Para slowly rose to her feet then, facing Vincent squarely in the face and crossing her own arms. She’d had enough. She loved her father, but he had struck one nerve too many. “Oh, I would have, Vincent. That was my first thought,” she said in her raw, scratchy voice, “but I observed you for a while, and you seem too rash and temperamental to make any helpful decisions.”
Narrowing his eyes, Vincent advanced on Para. “I told Thorn that I would wait at least five minutes after you returned before attacking you and finding out your true strength. It has been far longer than that, and I need my information. Show me your maximum power.”
“Is that really important?” she asked tiredly. “Wouldn’t you rather know about the enemy? Don’t you want to know what he wants?”
“I want to know everything. Starting with your strength. Show it to me.”
She released a sigh, which segued into a yawn, causing her throat to hurt. She yearned for sleep. “I don’t think this is the right time for that.” She thought about bed; wonderful, peaceful bed. Many beds. Two beds at Amara’s house, and one at Para’s own house. Several in the Kalgren compound, and several at Burnson Grove. All beds were comfy. Any bed would do. Dark curtains. Warm blankets. Safety.
“Then I’ll just have to beat it out of you. Let’s go. You and me, girl.”
“Didn’t we do that already?” she groaned. “Didn’t it end with you face first in the floor?”
“No, it ended with you running away.”
“Oh, that’s right. Fine then. Hit me. I’m not running anymore.”
“It would be my pleasure. You don’t have to invite me twice.” Vincent said this before launching his fist directly into Para’s already fractured jaw.
Layla gasped, feeling the wind and heat of the impact from sitting so close to Para. “Vincent, please don’t!” The older man growled at her, and Layla moved away from him in a hurry, rushing to stand near Gordin and her son.
Rose winced, having watched the girl go flying up the staircase. She had seen plenty of people fall down the stairs, (most recently, a woman trying to induce a miscarriage in the soap opera that Para had given her) but she had never seen someone fly up the stairs. “Really, Vince,” Rose said angrily. “She’s already hurt!”
“And do you think I care about that, woman?” Vincent said, assuming Silver Form mid-flight as he pursued his prey. Para was lying limply at the top of the staircase, staring blankly at the ceiling. Vincent grabbed the girl who was partly his daughter and lifted her limp body up into the air before slamming her down hard onto his knee. Her spine connected with his knee and a loud noise was heard.
“Stop hurting her,” Asher said angrily. “She’s not even fighting back!”
Para turned her head at the sound of Asher’s voice, and stared at him through tired, blurry vision. Ash, she thought, as Vincent yanked her upright and held her by her bruised neck. My Ash. Vincent proceeded to repeatedly punch Para in the face as he held her firmly in place. Each punch made her head swing over a 90 degree angle from its natural position. Still, she stared at Asher, with a bittersweet kind of contentment. I thought I would never see you again. It’s so good to see you again, Ash. In spite of everything. I never want to stop seeing you.
Asher could only take so much of watching Para get pummeled. He flew at Vincent, grabbing his elbow. “Stop it, Vince!”
“Get off me, boy!” Vincent shouted, slamming his elbow into Asher and sending the younger deva flying across the room. Growling, he tossed the limp Para back down the stairs.
She went sliding and rolling down half of the staircase before Thornton intervened to catch her. He was angry with her for lying, sure, but he couldn’t watch his father abuse her either. He held her gently against him, surprised at how limp she felt and how pained her eyes were.
“Medea?” he asked softly. When she was unresponsive, he cursed. “Dammit. I shouldn’t have let my father touch you.”
“You are too weak to have any say in the matter, son,” Vincent said before materializing in front of Thornton and ripping Para out of his grasp by her hair. Para felt the pain in her scalp before she felt the heat of a fireball forming at point blank range with her chest. The energy blast exploded and sent Para hurtling across the ballroom. She crashed into a wall and slid down it, lying in a defeated heap. Sleepy-time, she thought to herself. Daddy’s tucked me in and the bed bugs won’t bite. So much for war council. No one wants to know about the bad guy. They just want to know about me. I am the bad guy.
“Vincent, you really need to stop,” Raymond said firmly. “You know that this isn’t getting us anywhere. She’s obviously been through some kind of traumatic—”
“Bullshit,” Vincent said harshly. “Whether she accepts it or not, I am the leader of our team. I think this is helping quite a bit! At least it’s helping me let off some steam, anyway.”
As he flew after Para, Amelia rolled her eyes before addressing Rose sarcastically. “Does that man of yours ever run out of ‘steam?’”
“Only when I want him to get steamy,” Rose muttered in annoyance, earning curious looks from several of the other people in the room. Layla even let out a little laugh.
Gordin cleared his throat as everyone watched Vincent kicking the girl who was lying motionlessly on the floor. “Guys, this is getting pretty messed up. Someone needs to stop him.”
Meanwhile, Para had closed her eyes. She simply allowed Vincent to continue kicking the stuffing out of her. I deserve this, she thought to herself while his boot sunk itself into her stomach again and again. I deserve this for lying to them all. Besides, this is like a deep-tissue massage compared to what Zvarin did to me accidentally. We’re in the middle of something real, something important, and I chose now to act like a child and make this whole coalescence-revenge plan. They need a warrior, not a child. Why am I such a fucking infant?
Opening her eyes a tiny bit, she looked past Vincent’s bulging calves and took in the concerned faces of her families. Her gaze floated specifically to Thornton and Asher. I did it for them, she remembered, allowing a small smile to come to her lips, and a pang of real emotional pain to touch her insides. Because those idiots make me crazy and I love them so! And I’d do it again. Anything to be close to them. Anything to hurt them, and love them and—Sakra, I’m so confused. What do I want again?
I want us all to stay alive. But mostly I just want to sleep. I can take a nap right here, can’t I? The floor is comfy. A boot connected with her ribcage, forcing the air out of her. More broken bones? This is a bad day. And yet, if Zvarin gets his way—I may look back and consider this a good day. The best of days. I’m in a room filled with my family and friends, and we’re spending quality time together. They’re even giving me all this extra attention. I should feel special. But it would be really nice to get away from them and find a bed.
“Father, stop,” Thornton said angrily. “I mean it. You’ve gone too far.”
Vincent did stop kicking then, prompted by Thornton’s words and a growing sense of boredom at Para’s lack of reaction. Para was drifting off to sleep as she lay there listlessly. In her drowsy, half-unconscious state, she saw Zvarin in her mind. She could see his angry face, contorted in rage. She felt his hand on her neck again. Vincent’s yelling confused her mind, and his voice jumbled together with Zvarin’s, creating one awful, dominating voice. The images of a nightmare danced across her mind, and although she had forced herself to sleep to forget the experience with Zvarin, it seemed that sleep would not liberate her anytime soon.
“Why aren’t you fighting back, girl?” Vincent growled at the corpse-like body on the floor.
“I think she’s not in the mood for this right now,” Amelia said quietly.
“Momma,” Nyssa exclaimed. “Uncle Vincent killed the Cinderella princess!”
“She’s not dead, stupid,” Olive told her younger sister with an air of superiority. “Feel her energy. It’s exactly the same as before. He barely even hurt her.”
“
Out of the mouths of babes,” Gordin said in surprise. “I hadn’t even noticed that she was unhurt!”
“Not on the outside,” Layla said.
“You’re a very clever girl, Olive,” Raymond remarked in surprise. “You can sense prana very well.”
“My daddy taught me,” Olive answered proudly.
“Idiots!” Vincent yelled. “Stop your babbling! Can’t you see how she’s toying with me! I’m trying to fight with her and she just goes to sleep. The insolence! I will not tolerate this. I am the King of Devas, and I deserve respect! You will fight back and show me your true power, girl!”
A gust of white energy swirled around Vincent as he assumed his Pure White form. He didn’t stop there, but continued to amass power until the air around him fizzed and hummed with electricity and heat. Para was blown back several meters by the energy, and snapped out of her nightmares by the feel of his power. Although she had only been half-asleep for a few seconds, the seconds had felt like hours. Everything inside of her mind was confusion and din. Sharp pains pierced her brain.
“Phooey,” Para said with a sigh, still lying motionlessly on the ground. “I’m too tired to do this now, Vincent. I think I might need a drink.”
“We still have plenty of champagne left over from the party, dear,” Rose said. “Would you like some?”
“Yes, please,” Para said, turning her head to look at her mother. “I would love a bottle of the good stuff.”
“I could use a drink myself, but I’ve already had too many,” Rose admitted as she headed to one of the various makeshift bars erected throughout the ballroom. As Vincent continued powering up, Rose grabbed a bottle and a glass, and walked over to where Para lay on the ground. Her skirts were rustled by the wind of Vincent’s energy, but she ignored it. “Here you go, dear. Would you like me to pour for you?”
“No, thank you,” Para said, groaning and pulling herself off the ground to a seated position. “I’ll just drink straight from the bottle.”
Using her finger to break the bottleneck instead of undoing the cork, Para allowed the liquid to explode and fizzle out before putting the broken bottle directly to her lips and pouring its contents down her throat.
“Imbecile!” Vincent shouted, as flames of white energy radiated off him. “How dare you mock me by enjoying a celebratory beverage before our battle has concluded? I’m going to crush you!”
“You're the one ‘battling’ Vincent. I didn’t ask for this. All I want is sleep.” Para finished chugging the contents of the bottle and placed it aside in disappointment. “Alcohol doesn’t do much for me, but it was worth a shot. Thanks, Rose.”
“You’re welc—” Rose began, but was interrupted by her own gasp as she watched Vincent fly towards the girl at full power. “You wouldn’t! Vince, don’t! How can you—”
Vincent’s knee connected with her face, slamming Para back into the wall. She groaned, lifting a hand to her face and wiping the blood away from her probably-broken nose. She cricked her neck from side to side, feeling a tad bit dizzy. First Zvarin, now my daddy. I’ve really been a bad girl to deserve all this, haven’t I? Well, yes, I have, but it’s still not fair. It’s still not nice to hit a girl. I didn’t hurt anyone…
That’s right. I lied, but I haven’t hurt anyone. Not yet. Thorn and Ash both hurt me emotionally, and I haven’t even gotten a chance to strike out at them yet in the same way. Nothing that leaves the kind of lasting impression their hurts did on me. Now I’m getting physically beat on by Zvarin and Vincent and I didn’t make the first strike or even ask for it. But at least—at least right now, if I chose to, I could fight back.
The realization hit Para like a ton of bricks. No, it hit her like several tons of boulders. Or perhaps it hit her with the force of a super-comet crashing toward her; and she actually did remember the way that felt. She was simply stunned when it occurred to her that she was no longer neutralized by Zvarin’s force field. Her power was no longer impeded. She didn’t have to lie there and take Vincent’s onslaught like a rag doll. She was free from captivity. She had the option of defending herself. And she knew Vincent’s techniques like the back of her hand; there were no mystical surprises. She knew. She knew who he was, and he did not know who she was. She had a whole arsenal of special attacks she had discovered in the vector zone that would catch Vincent by surprise.
She had the advantage. Her skeletal structure might have been a radiologist’s worst nightmare at the moment, but her power did not only originate in her body. Her power was deep inside, in her soul. Her body was just a vehicle, and she could drive it any way she wanted. She did not have to suffer any more physical pain—no! She could instead be the bringer of the pain. She would dish out pain in buckets, in waterfalls, in blinding outbreaks. She would take the humiliation and helplessness that Zvarin had made her feel, and cast it out of her mind and body—and into Vincent’s. Since he was volunteering, and all. She would let off some of her own steam on him.
And she had a hell of a lot of steam to let off.
“I think I can take you,” Para said softly. “Today, I can. Sure, I’m gravely injured already, but today is just one of those days. Here I am, bordering on the cusp of insanity. Probably couldn’t do it any other day, but I might be able to today. So why not?”
“What on earth are you rambling about?” Vincent asked scornfully. “Shut up and fight me.”
Vincent launched an attack aimed directly at her chest, but at the last second she reflexively tried to dodge it. Instead, his fist connected with her already-crushed shoulder. Para screamed, and clutched the shoulder in real pain. Everyone in the room was shocked into speechlessness by Vincent’s brutality.
Para began to laugh. She raised herself to her feet, clutching the shoulder. She laughed harder. She was on the verge of being hysterical. “Wow, Vince,” she said, smiling derisively. “Cheap shot, but okay. I’m awake now. You’ve gotten my attention. Of course, you’re just an ant compared to the man who just beat the shit out of me a few minutes ago, so don’t expect me to be too terrified.”
“An ant? You’re calling me an ant?” Vincent roared.
“Yeah,” Para said, moving her feet apart into a battle stance. She used her prana to lift her injured arms into form, ignoring the ache in the no-longer functional joints. She was so far past the point of caring about her pain that it had become an advantage. “Compared to Zvarin, we are all little ants. But you don’t want to know about him, do you? You want to ignore Suja’s brother, our real enemy and hurt your already injured ally, right? Cool. Whatever. Happy to oblige.”
Vincent’s face broke out into a grin of pleasure. “Finally ready to stand up to me, are you, girl? I’m a full-fledged Pure God and I won’t hold back.”
“You’re going to kill her!” Thornton shouted. “She may be strong, but she can’t handle the level you’re taking it to. What do you expect her to do?”
Vincent’s head snapped towards his son. “Don’t you want to know what she is, boy? What she’s made of?”
“I just want her to be alive and unhurt!” Thornton shouted.
“Too late for that,” Layla mumbled. “If I was in as much pain as she is, I would be alternating between screaming, passing out, and begging for morphine. She needs to go to the infirmary.”
“She’s a warrior,” Gordin said softly, slipping his hand around Layla's waist. Oren was sleeping blissfully nestled against his chest, supported by his other arm. “I am actually with Vincent on this—I kind of want to know how strong she is.”
“You men are just horrible,” Amelia said sadly. “That poor girl! She is so tired that she can barely stand on her feet. Let her rest for Sakra’s sake!”
Para had passed the place where she could fully process or believe any words of kindness or love. She felt like the whole world—the whole universe—was against her, and intent upon beating her black and blue. She was kind of right. She only knew one thing; she wouldn’t allow herself to be destroyed without a hell of a fight
. She wouldn’t be a terrified and traumatized child anymore. She was, as Gordin had pointed out, a warrior.
She was not locked inside a force field any longer. She could move. She could fight.
And she had just gotten her second wind.
“So you want to know, Vince?” Para asked gruffly. “Let me show you what I’m made of.” I’m made of you. I’m made of the very best and worst of you. Para turned to the side and spat out a mouthful of blood. “Let’s do this. I don’t care anymore.”
“Dammit, Medea! Don’t let him rile you up,” Thornton said desperately. “You can barely move your arms. You’re half-dead!”
“A little op—opt—optimism please,” she said hoarsely, rubbing her sore throat. Her voice had begun to falter in the middle of her speech. “If I’m half-dead that means I’m still half-alive. That’s the part I need to focus on.”
“You’re just like Pax,” Thornton complained as he placed both of his hands in his blonde hair. “God, you’re utterly insane—just like Pax.”
She sent him an affectionate look. “No. I’m much more insane. Believe me when I say you’ve upgraded.”
“Just relax, everyone!” said Asher firmly. “Come on, Vince—she’s just an innocent girl. You didn’t make Nyssa fight you when she came back. Just let Medea rest.”
“No, Ash. I’m good,” Para said with a reassuring smile. Smiling hurt her jaw, and she lifted a hand to rub her chin to ease the ache. “Trust me, I’m good.” She was actually beginning to grow excited. When she had teleported Vincent to one of Jupiter’s moons, she had been unable to best him. If he knew who I really was he’d take it easy on me. This is actually a pretty great opportunity to really fight him. To fight him and take him down. Not to get myself beaten like I did on that moon. Not to get myself almost-raped like I did on Zvora. To achieve victory over my own dad, on my own planet.
Thirty Minutes to Heartbreak Box Set (Books 1-3) Page 95
