Chapter 63
IF NOT FANS, WHY FAN SHAPED?
Acouple of weeks have passed since I fought the angels in the street, and things have been relatively quiet.
Partially as a distraction for myself, a few days ago, I finally convinced Lent to bring me shopping so I could buy some of my own clothes.
I have been wanting things I could feel more comfortable in.
Fem and Reem went back and forth about whether one of them should join us, and I could tell the subtext was that they were worried there would be trouble.
I don’t think Reem trusted Lent to be up to the task of accompanying me alone.
Especially in light of the incident in the alley with Dio.
However, in the end, it was just Lent and I who went.
I won’t bore you with all the details. I love shopping for books, but this was not that.
We went to three different shops and I found several new outfits.
I despised trying things on, but at least Lent was joking around and entertaining me.
Each time I walked out of the dressing room to show him something, he paid me a compliment or had a goofy expression on his face.
I’m not quite sure why he acts like such an idiot sometimes, but it’s nice to be able to relax and have fun with him.
My priority in getting new clothes was to ensure I’d be able to wield a sword and move freely. I also couldn’t stand the frills and ruffles on the other things I was wearing. It was nice to be able to replace them.
After we got back to the mansion, I thanked Lent, Fem, and Reem for their willingness to indulge me and pay for these things. They seemed surprised by the comment, and Lent said that with all the research I’d been doing, I’m practically an honorary coven member. Still, though, it was kind of them.
They also all seemed relieved that the trip passed without incident. I am not quite sure what they must think of me. I know I’ve been plagued with violence from the angels. I suppose to them it must seem strangely random.
Reem has continued to act irritated with me, and we are barely on speaking terms at the moment. I am hoping it's just the stress from the upcoming concert and that once it is done, we will be able to mend things.
The days since the shopping trip have passed mostly as normal. I have continued to research by myself and sneak away as often as I can to practice with my sword.
The boys asked Chiron to skip magic practice for the past few evenings because of the concert tomorrow. This is their largest yet, and I know they are all feeling the stress of it.
We were all worried that, because of his injuries, Dio might not be capable of performing, but he has been recovering well.
I know they are still planning to have a chair for him on stage despite his protests.
Honestly, I would rather he stay here and rest, but I don’t get a say, and “the show must go on,” as Reem keeps saying.
It has been painful worrying about him from a distance.
At first, he stayed in his room, and I carefully avoided thinking about going to check on him.
I wanted to badly, but I knew if I did, I wouldn’t be able to continue hiding my emotions from him.
I’m still not ready to share those. It just feels far too vulnerable.
The past few days, though, he’s been showing up at meals. It has been a new kind of pain watching him limp or seeing him wince. Even at meals, we don’t speak to each other. I carefully avoid looking at him. Often I feel his eyes on me.
The night before the concert, I dream vividly. In the dream, Dio is singing one of The Boy’s songs, but the words are different from what I remember. His head is thrown back, his dark brown hair hanging in sweaty tendrils that brush his eyelashes.
He is absorbed completely in the music, and the familiarity of it pangs through my chest even as the different words send chills down my spine.
“They’ve come to kill, they’ve come to maim
We’ll find ourselves too easily slain”
Fear hits me as I hear the unexpected words, but I take comfort in the familiar sight of The Boys performing. Droplets of sweat decorate their cheeks and hair like glittering beads. They seem unaware of the unfamiliar lyrics.
“The angels come, they’ll no longer wait
So fast they move, their numbers great”
Then Dio looks straight at me, and I watch as blood begins to drip from his eyes and nose. He is focused on me as though he’s trying to tell me something as he continues to sing.
“We have magic, we have strength
We’ve worked hard and trained at length”
In the dream, I reach for my sword as I begin to walk towards Dio. Something is wrong, and I need to protect him. My fingers close on nothing, and I feel a scream building in my throat as Dio’s bloody face continues to stare at me.
“And yet my hands shake, my blood runs cold
My knees will fail, and then I’ll fold”
Iwake with a cry, soaked with sweat. I glance around for danger, but instead I see my familiar room, the sky outside the window a bit too light for early morning. Realizing I might have overslept, I push myself out of bed and get ready quickly.
As I dress, my instincts pull at me, but there is nothing clear enough yet to give me a path.
The weather has been colder recently, so I dress in multiple layers with a cowl I can use as a hood. I also strap the sword to my back. I was going to leave it behind to avoid any argument, but after that dream, fuck if I’m going anywhere unarmed for a while.
As usual, by the time I get myself dressed and head for the front door, I am later than the rest. I pull my boots on quickly and then run to the carriages stopped out front. Apparently, everything and everyone we need for this won’t fit in just one.
The second I enter the carriage, Reem says, “You can’t bring the sword. First—”
Before he can get any further, Dio, who apparently I’m sitting beside, says, “Come on, Reem, clearly we have a few fans out there who are taking their obsession to a dangerous level. It’s probably a good thing for one of us to be able to do something about it.”
I’m stunned to hear Dio defending me. So stunned that I miss Reem’s response.
Because of that, I’m not sure what exactly prompts Dio to say, “Well, I’ve seen her and she’s skilled with that sword.”
That seems to cut off any further argument. Reem looks angry, but he remains silent.
The carriage ride is mostly silent and certainly awkward, with Reem avoiding Dio and occasionally glaring at me.
Since there are three of us sitting on this seat, I can’t move far enough away to not press against Dio. My heart pounds and I feel like I can barely breathe. His body is tense against mine as though he is trying to stay as far away as he can as well.
My hip and arm, where they rest against him, feel unusually warm, a fact I carefully avoid thinking about.
I can also feel him flinching anytime we go over a bump.
After a couple of hours pass, and yet again his breath catches as the carriage bounces slightly. I take a chance and ask quietly, “Are you sure you’re up to this?” My voice is barely above a whisper.
For a few moments, he doesn’t respond, and I’m wondering if he’s going to avoid answering or if he even heard me. Then, finally, he says quietly, “I won’t let the others down. I’ve dealt with worse.”
I grit my teeth and my hands clench into fists, crumpling the cloth of my skirt.
My heart threatens to stop as Dio’s hand appears in my field of vision and he gently wraps his fingers over one of my clenched fists.
“It’ll be fine,” he says so quietly that I wonder if he even meant to say it. He sets his hand back in his lap, and I fight to return my breath to normal.
It’s not fine, though. It’s torture feeling the evidence of his pain for the remaining hours it takes for us to get to our destination.
Eventually, the carriage stops, and I jump out as quickly as I can to put some space between us. As I move away from the carriages, though, I realize I don’t know where we are going. I pause, turning back to the group.
I wait, emotions swirling, until Lent walks up to me and wraps his arm around my shoulders. He is in high spirits even for him. “This is when the real adventure begins, Shorty,” he says and pulls me along toward an alley.
I tense slightly as we move into the darker, more enclosed space, but Lent confidently leads me to a staircase and down through a small door that is painted red.
In my periphery, I see the others following.
Reem is almost directly behind us, and Dio is moving more slowly behind him with Fem walking at his side.
As we move through the door, a bell chimes, and I look around in wonder.
I have never seen anything like this. Various small bundles of dried reeds and the stalks of some plants hang from the ceiling.
There are small glass bottles containing different colored liquids on nearly every surface.
Stacks of cards, leather-bound books, and small wooden boxes with neat labels are everywhere.
As I’m looking around, Lent releases my shoulders and walks over to one of the shelves to look through the various glass bottles.
Behind the counter stands a gnarled little old man with only one eye, the empty socket horribly scarred.
Behind him, hanging on the wall, are various small knives.
There are many different sizes and shapes.
A sign that hangs over them says, Blood Magic Instruments.
As I look at them, one stands out, somehow looking familiar.
I note it, but stay back, curious why the boys are here.
My question is answered quickly as Reem walks through the door behind me and moves to the counter. To the small man, he says, “I’m the one who called earlier, I’m here to pick up the stone we talked about.”