Light as a Feather, Silent as the Grave

Chapter 32

The Long Beach Airport was nothing like any other airport I'd ever seen before in my life. It was very small, just a two-story building with nothing on its second floor but bathrooms and old black-and-white photos of Long Beach in the 1920's framed on the walls. There didn't seem to be any police presence at all, and since we were boarding a private jet instead of a commercial aircraft, Mr. Simmons breezed right past the security checkpoint on his way to a set of doors that led to an outdoor area. Although it was only seven o'clock at night, the sun had already set and there was a sharp chill in the air.

"Michael Simmons?" a man in a pilot's uniform greeted us outside. "Party of seven?"

"That's us," Mr. Simmons said, offering no explanation for the rather strange-looking collection of teenagers with whom he was traveling that evening.

"Great," the pilot said. "My co-pilot is running through our routine mechanical checks before we take off. Although..." His eyes drifted upward toward the heavy, gloomy clouds in the sky. "Several flights coming in from the East Coast have been delayed due to the inclement weather. So we'll be at the mercy of Air Traffic Control for a departure time."

Mr. Simmons cast a concerned glance at me and Trey. "Is it alright if we pass the time aboard the plane?" The longer we lingered around the airport where families were awaiting flights bound for vacation destinations, the greater the likelihood that someone was going to recognize us.

The pilot took a good look at me and Trey, and without smiling replied, "Sure. That'll be no problem." He most likely recognized us from the nightly news, but was probably being paid handsomely enough for this flight to Wisconsin not to ask questions.

Mr. Simmons led us toward a bench in an outdoor waiting area where travelers walked groggy dogs who'd just arrived on flights, and where smokers puffed on cigarettes. He motioned for us to sit while we waited. It was drizzling, a rare event in Southern California, and Mischa grimaced at the reflection of runway lights in the puddles that were forming on the tarmac. "So, let me get this straight," she said to no one in particular. "We're all going to board a tiny plane and fly halfway across the country during a rainstorm-when evil spirits that are capable of manifesting physical powers are most likely going to stop us from arriving safely?"

I didn't have a good feeling about our chances of making it safely to Wisconsin either, but didn't see much point in trying to evade Mr. Simmons now that we were already at the airport. Instead of allowing my apprehension about turbulence freak me out, I focused on how much I longed to be reunited with my parents in what might only be a matter of hours. I attempted to slip my fingers in between Trey's to hold hands, but he stood up and announced, "I have to go to the bathroom."

He disappeared into the airport, followed shortly after by Laura, who informed all of us that she was still missing a black candle that would be needed to seal the jar once the curse had been captured. She entrusted the glass bottle that she'd bought in the hotel gift shop to Henry for safekeeping. Once she entered into the airport, Henry withdrew the trinket from the plastic gift shop bag, unwrapped it from the layers of tissue paper that surrounded it, and held it up for me and Mischa to take a look. "What do you guys think?" he asked us. "Is this little perfume bottle going to be able to imprison pure evil?"

Mischa sighed disgustedly at him. In a voice too quiet to be heard by Mr. Simmons, she said bitterly, "I think we're all going to die. That's what I think. None of you know what you're doing and you have no idea how powerful they are."

Neither of us asked who Mischa meant by they. They were the spirits that she'd tried to resist, who had killed her father in retaliation.

"I have to go to the bathroom, too," I lied, just wanting to distance myself from Mischa for a few minutes. Her certainty that we were doomed was contagious. A sense of dread was rising in my chest and it was far too late for me to change my mind about my commitment to this plan. The darkness, the coldness, and the dampness of the evening were fraying my nerves.