Pucker Up (A Damsels of Distress Novel) (10 page)

because suddenly she couldn't breathe.

She stood frozen, Mr. McGregor's

words ringing in her head.

He's bluffing.

But the steely glint in his eyes as

he caught her gaze said otherwise. His

thin lips pulled up in a disturbing smile,

exposing his yellowed teeth. “Hey,

lassie.”

Instinct guiding her, she jumped

up and swung the plank as hard as she

could at his head. He didn't expect it.

The board made contact with the side of

his face. Painful vibrations shot up her

arms and she felt like a cartoon

character trembling all over from the

blow.

He went down and she took off

at full speed. Unfortunately, he wasn't

out. “Ye better run,” he yelled as he

chased after her.

She pushed her feet to move

faster and take her to the first place that

popped in her mind. His footsteps faded

as she rounded corners and dashed

through alleys until the little apothecary

shop came into view.

Garren flipped over the sign,

closing up the store. When the light

inside switched off, she moved faster.

No! Come back!
She ran right

into the door and banged against the

glass to get his attention. The window

fogged beneath her heavy breaths as she

waited for him to notice her.

“What are you doing here?”

Garren asked as he unlocked the door.

“Couldn’t wait to see me again?”

She pushed him out of the way

and slammed the door behind her.

Grabbing his arm, she pulled him down

and around a display stand of charmed

jewelry. Her lungs were burning and her

legs felt like rubber as she struggled to

catch her breath.

He opened his mouth to speak

until she held up one finger, silently

asking for a minute to compose herself.

“McGregor... pissed... chasing

me...,” she said between painful gasps of

air.

He didn't seem to understand at

first, never seeing the more aggressive

side to her landlord's personality before.

Mr. McGregor had the whole town

fooled. But something in her face must

have conveyed her sincerity, because

without a word, Garren took her by the

elbow and led her upstairs to the

bathroom.

“So, what'd you do?” he asked as

he turned on the faucet and wet a

washcloth for her.

“I borrowed his car without

asking, remember? He got home before I

did.” The cool water stung as she

washed all the dirt and gravel from her

cuts.

He didn't say anything else, but

watched, arms crossed, as she cleaned

herself up. The silence made her

uncomfortable and she checked the little

mirror to make sure she got all the blood

cleaned off.

Her curly brown hair was

sticking out all over the place and her

skin was paler than usual, making the

freckles splattered all over her cheeks

more prominent.

“We'll hide you out in Cora's

room. She won't mind, because for some

reason, she thinks you're cool.” He

picked up her bag and led her down the

hall to his little sister's room.

Cora was more than happy to

share the room with her. She'd probably

be up half the night listening to Cora

ramble on about everything under the

sun. And that was fine with her as long

as Mr. McGregor didn't find her.

“I'll talk to Thane,” Garren said.

“Under the circumstances, I think we

need to leave tomorrow.”

“And exactly how are we getting

to Sacramento?” She hoped it didn’t

involve them “borrowing” someone

else’s car.

Garren stopped at the bedroom

door and grinned. “We’re flying.”

Chapter 6

“Are you sure this thing is safe?”

Sitting in front of Ivy on the tiny

airstrip surrounded by forest was an old

plane. At least, that's what it resembled.

It had definitely seen better days. The

four propellers on its wings were so

rusty she feared getting tetanus just

looking at them. The tires were bald and

under-inflated. Even the pin-up girl

painted on the side had gray hair and

crow's feet. She wanted to find a shotgun

and put the poor thing out of its misery.

Captain Burgandy, a man whose

eyes held the haunted light of someone

who shot down one too many Nazis,

wrapped another layer of silver duct

tape around the left wing. His gnarled

hands were thick with black stains, and

oil smudged his worn jeans and faded

flannel shirt. Gray hair circled his

polished, age-spotted dome. “Don't you

worry your pretty little head, missy. She

may look a bit worn, but Daisy Mae here

will get you kids where you need to go.”

She gave the old man a half

smile and nod.
If where we need to go is

crashing straight into the ground, then

I believe you.

The morning wind whipped her

hair in her face as she wandered around

the large wings of the B17 bomber. She

pulled her unruly curls back into a

ponytail with a hair band she always

kept in the back pocket of her jeans. She

stopped by Garren and Thane as they

tossed their bags into the belly of the

plane. Peeking inside the cramped

interior, she spotted what looked like

two machine guns on either side of the

plane. “Are we flying to California or

invading Canada?”

“She's

cool,

huh?”

Thane

caressed the side of the plane. “Captain

Burgandy piloted her on thirteen

missions in Western Europe during

World War II. She's a piece of history.”

“She's a piece of something, all

right,” she muttered, noticing more duct

tape plastered all over the fuselage.

“Will it even make it to Sacramento?”

“Ye of little faith,” Garren said

as he hoisted a box through the small

door. “This plane is infused with so

many spells and enchantments, she's

practically indestructible.”

That's what they said about the

Titanic, then one iceberg later and ...

glub, glub, glub.

Glowing lights of different

colors spilled out from the box Garren

set in the plane.

“What are you putting in there?”

she asked.

He avoided eye contact as he

pushed the box farther inside. “Nothing

important.”

She played with the charmed

sapphire dangling from around her neck.

Her gut was telling her he wasn't being

completely honest and she was about to

tell him so when Captain Burgandy

shuffled over.

“I don't suppose any of ya seen a

bolt about yay big laying around, have

ya?” He demonstrated the size of the

missing bolt with his thumb and index

finger about three inches apart.

She

surveyed

the

ground,

checking every dark corner and even

under a couple large rocks. Thane and

Garren searched inside the plane, but

neither found anything.

The old man frowned and rubbed

the back of his neck with a filthy

handkerchief. “Well, just hand me a roll

of tape and I'll see what I can do.”

She snapped her head toward

Garren, hoping to be told this was all a

big joke, but all he did was shrug and

say, “Magic.”

She never wanted to slug him so

badly.

“Here,” Thane said, tossing an

armful of heavy clothes that nearly

toppled her over. “Put this on.”

She held them up to discover a

wool-lined jacket and cap, thick wool

trousers with suspenders, leather gloves,

boots, and a parachute. The whole thing

must've weighed at least thirty pounds.

“What's this for?”

“They're charmed to regulate

your body temperature and oxygen. The

air's a lot colder at 25,000 feet. You

could get frostbite.” Thane stepped into

his own pants and pulled the suspenders

up over his shoulders.

She watched in awe as Garren

did the same without complaint. “It's a

bit much, don't you think?” Movement

seemed

almost

impossible

while

wearing all the gear.

“You wanna loose a toe?”

Captain Burgandy mumbled through a

mouthful of chocolate as he passed the

group.

“Is that an option?” Alarm bells

went off in her mind. She dropped the

bundle of clothes and crossed her arms

over her chest. “I'm not getting in that

thing.”

“There's really nothing to be

afraid of,” Thane said. “Haven't you

ever flown in a plane before?”

“Airplane? Yes. Deathtrap?

No.”

Garren marched over to her,

picked up the jacket and shoved it at her.

“Quit being a baby and put the damn suit

on.”

She glared at him and he glared

right back. Seconds ticked by without

either backing down. Finally, she took

the leather coat and put it on, cursing

Garren under her breath as she jammed

her arms into each sleeve. As soon as

the last piece was in place, the entire

suit squeezed around her like shrink

wrap. It was a bulky second skin,

insulated and water-tight.

All I need now are some tusks

and my walrus transformation will be

complete
.

Garren gestured to the open door

on the side of the plane with a wave of

his hand. “After you.”

She hesitated for a moment, not

sure if she could put her trust, and her

life, in a magic plane. But if Thane and

Garren could so easily take the risk, she

would suck it up and follow their lead.

That didn't mean she had to like it.

It was like walking underwater

as she approached the plane. There were

no steps, so she gripped the sides of the

doorway to pull herself up when Garren

put his hands on her back.

“I don't need your help.”

“Fine,” he said, as he took his

hands away.

She flexed her arms and lifted

her legs to the bottom edge of the door.

Because of the extra weight, it was

harder than she thought, but she managed

to pull herself inside. Garren followed

after her.

The interior of the plane was

narrow and she had to crawl along the

floor to where the machine guns were

before she could stand up. They pointed

out open windows on either side. Sitting

next to them along the wall were

wooden crates filled with ammunition

belts.

She pointed at the boxes of

bullets. “Seriously?”

Garren nudged her forward. “It's

nothing to worry about. I'm 85 percent

sure we won't even have to use them.”

Her eyes grew wide. “What?”

“Don't overreact.” He led her

toward the front of the plane where he

sat down on the floor and leaned against

the wall. There weren't any seats or

cushions of any kind, so she sat across

from Garren on the cold, metal surface.

“In what situation would we

need to fire a gun?”

The first propeller sputtered to

life, shaking the plane. The engine's roar

was muffled under one of the plane's

enchantments, allowing them to talk

without shouting.

“Well,” he started slowly as the

second propeller turned on. “We have to

fly through dragon territory before we

get to Washington.”

Dragons? Machine guns? Okay,

this whole trip is so not worth it.
She

struggled to stand up as another

propeller added to the vibrations. “I'm

getting the hell out of here.”

He leapt over and tackled her

back to the floor. “Ivy, you need to calm

down.”

“Calm down?” She had to

remind herself to breathe as dread

pressed down on her. Garren's heavy

frame pinning her down wasn't helping

either. “We're flying in a contraption I

would only
loosely
call an airplane into

dragon territory. What if I get flambéed