The Panther and the Thief by Veronica Sommers

Author:Veronica Sommers [Sommers, Veronica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-06-15T05:00:00+00:00

-11-

Bad Liar

It's quiet here, except for the occasional distant rush of a passing car along the interstate far behind me, and a ripple of birdsong from the foliage overhead. I walk as straight as I can into the trees, drinking in the fresh scents. The very air glimmers green and alive; it's like looking through a green glass bottle and seeing the world colored and warped on its other side. A prickling sensation runs over my arms, raising goosebumps. There's magic here, I can feel it. But was it already in the woods, or am I bringing it with me?

My low heels, the ones I wore on the day we came to the house, crush the ferns and brambles and fallen leaves as I move ahead. The ground slopes gradually, down, down, until it gives way suddenly and I nearly tumble over the brink into a smooth-flowing stream.

On the opposite side of the stream, crouched in the dark mud, is the black panther. His haunches are high, his head low, as his pink tongue laps the water. He watches me with yellow-green eyes.

And then he lifts his head and growls. Springs away, catching a tree trunk with his claws and climbing up, paw by paw, until he leaps onto a high branch and looks down, snarling at me. The message is clear—leave me alone.

But I don't. I take off my shoes and I sit down on a jutting rock, trailing my toes through the cool water.

"Want to see what I can do?" I ask.

There are two different ways to access my power—passive inception and active inception. Passive inception requires me to be calm and centered, and when I can manage it, I have more precise control over the effects of my magic. Active inception is tied to emotion and flows from feelings like rage, fear, and desire. It's easier to tap into, but harder to control.

Right now, in spite of everything, I feel eerily calm. I can sense the pull of gravity on every particle around me, every bit of dirt, the roots of the grass, the wind-loosened leaves floating down from the canopy above us. I can feel its tug on my body, on the tree in which the panther lies, draped languidly along a thick branch. And I can feel the suction of gravity on the water, pulling it ever toward the lowest point.

I smile, and I release the water in the stream from the power of gravity. It's simple, like clipping the threads of a seam to separate two sections of cloth.

The stream floats upward, out of its bed, a billion sparkling drops. I can't move it all, because more is constantly flowing in from wherever the stream begins—but the water level is noticeably lower now, and the air between me and the panther is a scintillating mesh of liquid beads.

The panther's head lifts, and his ears flick forward.

I hold the water up until I start to feel the familiar ache in my core, like a muscle that's been exercised too long.

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