Chapter 27
Taryn
It took a few more days than we expected, but we finally have the ingredients for the next ritual: The Ritual of Water.
According to the book, I can turn any liquid to water.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this.
I could do something easy, like a bottle of liquor or a jar of honey. Ritual done. Box two checked.
But Ingrid said the ritual we did in the cave didn’t create any kind of magic that would attract Witch Hunters, much less anything worse.
If there’s no danger, I’d like to do something useful with the power.
I can only cast these rituals once, because the Ritual of Sunlight was gone the next time I opened the book. It’s just a blank page now.
“Have you finally decided?” Victor asks, nuzzling my neck while I continue to look through options on my phone.
“I think so,” I say, showing him a picture. “I can turn any liquid to water, right? What about oil? There was a spill near Alaska a few months ago. It’s an ecological disaster.”
“It would probably work if it makes contact with the oil, like the ritual says,” he answers. “But something like that could attract attention. Not Witch Hunters; I’m talking about the government.”
“Only if they know we did it,” I reply. “Do you think Saul or Ingrid could help us find a way to do it without anyone knowing?”
“I’ll talk to them,” he runs his hand down the length of my spine, pulling away. “But if there’s any risk, we need to find something a lot safer.”
This may be too adventurous, too bold, but it could also help right a wrong.
I’m not sure how much power I actually have.
I didn’t summon the sun, just a faint glow.
I may turn a puddle of oil into water, and it will have no significant impact at all, but I don’t see the harm in trying.
Mother Nature turned tar into water and created the oceans.
Maybe this ritual can help preserve what she created.
Victor is on the phone for nearly an hour before he returns with a plan. We’ll do the ritual on a helicopter, dump it as close to the oil spill as we can safely manage, and get the fuck out. It’s a simple plan, but it sounds like it will work.
“When can we do it?” I ask, sitting up on the bed.
“Saul is finding us a helicopter. One we can buy with no paper trail,” he answers. “It’ll be waiting for us when we land.”
“Land?” I raise a brow. “Oh, I guess it makes more sense to fly. I’ve never been on a plane before… or a helicopter.”
“Guess you’re trying all sorts of new things these days,” he growls playfully, kissing my neck and pulling me off the bed. He spins me around and slaps my ass. “Get dressed. It’s not a commercial flight. We’re taking a private jet, and it’ll be ready to go shortly.”
“What’s the difference?” I ask, rubbing my ass as I walk over and open the closet.
“A jet will get us there faster with fewer hassles,” he grins, looking a little bit proud of himself.
I feel like there should be more to it than that but getting there faster seems like a good enough reason to travel by private jet.
After we get dressed and gather our things, we head downstairs.
Victor opens my door and I climb into the Land Rover.
Instead of slamming the door like usual, he puts my seat belt on and feels me up quite a lot in the process.
So much that I’m giggling and trying to push him away when he finally stops.
“We have important work to do,” I laugh, nudging him with my hand. “We don’t have time to play right now.”
“That’s what you think,” he chuckles, closing my door.
Covington doesn’t have a major airport, but we do have a smaller one that people around here love because they get to skip the lines at the bigger airports.
I don’t even have to worry about that. When we get to the airport, Victor drives past the terminal and the parking area, pulling the SUV into what appears to be a private hanger.
“Saul has his own hanger?” I ask.
“No, but he does have his own jet, and when you have your own jet, you can usually find a hanger to rent,” Victor explains. “The hanger and the jet are ours to use as long as we need them.”
“Wow, okay,” I breathe incredulously, my eyes widening when I see the jet.
Saul’s private jet doesn’t look much different from a commercial plane, except it’s smaller.
“Are these jets as safe as the bigger planes?” I ask apprehensively.
“I’m flying it, so you don’t have to worry about a damn thing,” Victor says confidently, parking the Land Rover.
“Oh, you’re a pilot?” I ask, raising a brow.
“I’m a lot of things,” he quips, opening the door and getting out.
I keep learning new things about Victor every day.
I had no idea he was a pilot, but I feel a little safer knowing he’ll be the one flying the jet.
I know how much he wants to keep me safe, so he won’t let anything happen to us.
That still doesn’t completely ease the butterflies, but I feel a little better when he opens my door and helps me out.
The jet has a sleek, white exterior. There are some windows, but they’re too dark for me to see inside.
The ramp is already down, and I don’t see anyone in the hanger at all.
I keep looking around for someone as we approach, expecting at least a flight attendant, even if Victor is the one piloting it.
“It’s just us? Nobody else?” I ask.
“We don’t need anyone else,” he says. “Just clearance from the control tower before we take off.”
I follow him onto the plane, and if the exterior wasn’t enough to convince me it was a luxury private jet, the interior definitely does.
There aren’t many seats. I only count six rows, and the rest is open space.
Then I remember my mate is a wolf shifter, and this jet belongs to one, so it’s likely designed for their comfort.
“Why don’t you ride up front with me until we’re in the air,” Victor says, gesturing toward the cockpit. “You can be my co-pilot.”
“I’ll be a useless co-pilot,” I laugh, walking toward the front of the jet.
“You’ll be a beautiful one,” he chuckles, smacking my ass before I can get past him.
Once we’re seated, he shows me how to use the headphones and explains a few basic controls.
It might as well be a cipher, because even with his explanation, I’m not sure what much of it means.
Thankfully, that doesn’t seem to matter, because I’m still looking over everything when the plane begins to move.
“Oh crap,” I say, putting my hand out to brace myself.
“Relax, we’re not even in the air yet,” he laughs.
My stomach flips uncomfortably as we move across the tarmac.
He communicates with the control tower until we get clearance and then the jet really starts to accelerate.
The motion makes me more nervous, especially when the nose lifts and we take off.
The higher we get, the more nervous I feel.
I finally have to close my eyes, just so I don’t feel so queasy.
“Are you doing okay?” Victor asks, his voice echoing in my ears.
I adjust the microphone. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just waiting for my stomach to settle.”
“Look at it like this: we’ll soon be so high up you won’t feel a damn thing if we crash,” he snarks.
“Oh, thanks. That makes me feel so much better,” I mutter, daring to crack an eyelid once my stomach settles.
I see enough to make my stomach uneasy again, but I can’t deny it’s beautiful.
The landscape stretches for miles, and I can see the entire city of Covington.
I could probably pick out Shana’s house, Madison’s house, and even my grandmother’s house from here.
I definitely know where the diner and penthouse are, just based on the layout of the streets.
I guess I know the city I grew up in better than I realized.
“Okay, this isn’t so bad,” I admit, looking around. “Everything looks so peaceful from up here.”
“Yeah, I’ve never minded flying,” he growls. “I just prefer to keep all four paws on the ground when I can.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t pick a better location for the ritual,” I say. “This just seemed like the one that would make the biggest impact.”
“If it doesn’t work the way we hope, at least we get to spend some time together,” he answers, hitting a button and standing up.
“Wait where are you going!?” I ask nervously.
“Auto-pilot is engaged. We don’t have to sit up here the entire time. I’m going to have a drink,” he says, opening the cockpit door.
“I guess you can’t exactly get pulled over for drinking and flying,” I say, standing up as well. “And since I can’t actually fly this jet, I think I’ll have a drink as well.”
“I told them to make sure there was vodka and cranberry juice,” he says as I follow him to the main part of the jet.
“Aw, thank you.” I can’t help smiling because it means he thought of me. I’m still getting used to having someone who thinks about what I may need or want. “I probably should have downed a few before we took off.”
“It’s going to take six or seven hours to get there, so I don’t think you’re going to regret not starting soon enough,” he chuckles. “Just don’t have so many you can’t do the ritual.”
“Everything is already in the bowl. All I have to do is light it on fire, add a drop of blood, and pour it into the ocean,” I say, glancing over at his backpack. “That should be pretty simple. The rituals are easier than the spell my friends and I cast.”
“Why is that?” he asks, walking to the mini bar where he begins making our drinks.
“It’s just mixing ingredients together and following the instructions,” I say, shrugging slightly and taking my cranberry vodka when he offers it. “I don’t even have to say any magic words or anything.”
“Probably because you’re the magic,” he speculates. “It’s in your blood, like the wolf is in mine.”
“I guess so,” I sigh.