“I thought I told you not to hit anything,” I growled.
“The explosions earlier damaged everything. The ship is falling apart. We’ve lost the ability to steer,” he said, fear jumbling all his words together. “We’re coming up on the wall, and I can’t turn us away. We’re going to hit it.”
23
The Wall
“What do we do?” the pilot asked, his voice cracking with panic.
I didn’t have a clue. I looked across the room, trying to find Nero. And I found him—unconscious on the floor. The pilot was looking at me with hopeful desperation, like I had the answers to all of our problems. Nero would have known what to do, but I just…didn’t.
“How long do we have?” I asked him.
“Five minutes at the most.”
“Find the engineer. Bring her to the bridge,” I said.
Apparently assured that I knew what I was doing, the pilot nodded, then ran back into the corridor. I glanced down at Nero. He was so pale now. I wasn’t sure he’d survive.
“I know you won’t like this,” I said, lowering beside him. “But I’m not giving you a choice.”
Setting his head on my lap, I pushed my bleeding wrist against his mouth. His nose twitched, and he inhaled the scent of my blood. Like magic, his hands jerked up, closing around my fingers, pushing my wrist to his mouth. When his fangs broke the skin, fire flashed through my veins. The long, powerful draws of his mouth fed that fire, pushing it higher until the feverish bliss consumed my entire body.
Nero drank deeply from me. Soon, dizzying waves spilled across me, drowning me in a dark and dangerous ecstasy that part of me knew would kill me. Nero must have known it too, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop, I realized. His eyelids flickered rapidly, as though he were still caught inside of a dream.
“Nero,” I said, trying to free my wrist.
His grip tightened around my hand, his fingers digging in deeper. He wasn’t letting go without a fight, and I wasn’t strong enough to beat him in a fair one. Purple and black and pink dots danced in front of my eyes. Blinking back the impending darkness, I grabbed the handle of the healing kit I’d brought along. I swung hard, knocking him over the head. His body went limp. I disengaged my wrist from his mouth, slid him off of me, and got shakily to my feet.
I ran back to the bridge, bumping against the walls a few times along the way. My head still spinning, I stumbled into the co-pilot seat. Sitting proved to be easier than standing, though I certainly was in no shape to drive anything, especially a damaged airship. I pulled at the steering wheel anyway, just in case I could will it to work again. It didn’t cooperate.
The pilot rushed onto the bridge, the engineer right beside him. Both of them looked sure they were going to die. Granted, the situation was dire, but I wasn’t giving up so easily. If we hit the great wall, the impact would either destroy us or a part of the wall—or both. And if the wall broke, that would open the way for the monsters and the other nasties who lived on the Black Plains to invade the Earth’s remaining civilized lands. More than just the people on this ship were going to die if we didn’t get a handle on the situation.
“We’re descending again,” I told the engineer.
“The ship is too damaged. I can’t keep us up in the air. Sooner or later, we’re going to crash.”
“Can you make it later?”
“What?”
“I need you to bring us over the wall.”
“But then we’ll crash on the Wilds side,” she said in horror.
“Yes, we’ll crash in the Black Plains, but that’s better than crashing into the wall.”
She shook her head. “I can’t do it. The gas tanks are ruined. There isn’t enough left to lift us up that high.”
“Are you a Steam Witch or not?” I demanded. “If you don’t have enough gas, then enchant the hell out of what you do have. Put some more magic into it, and get us over that wall.”
That weird dazed look slid over her eyes. She nodded and ran back down the hall—I hoped to the engine room. The wall was…well, close. There wasn’t really another word for it. Except maybe big. And thick. And alight with a golden glow. Ok, that was more than one word. I squinted out of the front window. Glowing? It shouldn’t be glowing. That meant someone had turned the magic on, and that if we hit it, we’d disintegrate into a fiery plume long before we could damage the wall. There were no paranormal soldiers posted here, but someone must have seen us coming and flipped on the wall’s power.
Slowly, the airship began to rise. We might just survive this yet. But my moment of hope was cut short when the ship shook and dropped. My head slammed against the controls. My splotchy vision faded to darkness, and I finally lost my futile battle with consciousness.
I blinked awake a few seconds later. At least it had to be just a few seconds later because the wall was still looming in front of us. It took me longer than it should have to realize we weren’t moving any closer to it. We were just stuck in time.
I rose from my chair, clenching my jaw through the fresh dose of pain rushing to my head. Holding tightly to the seat back, I stepped closer to the window and looked down at the ground.
A woman in leather armor stood in front of the wall, her hands lifted in the air, her long black hair whipping in the wind. Nyx, the First Angel. Her white wings were spread wide. The glow of the golden magic that pulsed out from the wall hit them, lighting up the gold flecks in her feathers. They looked like they were sparkling with millions of tiny glitter particles. Slowly, she lowered her hands, and the airship dipped with them, coasting toward the ground. She was holding up a whole ship with her psychic power alone. The magic Nyx could wield was simply mind-boggling.