Page 338 of Shadowblood Souls
I don’t really know who’s to blame for what happens next. Jacob whirls all the way toward the pilot and sends the phone flying from his hand. At the same moment, the spiky-haired boy launches himself toward the cockpit with a cry of, “I’ll stop him!”
He blinks a few steps forward like I saw him do in the hallway and slams into the pilot’s seat as he appears, his arm whacking the guy across the back of the head in a blow that doesn’t look totally intentional.
As the boy yelps, the pilot careens forward. His head bashes into the controls.
The helicopter heaves. Those of us standing bang into the walls and boxes.
Griffin’s even voice cuts through the chaos of gasps and exclamations. “You can still do this. Get the helicopter steady.”
The pilot has straightened up a little, but he lets out a pained moan. Blood is trickling down his forehead and from his nose.
“I can’t—I can’t see—it’s broken.”
“Just try. Try your best. There, you’re doing so well.”
It doesn’t feel like anything’s going well. The next lurch tosses me right onto my knees.
“Hold on to something!” I call out hoarsely to the kids.
A plummeting sensation melds with the forward momentum. The darkened sky beyond the windows tilts.
We’re falling—faster, faster, rushing onward at the same time. All at once, branches crackle against the windows.
Then there’s a boom of impact, and we slam to a sudden halt.
Twenty
Riva
My head smacks into the box I’m crouched against. For a few seconds, my thoughts spin as pain splinters through them.
Something creaks. Gasps and a few sobs fill the air around me, along with a panicked feline yowl.
I shake myself out of my daze with a hitch of my pulse and peer through the darkness. “Is—is everyone okay?”
I can’t tell if my voice is still strained from the thing the guardians shot at my throat or if it’s all the shock of our crash now. In the dim moonlight that seeps through the windows, I vaguely make out the younger shadowbloods amid the tumbled boxes and crates.
A bag of rice has fallen out and split open, pale grains spilling across the floor. Celine has her hand pressed to her beige forehead, a trickle of blood streaking down from beneath her palm.
“Dominic!” I cry out automatically, and feel his hand on my shoulder.
He squints at me in the dimness and touches the side of my head where I smacked it. The tender spot makes me wince, but there’s no coolness of blood.
“I’m all right. The kids…”
“I’m on it,” he murmurs, and moves deeper into the helicopter’s cargo area with a slight sway to his steps that makes me wonder ifhe’scompletely all right.
“Riva!”
It’s Jacob’s voice, taut and ragged.
I spin toward the cockpit, the direction where I last saw him. “I’m here. I bumped my head, but not too badly.”
Zian staggers to his feet near me. Andreas catches my arm, his fingers curling around my elbow.
Jacob, silhouetted by the faint light through the shattered windshield, takes an urgent step toward me and then glances back at Griffin. His jaw tightens.
He still doesn’t trust his brother enough to feel comfortable leaving him to his own devices. I’m not sure I do either.
