“There’s a doctor making the rounds,” the pilot says, drawing my attention back to him. “Can you sit here and hold tight?”
I swallow, then nod.
He pats my leg and stands, moving away to, I don’t know, do whatever pilots do when they crash-land. He does throw me one last glance over his shoulder, and there’s a question in his eyes. He must’ve seen something or heard something, something unexplainable, and now he has questions.
I’m grateful I cannot remember whatever it is he’s remembering. I have no idea how I would explain my magic.
While I get my bearings, one of the flight attendants fishes out some aspirin and a tiny bottle of water. She too gives me a look as she hands the items over, only hers is less curious and more…rankled. I get the distinct impression we had some sort of unpleasant encounter, and it leaves me wondering just what went down in that plane right before we crashed.
Once I’ve taken the medicine and established that I really am okay, she and the other flight attendants leave my side. I watch them head toward other people who are sitting or lying down. There are dozens—if not hundreds—of people milling about. Some are crying while others are holding one another or staring off into the distance.
I let my own gaze drift over our surroundings. Densely packed trees tower above us, blocking out most of the sunlight. Shrubs have found their homes here on the forest floor, fitting themselves into every available nook and cranny. The ground is wet, the plants are wet, and judging by the steady patter of rain, the air itself is wet.
A strange whooping call echoes in the distance. Beneath that sound, there are birdcalls and fainter noises that must belong to frogs or bugs or whatever else inhabits this place.
So we crashed somewhere in the rainforest, which is somewhat alarming when I realize there must be hundreds of miles of wilderness around us.
How long will it take for anyone to find us?
Around me, the jungle seems to literally darken with my thoughts. I touch my head, wondering if beyond the memory loss, I sustained some trauma to it. It’s only when I see a band of deep-blue magic twisting through the trees that I realize I’m not imagining things at all.
The sight of magic out in this jungle should frighten me; it certainly looks ominous as it creeps between the trees. But it stirs something in me, something is right there, at the edge of my mind—
Empress…
My skin pricks. That voice again!
Come to me…
Without thinking, I rise to my feet. I’ve heard of sirens luring people to their deaths; this must be what it feels like. There’s a stirring in my blood at the call of that voice. I don’t know what it wants with me or if it means to do these other passengers harm, but I have the pressing need to draw closer to it.
And so I do. Before the doctor or anyone else can come check on me, I slip away into the rainforest, letting the trees and the shadows swallow me up.
I don’t know how far or how long I walk. I’m in a daze, pulled by the intermittent calls of that voice and the ribbon of dark blue magic that seems to be leading me onward.
Part of me is almost painfully aware that following strange voices and unfamiliar power is a bad idea, and yet there’s an entire other part of me held captive by this beckoning magic.
I run my fingers over a waxy leaf and duck under a vined plant dangling from a branch, swatting away an insect that’s been buzzing around me. I’ve been in this jungle for less than a day, and I can already tell that the world’s freakiest bugs live here, I’m certain of it. I’ve seen at least one spider as big as a salad plate, and not five minutes ago, a beetle the span of my palm skittered by.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead.
The trip’s gone tits up, but hey, I am getting the whole magic quest experience.
I glance over my shoulder, wondering not for the first time how I’ll manage to find my way back to the crash site. Undoubtedly, I’ll have to use more magic. I assumed I’d follow the magic for twenty paces or so and find the mysterious being behind it all, but that hasn’t happened.
The prolonged walk does give me time to think, namely about the freshly lost memories. There’s no way for me to know which ones or how many of them burned away with the spell. That knowledge is haunting—because I could’ve lost something formative or wonderful or important, and I wouldn’t know it. On the other hand, if I don’t know what I’ve lost, it’s hard to grieve it.
I feel a tingle of power along my skin, distracting me from my thoughts. At first, I think it’s the same magic that has been calling to me, just, well, louder.
But it feels different in some intrinsic way. I halt when I see the magic itself. Unlike the indigo power I’ve been following—which even now lingers above me—this magic glints like iridescent dust motes in the air. As I stare at it, the magic coalesces, thickening around me.
My queen…
The compulsion in those words nearly gets me moving again, but I can’t seem to look away from the magic right in front of me. Movement catches my eye, and I lift my gaze just as a massive shadow leaps from the tree directly in front of me, lunging right for my body.
I don’t have time to move or scream. It slams into my chest, throwing me to the ground and pinning me beneath its weight.
Can’t breathe.
A massive set of black paws rests on my sternum, holding me in place. I let my eyes drift up, taking in the silky dark fur that coats the animal’s forelegs and chest. My attention snags on the creature’s terrifying serrated teeth for a moment before my eyes rise the rest of the way, and I meet the amber-green gaze of a panther.
CHAPTER 5
Oh, my fucking goddess on high.
This strange magic led me right to a panther. I repeat, a panther.
I would scream, except my throat isn’t working.
I’m going to get eaten and then shit out by this ferocious hellcat, and no one is ever going to know what happened to me.
Pull yourself together, Selene. You have magic at your disposal. No overgrown pussycat is going to end you, no matter how terrifying it is.
The panther opens its jaws slightly—enough for me to get a whiff of big-cat breath, which is as awful as it sounds.
The panther leans forward, bringing its head close to my face. The entire time, it stares at me.
I feel something then, something that gathers in the very center of my body. It takes another second for me to realize it’s my magic. There’s something in the air—or maybe it’s in my bones—that calls to this creature. It has the same ageless feel as my magic does.
And the longer I look, the more I sense some aspect of myself behind those eyes. My fear is gone, replaced by an instinctual familiarity.
My magic hums at the thought, moving out from the center of my body and flowing into my limbs. The urge to touch the great cat, to pet it, is nearly overwhelming.
Tentatively, I lift a hand, feeling my power gather in my palm. My inner skeptic is still positive this is where I die, but my intuition is saying something different, and I trust it above all else.
The magic coiled in my palm builds, driven by some primeval witchy instinct. It makes my flesh tingle and causes my fingers to twitch a little.
The panther closes the last of the distance between us, pressing its face into my outstretched hand, as though desperate for the touch of my magic.