Angela awoke on the shaking cabin floor as the engines roared like a wounded animal.
She tried to get her bearings but fire and smoke filled the cabin, stinging her ties with its floating necrosis vapors.
Angela coughed and rolled to her side when an excruciating pain in her right leg gripped her. She squinted down to her leg and blanched. Her bone had snapped and protruded from calf, like an eerily, jagged ivory straw sticking out of a red-blood milkshake that was her leg.
She wiped the still fresh red dribble of blood from her mouth and looked around the cabin. Angela wondered how long she had been unconscious and listened closely for any movement from her guards, Anna and Carmen. Her heart leaped with joy when she heard muffled sounds of an incantation two feet in front of her.
Angela pushed herself on her elbows and to belly crawl towards the voice but something
on the plane’s ceiling caught her attention. She pushed her cap up her head and
impatiently brushed aside a loose lock of her auburn hair as she peered up at the roof of the plane.
A woman was looking down at her. An old woman with white stringy hair and milky, foamed over eyes. She seemed to stretching down towards Angela, her mouth gaping open to reveal decaying teeth. She wore a familiar light green knit suit and dangling from her left shriveled hand was the same silver pentagram charm bracelet Angela had.
“Anna,” Angela whispered in horror.
The incantations grew louder and Angela knew what she must do. Angela looked to the
eight human like husks, crumbling away in their singed seats. She silently apologized to them all for being dragged into their witches battle.
She also made amends to the crewman and pilot. If it had not been for her fireball that was lobbed back at her, the cockpit would not have caught on fire. If she had not let anger overrule her reason, she would’ve used other spells instead after her air tie had been negated.
Angela next made a vow to avenge Anna and Carmen, who she knew must’ve suffered the
same fate. Then she made repentance to her Coven for not being able to attend her coronation in London tonight.
And finally Angela said a silent prayer for her successor. That whoever she is, she will guide the Coven and the witches across the globe with infinite strength, grace and wisdom.
Angela clenched her teeth and pushed herself off into a kneeling position. She could make out the figure of a blonde woman in a red floral feedback dress, a birthday gift from Angela, standing in front of the cabin door.
“Jo,” croaked Angela, as she watched Jo open the plane door. Angela braced herself for
the mass of buffeting winds that would flood the cabin but they never came.
“With this final spell, I will atone you all,” pledged Angela. Already facing south, Angela quickly intoned to her fire elemental tie and chanted, “Hail salamanders of the fire...”
“What are you doing?!” screeched Jo.
All of the sudden the tremors increased and Angela felt the plane drop. Angela stared at Jo’s face twisting in fury as she pointed at Angela and she tried to recite a counter spell.
“Too late Jo,” stated Angela with a grim smile.
A fireball the size of a wrecking ball appeared between them. It ballooned outwards licking and engulfing everything in a fiery, spiraling dance splitting the bi-plane in half.
Angela could still hear Jo’s screams of anguish as she embraced the flames and returned home in its blast.
Diksmuide Daily. March 28, 1933. The Imperial Airways Armstrong Whitworth Argosy
airliner City of Liverpool catches fire in the air over Belgium and crashed. Authorities suspects sabotage. Everyone on board was killed.
Angela pushed herself on her elbows and to belly crawl towards the voice but something
on the plane’s ceiling caught her attention. She pushed her cap up her head and
impatiently brushed aside a loose lock of her auburn hair as she peered up at the roof of the plane.
A woman was looking down at her. An old woman with white stringy hair and milky, foamed over eyes. She seemed to stretching down towards Angela, her mouth gaping open to reveal decaying teeth. She wore a familiar light green knit suit and dangling from her left shriveled hand was the same silver pentagram charm bracelet Angela had.
“Anna,” Angela whispered in horror.
The incantations grew louder and Angela knew what she must do. Angela looked to the
eight human like husks, crumbling away in their singed seats. She silently apologized to them all for being dragged into their witches battle.
She also made amends to the crewman and pilot. If it had not been for her fireball that was lobbed back at her, the cockpit would not have caught on fire. If she had not let anger overrule her reason, she would’ve used other spells instead after her air tie had been negated.
Angela next made a vow to avenge Anna and Carmen, who she knew must’ve suffered the
same fate. Then she made repentance to her Coven for not being able to attend her coronation in London tonight.
And finally Angela said a silent prayer for her successor. That whoever she is, she will guide the Coven and the witches across the globe with infinite strength, grace and wisdom.
Angela clenched her teeth and pushed herself off into a kneeling position. She could make out the figure of a blonde woman in a red floral feedback dress, a birthday gift from Angela, standing in front of the cabin door.
“Jo,” croaked Angela, as she watched Jo open the plane door. Angela braced herself for
the mass of buffeting winds that would flood the cabin but they never came.
“With this final spell, I will atone you all,” pledged Angela. Already facing south, Angela quickly intoned to her fire elemental tie and chanted, “Hail salamanders of the fire...”
“What are you doing?!” screeched Jo.
All of the sudden the tremors increased and Angela felt the plane drop. Angela stared at Jo’s face twisting in fury as she pointed at Angela and she tried to recite a counter spell.
“Too late Jo,” stated Angela with a grim smile.
A fireball the size of a wrecking ball appeared between them. It ballooned outwards licking and engulfing everything in a fiery, spiraling dance splitting the bi-plane in half.
Angela could still hear Jo’s screams of anguish as she embraced the flames and returned home in its blast.
Diksmuide Daily. March 28, 1933. The Imperial Airways Armstrong Whitworth Argosy
airliner City of Liverpool catches fire in the air over Belgium and crashed. Authorities suspects sabotage. Everyone on board was killed.