The devil's Pact - S01 E419

Story 12 hours ago

The devil's Pact - S01 E419

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 419

Mark – Air Force One

A metallic, tearing sound shuddered through the plane, dragging me up from sleep. The plane rocked violently and fear clutched my heart. Korina hugged me tightly, panic shining in her blue eyes. I struggled to get up, tangled by my slut's panicked limbs.

“What's going on?” I muttered. There was another ripping noise and the plane shook violently.

“Everyone fasten your seatbelts,” Joslyn barked over the plane's PA. “We're experiencing some mechanical difficulty.”

As I headed for the door, there was another violent shake and I was thrown into the wall. “Fuck,” I muttered; a long cut oozed blood on my forearm.

The door banged open, reveling a pale looking 27. She was in command of the bodyguards on this trip; 51 was too far along in her pregnancy to travel. “Sir, there's...something on the wings, ripping off pieces of the plane,” she said, sounding calmer than she looked.

“What?”

“Spectre.” The code word for minor demons—a Patriot attack. “Made of smoke, we haven't seen these kinds before. They're ripping the plane apart.”

I followed her up the fuselage, gripping the sides of chairs to stay upright as the plane shook and shimmied violently. Peering out of a porthole window, I saw what looked like smoke monkeys tearing into the wing, and more were on the cowl of the engines. Black smoke issued from one engine. Was the plane on fire? Adrenaline surged through me, a cold wave that sent my heart beating frantically.

“We need to get out there!” I exclaimed. “Shoot out the windows or something!”

“The plane's going too fast and we're too high up!” 27 objected. “A living person can't go out there. And even if we could hold on despite the speed, we can't breath at this altitude!”

No-one living could. “Tsalmaveth!”

The temperature in the plane dropped as the silvery mist sprang up and twenty-one figures coalesced out of the fog. Thanks to the Patriots, another six of my bodyguards fell defending Mary and my little sister in February.

“Master,” Chasity greeted with a smile. With her blue eyes, blonde hair, and Nordic cheekbones, she was the spitting image of a Valkyrie. “We'll sweep these vermin off the plane.” Ten ghosts went right, and ten others went left, passing through the hull of the plane out onto the wings. Karen stayed with me.

I bent down, staring intently through the window as the ghosts fired their silver 9mm's at the smoke monkeys. Through the airplane's fuselage, their gunshots sound like small pops. None of the spirits – or the smoke monkeys for that matter – seemed affected by the 500 mph wind rushing by them. Even when the plane would rise up and down in the air as the pilots struggled to keep us flying, the ghosts stayed in the same place on the wing like their feet were glued to it.

“Aerials,” Karen said, bending down next to me. “Lesser demons of air, Master.”

“Where did they come from?” I asked the ghost.

“From one of the the islands we're flying over.” Karen concentrated. “Unalaska Island. But the summoners have already fled.”

“The Patriots?”

Karen nodded.

Every time a silver bullet struck one of the smokey aerials whatever force animated their vapors let go, and a small cloud of black would zoom away from the plane. The aerials seemed to ignore the ghosts, instead focusing on ripping apart the plane.

“Why don't they fight back?” I wondered.

“They weren't ordered to,” Karen explained. “They were only commanded to bring down the plane.”

The right wing was cleared by the time Karen finished talking, and I crossed the fuselage to peer out at the left wing. Huge chunks of it were missing, exposing the hydraulics and wires of the wing's innards. I didn't see any of the aerials. The ghosts were firing at the back of the plane now.

Karen stuck her head through the side of the plane. “There's a few more on the tail.”

I heard worry in her words. “What?”

“There's a missing elevator, Master.” She looked at me with concern. “You should buckle up.”

I swallowed, sitting down and strapping in. 27 sat next to me and I reached out and grabbed her hand; she squeezed me back. The plane dropped, diving forward for a moment, the engines whining in protest. Everyone screamed, including me. The plane leveled for a moment, then pitched up and down rapidly, the fuselage groaning under the stress.

“It's not that bad, dieing,” Karen said with a comforting smile, sitting down on my lap, hugging me with her cold body. “It's like falling asleep.”

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