pack. At first she worried that it was left
behind when she spotted it by the door,
on the other side of the plane.
Of course it would be way over
there. She cautiously stood and tottered
down the narrow aisle. She didn't get far
before Garren's moans grew louder and
more urgent.
“Is the wet cloth helping at all?”
she asked . If he pukes in here, I'll kill
him.
He didn't speak, but lightly shook
his head while swallowing hard.
Time was running out. She had
two choices: Run to the bag and hope
she didn't jar the plane, resulting in it
rolling out of the sky and crashing to the
earth below, or use magic to summon the
bag to her. The plane jostled and she
stumbled to her knees.
Magic it is, then. She crawled
back to Garren and resumed her seat.
Taking a couple deep breaths to center
herself, she tapped into the magic inside
her. Her gut felt like an active hive,
buzzing with life. She lifted her palm out
and sent the humming up through her arm
to her hand. Target in sight, she
commanded the bag to come to her, like
a vampire to an open vein. The bag
wiggled forward a few inches, but
stopped. Disappointment crept into her
heart.
“Man,” he whispered between
shallow breaths. “You really suck.”
Gritting
her
teeth,
she
concentrated harder, putting more intent
behind her magic and tried again. Sweat
beaded on her brow. The bag scooted
forward, a little at a time until finally it
was close enough for her to lean over
and grab.
“Yes!” she said as she ripped it
open. She rummaged through clothes and
toiletries until she found the bottle. It
was immediately shoved into his waiting
hand.
He gulped down a mouthful and
sighed. “Thanks.” Color returned to his
cheeks and his whole body sagged in
obvious relief. “Well, that was awful,”
he said.
“Tastes that bad, huh?” Serves
him right.
“No, I'm talking about you and
your magic. I've seen toddlers with
stronger control. Good thing the potion
didn't expire before you managed to give
it to me.”
“You're welcome.”
He glared at her before tilting his
head back against the wall. “You don't
practice, do you?”
She groaned as she pressed the
heels of her hands to her eyes. A lecture
was looming in the air. “Spare me.
Considering I've only been a witch for
just over a year, I'm doing fine.”
“What are you talking about?
You were born a witch. It's not like it's a
lifestyle choice.”
I wish it were. “Even so, I didn't
have any magical abilities until a year
ago. I don't know why or really care, so
back off.”
He sat up straight and pointed
right at her. She was tempted to break
his finger just to change the subject.
“You need to be able to protect
yourself out there, Ivy. I can't always be
around to save you. Since you're not
much of a physical threat against
Eradicators, or anyone else for that
matter, you need to be able to use your
magic
effectively.
You
need
to
practice.”
She bit her tongue to keep from
telling him where he could shove his
advice while incapacitating him with a
well-executed choke hold.
I'll show you a physical threat.
“Here,” he said as he searched
for something in his pack. He pulled out
a roll of socks and tossed it down the
aisle of the plane, next to the door. “Use
your magic to bring that back.”
Her anger spiked. “I don't fetch.”
Why did she think she could tolerate his
presence for more than one day? If he
didn't back off soon, she couldn't be
responsible for her actions.
“Don't be so touchy, just—”
to get away. Ignoring the puzzled
expression clouding his face, she
stumbled past him and through the door
she assumed led to the cockpit.
“I'm going to check on Thane.”
“We're not done talking about
this, Ivy,” he called out.
As far as she was concerned, the
topic was dead. She already knew she
needed to use her magic more, gain
better control. She didn't need to hear it
from him.
What she found when she entered
the cockpit knocked the wind right out of
her. Thane had the controls, struggling to
keep the plane level as it skipped along
the air like a rock on water. The captain
was asleep next to him.
“Captain Burgandy, wake up.
Please,” Thane pleaded.
How anyone could sleep through
this was beyond her. She stepped up and
punched the captain in his arm. “Wake
up, you old fool and fly the damn plane!”
He didn't move.
She gripped his shoulder and
shook. “Get. Up.”
The captain's head flopped over
to the side.
Uh oh.
“What's wrong? Why isn't he
waking up?” Thane's voice climbed an
octave as he spoke. He repeatedly
glanced between the sky in front of them
and the older man. His arms shook as he
worked to keep the plane level.
“I don't know. Is he diabetic or
something? Should we give him some
insulin?” She eyed his wrist for a
medical alert bracelet that might give
them a clue.
Nothing. The captain didn't even
have an emergency kit nearby.
“Is he even breathing?” Thane
asked.
She held her hand in front of his
face to feel his warm breath. Hesitantly,
she brought it closer until she was
almost touching his nose.
Nothing.
“Check his pulse,” he said after a
few moments.
“What?” She yanked her hand
away and wiped it on her hip. “You
check.”
“How am I supposed to do that
and fly the plane?”
She contemplated either touching
a possibly dead body or flying a
patched-up airplane thousands of feet in
the air. “You're right. Let me take over
the controls so you can check his pulse.”
“Ivy!”
“Fine.” She reached out her hand
to find his carotid artery but pulled it
back when she grazed the stubble on his
jaw.
E w . Two more atte
mpts were
made before she stepped back to take a
couple deep breaths.
“How do you expect to break
Prince Sebastian's curse if you can't
even touch Captain Burgandy?”
“Because Prince Sebastian's only
cursed, remember?” She narrowed her
eyes at the back of his head, daring him
to argue.
“Just do it, Ivy.”
Swallowing
down
her
discomfort, she placed two digits on the
side of the captain's throat. She shifted
her fingers a couple times in search of
any signs of pumping blood.
Nothing.
Poor guy.
“Well?” he said.
“He's dead.” Her voice was
hollow. Even as the words formed on
her tongue, she didn't want to believe
them.
“Are you sure? Check again.”
Her patience snapped. “I can
count to zero. He's dead. Gone. Shuffled
off his mortal coil. And if you even think
about asking me to kiss him, I'll punch
you in the face.”
Thane seemed properly cowed
as he turned away to concentrate on the
sky in front of them. Most of the clouds
drifted below as the afternoon sun
shined high above.
She sighed. At least he died
peacefully.
She reached over to gently pat
the old guy on the shoulder, but then
remembered he was dead and pulled her
hand back.
Wait. He's dead. Blood drained
from her face. He couldn't die. Not
while they were stuck thousands of feet
in the air. Fate had been giving her the
finger lately, but really? Killing the pilot
mid-flight was too much.
Don't panic. She wanted to
simultaneously cry, scream and laugh to
release the pressure building inside her
chest. Being incapacitated by fear—
even if she had every right to be under
the circumstances— would only make
things worse. They needed a plan. And
since Thane was all about research and
strategy, he should already be working
out the next course of action.
“Now what?” she asked.
Thane straightened up in his seat.
“I guess we continue on to Lynden
Airport. It's only... I've never landed a
plane before.”
She closed her eyes. “Of course,
you haven't.”
Don't panic.
“We'll worry about that later.
Right now, fly.” She sent up a little
prayer to God, Mohammad, Zeus—
whoever was in charge up there— that
they make it through this alive.
The weight of the last twenty-
four hours pressed down on her. It felt
like a two-ton dragon sat on her chest—
which was ironic considering where
they were flying— and her legs were
seconds from giving out. She needed to
sit.
“Ivy, I need you,” Garren yelled
from the middle of the plane.
She chuckled weakly. The world
must really be coming to an end for
Garren to admit such a thing. She made
her way back to see what crisis waited
for her now. Her hands trembled. She
clenched them into fists to keep Garren
from noticing.
“You rang?”
His
attention
fixated
on
something outside. “Get on the other gun.
We've got company.”
Loud, shrill squawks and deep
roars filled the sky. She immediately
jumped behind the other weapon. “All
right,” she said, putting her game face
on. “How do you work this thing?” I can
do this. Dragons couldn't be worse
than Mr. McGregor on a bender right
before a full moon, and I survived that.
She glanced outside to see the long drop
to the ocean below. She snapped her
head up and swallowed. Just don't look
down.
Garren quickly came up behind
her and gave her a ten second lesson on
machine gun operation. “Can you handle
it?”
She nodded. She swept the gun
back and forth, watching the sky. The
space was cramped so she tried to keep
herself as still as possible. “You might
want to know that Captain Burgandy's
dead.”
“What? Are you sure?” The
crack in his voice was almost her
undoing. She was depending on him to
be the commanding, egotistical asshole
who took charge of everything.
“Well, if he's not, then he can
sure hold his breath for a long time.”
He mumbled a few choice curses
before asking about his stepbrother.
“He's flying as best he can.”
She'd mention the landing later.
Two dark spots in the distant
clouds grew larger. Wings came into
focus. Her pulse quickened. She wiped
her sweaty palms on her pants and
gripped the handle tighter.
Loud pops from Garren's gun
echoed off the metal walls, startling the
crap out of her.
“Son of a bitch,” he said as he
fired a few more shots.
A scaly, green tail flew past
Garren's window, disappearing over the
plane. Her heart hammered against her
chest.
When she turned back to her
window, a huge green dragon stared at
her. Half the size of the plane, it flew a
few hundred yards away. Massive wings
flapped up and down. At the end of its
long neck was a three-horned head.
Smoke wafted out of its round nostrils.
But what froze her in place was a set of
glowing red eyes, peering out from
under thick brows. It caught her gaze and
held, as if hypnotizing her. Then, it
opened its giant maw and hurled a
stream of fire at her. She screamed and
ducked below the open window.
I am going to die.
When she peeked over the ledge
a few seconds later, heat hit her face.
Immediately, the bulky suit kicked in and
cooled her body, like jumping into a
cold lake on a hot day. Flames spread
across an invisible barrier surrounding
the plane.
Okay, maybe magic has its uses.
“Ivy, get up and shoot the damn
thing!”
“But the...” she pointed out the
window. She wasn't sure if the bullets
would break the magical shield or
ricochet back at her.
“Just shoot!”
With gritted teeth, she squeezed
the trigger. She'd fired guns before, but
she wasn't prepared for the amount of
kickback this weapon threw at her.
Whoa! She stumbled backwards, tilting
the machine gun up as she fell down,
firing bullets straight up into the sky.
Oo
ps.
The stream of bullets arced
down, grossly missing the beast. She
kept firing at the dragon as it bobbed and
weaved the assault. It blasted fire at the
shields, again and again.
“Damn, these guys are quick,”
Garren said, panting. He had his hands
full with a group of small, black dragons
dive-bombing from above. They were
the size of Great Danes and spit
fireballs.
There were so many, like a
swarm of locusts, blocking out the
sunlight. She assumed at least fifty
spitters surrounded the plane. Not to
mention the king and queen, the green
dragons, blasting them with flames.
Pushing aside the hopelessness of being
grossly outnumbered, she kept firing.
I'm not going down without a
fight.
Muffled
explosions,
like
microwaved popcorn, shook the plane.
The small, black dragons shot fireballs
at every inch of the aircraft. Bright
flashes of light from each blast nearly
blinded her. There were so many spots
before her eyes, she gave up on aiming
and fired in all directions. The risk paid
off moments later when she hit one of the
spitters. It floundered in the air, falling
back. A glossy, dark mass coated the
wing she shot.
She
stared
down
at
the
ammunition belt, puzzled. “These aren’t
normal bullets, are they?”
“Tar bullets,” Garren said in
between firing. “Don't stop.”
So she didn't. Now that she had a
hang of shooting the gun, she fired with
renewed confidence. One by one, the
bothersome little dragons went down.
But the two green ones still held strong,
no matter how many times she tarred
them.
Moving around to get a better
shot, she bumped into Garren with the
parachute on her back.
“Watch it,” he hissed.
“You watch it.”
Each ball of fire weakened the
magic surrounding the plane. The shields
flickered and rippled with each hit.
Come on, you stupid magic.
Don't fail us now.
She spotted the queen again,
much closer than before. Larger.
Deadlier. She focused on it and
squeezed the trigger.
Nothing. Only hollow clicks.
“Are you kidding me?”
The wooden box next to her was
empty.
“I'm out,” she shouted to Garren.
He kept firing as he yelled, “Get
the Element Orbs.”
She whipped her head around,
searching for the glowing balls. The box
Garren loaded sat by the door. She
tossed off the lid and grabbed a blue
Orb. The baseball size sphere was cool