The Angriest Angel

Chapter 4

Despite the restaurant manager's agreement, Nathan still had doubts.  There were many moving parts, and the chance of something going wrong increased every time he added more complexity. 

But it had to be just right. 

It had been three days since the Conventus and he still had not proposed marriage to Avery.  Each and every time he set things in motion, something came up to thwart him.  The two of them were busier than ever before, executing Lafaye's plans to increase their standing and to ensure the Caelan's constantly changing agenda.  Work which Nathan normally delegated to others now had to be done by himself, as many of his people had their own orders, and many had tasks organizing and preparing for the iratus consilium—the counsel on dealing with the anger problem.  The counsel was still several days out, but the reports would not write themselves.

Tonight is the night. 

A wave of nervousness washed over Nathan as he imagined Avery's reaction.  He had been in love with Avery long before she was aware, and tonight—if she agreed—she would make him the happiest man on this planet.

He wasn't exactly sure that she would say 'yes.'  There were times he felt as if their relationship were strained, but he attributed that to the burdens associated with their bizarre life here.  It was custom to choose either an earth wedding or a Caelus wedding, but more often than not Caelan couples getting married on earth preferred this planet's marriage protocols.  It made blending in easier and in many ways was more enjoyable.

He turned his attention back to the restaurant manager, "Everything must be perfect this evening."

"I understand, sir," the manager responded.

Nathan was bothered by his response.  He wasn't asking questions or clarifying details—it seemed as if he didn't care or realize how important this was.

Knowing it was wrong, and that it shouldn't be used like this, Nathan opened his psy.  Using the ability that every Caelan had, he tapped into the electrical field produced by his brain—specifically, the beta waves.  He directed its flow toward the middle aged man with the receding hairline standing before him.

Mollire, it was called on Caelus.  Soften, in indigena tongue. 

And that's exactly what the man's expression became, soft.  The pleasure centers in his brain became simulated just enough to open him to the power of suggestion.

"I want the flowers in place by 7pm," Nathan commanded.

"Of course, sir!" the manager's eyes were now wide open.  "Is there a particular arrangement you'd prefer?"

"No, I trust your judgment," Nathan said, maintaining the mollire as he spoke. "Just remember that I am relying on you."

"Yes sir, of course!"

"I would like the violinists ready to go on my signal," he continued.  "Then, when I take a knee, I want them to stop playing and to pay full attention to my words.  I want all of the focus on her when I ask the question."

The man nodded emphatically.

"Have your waiters pass the word, discreetly, to the other patrons.  Make sure that they know a man is proposing tonight.  People enjoy that sort of thing.  They can share in our happiness."

"An excellent idea!  And may I also suggest a bottle of our finest champagne, so that everyone can share in a toast to the happy couple?"

Nathan paused as he considered the idea.

"On the house of course," the manager insisted, misinterpreting the hesitation.

Nathan began to feel guilty.  He dropped his psy, releasing his hold on the man.