I nearly fall into the various switches and buttons on the dashboard as the indigo magic yanks on the airplane again.
One of the two pilots glances over at me. Then she does a double take.
“What in the—?”
The other pilot barks out, “Get back to your seat. Now.” Behind me, I can still hear several people shouting at me to get back to my seat.
I push away from the dashboard and lift a hand to the door. “Close.”
It swings shut, and the lock tumbles into place, sealing us off from the rest of the cabin.
The male pilot glances between me and the door several feet away that seemingly shut itself. His eyes widen with incredulity and perhaps a touch of fear.
“Someone is trying to take us out of the sky,” I say, as though that explains my own magic.
To punctuate my words, the plane jerks violently, throwing me forward. I barely manage to catch myself on the pilots’ seats, trying to regain my bearings.
“I’m here to help land the plane.”
The woman laughs, the sound containing all sorts of skepticism. And honestly, I’d probably laugh too if some little shit who collapsed onto my dashboard claimed she could help.
Come to me…Empress…
The ghostly voice whispers in my ear and against my skin. The hair on my arms stands on end. There’s something perversely alluring about that voice.
“Listen, I don’t care how experienced you both are—you’re working with forces beyond your senses, and you’re not going to be able to land this plane without my help.”
I’d like to say they were roused by my words, but the truth is, both pilots have returned their attention to flying the plane, and the woman is telling her companion about some course of action that might work.
Right.
I close my eyes and take a steadying breath, focusing inward.
“Use my power. Ignore my pain. With this spell, I’ll land the plane.” I incant the rhyme over and over as my power flares, then spreads out from me.
When I open my eyes, I see it clear away the deep-blue magic that obscured the view out the front window. Once I can see our surroundings, I try not to scream. There are rolling mountains and a sea of trees beneath us, and they’re growing closer by the second.
Oh Goddess, we’re going to die.
I take a deep breath and force the insidious thought away.
I just need to help land the plane. It’s not impossible. I concentrate on my power again, letting it unspool from within me, and continue to repeat the incantation.
My power rushes out of me and flows to the underside of the plane. I cannot see what it’s doing, but I vaguely sense it pressing against the aircraft’s smooth metal underbelly. And then I feel it ripple as though it’s becoming its own air current. Hell, maybe it is.
It strains, working to shift the angle of the plane.
Not enough! Not enough!
I grit my teeth, my head throbbing from my exertion.
“I call on magic most arcane. Protect these people. Land this plane.” My voice grows louder, even as the turbines roar and muffled screams filter in from the cabin.
With each utterance, more magic pours out of me. That opposing magic is still present, but rather than battle for dominance, its magic melds with mine.
Once it does so, I feel the nose of the plane inch up, just a little. And then a little more.
The pilots give rapid-fire commands—either to each other or someone on the other end of their headset. Maybe it’s all going to be okay, maybe—
“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! We’re going down!”
Fuck.
The trees out the window grow larger and larger.
I keep forcing my magic out, straining to level the aircraft. Now that that other magic is helping, it’s working. I’m just not sure it’s working fast enough.
I groan, then scream at the exertion.
Empress, I sense you drawing near.
Slowly, slowly, the front of the plane lifts.
“Whoa!” the pilot says, glancing down at the wheel, his hands slipping off it for a moment. Even without him steering, the aircraft continues to pull up. “What the fuck?”
He glances at me, but I’m too busy incanting and directing the power to spare him a look.
“Matt, grab the damn thing and help me land this plane!” the other pilot calls out.
He does reach out for the wheel as the foliage below rises to meet us. I can see leaves on trees and the glisten of rainwater.
It’s happening too fast, and I’m not strapped in—I’m not even in a seat. There is nothing to keep me from being thrown across the cockpit and out the window.
In response to the thought, my magic wraps around me, anchoring me to the spot. I’m not sure I even needed to protect myself. This foreign, insidious magic is there a moment later, cocooning me. It too feels oddly protective.
I know we’re going to crash. I can see it plainly enough from the view, but I still force out more magic in a last-ditch attempt to save us. My head feels like it’s splitting in two from the exertion, and I won’t let myself think about the sheer quantity of memories my magic is dissolving.
A cluster of birds rises from the trees below us, scattering as we close in on the misty jungle below.
“Get ready!” the pilot shouts.
The plane hits its first branch. There’s a sickening snap, then—
Whack, whack, whack—
Wood splinters and metal shrieks as the plane’s underbelly grinds across the treetops. We bounce, and only my magic and this alien power hold my body in place.
The front of the plane dips, then—
BANG!
Despite the magic tethering me in place, I’m still thrown forward onto that damn dashboard, and then everything goes dark.
CHAPTER 4
“…but I thought she forced her way into the cockpit…”
“…I swear to god, she helped me guide the plane…”
“…wasn’t wearing a seat belt…”
“She doesn’t look hurt…”
I blink my eyes open. Above me, I see the concerned faces of several people, though I recognize none of them. One wears a pilot’s uniform. The others seem to be flight attendants.
Pilots? Flight attendants? What’s going on?
I frown, my gaze moving from person to person. Beyond them I can hear the soft patter of rain and the murmur of many voices.
I draw in a deep breath, the action causing my head to throb.
I know this pain—and I know the accompanying confusion.
Shit. I must’ve used my magic—probably a lot of it too, if my headache is anything to go by.
I take a deep breath and go over my list of basics.
I am Selene Bowers.
I am twenty years old.
I grew up in Santa Cruz, California.
My parents are Olivia and Benjamin Bowers.
I am alive. I am okay.
The people clustered around me have been asking me questions. I try to focus on one of them. “What?” I say dazedly.
“Does anything hurt?”
I frown again, then touch my temple. “My head,” I say hoarsely. My muscles ache, and my clothing is growing damp from whatever is beneath me, but those are minor inconveniences. Even the headache will disappear eventually.
“What’s going on?” I murmur.
“You were in a plane crash,” one of the flight attendants says.