Forgotten in Darkness (7 page)

As he moved to pursue her, Kira clamped onto his arm.

Dakar glared a get-the-hell-out-of-my-way. A buzz of energy entered him where she touched his arm.

“You’re not reneging.”

Chapter Five

Quiet voices registered in Dakar’s groggy mind. His barely conscious brain translated the English to his native Egyptian, but not fast enough to keep up with the breakneck jabbering. He attempted to stand, but found himself strapped into a beige leather chair, confined in a small, oblong room. The other magi sat near him, most sucking on drinks that based on smell were no doubt alcoholic. What was this vehicle? He felt the motor’s buzz. Had to be another modern means of transport.

The healer bitch had knocked him out. His indignation changed to reluctant respect. No previous healer had pulled that one on him.

He felt down his side. Ribcage healed. But festering wounds…the same.

“Look who’s decided to wake up,” said Ethan.

Dakar fiddled with the belt around his waist, frustrated when it didn’t release. The moment his frustration reached the fuck-this-rip-it level, it unlatched. He half rose from his seat, but Ashor’s warning glare halted him.

“Stay seated,” Ashor ordered. “You’re on a plane. An airplane. I’m not sure you know what that means since I suspect you’ve returned to us from some point in the past. It means you stay still. You are in the air. As in flying.”

Dakar glanced out the small round window. Clouds below? That was not a perspective from which he had ever imagined viewing them. He fell back into the seat, his stomach churning. His mind swamped him with images of falling from this vehicle in the sky and splatting on the ground. People were not meant to fly.

In addition to Ashor, Charm-boy, reincarned Khyan, and Sparky, another magus sat at the front of the airplane. He closed his eyes to focus on the one operating the airplane. The mentalist. That one’s ability to not only read thoughts, but also alter memory unnerved him, especially since the guy never quite achieved control over the skill in any lifetime Dakar had seen him pass through. The guy might be a brilliantly skilled warrior, but spent most of his time brooding and angry.

He craned his neck to glance at a teenager seated in the back with shaggy blond hair falling into his face as he focused on a small electronic device. Not a magus. “Who’s the youth?”

“That’s Eric’s son, Scott,” Ashor replied. “You probably don’t remember Eric by that name. He’s the one with telekinesis and object-bending ability.”

“Right. The prolific one. He must have pleased the gods at some point early on to always get more time with his girl than the rest of us. Why is his son here?”

“He does IT for us.”

Dakar shook his head in incomprehension.

“Computer stuff. New technology. Keeps humans from noticing us.” Ashor worked his jaw back and forth while gazing at Dakar for a few seconds. Finally he asked, “Are you close to the Turn?”

“Are my eyes the darkest black with the
kem-seki
stain that you have ever seen on a sane magus?”

“I’ve executed a few magi with less staining that were lost to its madness. I can’t even tell what color your eyes should be. All I see is the swirling darkness.”

“I can walk the edge of Turning forever and not fall victim to its insanity.”

“That’s not possible.”

They must have no living magus with past-life memory. “The
kem-seki
and I are old friends. We have been together for a very long time.”

“Have you found a secret to control its madness that does not involve your
senariai
?”

“For me, ’tis complicated, and different than for you or the others. By now you must realize the gods love to muck around with us.”

“Gotcha on that,” Ashor snorted. A shadow passed through his eyes, and his gaze darted to Kira.

Ah, so Ashor and Kira must be only recently reunited souls, and experienced some typical gods-related bullshit before being allowed together.
“
You need have no fear I shall fall victim to the
kem-seki
’s madness anytime soon.”

Ashor nodded as if discussion was closed. For now.

Dakar focused on the magus nearest him. “So, Lightning, how long have you been in this life?”

“It’s Nate, asshole. Not Lightning, Shock-boy, or Sparky.”

“I will call you Lightning until you gain control. ’Tis disgraceful. You damn near set me on fire in the church.”

Nate rose from his seat to tower over him. “Caveman wants a piece of this, does he?” The plane lurched and then the engines stalled.

Collective groans escaped from Ethan and Christian. Ethan grabbed Nate by the back of his shirt and pulled him back into his seat. “Cool off, hotshot.” He pointed at Dakar. “Don’t get Nate upset while we’re in the air. Bad things happen.”

The door to the cockpit flew open. A voice boomed in a crisp English accent from the cockpit, “Nate, you little pisser. Restart them, ’cause without the engines we’re going down.”

The plane dropped unexpectedly, throwing Nate onto the aisle floor. He placed his ear to the aisle carpet and closed his eyes. He yelled toward the front, “Javen, I swear it wasn’t me. The problem isn’t electrical. Can’t get ’em going again.”

“You think you could jumpstart them without blowing us up?” Ethan asked with a smirk.

Nate pushed to a stand and flashed Ethan a finger signal that Dakar didn’t recognize, but understood the fuck-you gist.

Nate gritted out, “Probably could. But it’s not electrical.”

“Then what caused it?” Ethan asked.

“Computer? Mechanical? Out of gas? I don’t know. Just wasn’t me.” Nate fell into his seat.

Javen projected his voice into the passenger cabin on an overhead voice system. “This is the captain speaking. We are approximately seventy miles off the Costa Rica coastline. If you would look to your left you see ocean. And then to your right you see…ocean. Nate has decided we are going in for a splash land in the Pacific.” Then louder he yelled, “Bloody hell, Nate. I will strangle you, if you live through this, which for your sake I hope you don’t.”

“I swear, it wasn’t me,” Nate tried again.

The plane nose-dived sickeningly toward the ocean and then leveled out. Dakar’s stomach soured against the sudden pressure change. Despite the fact he was always prepared for death in this human form, this wasn’t a way he envisioned it. Drowning was his number one nightmare.

None of the other magi seemed concerned about the fact they were plummeting out of the sky like a shot bird. Maybe this was normal. He tried to relax into his seat and appear nonchalant.

Ashor commanded, “Christian, get the rafts. Ethan, collect the weapons. Scott, computer shit.” He turned to Kira and said gently,
“Get your things together, sweetheart.”

The white-faced terror on Kira’s face reflected Dakar’s exact thoughts.

Christian stumbled against the lurching of the plane to the cabinet just behind the cockpit. He pulled out two orange duffle bags and oars.

“Everyone throw me cells and any small electronics you don’t want toasted by water,” Scott yelled.

Christian pulled out his cell. “What exactly can you do to guarantee my phone makes it? I’ve got some important numbers in here.”

“Backpack is waterproof. Learned my lesson the first time I was on a plane that Nate downed.”

“For the third fucking time, it wasn’t me!” Nate yelled.

“Whatever. I need electronics,” Scott said.

Many devices sailed toward Scott.

Kira fell into the aisle as the plane pitched. She crawled to look under her chair. Over the noise of the plane, she yelled, “Where are the life preservers?”

Ashor chuckled. “This isn’t a commercial jet liner.”

She screeched, “Crashing in the middle of the ocean isn’t what I’d call protecting the
akhrian
! If the sharks eat me, Ashor, I’m cursing you in your next lifetime.
”

Ashor pulled her close. “We’ve done this before. It’s a casualty of having Nate on board.”

“Then, I’m not flying with him again. Period,” she declared.

Nate glowered.

Dakar smiled.

Javen piped in on the overhead again. “I’m going to try to hold her steady, but this is going to be rough. I recommend we get the emergency door open fast once we land just in case this hunk of junk tries to sink or breaks apart.”

“Nate, you’re on the door,” Ashor commanded. “Everyone, buckle in.”

Kira said, “I remember the Ethiopian hijacking from several years ago when they tried to land in the ocean and broke the plane into bits. Only a handful survived. I do NOT want to die.”

“Javen is getting good at water crashing,” Ashor soothed.

“Didn’t do so hot the first time,” Ethan grumbled.

“Thanks, Eth,” Ashor tossed sarcastically while drawing Kira into a tight embrace. “We’ll make it.”

The plane lurched and jolted until it smoothed out for about a half minute.

Ethan pointed at Dakar. “Put the seatbelt on tight and brace for impact.”

The plane halted in midair as if it smacked against a wall, tossing Dakar forward only to be caught by his belt. He whiplashed back into the seat with a head-smacking thwack that had him seeing blurry for a few seconds. Out the window the wing was barely above water, but they were floating.

Seat belts unlocked simultaneously. He followed suit and shuffled to the exit door.

“You swim?” Nate asked.

“Not a problem,” Dakar replied. He might despise the water, having been drowned too many times over the centuries, twice by his mate and once by a daemon before he met Shaiani, but he knew well how to navigate it.

A while later and quite a bit wetter, Dakar leaned back in the inflatable boat watching the tail of the plane disappear beneath the turbulent waves. “For a first-time airplane experience, that was memorable.”

“That’s the third one Nate crashed. Damned waste of a good plane,” Javen complained as he tried to lash together the two boats. He pushed curling dark wet hair out of his eyes and cursed when the ropes refused to cooperate into a knot. He had the tats from a very nasty daemon strike marking his face, giving him a chilling look that probably didn’t go over well in public. Three quarter-inch diagonal tattooed scars coursed from his forehead to chin. Another wide tattoo spanned the circumference of his neck. Perfect marks for a daemon scratch and then throat grab. Ouch. Amazing he survived without decapitation.

“Need help?” Dakar asked.

Javen glanced up sharply. Dakar felt a familiar mind push. He sent the bold magus a threatening mental growl. He wasn’t comfortable with Javen mucking around in his brain. He didn’t know how developed his powers were at this point in his magus life. In previous lifetimes, he had seen Javen send more that a few humans into a coma or stroke before he became adept at working within a person’s head.

Javen’s blue eyes went wide. His mental presence withdrew. He fiddled with the rope a bit longer without success.

Dakar grabbed the rope and tied the boats together in a few seconds. If there was one thing he knew well, it was nautical knots, having spent years on seafaring vessels in past lifetimes.

“It wasn’t me. Not this time.” Nate glanced around at all the others who all reflected frank disbelief. “I. Did. Not. Lose. Control!”

Javen raised his eyebrows and mumbled, “Right. Like you didn’t blow up the gas station a few months ago and end up on Interpol’s most wanted list for terrorism.”

“They never found out that was me.”

Dakar smiled, enjoying Nate’s frustration. “Maybe you should seek calm, Sparky. If you light your boat on fire and it sinks, I vote you swim.”

“Amen to that,” said Ethan.

Kira pointed at Nate. “If you sink these boats, it’ll be a cold day in hell before I’ll be helping you out the next time some daemon tears you up. I refuse to spend the next few days starving to death until a shark eats me.”

Ashor enfolded her in his arms. “I would not let a shark eat you.”

Nate rolled his eyes heavenward and then back to Kira. “I promise I will not sink the boats. Javen, are you one hundred percent sure the plane didn’t have a computer malfunction?”

Javen shrugged. “She just shut down. You were yelling and then it conked out.”

Ethan grabbed a set of plastic oars and started rowing. “How long you think it’ll take us to row to Costa Rica, Javen?”

Javen grabbed the other set. “All night. Maybe into tomorrow. We’re about thirty miles out. Current is with us, though. That’s good.”

Scott piped up after consulting a colorful screen. “I estimate with winds and current we can make it, if you guys row hard, in ten hours.”

Ashor said, “Let’s hope no one notices us. The last thing we want is to end up on CNN as the mystery rescue of the month.”

****

White sand beaches scattered with driftwood loomed ahead. A few post-dawn stragglers roamed. For most people, the beach epitomized the perfect holiday destination. For Dakar, quite the opposite. Too near the ocean.

“Where to, Scott?” Ashor asked.

Scott typed madly on what Dakar had learned was a laptop computer. Images of elaborate boarding houses…no, Scott called them
resort hotels
, scrolled faster than he could process.

As he scrolled, Scott said, “We need something not top end or American touristy. Something…like, aaaha! Our destination is that way.” He pointed north along the beach.

Long after they rowed past several sprawling multi-story hotels with gigantic blue pools (who needed a pool with the ocean?), they pulled the rafts onto a beach.

“That’s it?” Javen pointed to a dilapidated three-story.

Scott nodded. “It’s perfect for not being noticed.”

“If I get bedbugs from this, I’m blaming you, Scott.” Christian crinkled his nose.

“It’s described as a charming hotel, designed with traditional Spanish colonial elements and contemporary tropical décor,” Scott read off his laptop.

“Charming as in old and rundown,” Javen grumbled.

Scott shot back, “Like you think we could waltz into a high end resort smelling like we spent a week in the ocean with you guys tattooed and bloody up the wazoo, and not attract local police?”