Dreams of a Dark Warrior
Dreams of a Dark Warrior (Immortals After Dark #11)(66)
Author: Kresley Cole
Brakes engaged, he shoved the throttle in, RPMs spiking, engines rumbling. Over his shoulder, he snapped, "The shite in your pack better be real y important, kid."
"It total y is!"
With a curse, Declan released the brakes, and they surged forward. Gaining speed, gaining …
At any moment he expected to feel the plane rocked on its arse from a bomb’s blast wave.
Natalya said, "Those trees are coming up awful y fast, Blademan."
Brandr yel ed, "Chase, bal s to the wal !"
"I’m throttle down," he grated.
Fifty miles per hour. Sixty.
At the last possible second, he heaved back on the yoke. The nose shot up, the tail sandbagging.
"Come on, come on." He held his breath. …
The wheels scraped the tops of the trees. They flew clear.
When they’d reached a minimum safe altitude, Declan’s eyes briefly closed. "We’re away."
The three conscious passengers exhaled with relief.
"We made it! This has to be the coolest thing ever," the halfling said. "To outrun those Wendigos?" His expression was animated. "Never been in a plane before!"
Oh, yes, you have, Declan thought, just as Natalya said, "Lad, you must have been." She spoke to Thad but glared at Declan as she said, "You were flown here when the magister’s men kidnapped you-an eighteen-year-old boy-away from your mother and gram and wholesome Texas life."
The halfling turned back to the window. "Miss ’em." Then he absently told Natalya, "I just turned seventeen."
Natalya’s face screwed up. "Oh."
"Hey, Nat, take a look at the place."
Declan gazed back at the facility. Or what was left of it. "Jaysus."
In the center was a mass of stone, a new mountain towering among the flames. Cement blocks swirled above the ruins. Even in the pouring rain, flames climbed high, like a picture of hell.
My life’s work.
The fey murmured, "You reap what you sow, Blade-man."
She was right. As of this night, all the work he’d done-al the effort and discipline-had netted him no home, no work, no life. Not a friend in the world after Webb’s betrayal.
And it was a betrayal. Declan saw that clearly now. He knew what Regin is to me. My female. And yet Webb had hurt her in unthinkable ways.
Declan gazed back at Regin, laid out across the bench. What would he do now? Where to go? all he knew was that he wanted to be near her-and she’d never want to be with him.
"I thought the island was going to disappear," Brandr said.
Declan glanced at his watch. The self-destruct was now nine minutes overdue. "It was supposed to have." He surveyed the landscape below. Not a single detonation. Something must have jammed them. For better or il , he suspected there’d be no blasts tonight.
"What’s that?" Brandr pointed ahead.
Declan faced forward. Squinting, he wiped the windshield with his sleeve. A cloud of dark shapes hovered in their path. He slowed his speed, descending to avoid them, but they dropped down as well. The answer hit him just as Brandr said, "Winged demons."
Dozens of them. They attacked in a swarm, their claws shredded down the sides of the fuselage, across the wings.
Declan shoved down the yoke in a sudden dive, trying to shake them free. The stal alarm on engine one blared.
Brandr clamped the dash as the plane plummeted. "What do they want?"
Natalya said, "My guess is the magister’s head on a platter!"
Engine one rumbled, smoked, then died. The starboard wing was trashed, the other barely holding on. Engine two roared, straining to keep the plane at altitude.
The yoke vibrated wildly as Declan fought to maneuver back toward the runway. "We’re goin’ down."
Though trees grew at one end of the runway, a sheer rock face capped the other.
Have to slow our speed. There was nothing else to be done, no steering a plane this disabled.
Brandr gazed at him, a hint of sympathy in his eyes. Because a mortal probably wouldn’t make it.
And no man could die with more regrets than Declan. He would never have the chance to make things right with Regin. Would never kiss her or claim her. Too ashamed of his scars to ever reveal them. Too cowardly to risk her rejection.
Should’ve taken the chance, Dekko. He almost wanted to believe he’d come back in another life. Over the screaming engine, Brandr yel ed, "I’m sorry, Blademan. Looks like you’re about to check out. Again."
Declan yel ed back, "Just get her off this island!" If she survived the crash. He glanced back at her. She was battered, appearing so delicate, not the larger-than-life Valkyrie he was used to. How much more could her body take? "Do it within six days!" Before the Order struck the final blow to this island.
"I almost believe you give a shit about her!"
"Protect her, berserker," Declan said. "Vow it!"
"I already have." With that, Brandr climbed out of the cockpit into the very back to sit beside Regin, gathering her body up in his arms, clasping her close. To Natalya, he said, "Come, female, I can buffer you too."
The fey climbed back, then reached for Thad, pul ing him close as well.
"Natalya?" The boy’s voice broke.
"You’ll be fine, my lad," she assured him, but her face was drawn with fear. "If I had a pound for every plane crash I’ve been in …"
As the ground rushed closer, Declan’s heart began pumping blood, thundering in his ears.
But he still heard Brandr murmur, "Til we meet again, Aidan."
Chapter THIRTY-SIX
Lothaire stood in the pouring rain watching as the plane came screaming back toward the runway.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d ordered the winged Volar demons to bring it to the ground gently. This touchdown would prove anything but.
If Chase died, all his knowledge of the ring would expire with him. Lothaire had ransacked his office, but couldn’t find it-
The craft landed bel y first on the last quarter of the track, the initial impact ripping the fuselage in half, severing the tail from the rest of the plane. The cockpit half didn’t slow, barreling toward a wal of rock.
One wing and its engine separated, exploding into a bal of fire that rocked the night. The blast pitched the cockpit and remaining wing end over end until it crashed into the side of the cliff.
Lothaire hurried toward it. If Chase lived, Lothaire could drink him, harvesting all of the magister’s memories.
At the thought, his fangs dripped in his mouth. Such hunger … He’d have to take care not to drain the man down.
When he approached the mangled cockpit, the scent of aviation fuel swept over him; the remaining engine sparked and flamed in the hissing rain.