Chapter 24 Rabid Fans and Skeptics #2
I settle against the wall, pull the books out of the bag, and check for damage.
One book has some pages that are slightly bent at the corner.
Another has a small tear along the top of the spine, otherwise, they’re intact.
Anger fills me, and I realize I need to have a conversation with Dio.
I need to speak with him about how he’s treating me, but this isn’t the time or place.
I push the anger down, smothering it for now.
Choosing the book I found in the office, I pull my pen out of a pocket in the bag.
Then I find the place I marked and begin reading again.
I’ve made it to a section on the use of runes and how they can impact the weather.
Something about it sounds vaguely familiar, and suddenly I remember one of the dreams I’ve had.
I close my eyes and rest my head back against the wall as I try to remember the shape of the rune in that dream.
Just as I feel as though I’m close to remembering it, the energy in the room shifts. The sound of voices is suddenly drowned out as a humming sound fills my ears. I slowly realize that my chest has been aching, and I rub at it. A sense of deja vu surrounds me, and I open my eyes.
There are people everywhere. While I’ve been reading, a massive line has formed leading up to the table where the members of The Boys are sitting.
A record player in the corner adds noise to the room as it plays the band’s music against the din of the crowd.
I glance around, trying to understand what my instincts are pulling me towards.
As I glance across the sea of people, something screams at me, and I pause and turn back, scanning across the crowd where I looked a moment before.
There, standing amongst the others, but yet somehow separate from them, I see a face I recognize.
The ache in my chest increases, and I take a sharp breath, rubbing harder at my chest and trying to center myself.
Then I remember the owner of the face and push myself to my feet as I move into the crowd.
Reem’s instructions and the promise I made are forgotten at this moment.
Pushing through the press of this many people is tough work, and they seem upset I’m trying to wind my way through them. I get shoved and pushed, and I struggle to maintain my footing.
Pausing, still in the chaos for a moment, I look out through the crowd again. I try to find the face I recognized as Bonum’s, but I’ve lost them.
The ache shoots through my chest again, and in that momentary distraction as I’m shoved, I miss my footing and land on the ground.
I whimper as someone steps on my hand. Then a heel collides with the wound in my abdomen, and I cry out.
I attempt to push myself up, but there are too many people moving over and around me, and I can’t manage to regain my feet.
Suddenly, there’s a break in the crowd, people swearing as someone pushes between them. In the chaos, I feel an arm wrap around me and drag me up, carrying me roughly to the edge of the room, where I’m dropped to my feet with no ceremony.
I turn to thank my savior, only to see Dio’s angry face glaring at me.
We’re pressed together between the wall and the ocean of people. He turns us, putting my back against the wall. His arms create a cage as he leans against the wall, closing the space between us.
“Why the fuck can you not follow simple directions, you godsdamned idiot girl,” he snarls at me.
My eyes fill with tears, prompted by his anger but also the pain of my old and new injuries. I’m unable to speak, mute with the pain and emotions churning through me in this moment.
“I asked you a fucking question,” he snarls at me, and the feeling of glass shards against my skin intensifies.
“I thought I saw someone I knew,” I manage to mumble back at him.
“Great, now you’re seeing things and not following directions,” he shouts as he throws his hands in the air. He looks toward the ceiling as though he’s praying for patience.
I’m frozen where I stand against the wall, trapped here by a man who again seems angrier than the situation calls for. I can tell he’s waiting for me to say something, but I don’t have any more words. A knot of emotions begins to form in my chest.
After another moment, when it’s clear I’m not going to respond, he runs his hand through his hair.
Then he grabs me roughly by the arm and drags me forward.
The crowd doesn’t seem to recognize him in the tumult.
People growl and shove as he pushes past them along the edge of the room.
His fingers bruise my arm, and he seems to have no mind for my comfort as he drags me forward.
Somehow, he navigates through the press of the crowd as though it is easy, following the wall until we reach the space behind the table.
I’m thankful to be back in this sanctuary even as I’m irate at the circumstances I find myself in.
He pushes me roughly to the ground along the wall on top of my books. I wince as the wound in my abdomen pulls and pain lashes through me. I gasp, but he doesn’t seem to hear, or perhaps he ignores it.
He bends down to put his face directly in front of mine. “This time, stay put or I’ll lock you in the carriage,” he snarls. Then he turns on his heel and strides back to the table. He pulls his suit jacket straight and runs a hand through his now rumpled hair, organizing himself for his fans again.
Gods he’s vain, I think shakily to myself.
Lent catches my eye as I look toward the table, his expression tight. “Are you ok?” he mouths.
Without knowing what else to do, I nod.
He turns to Reem and says something, then they return to signing records as though nothing happened.
I want to check my injury, but I don’t want to remove my shirt in front of this crowd of people.
I settle for leaning against the wall and breathing shallowly through the pain until it starts to ease again.
Then I check on my books. The pages of a couple of the books are wrinkled, and one is torn nearly off.
There’s a shoe print on one page that’s clearly the size of Dio’s foot rather than mine.
I tend to them carefully. Their injuries are easier for me to focus on than mine at this moment.
Once they’re as mended as I can make them without tape, I close the books and put them back neatly in the bag. Then, clutching them to my chest, I huddle against the wall with my chin on the bag on top of my drawn-up knees and my eyes closed.
I am so lost in my thoughts that a while later, I’m jarred by a touch on my shoulder. I jolt upright, still sitting against the wall, afraid of another confrontation with Dio, but it’s Lent who’s leaning over me, and I feel my eyes fill with tears.
“Easy Chaosta,” he says quietly.
I feel tears prick at my eyes at the contrast of his kindness and the way Dio just treated me.
“Were you hurt?” he asks.
I shake my head, closing my eyes to try to fight back the tears.
“You sure?” he asks, his voice gentle.
“I think someone accidentally kicked the wound on my side, and I guess someone sort of stepped on my hand,” I mumble.
“Well, that sounds kind of like you were hurt,” he says. I look at his face, expecting condemnation, but his eyes are twinkling at me, and unexpectedly, I feel a smile tug at my lips. “We’ll have Fem check you when we get home,” he says. Then he steps back, offering me a hand.
I take it, and he pulls me gently to my feet.
“Let me take those,” he says as he gestures to the book bag. I gladly hand them over, relieved not to need to carry the additional, though light, weight.
With that settled, he says, “Come on,” and heads towards the door.
I slowly comprehend that the room is mostly clear of people, and the other boys are nowhere to be seen.
I follow Lent to the carriage. For a moment before I climb through the open door, I hope that maybe he is taking me home by himself.
Unfortunately, my luck isn’t nearly good enough for that.
Instead, I’m faced with Dio’s glare as I sit on the seat across from him next to Reem.
Dio opens his mouth to say something, but Lent cuts him off. “Pretty sure she’s been sufficiently scolded, old chap,” he says, and while the words are friendly, his tone isn’t.
Dio shuts his mouth and looks out the window, and I relax a little.
Reem turns to look at me. “Are you ok?” he asks.
Instead of responding, I look at Lent and he says, “She’ll live.”
Reem grumbles quietly but doesn’t ask again.
Lent meets Fem’s eyes across the carriage. Something unspoken seems to pass between them before he looks back at me and winks. Glad he isn’t sharing with Dio that I got hurt, I can’t help but smile at him, thanking him silently for keeping the secret.
Then I close my eyes and lean my head against Reem’s shoulder and the back of the seat as the carriage starts out on the journey home.
Before I know it, the journey is over, the movement of the carriage slowing and then finally coming to a stop.
Lent climbs out first, offering me his hand as I step down.
I’m careful not to whimper and give Dio more ammunition.
I thank Lent quietly and then walk with him through the door of the mansion.
As we all get through the door, I hear Fem, who’s behind me, say, “Let’s go get you checked out just to be safe.”
As I wait for him, I hear Dio begin to say something, but I notice movement out of my peripheral vision, and I note that Reem and Lent are moving to stand in front of him, placing themselves between us.
Reem says, “We need to talk.” His voice is harsher than I’ve heard it.
Before I can pay attention to what’s going on with them, Fem rests his hand gently on my shoulder, and when I look at him, he points towards the office. I follow him through the door, and he closes it behind us as I settle on the couch.