by R. A. Gates
did.” The cool water stung as she
washed all the dirt and gravel from her
cuts.
He didn't say anything else, but
watched, arms crossed, as she cleaned
herself up. The silence made her
uncomfortable and she checked the little
mirror to make sure she got all the blood
cleaned off.
Her curly brown hair was
sticking out all over the place and her
skin was paler than usual, making the
freckles splattered all over her cheeks
more prominent.
“We'll hide you out in Cora's
room. She won't mind, because for some
reason, she thinks you're cool.” He
picked up her bag and led her down the
hall to his little sister's room.
Cora was more than happy to
share the room with her. She'd probably
be up half the night listening to Cora
ramble on about everything under the
sun. And that was fine with her as long
as Mr. McGregor didn't find her.
“I'll talk to Thane,” Garren said.
“Under the circumstances, I think we
need to leave tomorrow.”
“And exactly how are we getting
to Sacramento?” She hoped it didn’t
involve them “borrowing” someone
else’s car.
Garren stopped at the bedroom
door and grinned. “We’re flying.”
Chapter 6
“Are you sure this thing is safe?”
Sitting in front of Ivy on the tiny
airstrip surrounded by forest was an old
plane. At least, that's what it resembled.
It had definitely seen better days. The
four propellers on its wings were so
rusty she feared getting tetanus just
looking at them. The tires were bald and
under-inflated. Even the pin-up girl
painted on the side had gray hair and
crow's feet. She wanted to find a shotgun
and put the poor thing out of its misery.
Captain Burgandy, a man whose
eyes held the haunted light of someone
who shot down one too many Nazis,
wrapped another layer of silver duct
tape around the left wing. His gnarled
hands were thick with black stains, and
oil smudged his worn jeans and faded
flannel shirt. Gray hair circled his
polished, age-spotted dome. “Don't you
worry your pretty little head, missy. She
may look a bit worn, but Daisy Mae here
will get you kids where you need to go.”
She gave the old man a half
smile and nod. If where we need to go is
crashing straight into the ground, then
I believe you.
The morning wind whipped her
hair in her face as she wandered around
the large wings of the B17 bomber. She
pulled her unruly curls back into a
ponytail with a hair band she always
kept in the back pocket of her jeans. She
stopped by Garren and Thane as they
tossed their bags into the belly of the
plane. Peeking inside the cramped
interior, she spotted what looked like
two machine guns on either side of the
plane. “Are we flying to California or
invading Canada?”
“She's
cool,
huh?”
Thane
caressed the side of the plane. “Captain
Burgandy piloted her on thirteen
missions in Western Europe during
World War II. She's a piece of history.”
“She's a piece of something, all
right,” she muttered, noticing more duct
tape plastered all over the fuselage.
“Will it even make it to Sacramento?”
“Ye of little faith,” Garren said
as he hoisted a box through the small
door. “This plane is infused with so
many spells and enchantments, she's
practically indestructible.”
That's what they said about the
Titanic, then one iceberg later and ...
glub, glub, glub.
Glowing lights of different
colors spilled out from the box Garren
set in the plane.
“What are you putting in there?”
she asked.
He avoided eye contact as he
pushed the box farther inside. “Nothing
important.”
She played with the charmed
sapphire dangling from around her neck.
Her gut was telling her he wasn't being
completely honest and she was about to
tell him so when Captain Burgandy
shuffled over.
“I don't suppose any of ya seen a
bolt about yay big laying around, have
ya?” He demonstrated the size of the
missing bolt with his thumb and index
finger about three inches apart.
She
surveyed
the
ground,
checking every dark corner and even
under a couple large rocks. Thane and
Garren searched inside the plane, but
neither found anything.
The old man frowned and rubbed
the back of his neck with a filthy
handkerchief. “Well, just hand me a roll
of tape and I'll see what I can do.”
She snapped her head toward
Garren, hoping to be told this was all a
big joke, but all he did was shrug and
say, “Magic.”
She never wanted to slug him so
badly.
“Here,” Thane said, tossing an
armful of heavy clothes that nearly
toppled her over. “Put this on.”
She held them up to discover a
wool-lined jacket and cap, thick wool
trousers with suspenders, leather gloves,
boots, and a parachute. The whole thing
must've weighed at least thirty pounds.
“What's this for?”
“They're charmed to regulate
your body temperature and oxygen. The
air's a lot colder at 25,000 feet. You
could get frostbite.” Thane stepped into
his own pants and pulled the suspenders
up over his shoulders.
She watched in awe as Garren
did the same without complaint. “It's a
bit much, don't you think?” Movement
seemed
almost
impossible
while
wearing all the gear.
“You wanna loose a toe?”
Captain Burgandy mumbled through a
mouthful of chocolate as he passed the
group.
“Is that an option?” Alarm bells
went off in her mind. She dropped the
bundle of clothes and crossed her arms
over her chest. “I'm not getting in that
thing.”
“There's really nothing to be
afraid of,” Thane said. “Haven't you
ever flown in a plane before?”
“Airplane? Yes. Deathtrap?
No.”
Garren marched over to her,
picked up the jacket and shoved it at her.
“Quit being a baby and put the damn suit
on.”
She glared at him and he glared
right back. Seconds
ticked by without
either backing down. Finally, she took
the leather coat and put it on, cursing
Garren under her breath as she jammed
her arms into each sleeve. As soon as
the last piece was in place, the entire
suit squeezed around her like shrink
wrap. It was a bulky second skin,
insulated and water-tight.
All I need now are some tusks
and my walrus transformation will be
complete.
Garren gestured to the open door
on the side of the plane with a wave of
his hand. “After you.”
She hesitated for a moment, not
sure if she could put her trust, and her
life, in a magic plane. But if Thane and
Garren could so easily take the risk, she
would suck it up and follow their lead.
That didn't mean she had to like it.
It was like walking underwater
as she approached the plane. There were
no steps, so she gripped the sides of the
doorway to pull herself up when Garren
put his hands on her back.
“I don't need your help.”
“Fine,” he said, as he took his
hands away.
She flexed her arms and lifted
her legs to the bottom edge of the door.
Because of the extra weight, it was
harder than she thought, but she managed
to pull herself inside. Garren followed
after her.
The interior of the plane was
narrow and she had to crawl along the
floor to where the machine guns were
before she could stand up. They pointed
out open windows on either side. Sitting
next to them along the wall were
wooden crates filled with ammunition
belts.
She pointed at the boxes of
bullets. “Seriously?”
Garren nudged her forward. “It's
nothing to worry about. I'm 85 percent
sure we won't even have to use them.”
Her eyes grew wide. “What?”
“Don't overreact.” He led her
toward the front of the plane where he
sat down on the floor and leaned against
the wall. There weren't any seats or
cushions of any kind, so she sat across
from Garren on the cold, metal surface.
“In what situation would we
need to fire a gun?”
The first propeller sputtered to
life, shaking the plane. The engine's roar
was muffled under one of the plane's
enchantments, allowing them to talk
without shouting.
“Well,” he started slowly as the
second propeller turned on. “We have to
fly through dragon territory before we
get to Washington.”
Dragons? Machine guns? Okay,
this whole trip is so not worth it. She
struggled to stand up as another
propeller added to the vibrations. “I'm
getting the hell out of here.”
He leapt over and tackled her
back to the floor. “Ivy, you need to calm
down.”
“Calm down?” She had to
remind herself to breathe as dread
pressed down on her. Garren's heavy
frame pinning her down wasn't helping
either. “We're flying in a contraption I
would only loosely call an airplane into
dragon territory. What if I get flambéed
or fall out?” She pushed against his
chest, trying to wiggle her way out from
under him.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
Reluctantly, she met his gaze and
was surprised to see compassion
looking back.
“You won't fall out of the plane.”
His voice was soft and low as he spoke.
“If you don't calm down and shut up, I
may push you out, but you won't fall.”
She let out a deep breath, finding
his sarcasm oddly soothing. She closed
her eyes and concentrated on the
positives. The others wouldn't have
gotten on if they didn't feel it was safe.
Captain Burgandy had many, many years
of experience. And, if she was going to
plunge to her death, at least Garren was
going down, too.
Once she was sure she wasn't
going to panic again, she pushed Garren
off her. “I'm fine now.”
He backed away and sat next to
her, probably poised to take her down if
she tried to bolt again.
She nervously surveyed the
cramped space and noticed something,
or rather someone, missing. “Where's
Thane? I don't even remember him
getting on the plane . ” Good going, Ivy.
“He's in the cockpit playing co-
pilot.”
She nodded as she braced herself
for take-off. The plane started moving—
slowly at first, then gained speed. When
the wheels left the safety of the ground,
her stomach dropped.
“Breathe,” Garren said.
She
exhaled
slowly
and
concentrated on taking her next breath. It
gave her something else to think about
besides how high they were and how
long it would take to plummet to their
deaths.
“Open your eyes and look out the
window.” Then in a softer voice, most
likely to himself, he said, “It's really
beautiful.”
She pried one eye open and saw
the look of awe on his face as he gazed
out the side window next to him. He was
visably relaxed and even seemed to be
having some fun.
Poor deluded fool. She ventured
to peek out the dirty portal to her left. At
first, all she saw was the wing, but then
she forgot herself for a moment at the
sight of the treetops below. Wow.
Sunlight sparkled off the river gently
winding through the forest. A bald eagle
glided on the air currents, its wings
stretched out.
The plane jostled over and over
as the wind did its best to put them back
on the ground. “It's just a little
turbulence. Nothing serious,” he said.
Nothing serious, my... The plane
jumped, tossing her up in the air high
enough to hurt her butt when she
slammed back down. ...ass.
“Why can't your precious magic
keep the plane steady?”
He shrugged. “Captain Burgandy
prefers it this way. He says the bumps
and rolls from the wind let him know
he's still in the air.”
“You do know he's crazy, right?”
“He may be a little eccentric, but
he knows what he's doing. So,” he said,
stretching his long legs out in front of
him as he leaned back against a box.
“Did you bring enough lip balm?”
“Lip balm for what?” She kept
her eyes glued to the intricate web of
ropes and wires the captain used to jury
rig the plane together. Every movement
created squ
eaks and knocks that sent the
little hairs on her arms on end.
“Can you imagine how chapped
Prince Sebastian's lips are going to be
after 200 years of being asleep? I
thought maybe you'd want to prep him
before the big smooch.”
She'd deliberately kept the idea
in the back of her mind, but his words
brought the image of kissing Prince
Sebastian back full force.
What if he's all decaying and
stuff? What if his lips aren't even
there? Her stomach took a tumble, and it
wasn't from the turbulence.
“Breath mints,” he said. “You're
also going to need lots and lots of breath
mints.”
She smacked his arm with the
back of her hand as she fought to keep
her breakfast down. “Will you shut up?”
Garren chuckled. “Just trying to
help.”
“Well, you're not.”
They sat in silence for hours,
gently rocking with the plane. She tried
to sleep, but whenever she drifted off,
the plane would lurch, jerking her
awake. Her butt was numb from sitting
for so long, so she shifted around to get
comfortable when she bumped into
Garren.
He moaned. His breathing was
quick and shallow and his skin was pale.
A bead of sweat trickled down the side
of his face, soaking into the collar of his
shirt.
“Are you all right?” She placed
her hand over his as it rested on his
thigh.
He grunted his reply.
The plane jerked again and she
crushed his fingers in her grip.
“If you break my fingers,” he
uttered through clenched teeth, “I'll
throw up on you.”
“Sorry.” She released her death
grip and watched the blood return to his
fingertips. “I guess now wouldn't be a
good time to ask if you wanted to split
the tuna sandwich I stashed in my
pocket.”
The resulting gagging noise
brought a brief smile to her face, but as
his complexion grew greener, guilt got
the better of her. She reached for the
pack next to her and grabbed a bottle of
water and a cloth. She wet the cloth and
put it over his forehead. Lifting the bottle
to his mouth, she only allowed him small
sips.
“Didn't you take anything for
your motion sickness?”
He nodded his head with the
barest of movement. “Wore off.”
She hadn't taken the anti-nausea
potion Thane had given her. She could
read an epic novel on the Tilt-O-Whirl
and never get sick. Deciding to offer him
her potion, she checked around for her
