Neps didn’t understand, changed over the years to make it seem more and more impossible. Who do you think started the myths? The stranger something sounds, the more Neps dismiss it. Dismiss the legend and you’ll never learn the truth—just another way of keeping us hidden. Enchants have been spinning history for centuries.”
“That’s unbelievable.”
“Yeah? Remind me to tell you about Bigfoot sometime. Now there was a public relations nightmare.” Rizz eyed the flight attendant, who was demonstrating how to put on an oxygen mask. “Have you tagged the stewardess yet?”
Will studied the attendant’s rounded face and traces of white fur on her hands and temples. “Um. A rabbit?” Will was stumped.
“Polar bear. One of the best senses of smell in the world,” Rizz whispered. “That’s why she’s having such a tough time with you. That gerbil scent is working like a charm.”
Will did notice she left the mask on for a long time after the demonstration.
The plane limped forward and bumped down the uneven runway. There seemed to be an unusual amount of smoke pouring from the wing. The sound of metal clanging to the ground was followed by an awful cough from one of the engines.
Will dug his fingers into his Balsamic vinegar armrests until his nails broke through his latex gloves. He glanced down at his gloved hands. Even cured of allergies, he couldn’t take them off. They made him feel secure.
The engines hiccupped twice, then roared to life, sputtering and belching more smoke as the plane wobbled down the runway, faster and faster. Piles of freight swayed wildly, and water dripped from one of the cracked windows. Overhead, the cargo nets swung. The plane lifted for a moment then dropped, bouncing twice off the concrete before it finally hauled itself into the air.
Will’s armrests were starting to splinter as his knuckles glowed white beneath the latex. After fifteen torturous minutes of flying, the plane leveled out and the pilot’s voice sounded through a loud speaker.
“Ladies and enchants, this is your captain speaking. We’ve reached our cruising altitude and it is now safe to move about the cabin. We are looking at smooth skies and an approximate travel time of four hours and twenty-seven minutes. Please sit back and enjoy your flight.”
After two hours, Will had become used to the constant sputter of the jet engines. His hands relaxed, and his knuckles faded.
Dr. Noctua slept, his round shoulders rising and falling with each breath. Kaya sat reading a fashion magazine that had a burly-looking wolverine with a cleft chin on the front cover. Agent Manning was polishing an assortment of weaponry that she’d smuggled onto the plane. Agent Flores straightened his eyebrows in his hand mirror while his face changed color, mimicking the passing clouds in the window.
Will turned to Rizz, who had finished his leafy in-flight meal and was chewing absentmindedly on his fork the way some people chew on pencil erasers.
“Um, Agent Rizzuto?”
“Hey, call me Rizz, remember.” He pulled the mangled fork from his mouth.
“Oh, okay, Rizz? What were you saying back in the airport? You know, that Dr. Noctua bought Special Branch?”
“Yeah. Pretty crazy, huh? Imagine how much money it would take to run a branch of the FBI or CIA. Well, double it and you can guess what the Doc must drop on Special Branch.” Rizz chuckled and elbowed Will in the ribs. “Not like the old bird doesn’t have it, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s loaded—more money than a small country—owns Cloak factories across the world. And powerful, oh man! He might look like a gentle, eccentric doctor, but that little old owl has three doctorates, two medals of valor, two medical degrees, a law degree, speaks thirty-seven languages, and has been knighted in five countries. He is arguably the most influential and respected being on the planet. Good guy to have as a personal physician, huh?” Rizz nudged Will
“That’s unbelievable.”
“Yeah? Remind me to tell you about Bigfoot sometime. Now there was a public relations nightmare.” Rizz eyed the flight attendant, who was demonstrating how to put on an oxygen mask. “Have you tagged the stewardess yet?”
Will studied the attendant’s rounded face and traces of white fur on her hands and temples. “Um. A rabbit?” Will was stumped.
“Polar bear. One of the best senses of smell in the world,” Rizz whispered. “That’s why she’s having such a tough time with you. That gerbil scent is working like a charm.”
Will did notice she left the mask on for a long time after the demonstration.
The plane limped forward and bumped down the uneven runway. There seemed to be an unusual amount of smoke pouring from the wing. The sound of metal clanging to the ground was followed by an awful cough from one of the engines.
Will dug his fingers into his Balsamic vinegar armrests until his nails broke through his latex gloves. He glanced down at his gloved hands. Even cured of allergies, he couldn’t take them off. They made him feel secure.
The engines hiccupped twice, then roared to life, sputtering and belching more smoke as the plane wobbled down the runway, faster and faster. Piles of freight swayed wildly, and water dripped from one of the cracked windows. Overhead, the cargo nets swung. The plane lifted for a moment then dropped, bouncing twice off the concrete before it finally hauled itself into the air.
Will’s armrests were starting to splinter as his knuckles glowed white beneath the latex. After fifteen torturous minutes of flying, the plane leveled out and the pilot’s voice sounded through a loud speaker.
“Ladies and enchants, this is your captain speaking. We’ve reached our cruising altitude and it is now safe to move about the cabin. We are looking at smooth skies and an approximate travel time of four hours and twenty-seven minutes. Please sit back and enjoy your flight.”
After two hours, Will had become used to the constant sputter of the jet engines. His hands relaxed, and his knuckles faded.
Dr. Noctua slept, his round shoulders rising and falling with each breath. Kaya sat reading a fashion magazine that had a burly-looking wolverine with a cleft chin on the front cover. Agent Manning was polishing an assortment of weaponry that she’d smuggled onto the plane. Agent Flores straightened his eyebrows in his hand mirror while his face changed color, mimicking the passing clouds in the window.
Will turned to Rizz, who had finished his leafy in-flight meal and was chewing absentmindedly on his fork the way some people chew on pencil erasers.
“Um, Agent Rizzuto?”
“Hey, call me Rizz, remember.” He pulled the mangled fork from his mouth.
“Oh, okay, Rizz? What were you saying back in the airport? You know, that Dr. Noctua bought Special Branch?”
“Yeah. Pretty crazy, huh? Imagine how much money it would take to run a branch of the FBI or CIA. Well, double it and you can guess what the Doc must drop on Special Branch.” Rizz chuckled and elbowed Will in the ribs. “Not like the old bird doesn’t have it, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s loaded—more money than a small country—owns Cloak factories across the world. And powerful, oh man! He might look like a gentle, eccentric doctor, but that little old owl has three doctorates, two medals of valor, two medical degrees, a law degree, speaks thirty-seven languages, and has been knighted in five countries. He is arguably the most influential and respected being on the planet. Good guy to have as a personal physician, huh?” Rizz nudged Will
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