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Decisions, decisions, Pandora thought waiting for her jet to arrive. Stay and play, or go? She shook her head in heated frustration. It was time. She had been dreading it for so long, but she couldn't any longer. Always the rebel, the troublemaker, the vixen. Pandora fought to be herself all the time. Now, she was returning home. To a fate unknown. To... her family.
That was where Ariesella was; home with the girls. With their friends and family. They loved her, cherished her, were smitten with her very existence. The same was said for Pandora, but she never saw it that way. She loved the shadows; the darkness playing with the light. If she had her way, she'd never go home. Maybe Skype or video chat every once in a while but never go back there. Unfortunately, that was in the Gods' plans for her, and she had to go—for the Festival of Mystics and Oracles.
The name was a dumb one, but that was the translation from their ancient texts; Zu Vesitla mer Lzavenas un Oreklas. She sighed with melancholy as the jet made its way to her. Pandora sensed two familiars, and turned to see Clyde and Jessyka, suitcases in hand, heading her way. Relief and irritation could be seen on her face. This won't end well. Not. At. All.
"What in the actual Hell are you two doing?" Pandora said, folding her arms.
"We are here for you, Madam." Clyde spoke shyly, bowing to her.
"Don't even," Jessyka said, handing her items to the crew to put on the jet. "We can't let you go by yourself to the Gods' dragon pits. We're going. End of story. Let's go. Besides..."
"Besides?" Pandora looked at Jessyka's nervous eyes darting around the tarmac. "What is it? Out with it already."
"Well..." Jessyka began to walk closer to Pandora, to which Pandora-backed away, "Darien is going to be there... With Jonah. Apparently, all the head honchos are bringing their extras in force. So, we have to go. As your friends, and as your backup."
Pandora couldn't believe this. She wanted to turn and run back to her penthouse. No. NO! This can't be, she thought. This was the last thing she would ever want to do! She knew her mother was behind it, but it was too late. The guardians from home were already there, ready to stop her if she tried to flee. That's when she knew.
"This was a setup. Fucking bastards."
She walked up to the jet and went onboard, followed by the guardians, her team, and the crew. She was greeted customarily, as usual, and sat in the back, sulking with a drink already in hand. Clyde and Jessyka promptly joined her as the guardians sat toward the front.
"Isn't it early to be drinking, Ms. Pandora?" Clyde spoke with concern.
Pandora just glared as she gulped down the glass, and motioned for another one, "Stronger."
They knew nothing of Pandora's family, and she liked it that way, but soon they would learn. Pandora hoped it wouldn't change their opinion of her. Momentarily, they will face the true lions' den and sadly, Pandora couldn't save them if something goes wrong. And with those words lodged in her head, the jet took off, and headed for home.
"Yo, Jo! Get your ass up! It is time to go!"
Jonah had tossed and turned in his bed for the past three days. It had been three days since he learned the truth, and now he was being thrust into going to Greece for a festival. A place he knew Pandora, or Artemoria, would be there. This wasn't anything like what he imagined or wanted. He didn't want to go, but that wasn't his decision. Darien made sure he knew that.
~You work for me. You were sent to me. I am training you. You want to continue to climb in this company? Then it's time for you to meet the head honchos of the world. No time to pussy out now.~
Those words echoed inside his head. Darien had a great skill for making people remember their conversations for days on end. It was one of the many talents that drew him to the White Dragons. Jonah never thought it would go this route. Well, he hoped it would never go this route. Suddenly and abruptly, he heard his front door open, and footsteps come to his room.
"Shit," Jonah said, remembering he had given keys to Chris, Salzar, and Darien. "Guys! I'm NOT going. Not feelin' it. Something in my–"
"My ass bitch!" Chris said, kicking open the door, "Get the fuck up, you little shit! We ain't got time for you to be 'in your feelings.'"
Unfortunately, Salzar wasn't on team Jonah today, "Jonah, we have to. YOU have to. It'll be alright. I promise. C'mon. Your things are already on the jet. I have clothes for you to change into onboard. Henry is waiting. And... So is Darien."
Jonah didn't give a shit about keeping Darien waiting. He was done with him, and this company! Or was he? He didn't know for sure. How could he trust someone who wouldn't even inform him that he used to fuck his ex? And for over 300 years no less?! Where was the Bro-Code when he needed it? Slowly he got up, and, in his sweats, followed Chris and Salzar down to a black SUV. Though dazed from the fluorescent lights and his pounding headache, Jonah could make out two figures in the car. Immediately he knew who they were; Henry and, of course, Darien.
"Well, let's get in and go!" Salzar said, his demeanor changing.
Jonah looked at him confused, "You're... oddly relaxed for someone going to meet whatever these people are."
"Heh. I've done this before, kid," he said fluffing Jonah's hair, "It's not that bad. And their people. Just like me and you."
Somehow Jonah didn't buy Salzar's calm and optimistic point of view. It was like his brain switched. He was calm. Too damn calm for anyone's liking. He couldn't do this. He wanted to run, but he wasn't fast enough. He could fight, but these were his friends; his crew. If he was going to face the Devils' inferno, he might as well face it on his own terms.
"Alright," he said opening the door, and getting in the back.
Darien was in the front passenger seat on the phone, Jonah, Chris, and Salzar sat in back, and Henry was driving. They closed the doors, buckled, and Henry was off. In twelve hours, they'd be in Greece. Well, no going back now, he thought. We're ass deep now.
"Den boró," Darien said softly, but with aggression, "Min me kánei. Den tha! Écho ti dikí mou zoí!"
Though he couldn't understand what was being said, he knew one thing; trouble was on its way. What kind? He didn't know. He could only hope he would be able to hinder it. Gradually, he subsequently drifted off into slumber.