face. I grab the bag with the books out from beneath my bed and settle myself across the covers. Then I spread the books around me and begin looking through them, still battling tears as I attempt to read.
Hours pass as I work to gather more knowledge of angels to fill in the continued gaps in my understanding.
As I read the history book I purchased, I discover that angels ruled openly in the past. The writer credits them for developing an effective and successful system of government that has led to many decades of prosperity. I read that the population increased to such an extent that, as of the publication of this book, one large city covers the entire world. My stomach twists, a sick feeling filling me as I think of it; however, the author seems to feel this is an acceptable cost of progress and prosperity.
The book also postulates that there may still be some angels in high levels of government. However, it seems that no one has proven the theory. As I consider, I picture Rex sitting on the dais. In my mind’s eye, I can also see all of the angels that were in that space when Bonum brought me before the High Leader.
Eventually, though, I can remain awake no longer and sleep claims me.
Idream of dark figures chanting in a guttural language. There is a spark of something directly in front of me, and the outline of a face is revealed behind it in the momentary light. The light flashes again, and I feel as though I recognize the face, but I don’t know from where. As I try in vain to search for the memory, the chanting increases in volume.
I hear an intake of breath and then someone says, “You didn’t need to cut that deep, fuck that hurt.”
The light flashes again, and this time catches. In the light, I see I’m standing behind a torch outside a circle of men. In the center, one of the figures moves, drawing a shape in blood on the ground in the center of a circle of arranged plant stems.
As I watch, the figure completes the shape, stands, and returns to the other shadowed men. As they all clasp hands and step backwards to the edge of their reach, a heavy, soaking rain begins to fall. In that moment, the dream changes, showing me a street littered with the bodies of angels, and heavy rain falling around me.
In my ear, Lent’s voice says, “Even those few drops are so rare it’s a lucky thing.”
DIO’S JOURNAL - ENTRY 148
The following is an entry from one of many journals Dio shared with me. It is transcribed without any of my own edits and is a direct recounting of Dio’s thoughts and feelings at the time he wrote it. I have notated this and other select entries to fill in gaps and provide another voice to the narrative I share with you, dear reader.
Annum:5614
Entry 148 - fiat
