And shit, what if he doesn’t?

What if he left us here to die?

Fear closes my throat.

My memory isn’t endless, and if I overuse my magic, I don’t know what exactly will happen. That’s the ominous event horizon.

It won’t happen today. I vow that to myself. I will get us out of here. Whatever it takes.

I focus once more on the spell. It gives off a glittering sort of light. Unlike the wild plumes of it that I saw earlier, in this form, Memnon’s power looks like some indecipherable writing, all of it made by one continuous magical thread. It looks as though it were drawn onto the stone slab above me.

After a moment, I reach out and touch it. It’s ever so slightly warm, and I find that, oddly enough, I like the feel of it. I stroke the thread, feeling my way around the spell. Definitely a containment ward; I can sense Memnon’s intent woven into the magic. Stay and keep seem to be the overriding words coming off it.

Though it’s not the time or place, I can’t help but wonder what sort of supernatural he is. There are many who can wield magic, and though there are ways to tell the difference through spells themselves, I don’t know them.

My fingers linger on the ward, and as I muse, the intricately wrought thread jiggles and shifts until it eventually moves from its fixed position. The shimmery blue cord coils itself around my middle finger. The spell slithers down my hand, winding around my wrist like a makeshift bracelet.

It’s as though the magic likes the feel of my skin every bit as much as I like the feel of it.

I stare at it, half in horror and half in awe.

“This is so weird,” I murmur, watching the spell unmake itself as it moves onto my skin.

I should be worried about touching it. It’s obvious enough now that this magic belongs to Memnon, the creature I freed from this…prison. Everything about him seems volatile, his magic included. And yet it doesn’t eat away at my skin, nor has my touch invoked some secondary spell. It simply peels itself away from the stone and gathers on my hand and wrist until eventually, the entire spell has migrated onto my skin. There it lingers for a few seconds before dissipating.

The magic broke its own spell.

“So, so weird,” I murmur again.

Once the magic has completely dissolved, I eye the stone slab once more. I lean my shoulder against it and push, but it doesn’t so much as budge.

Below me, Nero yawns, flashing his canines and making a sound that would be cute if it weren’t a direct insult to my ability to bust us out of this joint.

I back down two steps and raise my arm, baring my palm to the slab.

“Lift this stone and cast it aside. Let me see what lies outside.”

My magic pours from my hand and coats the slab, and then the massive stone lurches upward, then drags itself aside.

I stare at the dying light above me with both relief and a sense of foreboding. Nero and I are free, but now it’s nearly night.

Night. Alone in the jungle. Where there is a plethora of predators—and among them, an ancient, vengeful supernatural.

I shrink back a little. The deepening shadows beyond the tomb’s entrance would be a perfect place for Memnon to lie in wait.

Nero, however, has no such reservations. Now that we’re free, the panther slinks past me, picking his way through the ruins.

I hesitate for only a few seconds longer before gathering my courage—and my magic—and stepping out of the crypt.

In the dying light, the ruins look hauntingly beautiful—or maybe beautifully haunted. I can’t quite say which it is, only that the sight of them plucks at my heartstrings and makes the back of my neck tingle.

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.

OceanofPDF.com

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.