Broken Prophecies, Part 2

Thunder patted Sam on the shoulder while giving him the once-over. “He does have trouble written all over him, doesn’t he?”

“I’d say,” Maeve agreed, although her words carried less bite than earlier. “Alright, get your well-toned butts into my home before all hell breaks loose… and it will.”

She stepped aside and ushered them inside, but then sighed heavily as Sam passed her by.

“That was an antique,” she said.

“What?” Sam asked.

He turned to look at her and accidentally brushed his arm against the porcelain vase that was on the display table in the mansion’s foyer. He barely had time to turn around again before the vase fell onto the hardwood floor with a resounding crash.

“That,” Maeve said with emphasis, “was an antique.”

After giving Sam a knowing look that he correctly guessed meant she knew that he was going to break her vase, Maeve stepped over the broken pieces of porcelain and led the way into the next room.