Camela continued to carry the shock on her face as her eyes twitched from Cora to me. When she laid her eyes on me, though, the red in her eyes flared just slightly. That was when Cora grabbed her in another huge hug.
"Camela! It's just so wonderful to be one big, happy family again!" She beamed.
Thrown off by Cora's genuine enthusiasm, Camela shook her head and turned towards the door slowly. Squaring her shoulders and finally tearing her eyes away from Cora, she spoke as she began to click her heals down the hallway, "Follow me."
14
Billy Joel's New York State of Mind was playing in the background, clearly Gabriel's choice, as the Learjet rocketed down the runway. I closed my eyes to feel the final pull of gravity trying to yank us back down to the ground as we finally took off. The final release felt like a wild tug as the jet began to ascend at a gradual incline.
Through a side window, I watched the ground zoom by as the trees, buildings and roadways continued to shrink away with the distance. I loved this part of flying—the actual feel of lifting off and running away. Gravity was something that I enjoyed slapping around as often as I could. And Leo's Learjet? It was all leather, plush and decorated in a contemporary style.
Thankfully, Camela had been called away for some random urgent business that was demon related, and she was not one of the few select individuals on the plane. I was definitely not complaining and, in fact, there were a few lucky stars that I needed to count when we landed again.
Jack was sitting next to me, fidgeting with his seat belt buckle. "You need to leave that in place for now, Jack." I eyed his twitchy hands as he stretched them out on his jeans to dry off his obviously sweaty palms.
"I just hate flying." He stared at the window. "Can you please close that?" He was actually looking sick.
Pulling the shade down, I turned to Jack's tense face with concern. "You know, Jack, if someone throws up, I have to throw up too. I would prefer to keep my record spotless for illness on an airplane." I smiled warmly at him. "You need to keep yourself distracted."
"Uh-huh." He clamped his eyes shut and blew a large breath out of his mouth with a big whewwwww noise. "I would prefer to be on the ground."
Laughing, I unbuckled myself and leaned over to the side. Grabbing the heavy black carrying case that held Jack's bass by the handle. "Play something for me, Jack. You know it always calms me down." I tried to smile as encouragingly as possible for him.
He sighed, opening his eyes as he reached out for the case, caressing it like it was a lifejacket. "Yeah, okay, Celeste. I'll do it for you." He smiled weakly.
Sitting back in the seat, I buckled myself back in as he leaned down, placing the case on the open floor area in front of us and reached down for the bass, patting it and caressing it like it was an old girlfriend.
"There you go, sweetheart, Daddy's here." He ran his hand across the high gloss finish on the wood grain and pulled the black beauty into his arms, tossing the shoulder strap over his neck as he began to tune the strings.
I listened to him tuning his bass as I closed my eyes, imagining that we were sitting on the stage of the old night club where we had our last gig. It seemed like a whole lifetime had passed. Life had felt simple and worth living back then. It wasn't like I would change anything about my life—I had a wonderful man in love with me, a talented and amazing daughter, and a crazy, dysfunctional family that was going to do everything to protect us.
The picking stopped and I opened my eyes as Jack leaned his head towards me. "The usual?" his voice sounded mildly entertained.
I tilted my head towards him and closed my eyes again as he began the intro to The Trooper by Iron Maiden. The incredible running baseline had the rumbling feel of running horse hooves—basically one of the reasons that I thought that Steve Harris was an absolute genius—a bass player with the heart of a poet. My body began to relax, soothed and centered by the rumble of the bass as I listened to him begin the words, "You take my life, but I'll take yours too. You fire your musket, but I'll run you through. So when you're waitin' for the next attack, you'd better stand, there's no turnin' back."
"What kind of song is this?!" Gabriel's voice rumbled from the back of the plane and the music instantly stopped as we both swung our heads back to see Gabriel's disgusted face.
"Classic heavy metal." Jack smiled at him and turned back to his bass, picking up where he left off, but leaving out the lyrics.
"My god, Celeste! Do you actually enjoy this music?" Gabriel's revulsion was clearly evident in his tone.
"Of course! Iron Maiden RULZ!" I threw my I love you sign into the air as I rocked my head back and forth, pursing my lips into a rocker's 'O'. Jack snickered when I opened my eyes and winked at him.
Actually, I love almost every kind of music that exists, short of death metal. Name it and I appreciate it—classical, Gregorian chant, Spanish guitar, jazz, big band, country, punk, rock, and yes, heavy metal. The fact that everyone else pigeonholed themselves into only liking a couple of musical styles was just a shame. I shook my head as I thought about how closed-minded people could be.
"Flight of Icarus?" I turned to Jack with a pleading look in my eyes.
"Of course." Jack smiled down at me, stopped his hands, and began again at a different tempo.
It was all just so very good. It was good to see him smiling and distracted. It was good to be relaxing, and it was also good to be surrounded by friends.
When I was sure that Jack was completely distracted, I pushed up and began to walk around the cabin. I was adjusting to the movement of the jet, and my nervousness peaked with a sudden shot of turbulence.
My eyes flicked instinctively over to the window on the hatch where the sun was trying to fight through the dark, rain-laden clouds. A quick movement on the wing caught my eye and I immediately ran to the tiny window, scanning frantically for the source.
Outside on the wing, I saw a horrible figure walking around like it was taking a leisurely Sunday stroll. My stomach dropped into my shoes as it turned around and eyed me with the distinctive shadow demon black, soulless eyes.
"Solomon!" My voice shook as I banged on the tiny cabin window.
"This is your co-captain speaking. Please ignore the shadow demon on the wing of the plane and return to your seats. Please place all tray tables and chairs back in their upright positions. Oh, and buckle up—it's going to be a bumpy ride! Yeehaa!" Cora's voice sounded over the intercom system as Solomon dashed over to me and grabbed me by the waist. He practically threw me in the closest empty seat and buckled me in a flurry before he ran back to the window in a blur of motion.
"Hey!" I snapped, squirming underneath the belt that was clearly too tight. "You need to be seated also!"
"The hell I do!" He growled as he pushed his face up against the window.
Jack scooted over to the empty chair next to the window and pushed the shade up. "Hmmm, looks like he isn't affected by the lack of oxygen or the high wind speeds. He's clearly been charmed."
"Charmed?" Gabriel's voice sounded shaky, reacting to the turbulence. "Who would charm a shadow demon? Those things can't have accomplices. They don't get along with anyone."
"There are quite a few unscrupulous magical individuals out there. Some are susceptible to bribes and the offer of power." Solomon shrugged distractedly. "It's the way of the world—there is always bad with the good."
"Taking defensive measures. Hold on tight." Leo's voice chimed over the speaker as Solomon gripped the edge of the hatch door and we all gripped our armrests for dear life.
The jet banked quickly to the left, tilting deeply on the side that the demon was taking his little stroll. Our bodies shifted and the fuselage creaked with the pressure that Leo was putting it under. For some reason, we seemed to stay that way for an awful long time before we then rolled in the other direction and hung there for a while.
"No good." Cora's voice came over the speakers. "If there are any suggestions, we are open to them now."
; "Counter measures?" Jack's voice chimed in.
"On the wing?!" Gabriel's deep voice cracked.
I wanted to giggle because I immediately thought of him as an unsightly, pimply-faced teenager with a voice like a coffee grinder. I doubt Gabriel ever had an awkward phase, though.
"Well...I don't hear anyone else making suggestions." Jack sounded indignant.
"Yes, I have a suggestion." I began to unbuckle, but Solomon was immediately at my side.
"What, Celeste? What do you think would help?" He was still looking out the window at the demon as it reached down to the wing and began to tear away the metal, piece by piece.
I stood up and walked over to the window that was closest to the wing the demon occupied. Looking over my shoulder at Solomon, I rested my hands on the cabin wall so that he wouldn't see my hands had already begun to glow. "I need to take care of it." I smiled at him weakly although I had intended to look more secure.
"No!" Solomon yelled as I pushed forward with my power, encircling myself with a ball of energy and protective air. I knew that I had less than a second to get out of his reach and I literally did the first thing that came to my mind—I walked through the door.
Wow! I thought to myself as I stepped out onto the wing, watching the puffs of cloud particles whizz past my protective ball of power. I never knew that I could walk through hard surfaces. I'm going to have to play with this ability in the future. I smiled as I eyed the wing and the missing pieces of metal.
Walking out further onto the wing, I noticed that I didn't feel the wind at all—it felt as if I was simply standing on firm ground, looking down at a picture of a plane wing instead of the real thing, even though I knew better. Turning my head to the left, I scanned along the side of the Learjet and noticed that there were deep scratch marks up and down the body as if the shadow demon had been climbing everywhere, trying determinedly to discover a way in.
The shadow demon had clearly not noticed me yet because its back was to me as it surveyed the metal, deciding what it was going to tear up next.
Attempting to be analytical, I thought about what I was going to do with the demon. Do I blast it to hell? Or maybe I should try to capture it so that we can interrogate it. Another piece of metal flew off of the wing and the plane shifted. Or maybe I should just ask it questions right now like 'Who sent you?' or 'Why are you here?' or something classic like 'Come here often?'
I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath as a deep pounding sounded from the other side of the door, even over the wild sound of the wind. It was surprising that I could pick up the sounds at all, but it was as if my hearing had sharpened and filtered out all of the outside noises that didn't pertain to what I had to deal with at the moment.
Solomon and Von's voices were fighting to be heard as the demon whirled around and eyed me with deadly intent.
"Dammit!" I yelled as it dashed towards me.
My hands flashed with an intense light as I thrust them in front of me. The glow around me was no longer the lavender that I was accustomed to—it was blue with tinges of twinkling whites. A huge swirling orb flew straight from my outstretched hands and slammed into the body of the demon, pushing it back as it struggled to walk forward like it was walking through a high wind.
Narrowing my eyes, I flicked my wrists down, balling my hands into fists and then flicking them out again like I was tossing underhanded at the demon. The power that surged from my hands were no longer balls of light but streaks of lightning, surging across the tumultuous air in a line directly to the chest of the shadow demon. The lightning pinned the demon to the wing instead of flinging it off as I had originally intended.
Mother, you have to kill it or it will survive! Cora's voice was in my ears.
Are you kidding me?! This thing could survive a drop from this height?! I looked down at the demon as it struggled against my electric restraints.
Yes, it could. You have to take it out now before we land or when we get low enough, it could call out to its brethren. That word struck me as odd. "Brethren" implied that these things were family. Guess it was the type of face and personality that only a mother could love. If it had a mother.
Discomfort covered me as I closed my eyes and imagined a silver samurai sword in my hand. I imagined that it was sharp enough to cut paper and strong enough to slice through a neck or shadow demon heart. My heart pounded as I raised the blade and closed my eyes. Don't be a weakling, don't be weak. My mind told me that I could do this—it was a demon. But I've never taken any life for any reason. I looked down at the evil creature as it struggled and hissed.
Mother. Cora's voice was there again. You have to or we all die. She didn't seem nervous at all—it was as if she knew that I would be able to do this.
Nodding, I gulped and I could hear the wind in my ears. Where does a shadow demon have its heart? I thought to myself.
Mom, it's best just to decapitate it. Really, it's cleaner and easier.
Yick! My body shuddered as I held the sword steadily over my head. I heard banging on the door behind me again as I brought the sword down swiftly and cringed at the feel of the metal embedding itself into the wing. The head rolled off of the wing as I released the body from its confinement and allowed the wind to take it. My head hurt and I was ready for a break.
Turning around, I was confronted by a tall and intimidating man standing only a few feet away from me on the wing. He stood about 6'7" — possibly the tallest man I had ever met besides my own father, but he didn't count. His silvery-white hair whipped around him in wavy snakelike trails and he wore what looked to be the type of sunglasses that blind individuals sometimes wore—they were almost completely black.
My mouth hung open as my eyes followed his shimmery pale skin and up to his sharp, hard chin. His nose was beaklike and he seemed to have just a little too much forehead. Well, the wind was whipping his hair back, so it would have been hard to tell how much true forehead he really had.
Looking down at me mechanically, he reached out and grabbed my arm in a steel grip. My hackles instantly shot up as a bell went off in my head, as if to mark the beginning of the next round of fighting.
"Watch it, buster! You have to buy me dinner before you start making moves on me like that!" I tried desperately to shrug out of his grasp, but found that he only dug his fingers in deeper with every renewed yank on my arm.
He smirked at me as he reached up with his other hand and raised his glasses just enough for me to see that his pupils were white. I gasped as I realized that this man was an albino, and a unique one at that. His irises would normally have been pink if he was true to the albino traits. I had never met one in person, but I had always wanted to, just not under these circumstances. They actually had a bad rap for always being the bad guy—that's what Hollywood can do with a stereotype. People don't understand something unique and then turn it into something bad—evil. People can be so idiotic at times.
The lanky albino tightened his grip on me as I realized that I needed to get away—far, far away. I looked at his hand intensely as I imagined his hand burning underneath, causing his fingers to melt away. I could imagine the smell of the burning flesh, feel the warmth on my unaffected skin, and see the flames tickling his hand. Unfortunately, there was no reaction from the stranger.
Frustration set in when he quirked his head to the side and said, "I'm impervious to heat. Nice try, though." His voice was rich, thick, and almost musical.
Turning my head to the side, I listened to Von and Solomon banging against the metal hatch. What did they expect to be able to do? Bang the guy off the wing?
I tried to imagine myself in the cabin of the jet as a familiar glow began to encircle me. My feet lifted slightly off of the wing of the plane but I didn't leave the wing at all. I was bound to it with energy—the energy that was holding the plane together and keeping us from rocketing to the ground.
Must be Cora doing this. I was thoroughly impressed. That's my girl!
I narrowed my ey
es on the man before me. "What do you want?" I yelled out, thinking that he couldn't hear me with the wind whipping and the clouds creating sound buffers.
"It is okay, I can hear you without your yelling." He smiled as he gripped my arm tighter and brought me closer to him. He hadn't raised his voice as he spoke to me, but I could hear each word perfectly. I recognized it as magic as quickly as I realized that this man was extremely dangerous. "We need to talk, and it is due time."
He looked down at me and I could see myself reflected in his glasses. I looked angry, pissed. Good.
"Thank you very much, but I decline the offer." I shrugged sharply, attempting again to yank my arm out of his grasp.
He simply leaned down closer to me, stared down through those black-as-night lenses and said with a cold, emotionless tone. "It was not an invitation." He drew an oval in the air with his free hand, looking like he was waving a wand.
That was when something snapped in me. He is NOT going to take me somewhere I don't want to go! Hell NO!
Clamping my eyes closed, I imagined a ball of energy encircling me, glowing from my center and out towards my extremities. When I could finally feel the warmth burning within me, I opened my eyes and just began to walk. I walked forward, refusing to think, see or feel. I no longer felt the iron grip of my attacker. I no longer heard the wind whipping around me. I simply walked with one foot in front of the other. I walked directly through the man in white and through the plane's hull and into the warmth of the cabin, but I continued to walk until I heard my name being yelled almost directly in my ear.
"CELESTE!"
Solomon was standing in front of me now with his hands up and out like he was trying to get me to stop. His body had been pushed up against the far wall of the interior cabin, and it appeared as if he was trying to get me to stop from walking outside the plane to the other wing, but the expression that covered his face was absolute terror.
Ritual Magic Page 15