Free Michael (The Mark) (The Airel Saga, Book 4: Part 7-8) by Aaron Patterson, Chris White

was insane. But I figured we all needed to let off a little steam. I grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it. He smiled and his blue eyes sparkled. I was so happy just looking into his eyes. I wanted to drown in them.
    Ellie came back with a silver tray bedecked—yeah, bedecked, in this case—with two ornate crystal glasses of crisp, cold, pure water, and set it down on the solid burled wood table between Michael and me. “ Madame et Monsieur, your two hydrogens and one oxygen. Each.” She turned toward Kim with a can of soda and fairly slammed it down on her table, making little drops of it blast out the opening.
    “Ooooo, thanks. Soda pop soda pop soda pop soda pop soda pop,” she sang along with the cartoon, forcing her words into the mouth of the bookish on-screen heroine.
    Sedative, do your worst. I can’t take much more of this.
    The co-pilot, Bishop, bounded up the stairs. He was short and wiry and full of energy. As black as coal and beautifully pure African, he moved very quickly, darting all over the cabin and pumping our hands while smiling enthusiastically at us. He spoke in a very thick accent; it was difficult to understand what he was saying. I smiled at him and guessed he was glad we had come.
    When Hex came aboard, Bishop shut the door for him. Then Ellie made the official introductions.
    “This is Kim, Airel, and Michael Alexander.” Michael’s last name produced a subtle reaction in Hex. His eyebrows arched ever so slightly.
    “Very well. It is my pleasure to meet you all. I welcome you aboard Miss Ellie’s personal aircraft.”
    Whoa. This is hers?
    “My name is Hector LeFievre. You can call me Hex. Please relax, enjoy, and leave the flying to us.” He gestured to Bishop, who smiled at us. “If you have need of anything, please just call the cockpit, and we will do our utmost to serve you.”
    “Oh, Hex, just fly the thing. I’ll take care of my guests,” Ellie said.
    Kim made childish noises in the background as she sipped at her soda pop soda pop soda pop and tapped her fingers on her little tray table.
    “All right. Here we go,” Hex said, and turned to the cockpit. Both he and Bishop entered through the flight deck door and took their seats. Bishop then reached back and closed it. Hex’s voice came over the intercom: “Ladies, and our lone gentleman, please buckle your seatbelts. This is the captain speaking.”
    Ellie sat casually in a seat facing us and kicked her shoes off, tucking her legs up under her. “Should I do the stewardess thing now, with the seatbelts and the flotation cushions?”
    Michael laughed. “No, that’s fine.”
    “All right then.” Without looking, she reached back and snatched the can of soda from Kim, who at that instant was passing out and crashing. Ellie brought the can around smoothly as Kim plopped back and sideways over her own armrest, her mouth wide open. “See what I mean? Quick.” She smiled and stood, walking to the back with the can of soda pop soda pop soda pop.
    When she came back, the can was gone, and she carried a blanket and a pillow.
    “What did you give her?” I asked, semi-concerned for my friend now.
    “You don’t want to know,” was the reply. “But she’s fine.” She flipped a lever on Kim’s chair and it lay down flat. She pulled her up by the armpits and righted her in the chair, propped her head up with the pillow, buckled her seat-belt, and covered her with the blanket.
    “Now that’s hospitality,” she said, admiring her work.
    The plane began to roll, taxiing for takeoff.
    Ellie picked up the tablet and gestured to the movie screen. “Anyone else watching this?”
    “No,” Michael and I said in unison.
    “’Kay, then,” she said, touching the tablet’s screen. The movie turned off. “Ah,” she said, sitting in her seat again, “much better.” She twisted to check on Kim.
    Turning back toward us, she buckled her own seat-belt. We followed suit.
    Hex’s voice came over the intercom again.