Amara made an inquisitive and amused face at hearing this and Thornton waved his hand to indicate that it wasn’t important.
“Oh, god!” came Medea’s voice through the receiver. “The ball! It’s tonight, isn’t it? Oh! I’m so late. You must hate me!”
“It’s alright,” Thornton said, taking deep breaths to keep himself from yelling or seeming frazzled. “Do you think you can get dressed and make it here relatively soon? You'll probably miss dinner, but that’s fine. I can send a limo for you.”
“Don’t send a limo, Thorn. I can drive way faster on my own in that hybrid you gave me. Okay. Okay. Just give me like an hour or two, and I’ll be there. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine, Medea. Really, it’s my fault. If I hadn’t neglected you..."
“No, Thorn! No, I’m so sorry. I had a meltdown this morning. I don’t even remember what I said but I’m sure it was awful.”
“I deserved all of that and worse,” he said, ignoring his sister who was making a mocking gesture with her hand, clapping her thumb together with her fingers to indicate that he was talking too much. “I’ll see you soon. Alright, sweetheart?”
“I’ll get there as soon as I can, Thorn. I can’t wait to see you.”
He smiled and hung up the phone. “Thanks, sis. It was a good idea to call again.”
“I’m glad you won’t be dateless for the evening,” Amara answered with a small smirk. “I guess I’d better go and check on Pax.”
“What? Why do I have to stay and represent the family when you get to leave?”
Amara reached up and straightened his purple bowtie in a sisterly fashion. “Because you’re the figurehead president, and I’m just the beautiful, airheaded, heiress. Toodles!”
“Mara!” he interrupted, catching her wrist as she tried to escape. “That’s not fair, and you know it! Everyone knows that you have invented products for the company; you can’t get away with acting like a dumb blonde anymore. Besides, what about your date?”
“Oh, him?” Amara pointed over her shoulder with her thumb at Cliff who was already surrounded by a gaggle of fawning young women. She smiled evilly. “He served his purpose. I think he’s having a good time, don’t you?”
“Amara Kalgren. You do not get to walk out on me now! You’re as much a part of this family and this company as I am. There is no valid excuse for you to leave me here in this pit of snakes.”
“Excuse!” She glared at him. “I have a very good reason, although you don’t even deserve to hear it.”
“Tell me what it is, or I won’t let you leave.”
“Let me?” she said in disgust. “Like you could stop me. But if you must know, Thorn, the reason is that she’s my friend. Pax is my friend and I care about her.”
“Okay,” he said, softening a little. “I get that. I understand that you’re worried about your friend, but I’m also worried about mine. Can you check on Ash before you leave? He went up to the balcony, and he’s smoking like three packs of cigarettes.”
“He’s doing what?” Amara yelled a bit too loudly. She looked around self-consciously, having drawn the attention of everyone around them. She lowered her voice. “He’s doing what?”
“Smoking. Great job on being a total bitch and bringing the one date which would annoy him the most.”
Amara shook her head and placed her hands on her hips. “Look, Thorn. I don’t know what me bringing a date has to do with Asher whatsoever. In case you don’t remember, he dumped me so that he could party with you and sleep with new exotic women every night.”
“Jesus, Mara, you know very well...”
“I know that Ash is a big boy. He can take care of himself.”
Chapter 19: All Coming Undone
“Well, you see here an equipage fit to go to the ball with; are you not pleased with it?”
“Oh, yes,” she cried; “but must I go in these nasty rags?”
Her godmother then touched her with her wand, and, at the same instant, her clothes turned into cloth of gold and silver, all beset with jewels. This done, she gave her a pair of glass slippers, the prettiest in the whole world. Being thus decked out, she got up into her coach; but her godmother, above all things, commanded her not to stay past midnight, telling her, at the same time, that if she stayed one moment longer, the coach would be a pumpkin again, her horses mice, her coachman a rat, her footmen lizards, and that her clothes would become just as they were before.
She promised her godmother to leave the ball before midnight; and then drove away, scarcely able to contain herself for joy. The king's son, who was told that a great princess, whom nobody knew, had arrived, ran out to receive her. He gave her his hand as she alighted from the coach, and led her into the hall, among all the company. There was immediately a profound silence. Everyone stopped dancing, and the violins ceased to play, so entranced was everyone with the singular beauties of the unknown newcomer.
Nothing was then heard but a confused noise of, “How beautiful she is! How beautiful she is!”
The king himself, old as he was, could not help watching her, and telling the queen softly that it was a long time since he had seen so beautiful and lovely a creature.
“Mommy, it’s not fair! Why can’t we go to the ball!” shouted Nyssa, pointing at the picture in the storybook. “I want to see the beautiful lady!”
“Hush, darling. We will go next year,” said Layla with a smile. “We can’t go this year because daddy is gone away, and I would have no one to dance with.”
“We could have gone with Auntie Pax and Uncle Thorn,” said Olive sourly.
“No, sweetie. They’re all very busy,” Layla explained.
“Why does daddy need to train more?” asked Nyssa, shaking a small fist. “He’s already the strongest guy ever!”
Layla leaned forward and kissed her daughter on the forehead. She missed Gordin, but as the wife of the Earth Deva, she knew that she had to be understanding of her husband’s absence. “He is strong, but you never know what adventures might happen, or what dangers might come. Daddy just wants to be prepared.”
“Okay. Can you read us the rest of the story, momma?”
All the ladies were busied in considering her clothes and headdress, hoping to have some made the next day after the same pattern, provided they could find such fine materials and as able hands to make them.
The king’s son led her to the most honorable seat, and afterwards took her out to dance with him. She danced so very gracefully that they all more and more admired her. A fine meal was served up, but the young prince ate not a morsel, so intently was he busied in gazing on her.
“How can anyone be so pretty?” Nyssa asked in wonder.
“Well,” said Layla thoughtfully. “Cinderella is a very good girl who always takes her bath after playing, and she always studies when it’s time for schoolwork.”
“Ohhhh.”
* * *
“Might everyone please welcome Miss Medea Meadows!”
She stood for a moment, as all eyes turned to her. She let their curiosity and admiration wash over her like a wave before she gathered her skirt and began to descend the staircase in perfect posture.
It was late. Very late. 11:31 PM, to be precise. This was late enough that everyone was already slightly drunk on the fine champagne—some more than just slightly. The already-ravishing Para appeared even more breathtaking to the collectively buzzed ballroom in her magnificent custom-made gown. Thornton quickly ascended the staircase to meet her halfway and offer her his arm.
“I’m so sorry to be so late,” she said sincerely.
“Better late than never,” he said. He shook his head in disbelief. “You are—by far—the most overwhelmingly beautiful woman here tonight.”
“Really?” she asked with a dubious laugh. “So you can’t tell that I was hung over with a murderous migraine two hours ago?”
“Medea, I can’t tell that you were even here on Earth two hours ago. You look like you just came directly f
rom heaven.”
“Ha! Well, aren’t you a perfect Prince Charming!” she said with a laugh.
“I’m just so happy that you’re here,” he said, leaning towards her and giving her a gentle peck on the lips.
Meanwhile...
“She’s late,” said Rose in her ultimate tone of rage.
Vincent was also staring across the room, observing the action from his wife’s side. “Rose. Look at her. When a woman looks like that, people are going to wait. She can afford to make a few mistakes; in fact, it’s better if she does. It adds character.”
“What are you saying, Vincent?” Rose asked in horror. “Are you saying that girl can disrespect my party by showing up hours late...”
“I am saying that I have never known any women who could make everyone in a room stop and stare like that other than my wife and daughter.” Vincent slipped an arm around his wife’s waist. “There’s something special about her, Rose. You have to admit it. He chose well.”
“No. No. No,” Rose whispered fiercely. “You said it yourself, Vince. At the end of this story, Pax is going to be our daughter. Not that... that...”
“Rose,” he returned in an equally low whisper. “I know as well as you do that no one can make Pax do anything she doesn’t wish to do. Besides, I have already considered her my second daughter for a very long time. We simply may have to accept that...”
“I won’t accept any such thing!” responded the blonde woman sharply. “Don’t you remember what Nyssa said when she came back from the future? Pax and Thorn are supposed to get married and have a son. Our grandson. I can’t wait forever, Vincent. You’re her mentor. You have to change her mind—she listens to you!”
Vincent shrugged helplessly. “What can I do? I made her promise that if I die she has to marry Thornton. That’s about the extent of my power over her. Do you want me to go out and intentionally die so that you can get what you want? Will that make you happy, woman?”
“Don’t patronize me, Vince!” Rose sighed, and stared across the dance floor at the young beauty dancing with her son. She placed her chin in the palm of her hand. “I can’t deny it. Medea is amazing. She might be a poor young doctor, but she carries herself like royalty. I guess she’s an acceptable second choice.”
Vincent grunted something like assent. They continued to stare at the pair in silence for several minutes as Thornton took Medea aside to pour her some champagne. Rose ran her hands along her shimmering lace gloves, feeling a bit of a chill running through her rather suddenly. She continued to stare at Medea, observing her every gesture, her every mannerism, each movement of her lips.
Rose’s shoulders were seized by an involuntary shiver. Her husband moved his arm from her waist to rest around her shoulders, hugging her gently. He raised his prana ever so slightly to warm her.
“You should wear more clothing, woman.”
“I’m not cold.”
“Then why are you shaking like a leaf?”
Rose swallowed. “Just—a very bad feeling. Let’s call it mother’s intuition.”
“Woman. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“You’ll think I’m crazy. It’s just...” She inhaled deeply. She began to nervously rap her fingernail against her arm, a habit of hers when she was deep in thought. “I just can’t help but feel that something isn't right with her.” Rose narrowed her eyes. “Maybe I’m just biased. I certainly can’t prove anything, and believe me: I’ve tried. I just really feel—”
“Hush, woman.”
“What?”
“Be quiet for a moment.”
“Why? Is there something—” She was interrupted by Vincent holding up a hand to silence her and closing his eyes. Rose frowned at Vincent’s sudden need for concentration and looked back to where her son was standing and sipping champagne with Medea. Asher had just joined the pair. The girl had thrown her head back and was laughing quite enchantingly at something Thornton had said. Thornton was placing his arm around Asher and sending the girl a goofy grin.
Tears suddenly came into Rose’s eyes. She didn't know why she felt so horrible to see two young people happy and in love. They were just having fun and enjoying themselves. What was wrong with her? Was she a bad, interfering mother?
“I sense something strange from the girl,” Vincent said, his eyes still closed. “I can’t pinpoint what it is exactly.”
“Oh, give it up, Vince. She’s just a wonderful, nice, normal girl who is perfectly suited to our son. It’s splendid, really," Rose prattled on in a morose tone.
“Her energy,” Vincent mused aloud. “There is nothing abnormal about it. It just blends in with everyone else’s. The same weak, pathetic energy signal as all the other humans in the room. But then there are these bizarre tiny fluctuations...”
“Everything's gone to shit,” Rose muttered softly, hardly even paying attention to Vincent. “My company has gone to shit, and this party is just a giant Band-Aid for a mortal wound. Keeping up appearances. Sure, that’s useful. And that poor girl—she’s been through so much, and my son had to make it even worse. When Bridget was murdered, I knew Pax would never be the same. But even before that, when her grandfather was taken from us. I just wish... I wish that Kaden was still here. He kept us all together. He kept us from falling apart.”
“What did you say?” Vincent snapped, opening his eyes.
“Oh, I’m just babbling,” Rose replied, waving her hand. She knew how upset her husband sometimes became at the mention of his fallen friend.
“No. That’s it. Kaden! That’s where I’ve sensed this before. How could I be so stupid? How could I be such an idiot? It’s just been so long.”
“What are you talking about, Vincent?”
“When that girl laughs,” Vincent explained in a low growl, “I sense the same thing I used to sense from Kaden Burnson when he laughed. I never paid any attention to it before, because I knew that the Fire Deva was concealing a massive power, but this...”
Rose laughed. “Oh, Vince. Don’t toy with me. When I said that I felt like something was wrong, I meant she was probably just using Thorn for his money. Or like, trying to get close to our family and find out our secrets so that she can blackmail us.”
“Woman. I’m telling you that you were right. Something is wrong, very wrong. It’s worse than you imagined. We have to do something about this, now.”
“Wait, wait. Honey, are you trying to tell me that the girl our son is dating is as powerful as Kaden Burnson?” Rose giggled. “Are you trying to prank this old woman?”
“Have I ever been a joking type of person, Rose? I am telling you that I believe—” Vincent took a deep breath before speaking again. “I believe that girl, Medea, is stronger than Kaden Burnson. At least in his normal state. I can’t prove it, but from the exponential and sudden, but brief—almost instantaneous rise in her power when she laughs…” The tone in Vincent’s voice, and the little bead of sweat on his temple alerted all of Rose’s nerves to his seriousness.
“Sakra,” Rose spoke quietly. “Oh, Sakra, we’re fucked.”
“But it can’t be possible,” he added quickly. “There is no way that a power like that could develop right here on Earth, or anywhere nearby without me noticing it. All the devas in existence report to me, and she is not a child or grandchild of any deva I know. I’ve never sensed this Medea girl with strength beyond that which a normal human being could achieve. Hell, her energy levels are so low that I can’t even sense her at all most of the time.” Vincent was frowning deeply. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
Rose snapped her fingers as it suddenly hit her. The syringe. “Vince! Do you think some substance could possibly be used to suppress a deva’s energy? To conceal it so you wouldn’t notice it?”
The demigod looked at his wife curiously. “Well, thousands of years ago, when the pure gods first walked among men—I’ve heard stories that they mixed a tea from a certain root which would weaken them so they passed as human beings. Otherwise
, they would crush anything they touched, or burn anything they looked upon. They had to artificially subdue their energies. Do you mean something like that?”
“Exactly like that. Thank you, sweetie,” said Rose, leaning forward to kiss her husband on the nose. “I’m going to run to the lab and see if I can get us some evidence. I am a genius, you know.”
Rose was gone in a flash, and Vincent turned his eyes back to his son and the suspicious girl.
“I know, woman,” he muttered softly. “You wouldn’t ever let me forget it.”
* * *
“Here’s our man! Ash, where were you? You missed half of the party,” said Thornton, clapping his friend on the back.
“I hate crowds,” Asher explained sheepishly.
“He was just avoiding my sister,” Thornton explained to Para. “She was here earlier with a wealthy, handsome, famous date, and Ash nearly had a coronary.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Asher said with a frown. “I just thought some fresh air would be nice. You look lovely tonight, Medea.”
“Thanks, Ash,” she answered, wrinkling her nose. “Uh, you... smell terrible tonight.”
“I was out on the balcony, and everyone was smoking,” he explained, clearing his throat to conceal the fact that he too had been partaking of the habit. “I’m really sorry about getting you drunk this morning.”
“You weren’t at all responsible for me making an ass of myself,” Para responded with a grin.
“I take complete responsibility,” Asher objected.
“Ash doesn’t really have much tact or skill with women,” Thornton explained. “He wasn’t lucky enough to grow up with a sister like I did. Having a sister teaches you a lot about how to deal with women.”
Para had just taken a sip of her champagne and she promptly erupted in laughter. “Is that so, Thorn?”
“Most definitely. I believe I read it in a study,” Thornton said, still with one arm around Asher affectionately. “Guys that grow up with more women in their household tend to learn very quickly how to treat women respectfully. I think I should thank my sister for my good manners with the ladies, although she doesn’t have any manners herself.”
Thirty Minutes to Heartbreak Box Set (Books 1-3) Page 84
