Page 26 of Casting Butterflies

Scree. The horrifying sound of claws dragging across metal had me swallowing my words. Of course, the freaking monster could peel the plane open like a can of sardines.

“Tuck somewhere out of my way,” Misha ordered, staring upward, waiting for the first rip to appear.

Easier said than done. The crowed space didn’t allow for much movement, but I didn’t let that stop me from finding a very cramped spot, made tighter when Cedric joined me.

I waited for the beast to rake its claws again. Instead, the deafening roar I’d gotten used to diminished and the plane wobbled, leading Cedric to mutter, “It’s taken out an engine.”

“It’s trying to make us crash?” I squeaked. “I thought Misha said it wanted to take me to its master.”

“He never said it had to be alive. Could be it just needs your body,” said the very unhelpful Cedric.

The plane rocked and dipped as the pilots struggled to keep it aloft with the loss of an engine.

Make that no engine. The sudden silence had me praying, “Dear Lord, I know we haven’t spoken much since high school when you didn’t let me pass grade twelve math, forcing me to go to summer school instead of graduating with my peeps, but I kind of really need your help right now. Please help me to walk away from this crash. Don’t let me die without having one more Big Mac meal with a Diet Coke and a large fry. Wait, make that a regular Coke with all the sugar. I can’t croak now. Look at what I’m wearing!” My travel outfit meant for comfort, not cuteness, couldn’t be the thing I died in. I refused to end up as one of those ghosts caught for eternity in the ugliest outfit ever.

“What kind of prayer is that?” Cedric exclaimed.

“An honest one. Unlike most folks, I’m not gonna pretend to want or be something I’m not with God. Like, hello, he sees and knows everything,” I reminded with a roll of my eyes.

Scree. Whoosh.

Cedric didn’t reply since we both focused on the rip in the fuselage that sucked the air from the cargo space. Utterly terrifying, and you know what made it even worse? A claw appeared in the crack and pulled, widening it enough we could see blue sky.

Bang. Bang.

The loud cracking deafened as Misha fired the gun. I clapped my hands to my ears, not that it helped much with the ringing. The talon retracted, but thumping overhead indicated the pernicae hadn’t left.

Misha reloaded his weapon, and I yelled, “Shouldn’t you be more worried about the fact we’re crashing than making sure you have more bullets?”

He glanced at me. “I can’t fly a plane. Can you?”

No. I couldn’t. “So what are we supposed to do?”

“Fucked if I know,” his very North American expression actually the perfect thing for him to say even if it emerged with a Russian accent.

The pernicae pulled at the hole it made and shoved its head inside.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The sight of it dissolving into mist should have made me happy. However the fact shit had begun to slide in the compartment because we arrowed to the ground had me freaking.

“We’re gonna die!” I shrieked.

“Then do something,” Misha yelled back.

“Like what? I don’t have fucking wings. Oh my god. I should have never left home. Wait, make that I should have never gone to the auction. Those damned butterflies were my warning. No wonder they gave me nightmares. They led to this.” I hyperventilated, in full-blown panic until a cat began slapping me with his furry paws.

“Get a hold of yourself,” Cedric hissed.

“No!” If ever there was a time to freak out, this was it.

“We don’t have to die. Use the magic.”

“You use your magic.”

“Mine isn’t strong enough to make a difference,” Cedric huffed.

And I had no idea how to use mine. What if I tried and made things worse?