I am too low. Too soon.
More red lights on the instrument panel. The power supply had been cut. The batteries were breached. The altimeter whirred and beeped.
Opal was at the side window. Artemis could see her tiny teeth grinning at him. She was saying something. Shouting. But the radio was not operational anymore. Just as well, probably.
She is having the time of her life, he realized. Fun, fun, fun.
Artemis struggled with the controls. The sticky flaps were the least of his worries now. If Opal decided to snip a few cables, then he would lose whatever say he had over the plane. Though it was too early, Artemis lowered the tricycle landing gear. If Opal sabotaged the mechanism now, the wheels should stay down.
They plummeted earthward, locked together. A sparrow on an eagle’s back. Opal smashed her armored head through the door window’s Plexiglas, still shouting inside the helmet, spittle spraying the visor. Issuing orders that Artemis could not hear and could not spare enough time to lip-read. He could see that her eyes glowed red with magic, and it was clear from her manic expression that any threads connecting her to rationality had been severed.
More shouting, muffled behind the visor. Artemis cast a sardonic gaze at the radio, which sat dead and dark in its cradle.
Opal caught the look and raised her visor, shouting over the wind, too impatient for the helmet PA.
“Give me the lemur and I will save you,” she said, her voice mesmerizing. “You have my . . .”
Artemis avoided her gaze and pulled the emergency flare gun from under the seat, sticking it in her face.
“You leave me no choice but to shoot you,” he said, voice cold and certain. This was not a threat, it was a statement of fact.
Opal knew the truth when she heard it, and for one second her resolve wavered. She pulled back, but not quickly enough to prevent Artemis from firing the flare into her helmet, then reaching up to flick down the visor.
Opal spun away from the Cessna, trailing black smoke, red sparks swarming around her head like angry wasps. Her wing smashed into the Cessna’s, and neither survived intact. Solar cell splinters flashed like stardust, and Opal’s tail feathers helicoptered slowly earthward. The airplane yawed to starboard, moaning like a wounded animal.
I need to land. Now.
Artemis didn’t feel guilty about what he’d done. Flare burns would not hinder a being of Opal’s regenerative power for long. Already the magic would be repairing her skin damage. At best he had bought himself a few minutes’ reprieve.
When Opal comes back, she will be beyond furious. A true maniac. Perhaps her judgment will be clouded.
Artemis smiled grimly, and for a moment he felt like his old conniving self, before Holly and his mother had introduced him to their pesky moral codes.
Good. Clouded judgment may give me the advantage I need.
Artemis leveled the craft as much as he could, slowing his descent. Wind slapped his face, tugging his skin. Shielding his eyes with a forearm, Artemis peered downward through the blur of propeller spin.
Hook Head peninsula jutted into the blackness of the sea below him like a slate-gray arrowhead. A cluster of lights winked on the eastern curve. This was the village of Duncade, where Butler had awaited his young charge’s return from Limbo. A magical inlet that had once sheltered the demon isle of Hybras. The entire area was a magical hotspot and would set LEP spectrometers buzzing.
Dark blue night was falling quickly, and it was difficult to tell hard ground from soft. Artemis knew that a carpet of meadow ran from Duncade to the Hook Head lighthouse, but he could only see the grass strip once every five seconds when it flashed emerald in the tower’s beam.
My runway, thought Artemis.
He dragged the Cessna into the best possible approach line, descending in uneven, stomach-lurching swoops. Solar panels frittered away from the nose and wings, streaming behind the craft.
Still no sign of Opal.
She’s coming. Make no mistake about it.
With each flash of green, the hard earth rushed up to meet him.
Too fast, thought Artemis. I am coming in too fast. I will never get my legal pilot’s license flying like this.
He clenched his jaws and held the stick tightly. Touchdown was going to be rough.
And it was, though not bone-shatteringly so. Not the first time. It was on the second bounce that Artemis was shunted forward into the console and heard the left side of his collarbone snap. A horrible sound that brought bile to his throat.
No pain yet. Just cold. I am going into shock.