Abi stepped over the man and went into the bathroom. He always carried a small bottle of suppressant. He pulled it from the inside pocket of his coat and sprayed himself. He made a mental note to buy more. The bottle felt close to empty. Running out would be disastrous.
That should keep the wolves at bay for a while. And all the other creatures.
Chapter Four
Nash didn’t enjoy flying in airplanes. He preferred to shift and fly in his dragon form. His stomach flipped as soon as they were in the air. It seemed odd that it would bother him while on a plane, but it didn’t when he flew. But then car rides also made him queasy, whereas being on his bike didn’t. Maybe it had something to do with the fresh air.
He didn’t understand why he needed to take Jonik’s uncle’s private jet when Duchester wasn’t that far. A couple of hours if the traffic was on his side. He would have taken his bike, which would have been even faster.
The plane was unlike any he’d ever been on. The seats were spacious. Knowing what he did about Jonik, Nash would guess that most of the people who rode around in this fancy tin can were a mix of different paranormals. A lot of them had magic. The residuals of it hung in the air like a curtain. Nash felt it tingle on his skin. While it wasn’t oppressive, it put Nash on edge. Someone was a very strong magic user. Nash would bet his life’s savings it was the uncle.
If the residuals were as strong on the plane, Nash didn’t want to find out what it would be like in the uncle’s mansion. And yeah, the uncle lived in a mansion. Nash didn’t have to guess at the type of home the uncle had. He rode around on a private jet for fuck’s sake.
If he knew anything about paranormal culture, and he was one, so he knew a lot, it was that paranormals rarely lived in typical, traditional households. It wasn’t abnormal for paranormals to share space. Nash would bet Jonik’s uncle had a house full. The uncle might let Jonik and Samuel live in Wingspan so they could be with the Dragon Skull family, but there was little doubt in Nash’s mind that the guy had the rest of his little mob living with him in his mansion. The reason Nash suspected that was because he was in constant contact with Jonik and most likely Samuel as well.
Nash was the only one on the plane except for the staff. He drew out his phone and dialed Jonik’s number.
Jonik answered on the second ring. “What’s going on?”
“Besides the fact that I’m on a damn private jet, you mean?” The flight attendant offered him a beverage. Nash accepted a bottle of water. Not the cheap stuff either. The bottle was glass and had a fancy label.
Nash eyed it and shook his head. What a waste of money.
“We’ll be taking off in five minutes, sir.” Nash needed to get off his phone before that. The man was human and wore dress pants with a crisp white shirt.
“Don’t tell me you fear flying,” Jonik said.
“Of course not, when I’m the one flying. I like flying with my own wings. The seats are nice, though. Lots of leg room.”
“You look like a business executive taking the company jet.”
“And by company jet, youmean the mafia.”
Jonik chuckled. “Right. But seriously, what the fuck are you worried about? You’re a dragon shifter. If something happens to the plane, just jump off, shift, and fly yourself.”
“Problem solved.” Nash rolled his eyes.
“Exactly.”
“Except, what if this death trap blows up? Or catches fire. Or the landing gear malfunctions.”
The flight attendant paled and shook his head. “That will never happen,” he whispered, then pushed the cart down the short aisle.
“My uncle keeps that plane in top shape. You’re safer flying than on your bike in Duchester traffic.”
That was probably true. Duchester traffic was notoriously bad. So dangerous, people died almost daily in auto accidents. “Let’s not compare this tin can to the Duchester highway.”
The flight attendant made his way down the aisle again, cart-free. He stopped and bent as if he thought he needed to whisper. “We’ll need you to end your call and put your phone on airplane mode. Also, buckle your seatbelt,” he said with a smile.
Nash nodded. “Gotta go.”
“Stay safe. Don’t crash.”
“Dickhead.”
The last thing he heard was Jonikchuckling.
Nash did what the flight attendant asked.
