Chapter 52: Chapter 52

“It’s nice to see you, Ivy.” Regardless of what she thought about this group’s mission as a whole, Ivy really did seem like a genuinely nice person.

“I hope you like lasagna because that’s what I’m making. It’s a secret family recipe, and it is so good!”

“I love lasagna,” Ru nodded.

“Perfect! It’ll be done in a few minutes. Of course, it’ll need to cool…”

“How long until food, Ivy?” Rider demanded.

With a school-girl giggle, she said, “Let’s say fifteen minutes.”

Rider nodded like he might be able to stand a rumbling tummy until then, and Ivy skittered back off toward the kitchen.

“What can I get you to drink, Ru?” Cutter asked, taking a few steps toward the kitchen.

“Oh, uh, water’s fine.”

“Ice?”

“Sure.” She forced a smile, but she knew he could see right through it.

“Well, have a seat,” Rider insisted, gesturing toward a nearby plush, beige sofa.

This was not the room they’d chatted in before, and Ru was pretty sure it had been empty the last time she was here. Sitting down on the couch, she looked up at the ceiling and could see all the crown molding was new. “Did you do that?” she asked, pointing with her head.

“Sure did,” Rider replied, a proud look on his face. “And painted. And refinished the floors.”

The walls were a soft gray-blue that complimented the furniture nicely, which was all deep beige in a shade slightly darker than the flooring. “It looks really great,” she nodded.

“Thankya,” Rider said, beaming. “I figure I ain’t got much else to do.”

Lyric growled and rolled her eyes. “Don’t. The word is don’t. Why do you talk like that?”

“Sorry. Guess we can’t all be as good with words as you are, Lyric.”

Ru couldn’t help but laugh at the terrible pun, which made Rider wink at her.

“Don’t encourage him,” Lyric insisted, taking a seat in a chair near the sofa where Ru was perched.

“I think you mean ‘ain’t’ encourage him.”

Once again, Ru found herself laughing, despite her situation. Before the two could continue their antics, Cutter returned with her water. “Sorry. Got sidetracked.”

“Ivy ask you to baste something or butter something?” Rider asked, picking up a beer bottle off of the table next to him and taking a drink.

“Butter and garlic,” Cutter nodded.

“Well, when we are enjoying that deliciousness in a bit, we will all thank you for your contribution.” Lyric’s comment filled an otherwise quiet void. The room shifted from somewhat playful to uncomfortable the second Cutter sat down on the couch a full cushion away from Ru.

After a painfully long silence, Ru cleared her throat and timidly asked, “So… angels drink beer?”

“Hell, yeah,” Rider replied. “Show me in the New Testament where it says you can’t.”

He was more diplomatic than defensive, but Ru was still surprised.

“And where the hell in the Bible does it say you can’t say shit?” Rider continued. “I mean, it’s just stringing some letters together. The Bible wasn’t even written in English so how can we not say whatever the hell we want to?”

“So long as you don’t take the Lord’s name in vain?”

Rider shrugged. “Yeah, I know it says that. But that’s the Old Testament. I’m more of a New Testament kinda angel.” He winked at her again, and Ru began to feel a bit charmed in an older-brother, cool-uncle sort of way.

“We do a lot of things the Bible says we’re not supposed to in one testament or another,” Cutter stated. “We aren’t perfect. But then, no one ever said we had to be.”

“Hmmm,” Ru replied, mulling that over. This information went against everything Liddy Brown had ever pounded into her head growing up.

“Ivy will kill us if we get too deep into anything without her out here,” Lyric reminded the gentlemen. “But we are dying to see your scars.”

Ru’s eyes opened widely. “My scars?” she repeated. “Why would you need to see my scars?” She had been trying to hide them her whole life. Why would she intentionally show them to anyone.

“To see if we can decipher them,” Lyric explained with a small shrug, like it was not a big deal.

“What do you mean?”

Lyric looked at Cutter, as if she was somehow asking permission to proceed, despite the fact that Ivy was in the kitchen. He nodded. “All of us are named for the shape of our scars. When we’re born, our parents look at our scars and determine what our name should be.”

Once again, Ru was having trouble understanding what she was hearing. “So you all have them, too?”

“Yes,” Cutter replied. “That’s how I knew you had them.”

“Right.” She’d remembered him mentioning them once before, but she hadn’t realized literally all of the Keepers had them. “What are they from?”

The three looked at each other for a second, as if they were silently debating who should tell her. “Wings,” Cutter finally responded.

Ru turned to face him. “What’s that?”

“They’re from where our wings would’ve been attached, if we were full-fledged angels instead of only half. We can’t have wings, so we have scars instead.” Cutter said it as if it should make perfect sense to anyone

“But that implies that we once had wings,” Ru reasoned.

“We don’t honestly know why we keep the scars.” Lyric leaned forward in her chair, as if to say she understood what a difficult concept it was to understand. “But all Keepers do.”

“And so do Reapers,” Rider added.

It took Ru a moment to digest that information. After a few moments, she nodded and said, “And all of your scars look like your names?” She was so confused.

“To our parents,” Cutter nodded. “Obviously, they often have their own interpretation.”

“So your parents thought it looked like someone had randomly cut you?” she asked, looking into Cutter’s eyes.

Her question brought a snicker from Lyric and then an apology.

“No,” Cutter replied. “My mom said my scars look like the blades of twin knives. So she was torn between Cutter and Blade.”

“Thank God she didn’t name you Blade,” Rider said, also finding humor in a story he’d likely heard a million times before.

“And what about you?” Ru asked, looking at the taller blond fellow. “Why Rider?”

“Horses hoofs, I guess,” he shrugged. “My mother may have also had a drinking problem.” Seeing he was joking, Ru giggled. “You laugh, but you should see my sister Blotchy’s back.”

That had the entire room erupting in laughter. Over the noise, Lyric shouted, “He doesn’t even have a sister,” and tossed a throw pillow at him, which he caught with one hand.

Once she’d regained her composure, Ru turned to Lyric. “So yours is obvious, I guess. And so is Ivy’s.”

“Yep. My mom said it looked like I had music carved into my back. And Ivy’s looks like… ivy.”

Ru nodded. “And so mine is, what?”

“Runes, I guess,” Cutter said with a shrug. “We won’t know until we look.”

“And that’s… ancient writing of some sort?”

“Yep,” Rider confirmed. “And we’re hoping it’s an important message that will give us some direction.”

“But how is that possible? It’s not like my mom could’ve scratched her location into my back.”

“No, but it is possible that Raphael or someone else sent us a message that way,” Cutter said. “We won’t know until we look at it and see what we can decipher. It might not even be recognizable.”

“Why would he do that?” Ru wondered aloud. “You said you can talk to him, right? Through visions or something? Why not just tell you whatever he needed to that way?”

Once again, there was a collective shrug. “We’re not sure, but for your mother to name you that, there has to be something unusual about your scars.” Lyric’s eyes seemed gentle, but it didn’t stop Ru’s mind from running a million miles a minute.

Before she could ask any more questions, Ivy hopped in and announced dinner was ready, and they all headed toward the formal dining room, which was set with the finest dishes Ru had ever seen. She was almost afraid to use the crystal for fear she’d find a way to break it. She took a seat next to Cutter, thankful that the tension seemed to have lessened a bit, but she was still anxious. Clearly, these people were about to tell her things she did not want to hear.