Chapter 9
Somehow Misha managed to smuggle us aboard a cargo plane.
On the one hand, at least we didn’t find ourselves crammed amongst luggage on a commercial flight.
However, travelling amidst boxes and pallets of packages heading overseas didn’t win by much.
For one, no seats meant I plopped my ass on my duffel to cushion my cheeks.
Second, no snacks or beverages. Misha’s offer of a protein bar got him a dirty look—for the first few hours of the flight.
By the fifth, I swallowed my pride—and ignored my taste buds—to feed my hungry belly.
The tepid water he offered to wash it down?
Definitely not as tasty as the vodka I’d left at home.
And we won’t discuss my ignoble squat behind a stack where I almost ended up with a pee-coated foot because the plane chose that very moment to bank slightly.
Thank fuck I didn’t have to do a number two.
As for the onboard entertainment? I took my mood out on Misha, whom I pestered with questions. I started with the basics.
“Who exactly are you? And don’t say just Misha.
What’s your full name? Where are you from?
Who are your people?” He’d mentioned them a few times, along with some mysterious hints at some elders.
“How did you know I had the necklace? Who’s after it?
What do you know of the spirit that hijacked my body? Why did the voice choose me?”
Misha blinked.
“Well?”
“The elders will have replies to your queries.”
“Oh no you don’t. I am not waiting that long. I want to know what the heck I got dragged into.”
Misha’s lips flattened. “As you Americans are fond of saying, it’s complicated.”
“And it is apparently my problem, so I think I deserve some kind of explanation. Let’s start with something simple. Who are you?”
“Misha.” I stared at him until he added, “Misha Titov, son of Marja and Pietro. I have three brothers, no sisters, and my grandmother, Dasha, is one of the elders I’m taking you to see.”
“Was that so hard?” I smile sweetly at his constipated expression. “I’m Florence Girard, but my friends call me Flo. Since we’re not friends, you can call me Oh Mighty Guardian of the Spirit.” Not even a hint of a smile cracked his stony expression. “You’re Russian,” I stated next.
“Yes.”
“From what part?”
“Not a place indicated on any map.”
My brow arched. “In this day and age, that seems unlikely.”
“It hasn’t been easy for my home to remain hidden, especially given how quickly technology has been evolving.”
“And you’re how old?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Curiosity. I’m thirty-seven. Your turn.”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he muttered.
“Try me.”
He looked me straight in the eye, and this time a hint of a smile hovered as he said, “Ninety-three.”
I blinked. Studied him, noted his masculine features, his lack of wrinkles. I’d have pegged him in his late thirties, forties at most. “Damn. I need to know your secret.”
Cedric spilled it. “He’s not human.”
I recoiled. “Fuck off.”
The mighty scowl on Misha’s face indicated his displeasure at the cat outing him. “The dryad is telling the truth. My people aren’t originally from this dimension.”
The term dimension, one I’d recently learned about because of Charlie opening that door to Infernal, had me blurting out, “What dimension do you come from? Ever heard of Infernal? Me and bestie and Cedric here recently met some Shadow Elves who came from there.”
His brows knitted together. “What do you know of the Umbradriad?” Ooh, he knew their formal name.
“Not a ton, despite the fact my bestie married one of their princes.”
He stood and paced, not very well I should add given we only had limited space. “The demon incursion in Ottawa a short while back, you were involved.” Stated, not asked.
“You could say that.” I then offered an abbreviated version of what had happened.
Two drunk and stoned women playing with an old spell book, opening a doorway to another world, accidentally allowing entry to demons, and a pair of elf princes, one of which hunted the other.
How Charlie ended up in Infernal, defeating the bad elf, meeting her father, returning to Earth, and then getting roped into being queen with her hot pointy-eared babe.
When I finished, Misha stared at me but said nothing, so I directly asked, “Are you from Infernal or some other dimension?”
His lips pursed. “Infernal originally, but in the eons since we departed, my people tried settling on many worlds before choosing Earth.”
“Why Earth?”
“Because it proved the most hospitable for my people.”
“If it’s so friendly, why is your home hidden?”
“Humans.” A single word answer that actually covered a wealth of reasons.
“They hunted you?”
“What do you think?” his sarcastic riposte.
“Since you’re from Infernal, does that mean you’re a shadow elf? Cause you don’t look like one. Wrong skin tone for one.” He lacked the grayish pallor of Ulseere and Gryvak and lacked the ebony locks.
“I am not an Umbradriad,” he muttered before sitting down hard.
So much for me finding my own dark prince. “Then what are you?”
“Light elf, or as they call themselves, Luxalis.” Cedric might have his eyes closed as if he slept, but he apparently listened.
“Quiet, dryad,” Misha snapped.
“She would have figured it out soon enough,” Cedric drawled. “Your pointy ears are bound to show eventually.”
My brows lifted. “Are they really pointy? Can I see?”
“No.”
Given he looked constipated with irritation, I didn’t press the point and chose to switch subjects. “The butterfly necklace. You claimed it was stolen.”
“Not the jewelry itself but rather what it contained.”
“The spirit thing.”
A simple nod was my reply.
“How did it end up in the necklace?”
“Through vile perfidy. Someone we sheltered betrayed us, and before we realized their intent, they’d stolen Anivivi, the soul of my people.”
“Yikes. That sucks. No wonder Papillon kept herself hidden. She didn’t want you finding her and taking it back.”
He shook his head. “She was not the betrayer.”
“She had the necklace.”
His tone held a hint of irony as he explained, “Papillon stole it from the betrayer. His rage at her actions was delicious.”
“How did you find out she took it?”
“Because during a confrontation with the betrayer, he let it slip. Knowing it was no longer under his protection, we spent decades seeking it, but it wasn’t until a few days ago that we finally sensed its presence.”
“When I bought it,” I mused aloud.
“It wasn’t the purchase that made it visible but it’s emergence from behind whatever shield hid its magical signature.”
“The box lined in argencae inside a house also protected by it,” murmured Cedric, his words barely heard over the rumble of the plane engines.
A light bulb went off. “Papillon made her house into a faraday-type box to block that monster from finding it.” Another thought hit me. “You mentioned when at the house that you were flying in for the auction. How did you know about it?”
“Several days ago, when the necklace was removed from its shielded box, it emitted a beacon if you will, an SOS. Several of my people, myself included, immediately scried for its exact location. Upon locating it, I began my journey while, at the same time, searching for any information available, which is how I discovered it would be for sale.”
“But then arrived too late to buy it.” My lips pinched. “Did you burn down Papillon’s house?”
“No. Why would I destroy a place that might have held a clue? I arrived to find it a smoldering husk. I had planned to question the person who’d held the sale. However, when you removed the necklace from its containment, I was able to track it down at your home.”
As had the monster.
“I take it the spirit is still emitting a signal?”
“Yes.”
Some turbulence had me hugging my knees. “Can the pernicae attack us while we’re in the air?”
“Doubtful.”
“Um, I think you meant to say no, Flo, it most definitely can’t,” I riposted.
Misha rolled those wide shoulders. “I’m not sure what it’s capable of.”
“It can fly.”
“Yes, but whether or not it can reach this altitude or match this speed…” Misha again shrugged.
“Have you tangled with it before?”
“Not this version; however, we are familiar with constructs, the name we use for beings that solely created from magic. Although, usually, they are brought into existence for more benign purposes.”
“Such as?”
“Protection. Farming.” He shrugged. “My people are few, so constructs, which are also sometimes called golems, are used to help with tasks.”
“Which means you light elves can do magic.”
“Yes, but without Anivivi, our power is weakened.” His lips flattened. “I have told you enough. Too much even. I would suggest you get some sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us once we land.”
“Land where?”
“London,” he said on a sigh as he slunk down to pillow his head on his rucksack.
“London as in England?” I clapped my hands. “Ooh, are we going to see Buckingham Palace and Big Ben and that famous bridge?”
“No.”
Figured my first time over the big pond—AKA the Atlantic Ocean—and it would be work, work, work. Assuming I stuck with Misha.
How did I know he was the good guy? Sure, he didn’t have great big claws like the pernicae, but he’d not exactly been nice since we met.
Heck, he’d tried to steal the necklace from me.
He’d not hidden his displeasure that the spirit inside chose me as its vessel.
For all I knew, he planned to get me somewhere he could stake me out as a sacrifice to steal it!
Did he have my best interests at heart? What made me think I could trust him?
I glanced at the snoozing Cedric and wondered how we could have a private convo about my doubts.
I trusted the cat. He might not like me, but I also didn’t think he’d see me come to harm.
After all, the last time I had my butterfly nightmare, he’d been the one to nudge me awake—Flo, stop your caterwauling. You’re disrupting my sleep.
Somehow, someway, I’d have a talk with Cedric and if he thought any of my doubts valid, then bye-bye Misha.
I didn’t need him to get to Russia—assuming I should even be going.
I could travel on my own. I didn’t have a passport, but I had great boobs and an ability to turn on the waterworks at will.
Worked great that time the cop pulled me over for speeding.
I’d play the poor innocent tourist who’d been robbed. Or the flirtatious vixen who would make them think she’d put out. Or I’d be sneaky. With all the trains crisscrossing Europe, surely, I could find one to hop. Ride the rails like a hobo. A locomotive vixen with a quest.
I wished I had a pen and paper so I could make note of that awesome phrase for the book I, one day, planned to write.
Eventually, I fell asleep, lulled by the noise of the engines, tired from the day’s events.
For once, I didn’t dream of butterflies but of a man with pointy ears peeking through his platinum hair, his hands on the waistband of his pants about to reveal—
Nothing because I suddenly got woken by Misha barking, “Rise and shine, Beavertail. We have company.”