Chapter 10
A few things hit me as I blinked the sleep from my eyes. One, Misha wore a shirt and wasn’t about to reveal what hid inside his pants. Two, according to the pressure in my ears, the plane descended, and finally, “Can you repeat that?” because, surely, I’d misunderstood.
“I said we have company, Beavertail.”
Apparently, I’d not imagined the rude nickname, and it took precedence. “Beavertail? Seriously? What’s wrong with using my name? Florence, or if that’s too hard to remember, seeing as how your height is impeding the ability for your brain to receive blood, Flo.”
“Flow makes me think of a river.”
“Which is better than an ugly flat paddle-shaped tail on a smelly, animal with buck teeth.”
“Beavers are your national mascot,” he pointed out.
“Find something else because I don’t like it,” I huffed.
“Don’t care. Now as I said, Beavertail, we have company.”
“How is that possible. We’re still in the air.”
“Have you already forgotten the pernicae?”
“What makes you think it found us? There aren’t exactly any windows to see.” I waved a hand at the sealed compartment.
Thunk.
The impact of something hitting the plane would have been daunting on its own. The fact I could see a dent where it hit? Good thing I’d barely had anything to drink or I might have pissed my pants.
“Oh shit.” I gulped.
A grim-faced Misha pulled his gun.
I scrambled to my feet. “Hold on. You can’t shoot that thing in here. One hole and you’ll depressurize the whole cargo area.”
“Flo’s right,” Cedric stated, standing and stretching atop the pallet where he’d been napping.
“This is for when the pernicae manages to tear through the fuselage.”
“Surely it can’t—”
Scree. The horrifying sound of claws dragging across metal had me swallowing my words. Of course, the freaking monster could peel the plane open like a can of sardines.
“Tuck somewhere out of my way,” Misha ordered, staring upward, waiting for the first rip to appear.
Easier said than done. The crowed space didn’t allow for much movement, but I didn’t let that stop me from finding a very cramped spot, made tighter when Cedric joined me.
I waited for the beast to rake its claws again. Instead, the deafening roar I’d gotten used to diminished and the plane wobbled, leading Cedric to mutter, “It’s taken out an engine.”
“It’s trying to make us crash?” I squeaked. “I thought Misha said it wanted to take me to its master.”
“He never said it had to be alive. Could be it just needs your body,” said the very unhelpful Cedric.
The plane rocked and dipped as the pilots struggled to keep it aloft with the loss of an engine.
Make that no engine. The sudden silence had me praying, “Dear Lord, I know we haven’t spoken much since high school when you didn’t let me pass grade twelve math, forcing me to go to summer school instead of graduating with my peeps, but I kind of really need your help right now.
Please help me to walk away from this crash.
Don’t let me die without having one more Big Mac meal with a Diet Coke and a large fry.
Wait, make that a regular Coke with all the sugar.
I can’t croak now. Look at what I’m wearing!
” My travel outfit meant for comfort, not cuteness, couldn’t be the thing I died in.
I refused to end up as one of those ghosts caught for eternity in the ugliest outfit ever.
“What kind of prayer is that?” Cedric exclaimed.
“An honest one. Unlike most folks, I’m not gonna pretend to want or be something I’m not with God. Like, hello, he sees and knows everything,” I reminded with a roll of my eyes.
Scree. Whoosh.
Cedric didn’t reply since we both focused on the rip in the fuselage that sucked the air from the cargo space. Utterly terrifying, and you know what made it even worse? A claw appeared in the crack and pulled, widening it enough we could see blue sky.
Bang. Bang.
The loud cracking deafened as Misha fired the gun. I clapped my hands to my ears, not that it helped much with the ringing. The talon retracted, but thumping overhead indicated the pernicae hadn’t left.
Misha reloaded his weapon, and I yelled, “Shouldn’t you be more worried about the fact we’re crashing than making sure you have more bullets?”
He glanced at me. “I can’t fly a plane. Can you?”
No. I couldn’t. “So what are we supposed to do?”
“Fucked if I know,” his very North American expression actually the perfect thing for him to say even if it emerged with a Russian accent.
The pernicae pulled at the hole it made and shoved its head inside.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The sight of it dissolving into mist should have made me happy. However the fact shit had begun to slide in the compartment because we arrowed to the ground had me freaking.
“We’re gonna die!” I shrieked.
“Then do something,” Misha yelled back.
“Like what? I don’t have fucking wings. Oh my god.
I should have never left home. Wait, make that I should have never gone to the auction.
Those damned butterflies were my warning.
No wonder they gave me nightmares. They led to this.
” I hyperventilated, in full-blown panic until a cat began slapping me with his furry paws.
“Get a hold of yourself,” Cedric hissed.
“No!” If ever there was a time to freak out, this was it.
“We don’t have to die. Use the magic.”
“You use your magic.”
“Mine isn’t strong enough to make a difference,” Cedric huffed.
And I had no idea how to use mine. What if I tried and made things worse?
Worse than crashing into the ground?
I glanced at Misha. “Is there a spell I can use that doesn’t need ingredients?”
“Luxalis magic isn’t like the human version. It has no need of spells, as the caster shapes their intent with whatever magic they contain.”
“That’s not helpful. Tell me what to do.”
He shrugged. “I wish I could. However, I haven’t the slightest idea what you might be capable of, or if you can even tap the power of the Anivivi.”
My lips pursed. I knew I had only seconds to figure it out. I thought of Charlie, who’d explained she simply had to imagine what she wanted to make it happen, which sounded exactly like what Misha just explained. Could it be that simple?
I squeezed my eyes shut and thought of the plane, and the fact I didn’t want it to fall.
Nothing happened, likely because my request meant halting gravity.
Totally not feasible. What if I imagined the engines working?
Could magic repair machines? Again, probably not.
If only the wings weren’t affixed and could flap.
Flap up and down, keeping us aloft or at least slowing our descent.
What I wouldn’t give to have working giant wings. Great big ones. Something to balance the weight of the airplane. Wings with enough surface area to displace the air and counter gravity.
For some reason, I pictured a giant metal butterfly in the sky.
Before I could snicker at the ridiculousness of it, my body turned cold, my head filled with cotton, and I passed out.