The final tears she was able to extract, sending them slithering toward the comet in streams of snakelike silver energy, were actually tears of happiness.
Chapter 32: Something About Cotton Candy
As soon as Sakra’s portal was open, Thornton rushed through the doorway, finding himself suddenly in space. He coughed as he accidentally sucked some of the comet’s ice and dust into his lungs, forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to breathe in space. Flying around in the white mist, he squinted and tried to see what was around him. Brandishing both of his arms, he used his telekinesis to shift the smog away, clearing the area for visibility. He was shocked when he saw that the nucleus of the comet was now separated into dozens of smaller pieces. The original chunk of fjuyen had been over 20 miles in diameter, but now, none of the pieces looked to be larger than a mile wide. This was still rather large, but it was a significant change. He felt his father appear beside him, along with the other devas.
Is this what it would look like if she had used the self-destruct technique? Thornton asked his father fearfully.
No, said Vincent, peering around in surprise. This is something different. She found another way.
Thornton nodded, bolting away from the others and swiftly sifting through the cosmic debris. Pax! he called out telepathically, trying to latch onto the signal of her mind. He could not seem to find the wavelengths he needed to reach her—he hoped that this was due to some blockage, and not because there was no recipient for his message. Pax Burnson! he screamed out again, trying to connect through their psychic link. You had better not be dead! Please—I’ll get you something really nice if you’re alive. Something awesome that you love, like potato chips or… cotton candy?
Turning to his side to narrowly dodge a huge chunk of comet flying toward him, Thornton silently swore. He looked after the projectile, realizing that they still needed to destroy these pieces. He needed to find Pax, and find out how she’d done it. He spent several more minutes weaving through the misty white wreckage, calling out for her. Somewhat losing conviction after a while, he had miserably seated himself on a piece of comet and was staring forward in despair when he saw a flash of gold. Hope snowballed in his chest as he rocketed toward the unusual color. What he saw made him freeze.
She was a vision. Dressed in a golden gown that Pax would never wear, the woman lay unconscious on a chunk of free-floating fjuyen rock. Her dark hair was spilled out all around her, contrasting sharply against the misty white comet—there was even the ghost of a smile on her face. Thornton’s lips parted in awe as he gaped awkwardly at the divine creature. He could not remember; was she faerie, nymph, or siren? She was evidently far too resplendent to be human, and far too magnificent to be someone he knew. Yet she was both of those things.
And she was also dead.
Thornton snapped out of his stupor, rushing to her side and kneeling beside her. He cradled her limp body in his arms, checking for a pulse. As expected, there was none. Pax! he tried to call into her mind, although he could not reach her. He grasped her head in his hands, shaking her frantically. Wake up, Paxie! Feeling a sticky substance on his hands, he saw that there was blood leaking out of her ears. Whatever she had done to mutilate the comet had caused great damage to her own body. Thornton spastically fumbled to reach into his breast pocket and pull out a vial of Sakra’s water.
Using his thumb to pull her bottom lip away from the top lip, he held the vial to her lips and squeezed a generous amount of the cordial into her mouth. He immediately closed her lips so the liquid could not escape, and would be absorbed by her body. Pressing a hand on her chest, he checked for a heartbeat. There was still nothing. He released a flood of hot red energy into her chest, trying to trick her heart into starting. Feeling no response, he fished into his pocket for another vial, and began to squeeze it into her mouth.
Come on, Pax. Come on. He waited, cradling her gently in his arms and silently praying to anyone he could think of to pray to, and begging to anything he could think of to beg. He could not see the holy water created by the Lord of the Devas burrowing its way through her cells, rapidly mending the damage she had done to her brain, solidifying her grey matter and reorganizing her neurons in their proper order. He could not see the magick liquid permeating her channels of prana, traveling down to repair the disturbance at her center. Starting the technique intended to crush all of her energy to a single, inescapable point had distorted the natural flow of her life force, but Sakra’s healing water began to restore her crucial vitality.
When she stirred in his arms, Thornton bowed his head in relief. He clasped her against him more tightly, never intending to let Pax’s small body venture more than three inches away from him again. Ever. He flared his energy, creating a hot aura to warm her body while simultaneously trying to infuse her with his health.
Pax winced, lifting a hand to clutch her tender head. Her movement was sluggish, and she felt an attack of nausea due to the chaos of contorted energy at her center. When she could pry her eyelids open, she was met with the sight of an expensive men’s shirt collar against the backdrop of the milky way. She blinked, quickly realizing where she was, and why her vision had returned.
Tear-dust, she told Thornton telepathically. She could sense that the other devas were nearby, and she sent her thoughts quickly. Fill your tear-ducts with prana, and when it mixes with tears, it melts the fjuyen. Tell the others for me—they have to destroy the remaining fragments of the comet.
He nodded, concentrating to send thoughts to his father, Raymond, and everyone else who had made it through the portal. He brushed his thumb across her cheek absentmindedly as he sent the instructions, staring down into her innocent dark eyes. In that feminine golden garment, and in that limp, lifeless posture, she almost looked like a helpless maiden waiting to be rescued. An uninformed onlooker might have mistakenly believed that Pax was the one who needed saving, when in fact, she was the one who had saved everyone.
I’m sorry that I made you cry, he told her.
She smiled at this. I’m actually quite glad you did. Considering the benefits for the Planet Earth, it was a pretty good cry.
I knew I would get to see you tonight, he joked gently. Thank Sakra I found you.
You’re my hero, she told him, pressing her cheek against his chest weakly. Her migraine started to fade away, partly due to the healing cordial, and partly due to his touch. You have always been my hero.
No way. Thornton swallowed, clamping her against him fiercely. You’re mine, kid.
Vincent’s voice filtered into Pax’s mind, with a strong, reassuring tone. You have done well, girl. Just relax for now—we will do the rest.
The relief that flooded through her was therapeutic. She finally had the first inkling that her crazy solo-strike had been successful. She lifted a hand to gingerly touch Thornton’s expensive shirt collar. Thank you, Vince. Blow up every last piece of this thing for me.
I will.
Without letting go of Pax, Thornton floated some of his own tears at a passing fjuyen boulder, the size of a small sports coliseum. It detonated into dust. Wow, he remarked, nodding with satisfaction. So it does work. That feels good—didn’t want to waste my tears. He winked down at her through his moist eyes, sending her a sly grin.
Her lips tugged upward, and she was about to respond when she was interrupted by Amara’s telepathic voice. So, Paxie. That was an opportune moment for you to break down and bawl like a baby. I’ll remind you of this the next time you call me a pussy for crying.
Thanks for bringing the guys to help me, Mara.
Whoa! What are you wearing? Amara asked in shock as she flew nearby. Who is this girly-girl crying and wearing fancy dresses, and what have you done with my badass tomboy friend?
Don’t ask. More of Suja’s games.
Asher flew by then too, joyously exploding the rocks all around them. He glanced at his best friend and niece, and smirked knowingly at their tender embrace. I swear, cupcake—don’t ever scare me l
ike that again. I nearly had a coronary. You know I’m an old man, I can’t deal with this sort of thing!
Sorry, Uncle Ash. Pax smiled, resting her aching head against Thornton as she watched her friends and family destroying the fragments around her. She was filled with the contentment of being with her loved ones, and the gratifying thrill of triumph. Pax was now composed enough to sense that the other devas had all been informed of her strategy, and Gordin and Raymond had moved to the flanks of the comet rubble. She could feel them melting the diamond-hard rock with beams of prana from their eyes. By her estimation, there seemed to be less than ten percent of the comet remaining—including the small section she was resting on with Thornton.
A small chunk of fjuyen floated near to them, about the size of a snow globe. My souvenir! Pax thought, reaching out to grab the little lopsided orb. She brought it close to her chest, and smiled down at the translucent material. She looked up at Thornton, who was also staring at the substance, and their eyes met. There was no need for words as he slipped his hand behind her neck and bent down to attach his lips to hers, kissing her soundly.
Her eyes became teary again as she dropped the spherical memento in her lap, lifting her hands to circle his neck. She joined her lips with his, over and over, reveling in their conquest. The contact was not sexual, but nourishing and calming. Once their lips had been sated, they stayed with their foreheads meshed together, just floating quietly in space for several minutes.
I’m sorry that I hurt you, Thornton said finally, cupping her face with both of his hands. God, Pax. I’m so sorry. I never meant to make you feel this way; I just wanted you back.
She shook her head gently, tilting her head to rest her cheek against his palm. I needed it. I needed all of that.
No, you didn’t, and I’ll never put you through something like that again. No one needs pain.
I do. It makes me better each time. There was magick in my tears, and it melted a substance harder than diamond. My power is pain.
He brushed her dark hair away from her cheeks, lifting his chin to kiss her forehead. I think you have enough power now, hot stuff.
I wanted to die, she told him, and when I let go of everything—when I had completely surrendered, all the answers came to me. All the things I needed became clear—all the things I loved. Everything was inside of me, just waiting for me to let go so I could discover the truth.
He stared at her for a moment, examining the exposed honesty in her dark eyes. It’s ironic, isn’t it? he asked softly. You needed to forfeit in order to attain victory.
She nodded, tracing his jaw with her fingertips. Hey, Thorn… did you say something about cotton candy?
It was a bribe to raise the dead. He smiled, capturing her fingers and bringing them to his lips. For the record… I had surrendered you. I had let go of you completely for a moment somewhere there. Relinquished, renounced, abandoned, yielded. Does that mean I get you back now?
I am always yours, Pax told him gently. Her eyes fell to inspect the little fjuyen globe in her lap, as she remembered what had prompted her to this rash kamikaze blitz. Always, Thorn. Even when you lie down with another woman, I will be deep-rooted inside you, warming the dark places she can’t reach. I’ll be in the fires of your soul, in the secret depths of your memory. Even if I had perished today, I would remain with you.
I know that now, Pax.
So do your worst, she demanded, worse than ever before. She lifted her eyes to glare at him and tightened her grip on his shoulders. Torture me until it hurts so much I decide to die. Tomorrow, I will just be reborn stronger.
You’re delirious, he told her gently, shifting her in his arms, and lifting her so he could move towards Sakra’s portal. The comet had been cleaned up by the other devas, and it was no longer a threat. He inclined his head, burying his chin in her dark hair. Just hang on, Pax. We’ll get you home and everything will be fine once we get back to the Compound. We can sleep. I’m not letting you go for a minute. It’s tradition—after the war, we go home together. Okay?
No rest, she insisted stubbornly. We should keep seeking revenge; keep manipulating each other.
I think you need a few more drops of the healing liquid, he told her, stopping and reaching to take it from his pocket.
No, I mean it. She pressed her hand on his, covering his pocket. Promise you’ll keep breaking my heart.
Pax…
I’m so glad you did. If you hadn’t broken me, I wouldn’t have discovered that I was unbreakable. I think… I think I’m unbreakable.
Chapter 33: Reclaiming his Office
“Good morning, Nina! Here’s coffee and a bagel.”
“Wow, boss,” Nina said suspiciously. “You’re in an unusually good mood—are you taking some kind of medication?”
“World isn’t ending!” Thornton said with a grin. He reached into a paper bag and pulled out a shiny red apple, which he promptly tossed at his secretary. “Have one of these too! Grown from a tree on our beautiful planet.”
“Um… okay,” said Nina slowly, a bewildered expression overtaking her face. She stared down at the apple warily. “Did you have one of these for breakfast? Is there cocaine in the apple?”
“Ha! I never noticed that you had a sense of humor,” Thornton remarked. He reached into his paper bag and pulled out another apple, taking a gigantic bite out of the fruit. “It’s going to be a good day!” he said with his mouth full, before entering his office. “Stay solid!”
“Stay… solid?” Nina repeated, completely flummoxed. She shook her head, returning her gaze to her computer and muttering, “Midlife crisis; bipolar rich people on drugs.”
Thornton whistled—actually whistled—as he walked over to his beloved mahogany desk. “There you are, old girl,” he said fondly, rubbing his hand over the dark wood as though he were patting a favorite horse. “It’s good to be back. Just you and me, running the whole company together—one workday at a time.”
Thornton walked to the windows of his office, twisting the blinds open and allowing the bright morning light to come streaming in through the windows. It was nice to look up at the sky again without apprehension of the menacing mass hurtling toward them. But anyway, that wasn’t what made this a wonderful morning.
Pax had stayed the night with him. She had slept beside him, glued to his body in his bed at the Kalgren Compound from the moment they had returned to the planet. Unfortunately, Sakra’s portal had not worked on the way home, so she had been required to teleport everyone home across two million miles. She had been too exhausted to protest, falling asleep against him before they had even reached the bedroom. While unconscious, her arms had remained locked around his neck, clinging to him ardently. He made a mental note to himself that he would pay more attention to Pax’s body language than her words in the future to determine what she truly wanted. It was easy to verify the way she felt when she was terminally tired.
It felt different, entering his office after having spent the night with the woman he loved. Everything felt right with the world again. He had his girlfriend back, he had his job back, and the certainty that the planet would remain in one piece. He felt like a man again.
He felt unstoppable. He could acutely feel every blessing and gift which shone on his life, and how truly bright his future, past, and present were. He thought about Nyssa Solyst. He owed everything to that little five-year-old who would someday grow up to be a brave, noble demigoddess. She had returned to the future shortly after the crisis on August 12th had been diverted, and shortly after spending some time with her parents. Thornton could truly appreciate how wonderful all the people who touched his life were, in their own way. From his permanently-scowling father to his kind, but simple best friend, Asher. Everyone was a necessary ingredient to making his life perfect. Even Nina, his secretary. He bit down into his apple again.
Moving over to his desk, Thornton settled in to begin work. He imagined that there would be a small mountain worth of emails piled up for him to answ
er. No worries—even that tiny, tedious task, seemed effortless on this divine morning. He lifted his hand over his computer screen, using his mind to control the machine and sift through the gigabytes. He composed emails in seconds, using just his thoughts, and sent words of reassurance and gratitude to his clients, employees, and shareholders.
Within a minute, Thornton had managed to send over ten emails. He smiled smugly at this accomplishment, feeling the thrill of progress and forward movement. If there had been a to-do list handy, he would have reveled in checking items off the list; but the truth was that his to-do list was far too daunting and infinite to be transcribed anywhere.
Luckily, he was a god. If anyone could exhaust an inexhaustible list of obligations, it would be Thornton Kalgren. On this morning, he felt like he could easily honor his every commitment and tackle every task. For along with reclaiming his office, he had reclaimed his balls. And they were very large, warm, and rather comfortable balls which rested in his stylishly tailored pants, just south of his elegant belt-buckle.
He shifted in his ergonomic office chair, repositioning these proverbially enormous organs and smugly congratulating himself on their magnitude. He never intended to misplace the essential spheres again; they were vital to his state of mind. A sound startled him from this arrogant train of thought.
The sound of patent-leather heels clinking on his office floor made his blood run cold. He glanced up from his computer and froze. It was his mother.
Thornton swallowed at the sight of the older blonde woman, petrified of what she would say or do next. Rose Kalgren held a rolled up newspaper under her arm, and a giant, stainless steel coffee mug in her hand. Her body swayed confidently with her brisk, professional stride—there was a haughty look on her face to match his own previous feelings of conceit. He tried to read her intention, but her proud smile would have been an impregnable poker face.
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