Page 36 of Runes To Rain
RABID FANS AND SKEPTICS
Life for the next few days settles into a mostly comfortable pattern. The boys hover, but after so long without them, I don’t even care. They seem to be focused on feeding me and making sure I rest. Both things are welcome, so I allow it.
I’m particularly happy to have time to finally read the books I’ve collected. I pore over them for hours every day, making notes in the margins that probably make sense only to myself.
Honestly, sometimes the notes don’t really even make sense to me. The map in my brain seems to be turning into a being. That cartographer is charting a route to something my consciousness is oblivious to, but I hardly care. Without the medications I was being given at Piquory Center, there is a soothing element to it. Some purpose, I sense that I’m moving closer to even as I remain blind to the ultimate destination.
It is clear, however, that the purpose set by Malam upon my creation aligns me with the demons. Elling’s words about the angels seeking to eliminate the threat of my existence echo in my memory. Those words, along with Rex’s thinly veiled threats about the danger I would be in if I didn’t choose their side, are aconstant drone in my head. I don’t know what to do about it yet, but it is clear that further violence from the angels is inevitable.
It is uncomfortable to feel as though I am waiting around for the angels to take that action. Yet, some part of me also knows that I am doing what I need to. This time to learn and fill in gaps in my knowledge is imperative.
On the morning of my fourth day back at home, when I show up for breakfast, it’s clear something is up. The house employees are swarming, carrying items to the front door. Reem, arms crossed against his chest, is again directing the flow. I see him snapping at a man who is moving too quickly.
As I watch, the man runs into a pile of boxes set near the door and knocks them over. I hear something inside the boxes break, and Reem curses.
He seems to feel my eyes on him and he looks up, meeting my gaze as he says, “Sorry about this, Chaosta. We had this record signing scheduled before we knew you’d be back with us. We plan for you to stay here at the mansion with one of the house employees.”
“Can I please go with you?” I ask.
Reem looks harried, his conversation with me causing him to lose ground in the battle to maintain organization. One that he’s waging against complete chaos.
“Ok, sure,” he says, clearly distracted. He’s already turning away from me, but he calls out, “Be quick to eat, we’re leaving in twenty.”
I walk to the dining room, load up a plate at the sideboard, and drop inelegantly onto a chair at the table. Dio is sitting across from me, the only band member here. I glare at him, but he doesn’t look up from his plate. He’s neatly cutting his breadinto small pieces and dipping the pieces daintily in syrup with his fork.
He has a cloth napkin tucked into his collar. There is a bruise on his left cheek. It is especially colorful against his pale complexion and dark brown hair. He’s dressed in the band’s uniform, a white pressed button-up shirt and a grey vest under a black suit jacket. His hair is neatly combed.
As I note that it’s the first time I’ve seen him in band attire, the door opens, and Lent joins us. Like Dio, he's wearing the band outfit. Unlike Dio, his hair is mussed, his collar standing up in places, and his shirt buttons are mismatched. He’s also smiling at me, the most stark difference. “Hey Chaosta, how’s breakfast today?” he asks cheerily.
“Good,” I say with my mouth full.
I feel Dio looking at me, but as I look at him, he concentrates on his plate again.
Lent piles food on his plate and sits next to me. Even before he’s fully seated, he’s shoveling food into his mouth, and I feel Dio glaring at him as well. At least now that we’ve both captured his attention, the daggers from his stare are diffused.
“I heard from Reem you’re coming with us,” Lent says to me excitedly.
I grin at him, and I’m about to respond when Dio says angrily, “There must be some mistake, Chaosta is remaining here with the house staff.”
I glare at Dio, but his attention is on Lent, who glances at him idly before looking back at the food on his plate.
I see a momentary look of disgust on Dio’s face as he watches Lent eat.
Through a mouth full of food, Lent mumbles, “Reem says she’s coming and he’s in charge. You don’t like it, talk with him.”
I look back at Dio as he tears the napkin from his collar. He sets it firmly on the table and pushes the chair back roughly as he stands and strides out of the room.
“Someone’s grumbly this morning,” Lent says as he wiggles his eyebrows at me.
I laugh and go back to my food. Thankful as ever for Lent’s relaxed attitude.
“What books are you bringing with you today?” he asks me.
“Am I so transparent?” I ask, laughter clear in my voice.
“Just one book lover acknowledging another,” he says with a grin.
I reach out and wipe a drop of syrup off his chin.
