Chapter 9 Erryn
ERRYN
Helena practically herded me toward the gate as soon as it flashed open on the lounge screen, and we slipped through priority boarding to our seats in first class in the near-empty plane.
“This is a bit fancy.” Helena snorted as she plopped down into the cubicle across from mine, the divider rolling down a second later.
I sighed and rolled it back up again, settling myself into the comfort of the roomy chair with my eyes closed, until I heard the divider roll down again.
“Rossi. I do not need supervision on the plane.”
“You never know,” she muttered, and I could hear her tinkering with every button and lever she could reach.
“Ohhh it has a little table!” There was a rustle. “And—” There was a gasp. “Slippers?! Is this for if my feet need some added luxury for the next hour?”
I ignored her, eyeing the earplugs longingly as she chattered to herself.
I had no idea what I was walking into in Paris, but it was a good opportunity to see exactly how Boucher was running his faction.
At sixty with a heart that had decided to give in, it was only a matter of time before his successor took full control, and I wanted to see who this person was and if I needed to intervene before we got to that stage.
The fact that he chose one of our worst moments to have a heart attack was just a cherry on the huge shit cake this was turning into.
One Chair going under the knife any minute. One in a safehouse, and one under full-time guard in a situation where moral lines were becoming greyer by the day. The Triarchy felt like it was in a tenuous position, and I needed to know the Parisian faction was in capable hands.
The plane started to taxi, and I listened to the hum of the engines as we moved into position, turning my head to gaze out the window as the world began to pass by faster and faster until we took off.
Helena had gone silent, and I seized the opportunity to close my eyes and rest. The plane dipped with turbulence after a couple of minutes, and I cracked an eye.
There was an inrush of breath across the partition, but nothing more as the plane settled into its climb, and the speaker above us crackled once before the pilot’s drawling voice filled the space.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We’re expecting some moderate to heavy turbulence.
For your safety, please ensure your seatbelts are fastened and remain seated until the seatbelt sign has been switched off.
Unfortunately, Wi-Fi will not be available on today’s flight.
Once it’s safe to do so, our cabin crew will be coming through with light refreshments. ”
I swore under my breath, dropping my phone into my handbag next to me. I had hoped to catch up on a few emails, but that would have to wait. The plane lurched and shuddered, and there was a distant yelp from back in economy that made me chuckle softly.
“I’d like you to liaise with the agents where possible and get a general sense of the climate within the Parisian faction,” I said, keeping my voice low enough that only Helena could hear. “They’ll be less guarded with you.”
There was silence as the plane dipped and steadied again, and then faintly, “Yes.”
I frowned and leaned forward slightly to see her through the partition. Helena’s warm brown skin had gone alarmingly pale, and she had a death grip on each arm of her seat.
I raised a brow at her. “You didn’t think to mention you are a poor flyer? It’s just turbulence.”
She slid her gaze to mine, looking nauseated, and shook her head slightly. “I didn’t know I was.”
“You haven’t hit turbulence before?” I sighed.
“I haven’t flown before.”
The plane took that moment to drop what felt like six feet, my own stomach flipping at the suddenness of it, and Helena made a small sound and closed her eyes.
“You were born in France,” I said. “I’ve seen your file. And raised in Italy by your father until you were seventeen. How have you not flown?”
“I technically have once,” she replied, sounding nauseous. “But considering my mum had just died, I was only six and being shipped to a man I had never met, I had bigger issues to focus on.”
I gave her a dubious look. “And so how did you find yourself in London then?”
“Galley hand for a cruise ship,” she bit out, her eyes still closed.
Oh, for heaven’s sake.
“I have seen you scratch your nose on a loaded gun, Rossi,” I said quietly. “Turbulence is just changes in air pressure. It’s not dangerous.”
“Tell that to my nervous system,” she said, her voice tight. “At no point did I say this was rational. Why are these ridiculous cubicles so cramped?”
Fuck me, I did not have Helena having a panic attack on my daily bingo card.
I should have recognized the stream of nonsense coming out of her was from anxiety over the flight; I was usually more observant.
Reaching up, I switched on the air conditioning above her, angling the stream of cool air straight down.
“Helena, look at me.”
She did, though her fingers were clenched so hard to the armrests that her nails were turning white.
“There have been no recorded crashes caused by turbulence. It’s just pressure changes. These jets can withstand forces up to three times the gravity we feel on the ground. We’re experiencing minor bumps, that’s all.”
“Minor?” she asked, teeth clenched.
“I’ve had far worse,” I said, huffing softly.
That seemed to relax her a little, and her fingers lost their bloodless look as she took a somewhat shaky breath.
“Good girl, that’s better,” I murmured. “Take some deep breaths for me.”
She did without a sideways glance in my direction, even if I was mentally side-eyeing myself, but I had an agent who was of no use to me if she was in the fetal position on the floor.
A few minutes later, the seatbelt light blinked off with a dull bleep to announce we had passed through the turbulence, and the crew began moving around to prepare and distribute refreshments.
“Calmer?” I asked as the color slowly returned to her face with the long, slow breaths she was still taking.
“We don’t need to speak of this ever again,” she muttered, leaning back in her seat with her eyes closed and crossing herself.
“I didn’t realize you were religious,” I said dryly.
“Covering my bases,” she replied. “I’m working my way through the pantheon.”
I laughed, caught off guard. I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed spontaneously, so I masked my surprise by ordering myself a wine.
“For clarity,” Helena said, “if we die up here, I want it on record that I objected.”