My Gulfstream had been redesigned twice.
The first time was for international diplomacy.
The second was for Lucien.
The diplomacy renovation had included encrypted communications, missile countermeasures, and an Italian espresso system worth more than most cars.
Lucien's renovation included humidity-controlled crystal storage and something Blaze referred to as "emotional airflow."
Oddly enough, the second renovation was significantly more expensive.
By the time we reached the runway, the situation had escalated beyond conventional logic.
Three wellness specialists were already onboard.
One of them had a doctorate.
Unfortunately, it was in vibrational anthropology.
"Absolutely not," Blaze snapped the moment he entered the cabin. "The lighting is too confrontational."
The cabin lights immediately dimmed to what I could only describe as haunted lavender.
Lucien whimpered softly from where he was curled beneath a cashmere blanket on the therapeutic recovery sofa.
I crossed the cabin immediately.
"How is he?"
Blaze checked Lucien's pulse dramatically despite there being no medical reason to do so.
"He's stable," he said grimly. "But spiritually febrile."
Saturn, barefoot as always, stood near the window staring into the darkness outside.
"The ocean knows," he murmured.
I had stopped asking follow-up questions about Saturn months ago.
It was better for everyone.
Marianne entered the cabin holding three tablets and the expression of a woman one inconvenience away from federal prison.
"The Hakone staff have prepared the mineral baths," she informed me. "The Kyoto healer can meet us by sunrise."
"Good."
She hesitated.
"The astrologist is refusing to board until the plane is saged again."
Blaze looked horrified.
"It wasn't saged after Zurich?"
"It was," Marianne replied flatly. "But apparently the Zurich energy lingered in the upholstery."
"Dear God," Blaze whispered.
I loosened my tie slowly.
"Burn whatever needs to be burned."
Marianne nodded without emotion and disappeared toward the rear cabin.
This was my life now.
Six months ago I negotiated billion-dollar acquisitions before breakfast.
Now I was authorizing emergency aircraft exorcisms over the Pacific.
Love is humiliating.
The jet doors sealed shut behind us.
Immediately, one of the healers rang a ceremonial bell.
Another began spraying something called moonwater into the air.
"Wait," Saturn said suddenly.
The entire cabin froze.
He turned slowly toward Lucien.
"No..."
Blaze stiffened. "What?"
Saturn removed his sunglasses.
Which terrified everyone.
"He can't sit facing north."
A collective gasp swept through the cabin.
Lucien blinked weakly from beneath the blanket.
"I can feel the magnetic hostility..."
"Turn the plane," Blaze ordered immediately.
I stared at him.
"That is not how planes work."
"The earth's energetic grid doesn't care about FAA regulations, Adrian."
Honestly, fair enough.
Within seconds, the cabin descended into chaos.
One healer was crying quietly near the juice bar.
Another was repositioning crystals around Lucien like a medically unstable pharaoh.
Saturn paced barefoot across the aisle muttering about lunar interference.
Meanwhile, Lucien looked devastatingly beautiful while slowly disintegrating emotionally against six imported alpaca pillows.
I crouched beside him carefully.
His eyes looked glassy.
Tired.
"Hey," I said softly.
Lucien looked up at me weakly.
"The plane feels emotionally sharp."
I immediately looked toward Marianne.
"Can planes be emotionally sharp?"
"Apparently this one can, sir."
"Fix it."
Without hesitation, Marianne picked up the satellite phone.
"Yes, hello," she said into it blankly. "We're going to need the onboard sound therapist awakened immediately."
There was a pause.
"No, this is not optional. Mr. Vale says the cabin feels psychologically beveled."
Another pause.
"Yes, I know that sentence is insane."
Blaze suddenly turned toward me with widening eyes.
"Oh my God."
My stomach dropped instantly.
"What now?"
"The cashmere."
I looked down at the blanket covering Lucien.
"What about it?"
"It's ethically sourced from northern Italy."
"Yes?"
"Lucien's energy only responds to Peruvian alpaca during eclipse season."
The entire cabin went silent.
Even the engines suddenly sounded nervous.
Lucien made a tiny distressed sound.
"I feel synthetic..."
"Get me alpaca," I ordered immediately.
Marianne was already typing.
"We have emergency reserves in the lower cabin."
Of course we did.
Ten minutes later, Lucien had been transferred into what Blaze referred to as "a recovery nest."
The nest consisted of:
- twelve alpaca blankets
- heated mineral stones
- two humidifiers
- a salt lamp secured with aviation straps
- and a woman softly playing crystal bowls beside the champagne bar
I stood nearby watching all of this happen with the detached exhaustion of a man losing his grip on objective reality.
Then Lucien reached for my hand.
Immediately, the room quieted.
His fingers curled weakly around mine.
"Adrian?"
"Yes?"
"You'd tell me if I was becoming spiritually commercialized, right?"
Something in my chest physically hurt.
"Lucien," I said firmly, "I would never let that happen to you."
Blaze turned away emotionally.
Saturn whispered, "That's beautiful."
The healer near the crystal bowls openly sobbed.
Then the turbulence hit.
The plane lurched violently.
Several crystals rolled off a tray.
Someone screamed.
The cabin lights flickered ominously.
Saturn went completely pale.
"No," he whispered.
Blaze grabbed the armrest.
"What is it?"
Saturn looked toward the cockpit with pure horror.
"We've entered a low-vibrational air current."
Every single person in the cabin began talking at once.
Lucien clutched my hand tighter.
"I don't wanna lose my whimsy over international waters..."
"You won't," I promised immediately.
Even if I had to reroute the fucking jet around bad vibes myself.