"We're going to a small island I own. Your body needs time to recuperate and accept the changes without interference."
"And where is that?" I asked; not to be dissuaded from my quest for information.
"Well, that's privileged information, I'm afraid. If you really want to leave, I'll fly you off the island when you're ready to go. Think of it as a retreat."
"A retreat?" I could feel myself warming up to the idea like a complete idiot, but I was sure there was still some hidden ulterior motive to Michael's plan. I figured I might as well find out the downside before I was to get my hopes up. "What's the catch?"
"The catch?" Michael repeated, looking extremely innocent. Suspiciously innocent, to my mind. However, I did not press the issue, because there was nothing I could do while flying above the ocean.
"Is this actually your plane?" I asked suddenly.
"Yes, but I only use it when I have to. I prefer to drive," he explained.
"Stolen cars?"
He laughed at my question. "No, I would usually drive my own, but Paul's catching up to me again." He sighed as if it were a great bother.
"You don't like flying?"
"I didn't say that, little girl." I wondered briefly if he was afraid of flying. Probably not. He seemed to be the type who was not afraid of anything. Was not life a mere game to one who believed himself an immortal god? He had to have some weakness, though. If I figured out what they were could I exploit it?
"So, how did you manage to find a pilot on Christmas?"
"Oh, there are humans who will do pretty much anything if you give them enough money."
"Oh. How long until we land?" I wondered.
"Oh, probably no more than an hour," Michael estimated. At the same moment the black haired woman came back into the enclosure.
"Is there anything you need, Mr. Thompson?" asked the stewardess. I was clearly beneath her notice, while she fawned over Michael. I suppose it made sense as he was the one paying her enough money to fly out on Boxing Day.
"How long until we land?" he asked, repeating my query.
"Let me just go and check," she said, simpering. Michael watched her walk away. I noticed she swung her hips from side to side far more than was strictly necessary. She returned only a few moments later.
"The captain says it will be an hour and a half, Mr. Thompson," she said.
"I must not have slept as long as I thought," Michael said musingly. Then he turned to me. "Are you hungry?"
My stomach growled before I could even answer him. He looked over at the swaying stewardess and asked her to bring us something to eat. She brought back a couple of meals on trays and I devoured mine, hardly able to help myself. The food was better than I had imagined airplane fare would be.
Shortly after we were finished the stewardess cleared away our trays. Some time after that she returned and informed us we would be landing in fifteen minutes. I turned my attention back to the great expanse of water outside the window and waited.
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