Hell's Detective

Chapter Eleven- Dead Man Flying

As Ingleseid sat on the plane and examined himself, he had to admit he was rather dashing. There was a certain devilish charm in his eyes, a certain squareness in his jaw that was by far superior to all the other jaws he'd seen in his time.

"These are quite good," he said to Holly as Tatters examined his passport.

Holly had called in a couple of favours, gotten them fake passports. She'd also managed to get their not so legal luggage onto the plane undetected. Any scanner it went through would show cartons loaded woolly hats.

All things considered, things were going rather well.

Until the plane took off.

As it turned out, Tatters hadn't realized his attachment to solid ground until it wasn't beneath his feet. As the plane roared into life, he gripped the sides of his chair so hard his knuckles turned white, or whiter, then gripped Holly's arm so hard she squealed.

"Tatters, just calm down," she said, prying him off. "He's never flown before," she told Ingleseid.

The plane hit a sudden bump, and they all jolted in their seats.

"What was that?" Tatters muttered, closing his eyes.

"It's just taking off," Holly insisted.

Ingleseid couldn't believe this. The zombie had gone up against vampires, demon doctors, and a faceless murderer, but air travel, no, that was just far too terrifying.

The plane left the ground and began to drift smoothly through the skies. Tatters slowly sank back in his seat.

"See?" Holly said. "Nothing to be afraid of."

"I'm cold," Tatters said quietly.

Ingleseid wasn't entirely sure how that was possible. He was wearing a pair of pyjama pants and a pair of jeans over top, two tee-shirts, a jumper, a coat, mittens and a blue beanie. Then again, Ingleseid had a bloodstream that still worked.

Ingleseid signalled the air hostess walking down the aisle. She stopped in front of them, smiled a smile so wide and unmoving and he was fairly certain she practiced it in the mirror everyday.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Sorry, can he get a blanket or something?"

She cast a confused look at Tatters, who was almost sinking under the weight of all his clothes. But she walked off down to the cabin, tight bun bobbing up and down with each step, and returned a moment later with a blanket. She handed it to Tatters, and he pulled it over himself.

"That better?" she asked kindly.

"No," he said.

Ingleseid shot her an apologetic look. She stood there for a moment, not quite sure what to say, then settled with, "Do you need anything else? Food, drink?"

"I can't eat human food," Tatters told her.

"What?"

"Sorry," Ingleseid said before Tatters could open his mouth again. "He's joking." He punched Tatters playfully on the shoulder. "Aren't you, buddy?"

"No," Tatters said.

"He's fine. Thank you," Ingleseid cut in.

She gave them one last puzzled look and went over to help a couple whose baby wouldn't stop crying.

With Tatters mildly satisfied, Ingleseid was free to try and get some sleep. Among infiltrating vampire nests, hunting a killer and being hunted by a killer, he hadn't been getting nearly enough of it lately. He closed his eyes and savoured the few hours of peace he had.