He’d been expecting a functional, military aircraft for their trip to Europe, the type mercenaries were renowned for using. The sleek airplane before them was anything but that.
Miles’s eyes shone as he stared at its graceful lines. “That’s cool.”
Suspicion clouded Cortes’s face. “Isn’t that the newfangled Gulfstream that’s expected to hit the market next year?”
Serena looked somewhat resigned as she grabbed a duffel bag from the van. “Yeah.”
“Wait.” Violet was staring at the golden lion symbol painted on the tail. She pointed a stiff finger at the aircraft. “Is this Sebastian’s new jet? The one he and Callie kept arguing about and making bets on who’d land a contract for it first?!”
Realization finally dawned as Vlad studied the emblem.
“Sebastian? As in Sebastian Theodore Dante Lancaster?” He turned to Serena. “The man who owns half of England?!”
“Lancasteris the Sphinx?” Cortes said guardedly.
“I’m afraid so.” Serena grimaced at their accusing looks. “He rented the jet to Gideon for this mission.”
“Charged him double what it’s worth, the cunning bastard,” Lou muttered darkly.
He headed past them with a backpack and several bags of ammo.
“It’s not like Gideon can’t afford it,” Tom said cheerfully, lugging three crates of assault rifles behind him like he was taking a dog for a walk.
Lou scowled at the super soldier. “How about I ask him to deduct your salary from our expenses?”
Tom’s face fell. “I thought you were my friend.”
The aircraft door opened to reveal an affable flight attendant. His expression glazed over a little when he saw the arguing super soldiers. He ignored the pair and beamed at the rest of them.
“Welcome aboard theDante 3.”
CHAPTER16
A muscle jumpedin Vedran’s jawline as he watched Nikolai and Oscar.
The brothers lay in adjacent beds in the Dark Council’s infirmary. They and their familiars had remained unconscious since Nikolai had attempted to free Oscar of the Witch Queen’s magic.
A bevy of sorcerers and witches scurried about the chamber. They’d tried all kinds of magic, potions, and medicines to revive the Sorcerer King’s heirs, so far to no avail. Their fearful gazes kept darting to the man observing their efforts with a heavy scowl.
Barquiel swallowed a sigh.
Vedran’s wrath was making the air burn with a coldness that would soon freeze the blood in the veins of the men and women attempting to save his sons.
“How about you calm down?” the demon murmured.
Vedran whirled around and glowered at him.
The corruption that detonated across the infirmary rattled the windows and made the lights flicker. The Dark Council healers covered their heads with their arms and dropped to the floor with terrified whimpers. A few passed out.
“Don’t tell me what to do, demon!” Vedran spat, his eyes bubbling with darkness.
Barquiel brushed the specks of dirt drifting from the ceiling off his shoulder and met the Sorcerer King’s glare, undaunted. “Throwing a hissy fit isn’t going to help your sons.” He waved a hand vaguely. “Time will.”
Vedran flinched. Though the movement was infinitesimal and he recovered his composure in an instant, it surprised Barquiel nonetheless.
It also gave the demon hope.
“They—aren’t dying?” Vedran grated out.