I turn and face the subterranean chamber once more. Raising my hand, I incant, “Hide what has been found. Place this secret back in the ground.”
My power sifts out of me and wraps around the stone slab. Even to my own eyes my magic looks weak and sluggish, but it still manages to drag the slab back into place, the stone settling with a thump. Nearby muddy earth tumbles and rolls back over the door, then packs itself down. A few seconds later, the ground looks as it did when I found it.
I might’ve sealed that tomb, but it doesn’t matter. The ancient menace it housed is now free.
And I’m at the top of his shit list.
I must not forget about this, I coach myself. I must not forget.
As soon as I’m back to civilization, I’ll commit an entire sketchbook to this experience, and then I’ll make copies of that book and stash them around, so I don’t ever forget that I woke up something I should not have.
I make my way through the ruins. A few tenacious spells still cling to toppled stones and crumbling walls. The place pricks at my skin. It feels unnatural— too imbued with magic that has grown wild over time.
I rub my arms, eager to leave. And yet, every so often, I pause and glance around, trying to figure out what this structure once was, curious to dig through what little rubble remains just to see what I might find. There’s an unnamable feeling running through me, the same sort of feeling certain dreams can give you, the ones you can’t seem to shake.
Perhaps it’s because this place seems so dreamlike to begin with—enchanted ruins lying in an untamed paradise. And there’s a part of me that’s sad to walk away from it, even knowing that it was a supernatural prison of sorts.
I make my way back over to the riverbank, where Nero is lapping up water. I take in my surroundings in the fading light.
Good news: my boat isn’t gone.
Bad news: because the universe hates me, it’s in the middle of the fucking river.
I wade in, too annoyed at my situation to even be scared of what may lurk in the water.
“Fuck this trip. Fuck this place. And most of all, fuck that tit-gobbling whore, Memnon.”
My entire body throbs from magical overuse, but I still manage to scrape up enough power to blow the boat to shore.
Something brushes against my leg, and I zap it. “Don’t mess with me now, fish!” I yell at the water. “Today is not the day!”
After an absurd amount of time and effort, the hulking garbage can of a boat reaches me. It’s nothing more than a dark smudge on the water, now that sunset has given way to twilight.
At the sight of the vessel, Nero pads over, then hops in before I do. It’s only when I hear a wet squish that I remember there’s a dead snake carcass on our boat.
Awesome. Really stoked to board this thing.
I have to take a few deep breaths. It could be worse—I could’ve forgotten there was a dead snake and stepped on it. Or my earlier repairs to the dinghy could’ve given out and sunk the thing. Or the boat could’ve drifted away altogether.
So I delicately situate myself on the dinghy and force out more magic to blow the boat across the river.
It’s only once we’re nearly to the other side that I realize I have no idea where the crashed plane is or how I’m supposed to get back to it from here.
Hell’s spells.
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose.
A minute later it begins to rain.
The universe definitely hates me today.
CHAPTER 9
By the time the search and rescue team finds me the next day, I traveled roughly twenty miles from the crash site, which was in some remote northern region of Peru. It takes another two days to get out of South America and back to the States. The whole thing is a logistical nightmare, and that’s not even touching on the personal aspect of it. I still have to talk my parents out of returning to the United States from their prolonged vacation in Europe to help me.
Now I unlock the door to my apartment and flip on the lights. Nero slinks in past my feet, his face tipped up and his nostrils flaring as he takes in the scents of my apartment.
I drop my bags in the entryway, cross the small space, and flop onto my bed.
And then I just lie there, my body unwilling to move.
A moment later the bed dips as Nero hops on next to me. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for him. Panthers aren’t meant to be taken out of jungles and forced to travel on planes (which is a whole other story, one that involved heavy magic usage) and live in homes. He’s been shoved into the world of humans, and I feel rotten for my role in that.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper softly, reaching out to pet the top of his snout.
Nero closes his eyes and lets out a contented low sound. It’s not a purr—I learned yesterday that panthers can’t purr—but it’s a happy enough noise.
It doesn’t make me feel any better.
I continue absently petting him. “Think I can just lie here forever?” I ask.
He gives me a blank look.
“I want to assume that’s a yes, but you seem less the nice-friend type and more the honest-friend type, so I’m going to guess that’s a no.” I sigh.
Nero responds by stretching on my bed, his body pushing mine to the edge of the mattress.
“Oh, come on. You’re going to have to share,” I say.
He just stares back at me.
I give the beast’s body a big push. In response, Nero growls.
“Get over it. Until you can pay the rent, I’ll be calling the shots. Now scoot.”
He doesn’t.
“Do you want me to turn you into a parakeet?”
Now, begrudgingly, my familiar moves over.
I resettle on my bed. “Just so you know, this arrangement isn’t going to work when I have boys over.”
Nero makes a noise, and I can’t be sure, but it sounded like a scoff. Like a fucking scoff. As though this random jungle cat—who has probably never been around humans—cannot imagine a situation where a guy would wind up in my bed.
“I can get boys,” I say. I sound defensive even to my own ears.
A quieter noise comes from my panther. It still sounds disbelieving.
I think my familiar may be an asshole.
“I’m going to ignore your lack of faith in me,” I say.
Then I drag myself off the bed. “All right, I can sleep when I’m dead.” I pad toward the kitchen. “What we need is some food, some coffee, and some music.” I crack my knuckles. “We have a coven to get into.”
Armed with a mug of coffee, a snack bag of cookies for me, and some thawed chicken breasts for Nero, I sit in front of my laptop and type out my experience in South America.
I mention my original plans for the magic quest, then how my plane crashed. I describe the disembodied voice that called to me and how, while following it, I discovered my familiar. The paper pours out of me. The only thing I don’t mention is the mainevent: I discovered and freed some ancient supernatural. Not only do I doubt they’d believe me, but then I’d also have to explain why I unleashed a menace and where he is now. And I cannot truthfully answer either of those questions.