The Paladins (15 page)

Every word is like a knife thrust in my chest as he so accurately describes my existence in a sentence or two. I only realize I’m backing up when Maggie holds out a gentle hand to stop me running into her.

“Moving on, may I present the very troubled Dane, pitied and pitiful, written off as an unfortunate loss by the good people of Sales Hollow. Receptacle for a father’s shame, punching bag for his resentments, scapegoat, sin eater, a sad and broken past keeps your soul a withered, bloodless organ, doesn’t it? Why, you’re barely breathing. Ha, ha!”

Maggie clings fiercely to the wiry giant beside her, and it’s a good thing. Color drains from his face, and his eyes glaze with shock.

“Doubt, anger, insecurity, fear, you’re perfectly lovely, Dane. Yes indeed, but not nearly as lovely as our Raven here. Such a pretty bauble, no more than a broken doll, really. Why, the pair of you could satisfy me for years with your tortured memories, regret, and guilt. Drowning in uncertainty, aren’t you, my dear. Loss, death, betrayal, lies, broken dreams, fading hopes … I’m quite enraptured.”

“Stop it!” Maggie shouts.

“Mm, yes of course. Last and certainly the least of these, we have Miss High and Mighty Margaret. Queen of the mundane. Small, chubby, plain, loud, pushy, and supremely annoying, you’re as tiresome as any fly, buzzing, buzzing in my ear. No one likes a bossy little know-it-all, now do they?”

Maggie blinks as though she’s been slapped. Dane hugs her close and glares at the sky. If expressions could sucker-punch, Pan would be in deep shite.

Though not inaccurate, his insults seem a purposeful distraction. And since we’re not getting anywhere as his verbal dartboards, I speak to the disembodied voice. “We came to talk about Rosamond Bryer. The girl in your maze.”

“No need to shout, son. Nothing’s wrong with my hearing. What about her?”

His words are overly eager and cheerful, as though he’s waited all his life to have this conversation; however, it’s having the opposite effect on me. His tone cloaks and bewitches—the quality hypnotic in texture. I swallow against the dryness in my throat, and try to shake his voice from my head. How in the world do I convince a madman—that may not be a man at all—to let Rose go?

There’s always the straightforward approach. “She’s visiting me in dreams.”

“Really? Bully for you.”

“And she’d like to go home.” This is going too well. He’s not arguing, and he’s too damn happy about our little visit. Warnings ping my mind like rain off a windshield, but what can I do? It’s why we’re here, so I dive back in. “We were wondering if … is there a way to make that happen?”

“Perhaps. What will you give me in return?”

A deal? “I have money—”

“Pfft. What need have I for your coin, boy? I grow weary of this. Give me something I can use or we’re finished here.” Someone brushes past my arm. Gideon leans forward on his cane, chin jutting upward.

“Not the time for games, Pan,” he snarls. “Name your price. Tell us what you want.”

Gideon’s spent his whole life negotiating. Maybe I should have let him do the talking from the start, yet I know this guy, watched him for years. A big risk taker, no one likes a deal better than Maddox. He won’t back down once he’s started. It’s not in his nature.

“How about a trade? One of you for her.”

“No.” Sweat darkens his hair. An impatient head toss removes the curls threatening his odd-colored eyes. Unlike mine, his manner is restrained, calculating, and I hate him the more for it. “Choose something else.”

“I don’t want anything else. You decide who it will be, pull a stranger off the street for all I care, but I won’t be robbed of all my treasures at once.”

Gideon pauses, concentrating on the puzzle in his head. We wait in silence until his face brightens. “Really, Pan? Your demand lacks imagination and hardly seems sporting. How about a wager, instead?”

Shite!
I should have known. Who am I kidding, I
did
know. I grab Gideon’s arm but he shrugs me off.

Raven steps forward. Her hand slides up his back, but whether in support or to shut him up, I can’t guess. He responds by wrapping her waist, but it’s only to push her off toward Dane.

I’d ask what the hell he’s playing at, treating her this way, but I have a life to save. And Maddox’s big mouth might have just thrown a spanner that will get us all killed.

“Give us a chance to free her,” he says. “A fair option without an automatic sacrifice of ourselves.”

“Oooh, intriguing … Yes, whoever wishes may come and visit, by all means. I could do with some fine, new company.” The cavernous voice magnifies, bouncing off the surrounding forest. A murder of crows erupts from the treetops, filling the sky with ebony wings.

Everyone rallies closer.
Us
. The small army of misfits choosing to fight a spoiled, self-indulgent god from another world. Are we mad, yes, but at least we’re no longer alone.

“Marvelous! I’m rather excited. Come along then, children. Come and find me, if you dare. Enter the labyrinth, locate the girl, and find your way out again. If you do that, you’re free.”

“Wait!” Gideon cries. “That’s not what I—”

“I always did like a challenge,” Pan says. “And when I’m through, I’ll glut off your bloated misery until I’m fat and sated. Find me through the looking glass. Gideon knows the spot, don’t you, boy? We’ll be waiting … ”

We?
When did it go from one psychopath to
we
?

Gideon lifts his face to the sky. “Pan, wait! We haven’t discussed the rules.”

“There are none. Do it or don’t. Get yourselves in and out and you’ll win the princess. Alive is preferable to you, I’m sure, though I’ll be entertained either way.” Maniacal laughter clogs the air again, congealing the blood around my heart. “However, should you lose yourselves along the way, well then, I suppose the rest is self-explanatory.”

Oppressive shadows retreat as clouds pass from the sun. The evil that haunts the graveyard slinks into hiding. Cicadas sing. Birds chit and tweedle again in the trees.

“Pan!” Gideon tries again, but it’s clear he’s gone.

Dane clings to Maggie like he’ll never see her again. When their eyes meet, his eyebrows knit together. “Maddox,” he whispers, still looking at Mags. “I can’t.” The intensity radiating from that one word rivals the damn sun.

“It’s all right, Dane. I understand.” Gideon’s jaw clenches hard enough to shatter bone. His gaze drifts over Rae, and quickly moves on. “We’ll meet in my father’s office at nine tomorrow morning. Until then, shower, change, eat, sleep … whatever you want. Each person must decide for themselves if they intend to travel into The Void, so consider the consequences carefully. No one here will think any less of you if you choose not to go.”

No one responds. There’s nothing to say.
Each person must decide for themselves if they intend to travel to The Void
… I’m going. Mind made up in an instant. For better or worse, I’ve committed myself to Rose’s freedom. As far as the others, I have no idea what they’ll do.

Dread fills my chest knowing that the only one who may pass through the mirror tomorrow is me.

Gideon

Dry drowning occurs when a person’s lungs become unable to extract oxygen from the air. That’s the official definition from Wikipedia. I don’t remember how or why I’m familiar with the term, but it comes to mind because that’s what’s happening to me as I look into Raven’s beautiful gray eyes and lie.

“You’re breaking up with me?” she asks. Her voice holds a note of stunned defeat.

“Yes.”

“I’m confused. You said … ” Her gaze drops. “We had all these plans.”

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to reach for her, plead temporary insanity and kiss her senseless. Instead I say, “I know, but everything’s different now.” I can hardly believe the curt, unemotional words are mine. “The Void is dangerous. I can’t do my job if I’m worrying about your safety. Or Wynter’s, for that matter. I’m sorry, but—”

“You’re
sorry?”
The sheen in her eyes might as well be a scythe for how deeply it cuts. “And you’re telling me you want to go in there alone?” She doesn’t wait for my answer. “First, you’re adamant only Cole goes into The Void, and we stay behind. Now, no one should go
but
you. What changed?”

“Is that an actual question?” My laugh is dry and tight, but she merely stares. “You want plain talk? All right then, here it is. I’ll need to make spit-second decisions in there, and I can’t afford distractions or to carry any dead weight. We need fighters. You grow flowers. You’d only be in the way.”

Two spots of pink rise under her perfect, bloodless cheeks. If I have to watch her suffer a minute longer, I’ll crack. So, I face the window, study the forest beyond our property, keeping my back to Rae. From the sunroom where we stand, a massive screened porch opens to a three tiered deck, and further down, the lake. My father doesn’t do anything small. After Maddox Industries gave me the boot, I thought of selling this place and using the money for tuition. Yet, once I suspected the magic hidden in my father’s office, selling the house was out of the question. What if an innocent family moves in? I can’t have anyone accidentally sucked into The Void.

No. I’m out of options.

“I’ve finally accepted my responsibility, Raven. My family opened the door between worlds causing
decades
of suffering. It’s my problem to fix, undo those wrongs, and close the portal forever. I won’t leave someone else to clean up my mess. Not this time.” I’m convincing myself as much as her, but it sounds right. Confident my plan will protect her while providing the excuse I need for breaking up, if she’ll just …

“Not happening.”

… stop fighting me.

“You actually think you can do all of this by yourself?”

As of about an hour ago, yes. I hadn’t considered destroying the portal, but why not? Hell, who knows if it’s even possible, but my life here is over and if I’m going in there anyway, I might as well try. Salt fills my throat as I turn and face her. “Wynter just got his life back. No need to make him a martyr. He needs to move on.” And take care of you, whether or not I come back.

When she nods, I think I’m finally getting through until that stubborn chin of hers sets. “Fine, we’ll bring Rosamond back for him.”

“No,” I say. “You misunderstand. There is no we anymore.” She blanches, and I want to punch myself, but I’ve come too far to stop. “You’re going to stay here,
with
him.”

She steps forward, placing a palm on my forearm. My skin scorches under her fingertips, my heart pulsing with need. It kills me that her touch is so tentative. She’s unsure because I’ve made her so. All I want is her—all I’ve wanted from day one—but that’s impossible now. Words strangle in my throat, so I glare at her little hand on my arm until she withdraws it.

“Why?” she whispers. “What did I do?”

The question knifes me. “Nothing. I’ll always be your friend.” It’s the truth. I step back, still tethered by her mist-colored eyes. Resilience lights inside them. The strength I’ve always admired in her—gone missing these last few months—reappears now in force and works like liquefying flame against my waxy bones.

“You want to be friends?” Something between a laugh and sob escapes. Her hands spread in a helpless gesture. “Are you doing this to protect me? Is that it?”

“Partly.” Completely. I feel my will crumbling under her pleading gaze, and that won’t do. “I told you, everything’s changed.”

“Including your feelings for me?”

“Yes.” It’s only one word. Though I feel my soul blackening around the edges before turning to ash the way paper does as it burns.

She’s not listening. I can see it in the stubborn set of her mouth. Her fingers climb my arms, slide over my shoulders until her hands clasp behind my neck. My eyes roll back as she presses her warm lips to my jaw. “Raven … please don’t.”

Apparently, my words aren’t convincing, because she pulls my head forward. How is it that when my lips touch her skin, it’s my lungs that catch fire? Heartbreak knocks furiously at the door of my chest. My body responds to her against my will, muscles tighten and ignite.

“Tell me what’s really going on … ” Her voice, a soft hum in my ear, drives me crazy with wanting. “Whatever it is, you can trust me.”

Her lips skim feather light over my mouth. I feel every breath, each nuance. The way her nose nudges mine and her eyelashes flutter against my cheek. She teases, nips at my lower lip, then drops soft, maddeningly gentle kisses across my throat looking for a response. My brain is an oven. Heart, lungs, arms, all of me screams for relief. I want to douse the pain of losing her with the truth and beg her forgiveness, but then it becomes about what’s good for me again and not for her.

“Stop it, Rae!” I hate how the gritty sound of my voice reveals my weakness for her. My hands grip both her arms, and plucking them from around my neck, I complete the herculean task of setting her apart from me.

I search her filling eyes. Would she stay if I told her everything? I fear she would, but without her dreams, she’d never be satisfied. Never truly happy, and she’d end up resenting me. I wouldn’t survive that. “This isn’t working anymore. Please understand that I can’t be with you. Not in that way.”