Michael: The Mark (Airel Saga Book Four)

Chapter XIX

Somewhere Over the South Atlantic—Present Day

EVERYTHING EXPLODED.

I had been knocked unconscious.

When I came back around to myself, the air was filled with an enormous roaring sound. From the instrument panel behind me, there was a gaggle of loud buzzers sounding off. I peeled my eyes open, and they were instantly stung by a thousand needles of thin atmosphere. I was dizzy; it was difficult to breathe. One arm was hooked through the supporting structure of a seat, and one leg was cocked up and wedged behind me in the doorway to the flight deck. I looked out the closest available window, one of the windscreens in the cockpit behind me, and I saw what looked like blackness with an occasional pink-orange stripe passing vertically from right to left.

That's the sunset. The horizon. We were sideways and cartwheeling through the air.

My body was being pulled. I looked back to the direction I was facing, the direction I was being pulled. There was Michael, still buckled to his seat and passed out. More importantly, though, there was wide-open nothingness where the back of the plane had been.

And I was being sucked toward it.

Where is Ellie? Hex and Bishop were gone. I could see Michael, and I tried to make my way toward him. I knew I would be able to use the sucking momentum to get to him, but I had probably only one shot. If I messed up, I would be sucked straight out the back without him. And I needed to rescue him.

I wasn't sure of the details, but I knew I had to get him out of the plane.

Pressure pulled relentlessly at every part of me. I had to get across the aisle and move ... fly ... about ten feet toward the rear of the plane in order to connect with him. It was very difficult to breathe. I felt my body flirting with another blackout.

I had to make my move.

It was ugly. When I let go, everything happened so fast. I became airborne and hurtled backwards. I almost missed my shot. If I hadn't pushed off with my legs a little, I would have gone straight out the back.

But I didn't. I collided with Michael's chest like a 98-pound football, startling the crap out of him and waking him up. He grasped me in a bear hug, looked around with wild eyes, saw me, saw the foggy atmosphere in the plane. and craned his head all over the place like a bird. "Airel, wha..." His eyelids grew heavy, his grip on me weakened.

He passed out again.

Oh, no. I clung tightly to him, trying with one hand to reach the release on his buckle.

"Hey." Ellie screamed into my ear and I jerked back a little in surprise. My eyes asked the question for me. "Never mind," she screamed above the roaring noise. "Just grab the parachute." She was standing in the aisle, her feet braced hard between two seats.

Parachute. I didn't think we would need those. I thought about the inflatable raft I had seen in the cupboards as well; the survival beacons. Everything suddenly became far too real. This is life and death. In a wrestling match.

I grabbed the chute from Ellie; it was an enormous thing. I slipped my free arm through the straps, grabbing Michael with the other.

"Ready?" Ellie screamed again.

I nodded.

She let herself go. She was sucked violently from the plane. I decided it was a very scary thing, but I didn't want to die, either.

Holding fast to Michael and the parachute, I found the seatbelt release and pulled.

***

Cape Town, South Africa—Present Day

KREIOS FELT THE DRAW on his strength as he neared the center of the principality of the evil prince Nwaba, the enormous high-rise citadel of the Nri. He did not wanted to admit it to himself, but he could feel himself weakening, feel the longing for the Sword, wondered why he could not retrieve it now of all times. He consigned himself to the strong possibility of a suicide mission.

But now everything was different.

When he had seen the great demonic horde flying west, he was struck. In his impetuous youth, he would have given chase, which would have ended in a sound defeat. Instead, he bided his time and thought it over.

He had guessed Nwaba was at the head of his westering detachment then, and now he was quite sure. He felt his strength returning in waves. The prince was away. The city was unguarded. And Kreios could attack in strength.

He would do what El had done to Sodom and Gomorrah. He would burn it to the ground.