Read Online Pure Magic (Black Dog Book 3) by Rachel Neumeier - Free Book Online

at them and shouted, “Werewolves! Run!” Probably if Justin had shouted about werewolves and kidnapping, he’d just have gotten irritated looks from the few airport staff handy: young jackass playing pranks on his friends.
    Besides, Justin hadn’t had time to think things through and decide what he ought to do. They’d gone straight through the terminal and then out a door marked for authorized personnel, no doubt because they turned out to have their very own plane. A little one, but still. What did that say about this Dimilioc, that they had their own plane ?
    Probably Justin couldn’t have gotten away even if they’d been flying commercial, but he sure didn’t see any chance once they were on their very own private plane.
    Even if people who were Pure could do magic. Justin didn’t feel as though he could do magic. He sank warily into the seat Ethan indicated. He didn’t try to do any magic. He didn’t try to get away. He shook his head, then rubbed his forehead gingerly with his fingertips. Probably Father Mark had Excedrin or something, back at the rectory. Justin wished he were back at the rectory, too, and that none of this had ever happened. It was hard to believe any of it had happened. But he thought he could still almost smell blood and coconut.
    What did werewolves really want with him, anyway? All this stuff about being Pure. He couldn’t even imagine. And all that about his mother: his mother should have told him about this, his mother should have protected him. Against monsters, he guessed. With magic, presumably. He wanted to be angry at the werewolves for making everything up, or else for accusing his mother of lying about everything, or maybe both at once, though he knew that made no sense at all.
    He wished he knew where the werewolves were taking him but didn’t quite have the nerve to ask. Ethan seemed permanently halfway to losing his temper, and Ezekiel was somehow scarier even though he didn’t glower all the time. And it wouldn’t make any difference anyway. But Justin still wished he knew. If the werewolves had a plane of their own, no doubt they also had a secret hideout somewhere where people wouldn’t stumble across it. An island in the middle of the sea, or buried in the ice like the Fortress of Solitude, or in the empty desert . . . the desert would be good. He hadn’t thought he would ever be able to bear the desert again, but now he wished desperately for the wide open country, the powerful blaze of sunlight. It all seemed utterly out of reach, now. As far out of reach as the past.
    Ezekiel flew the plane. He taxied around for what seemed a good fraction of forever while muttering to the air traffic control tower, but when the plane finally got into the air, it was obvious they weren’t heading for any desert. Justin wouldn’t have been sure, except that once they were clear of the city lights, it became possible to see the stars. Then it was no trouble to find Ursa Major and Ursa Minor and the North Star, so Justin could be sure they were heading north and east. He calculated the angle, idly, and decided that they were heading about twenty-three degrees north of due east, but he didn’t have a good enough grasp of state geography for that to tell him where they were headed.
    It was stupid to be disappointed that they weren’t heading toward the desert. These werewolves had never been going to escort Justin straight to his grandmother’s doorstep and wave goodbye. Probably he should even be glad their secret hideout was somewhere way far away from anyone he knew or cared about. Justin tried to be glad about this. It was about as ridiculous an effort as trying to trisect an arbitrary angle with just a straightedge and compass. Except he didn’t even have to lay out the algebraic proof to be sure it was impossible.
    Part of the problem, he decided, was that he was hungry. Though every time he thought about food, he couldn’t help thinking of blood mashed into coconut