“Okay. We’ll see you when we get back,” I say.
“I’ll be here.”
I nod at her and begin to turn when she suddenly grabs my arm. When I look back at her, there is an anger and a ferocity in her eyes I’ve never seen before.
“Get the bastard,” she says.
Chapter Ten
Kateri and I are streaming our way to the airport, leaping and linking off roofs, fire escapes and even a few telephone poles. I can only see her for the split second that we take to select a new target in the distance, but every single time, she is smiling at me. My sword and crossbow dangle at my side, and a backpack sits high on my shoulders. When we reach the roof of the flower shop where I spotted the blackened gash in the Earth where my mother’s plane had gone down, I pause for a moment.
Less than a second later, Kateri appears and walks over to me, a gentle and loving smile on her face. She takes my hand and squeezes it gently. There’s nothing left of the crash site except a ghostly image of the wound where some of the grass is shorter than the others.
“You okay?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I reply quietly. “It’s just memories.”
She nods.
“Come on, we gotta hurry or we’re going to miss our plane.”
We turn to the north, streaming along the fence-line, using the checkered pattern of the chain-link to get us almost to the entrance ramps to the terminals. The shadows thrown by the massive concrete constructions provide the ideal path into the airport, allowing us to walk hand-in-hand within clear view of the throngs of travelers, security and employees, and yet remain completely unseen. The doors into the departure hall slide open and we step inside and then something pops into my head.
“Do you have the tickets?” I ask, suddenly realizing that no one ever mentioned them.
“Tickets? We don’t need no stinkin’ tickets,” Kateri says, chuckling.
“Well…how—”
“Did you think they would just let us pass by with our ‘carry-ons’?” she asks, gesturing to her sword and knife.
“I didn’t even think of that,” I reply as we weave our way through the mass of people gathering in front of the TSA checkpoints.
Luckily there are enough shadows cast by the windows, sculptures, signage and other structures that I’m able to stay faded. Every now and then I step into some sunny spot and reappear, but I vanish again just as quickly. We skirt our way around the lines of people waiting to pass through security and duck under the flimsy fabric barrier suspended between two short poles with ineffectual signs demanding that people “Do Not Cross.”
We leave the crowds behind and march down the long, wide terminal. I chuckle to myself just imagining what would happen if people could actually see us. Would they think we were filming a movie, or making a commercial? Or would they just ignore us?
“Hey. Without tickets, where are we sitting? Baggage?”
“First class, of course,” Kateri says, grinning at me.
“First class.”
“What else?”
“Yeah, but what if the flight is full?” I ask as I dodge out of the way of a young man in a suit running down the hall.
“What do you think ‘arrangements’ are?” she asks.
“That would normally be tickets and things.”
“Right, ‘and things.’ We overbook the flight so there are always open seats in first class.”
“You think of everything, don’t you?”
“Most of the time, but we still have to be careful. It’s a pretty small space and staying in shadow for you all the time is not going to be that easy.”
“I guess there’s no snack,” I say, smiling at her.
She sidesteps and snatches two tiny bags of $8 cashews off a rack at a newsstand as we’re passing. She tosses them to me with a laugh.
“That’ll have to do.”
“Thanks.”
I stuff the nuts into my pocket and then a feeling of dread washes over me and my hand goes for the hilt of my sword without even a thought.
“You feel it?” I ask.
She nods, her eyes darting around the terminal.
“I don’t see anything.”
“Me either,” she replies before touching her earpiece. “Evan.”
“I’m here,” comes the reply through my earpiece as well.
“Anything at the airport?”
“Hold.”
I look behind us, but no one seems to be following or watching, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.
“Kateri.”
“Go.”
“No signs.”
“Okay,” she says, shaking her head at me. “Keep an eye on it. I definitely feel something.”
“Will do. Evan out.”
“What do you think?” she asks me.
“I don’t know. Maybe it was just a fluke or something.”
“Maybe.”
“But I don’t think so,” I add.
“Neither do I.”
A few minutes later we reach the departure gate. I can see the plane just out the window at the end of the walkway. Most of the seats in the waiting area are already occupied, and it’s probably safer to stand anyway, since there’s a major possibility that someone might sit on us. Eventually, we retreat into a corner behind a large potted plant. We sit on the floor in the shadows and watch the other travelers.
“You’ve done this a lot?” I ask.
“Flown?”
“Yeah, taken a flight in secret.”
“A few times.”
“I would have figured we could just stream there.”
She laughs and shakes her head.
“That would take days,” she says, “and we’d be exhausted by the time we got there.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Kateri reaches over and takes my hand, squeezing my fingers gently before moving it to her lap. I look at her and smile, the love I have for her threatening to overwhelm me. A few business travelers walk past us, and one of them, a young man in a tight-fitting suit, trips on my extended leg before I can pull it out of his way. He turns and looks down at the floor, trying to figure out what he stumbled on before moving on with a confused expression.
I look at Kateri and she laughs.
“What? I didn’t do it on purpose,” I say.
“I know, but it’s still funny.”
“You used to do that a lot, didn’t you?” I ask, grinning at her.
“Do what?”
“Mess with people because you knew they couldn’t see you.”
A wicked little grin slowly blooms on her face as she looks at me.
“I used to,” she finally admits. “When I first become Shayd, I was bad.”
“Really?” I ask, now unable to contain my own smile. “Dish.”
“Dish? Seriously?”
“Just tell me already,” I say, shaking my head.
“I used to sneak out of the Factory,” she says, and I lean in a little closer. “I’d sneak into stores and steal stuff, like pop and snacks and things. I started pick-pocketing strangers on the street, among other activities.”
“What other activities?”
She shakes her head.
“You don’t want to know,” she says, and I can tell from the tone, that I probably don’t.
“Why did you stop?”
“Lena caught me,” she says.
“She did? Did she yell at you?”
“Worse. She just shook her head, and then walked away,” she says, looking down at the floor.
We sit in silence for a few seconds. I think about how I feel when my mom gives me that look, the one that says she’s disappointed in me. I reach over and place my hand on hers, and she looks at me and smiles a sad little smile.
“You really loved her, didn’t you?” I ask quietly.
She looks away for a moment, but before she can answer, the overhead speaker springs to life.
“Ladies and gentlemen, flight 691 to Minneapolis will begin boarding in a f
ew minutes.”
Kateri jumps to her feet, takes my hand, and we make our way toward the door beside the ticket counter. It’s still closed, but we stand by, pressed up against the wall, waiting.
“It’s easier if we’re the first on board,” she says.
“I figured.”
The heavy steel door opens and a pretty young woman in a flight attendant uniform pushes down a latch with her foot, propping the door open. Kateri and I dart behind her and fast-walk down the jet-way to the waiting aircraft. Two more female attendants are standing by the open door chatting with one of the pilots. We slip inside, turn left and walk into the first-class cabin. I’ve only flown twice before, and certainly not in such luxury.
“Where do we sit?” I ask.
“Evan booked 2A and B.”
I slide into the ultra-comfortable seat, sinking down as the leather seems to form gently around my body.
“We always reserve first class. This way they won’t be able to upgrade someone,” Kateri replies, sitting down next to me. “They’ll hold it. I mean, someone paid for a first-class seat, they’d be pissed to be downgraded to coach just because they’re late.”
A few minutes later, we hear the first passengers beginning to board. One of the pilots walks past us and I look at Kateri.
“No butt pinching,” I say.
She grins at me.
“He’s too old anyway,” she says. “And he’s not my type.”
We sit, unseen in our seats as more travelers fill the cabin. Three other people join us in first class; an older gentleman in a dark suit, a pretty young woman with long dark hair and pale skin, dressed for a vacation, and a man in his mid-thirties with a laptop, and multiple cell phones.
I place my hand on Kateri’s, and she lifts it to her mouth and kisses my fingers gently. The gesture sends a thrill cascading through my entire body. After about ten minutes, I hear the door to the jet-way pulled shut. One of the attendants walks down the aisle, stopping just outside the cockpit and grabs something out of the small compartment to her right. She stands between the two rows of seats as the plane begins moving away from the terminal. The voice of another stewardess comes to life over the loudspeaker as she begins explaining the measures and equipment designed to ensure our safety in case the plane should fall out of the sky. It didn’t do the passengers on my mother’s plane much good, so I turn my head and gaze out the window.
Sadly, I’m not the only one not paying attention. I guess you kinda assume that if the plane’s gonna crash, you’ll figure things out if there’s anything to figure out at that point. I watch as the little baggage train and other service vehicles dart away to deal with another aircraft. Kateri touches my hand and I turn and look at her.
“You ever flown before?” she asks.
“Yeah, a few times.”
The stewardess stops in front of our seats and turns to the young woman on the other side of the aisle.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asks her.
“Just a water,” she replies with a kind smile.
Kateri and I watch the stewardess hand out drinks to the other passengers and then she looks at me.
“Do you want something?” she asks.
“I don't know, maybe,” I reply.
Kateri smiles, unbuckles her belt and weaves her way between the stewardess and the seats and slips into the small galley, her movements fluid and graceful, like a dancer. A second later she pokes her head out, as she holds two cans of pop; one Coke and one Sprite.
“Which one do you want?” she asks.
“I'll take the Coke.”
She nods and then disappears again, re-emerging a moment later and making her way back to her seat. She leans over toward me and smiles.
“Coffee, tea, or me?” she asks, grinning wickedly.
I just shake my head and smile back at her.
“Shut up, you dork.”
She sits down and hands me the can. As I take it, I can’t help but notice how warm her fingers are in contrast to the ice-cold pop. She scoots forward and retrieves two small bags of pretzels out of her pocket, handing me one.
“Thanks,” I say, smiling warmly at her.
“Anything for you,” she replies.
The stewardess takes a seat on a small fold-down chair that looks remarkably uncomfortable. The plane moves backward, pushed by an odd-looking little truck barely visible through my window. A few seconds later, we roll past the terminal, toward the runway. I’m looking out the little window when I sense something from Kateri. It’s not a thought, more like a general sensation of nervousness. I look over at her.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
“What? Oh…nothing,” she replies.
“Come on,” I say. “I can tell something’s bothering you.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s the flying, isn’t it? I thought you said you’ve flown before.”
“I have.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t like the takeoffs,” she finally admits, “or the landings.”
“Are you kidding me?” I ask, grinning at her as the plane stops for a moment before the engine noise rises.
“I told you I like the flying…that’s it, just the flying part.”
I notice her fingers grip the arm of the seat as we accelerate down the runway, the plane shaking slightly. I pull her hand up and place it on top of mine.
“Squeeze as hard as you need,” I say.
She nods silently at me before she closes her eyes and grips my hand harder than I expected. As we lift off, she squeezes with even more force, but I bite my lip even as it feels like she’s crushing my hand. Gradually, the plane levels off, and Kateri slowly releases her grip.
“Sorry,” she says as she looks down at the red marks on the top of my fingers.
“It’s okay,” I reply with a wink and a smile.
This fear sort of humanizes her even more and knowing that spiders aren’t the only thing that scares her makes me feel better about my own doubts and anxieties.
“You okay now?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she replies before leaning over toward me and setting her head on my shoulder.
E ~ Something’s wrong. I can feel it.
My eyes pop open and I look over at Kateri. She’s awake, looking down the aisle behind us.
“I can feel it too,” she says, before I even have a chance to say anything.
“What is it?”
“What does it feel like?”
“A demon.”
“Exactly,” she whispers, still staring down the aisle between the rows of seats.
A chill runs down my arms, a cascade of goosebumps trailing close behind. All I can think about is my mother’s plane and the terror that those people must have felt before it crashed into the ground. Kateri unbuckles her belt and slips out of the seat, adjusting her sword and dagger as she stands upright in the aisle. The attendants are just about to start snack and beverage service as I stand up behind Kateri, my hand on the grip of the small crossbow hanging at my side.
The coach cabin is darker than first class, as a lot of passengers have their shades pulled, but luckily enough light is still flooding into the enclosed space and casting shadows off the tops of the seats. We make our way toward the back of the plane. I study the faces of the passengers, looking for anything unusual, but they are all engaged with their own issues; playing on their devices, working on presentations for an upcoming meeting, trying to control their bored or unhappy children, or resting quietly with their eyes closed.
The feeling of dread that has been growing over the last few minutes becomes more intense as we approach the aft bathrooms.
“It can’t be in there,” I say to myself, looking at the tiny metal door and the bright green “Unoccupied” sign near the handle.
Suddenly, Kateri stops and looks down at her boots.
“It’s not,” she whispers.
“Shit,” I say, as I look at t
he floor.
“Come on.”
We slip into an empty row of seats as the steward moves past us, pushing the snack cart in front of him. A few feet ahead, I spot a hatch in the floor just past the bathroom stall. My throat is dry as a bone, and I’m having trouble swallowing. Kateri steps carefully across the hatch, positioning herself with sword in hand. Squatting down, I wrap my fingers around the recessed, chrome handle, being as quiet as I can, wincing when the metal creaks slightly. I pull upward and the hatch lifts easily, although it’s a lot heavier than I thought it would be.
Suddenly, something slams into the bottom of the door pushing it toward me and knocking me off my feet. A thin, but heavily muscled demon with four arms, wearing some sort of armored chest piece leaps up into the cabin. Kateri takes a small step back, planting her boots, prepared for an onslaught. I scoot back on the floor and scramble to my feet while drawing my sword. The beast looks at us in turn. It has a sword in each of its right hands, and two equally deadly looking axes in its lefts.
The beast leaps without warning, bringing down its two swords on Kateri’s raised weapon. The impact knocks her back into the rear emergency exit door. I rush down the aisle, lifting my crossbow in the left hand and firing two bolts in quick succession. The first misses, but the second pierces the demon through its upper left hand. One of its axes drops to the floor, but the beast continues advancing on Kateri. It swings its swords again, but Kateri drops low and kicks out with her right leg, impacting its knee. The creature roars in pain and I take advantage of the momentary distraction and bring my blade down hard on its right shoulder.
The edge of my sword digs in deep but rattles hard against bone that feels like steel as the vibration travels up my own arm. It turns to face me, bringing its remaining axe around and striking me in the upper chest. I try to dodge, but the flat side of the weapon slams into me. It feels like getting hit by a cinder block. I stumble back, dropping to one knee, the air knocked out of my lungs and a second later, I’m visible in the bright sunshine streaming through one of the small windows. I look over at a young girl, maybe seven or eight years old. She has dark hair and brilliant green eyes. She puts down her tablet and stares at me, taking in my sword and crossbow at my side. Her mom is sleeping next to her, an open book on her lap.
All Things in the Shadows II Page 9