The Paladins (23 page)

The bull bellows and covers his eyes. Then his hands drop and he charges. Clutching one of my dangling legs, the Minotaur wrenches until tendons rip and my bone cracks with a wet pop. I scream and he trumpets. Our struggle loosens a vine that wraps his neck.

Now, I have an idea. One chance to keep the rest of my appendages in place.

I fight the pain and throw my legs over the bull’s broad shoulders. He bucks, and I ride while wrapping more vines around his impossibly wide neck. He stops jumping when I cinch them tighter, cupping his throat with his stubby, human fingers.

Thank God for pro wrestling and sleeper holds. If I can cut off Minotaur’s airway, maybe he will pass out long enough for me to get away.

I tug the vines until my muscles cramp, but my arms alone won’t exert enough pressure to drop this monster before I tire out. Keeping the vines taut, I slide my body over his shoulder, and down his back, adding the whole of my dead weight to the pressure on his windpipe. I hang there, limbs shaking with fatigue. I bite my cheek against the pain until the taste of copper floods my mouth.

Finally, the beast sags. His knees buckle, and he crashes to the ground. I leap away to avoid being crushed. My busted leg won’t hold, and I roll several feet, cursing loudly at every turn.

I swear vengeance on Desiree, Maddox, my old man. Everyone.

Thanks to the curse, I’ll heal, but tonight it’s a long hike to the mansion on one leg. As much as I hate it there, I’m not signing up for more midnight meetings. Desiree be hanged. The woman’s certifiable, and from now on, completely on her own.

The underbrush rustles, pulling me from horrible memories.

I jump, thinking the zombies have come to finish me off. Pain stabs my trapezius as I twist for a better look. “Damn it, Maddox,” I say, as he limps from behind a tree. “What the hell? I thought you were … something else.”

“I missed you too, Wynter. You look like I feel.”

Comedian.

Gideon’s slides to a sit and rests against the tree trunk, knees pointed at the sky. Shadows collect under his legs, darkening the molding leaves beneath him. As his lids slide shut, my gaze follows the dark blood trail on his shirt connecting ribcage to waist.

“Are you all right, mate?”

“Fine.”

“Where’d you come from?”

One eye opens. “Hell if I know.” Both eyes. “I woke up half-dead and face down in a ditch. Started walking. Found you.”

Always chatty, Maddox is.

“Have you seen her?”

“Seen who?”

“
Who?
Raven!”

Oh. “Right, right.” As I stretch, each vertebra in my back snaps louder than mallets on a xylophone. “Not yet. She ran a different direction than you and I did, but she can’t be far. Likely we were all sent on Pan’s little Peyote party last night.” I jerk my chin toward the black flowers.

Gideon nods. Lips pressed to a flat line as he cradles his injury with one hand. “My supplies are gone, cane too. Do you have anything left?”

I glance about. “Nah, probably dropped my satchel in the woods.”

He accepts or guessed as much because he’s staring off into space. “We have to find Rae. She needs … you.”

I palm my neck, rubbing stiff muscles loose. “Er, yeah.” The turnabout still mystifies me, since only a few days ago he wanted to cut my heart out for smiling at her. I should be thrilled, and I am, I guess. Yet an uneasy thought hides in the shadows of my mind. I can’t seem to focus, and then it’s too late.

A wail rolls out from the woods shattering the stillness.

“Come on.” Gideon’s already moving, struggling to stand. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah.” I force my body vertical. “I’ll live. What about you?” I’m staring at the blood on his shirt again.

He gives me his back as an answer, boots shuffling over the uneven ground.

As we hurry toward the cry, I expect to see someone behind the first tree, or the next, perhaps the one after that. Hope keeps us tromping through the swamp, but we don’t find anyone. One hour. Two. We walk until the earth dries and hardens. With no more cries to guide us, we continue in the same direction.

The forest thins, then stops altogether on the edge of a rolling meadow. Vegetation changes color from sickly gray, to yellow, to green. One last, scrawny tree bends to greet me like a withered, old man. My steps slow. A cluster of three knots located on the trunk’s center suggests a nose and eyes. A bunch of protruding moss mimics a perfect goatee.

“Hey,” I say, stopping to catch my breath. “Doesn’t that tree look like old man Arnold, our professor of literature at Malcolm? He was always going on about dead poets and moldy Greek gods.”

Gideon halts giving the tree his full consideration. “Actually, it really does.”

The tree is a distraction from what neither of us wants to admit. We’ve lost her. We’ve lost Raven, and we both know it. I’m thirsty and hungry. My muscles ache, and my head thumps with constant, magnified sound echoing in my ears.

I don’t care that I can hear where a creek blends with a stream, or that a bird has caught a grasshopper in its beak. I just want the noise to stop before I go mad. Gideon trudges on, but I stay put. We don’t have a clue which way to go and this aimless wandering isn’t helping my mood.

I have a better idea.

“Wait,” I say.

Gideon stops, though his glare indicates he’s not happy.

“Hang on.” My eyes close. I concentrate, asking the wind to send me noises.

Unidentified birds scatter in the breeze, the haphazard wing pattern of a bug flitters. Maybe this is a stupid idea, but I specifically ask the breeze to carry the sounds of humans. Gideon waits as I listen. Moments pass. Every second ticking by seems an eternity. Then I hear voices.

“Girls,” I announce, pointing. “And they aren’t screaming, they’re laughing.”

Our boots explode over the dry grass of the glade and pound up the knoll opposite. We break over the crest and find a large valley on the other side. No people, but to the right is a lake with a small island in the center. A white stone temple of impressive size sits at its peak, glinting under the hot sun’s rays. Proud columns surround the structure but fail to hold the crumbling porch roof. As a boy, I accompanied my parents on a trip to Greece. The site seems plucked from a postcard and placed here in The Void.

“Heh, that’s funny,” I say.

“What is?”

“We were just talking about the tree and old man Arnold. Remember? He was always on about Shakespeare, and Dickens, and Zeus. Anyway, I was thinking that structure would be a great set for Battle Medusa. Did you see
Clash of the Titans
?”

“Original or remake?” Gideon doesn’t miss a beat.

“Either. Both. Which did you prefer?”

“Remake, no question.” His expression is resolute. “Better special effects.”

“Yeah, they were cool, but I’m into cult films and old school claymation, myself.”

More laughter breaks across the valley.

Our heads jerk up as three teen girls skip in the hollow below, a blond, brunette, and a redhead. No one was there ten seconds ago and now it’s a flaming party. The girls wear little more than scarves made of sheer, gauzy material that flutters as they run. Not that I’m complaining.

There’s more giggling as the trio points in our direction, followed by friendly waves and outright beckoning. Desire flares in my chest at the same time warning bells ring in my head. Apparently, Gideon hears no such bells and is already plowing down the hillside even as he says, “Something doesn’t feel right about this.”

I’m about to ask if that’s true, why is he practically running to meet them. Until I realize I’m doing the very same thing.

The redhead is first to greet us, every curvaceous feature bouncing as she does. She touches my arm, and I feel the heat in my toes. Whispered breaths, as sweet as cherries, fall on my skin. Her soft hair sweeps my face, snagging on my unshaven jaw. “Hello, handsome.” The girl’s lips are full with a hint of bronze glow. Hazel eyes flash under dreamy, come-hither eyelids.

I’m in so much trouble.

She kisses my cheek, my lips. Blood sloshes against my eardrums. My heart rate climbs, chest pumping up and down like a jackhammer.

Ho-ly shite!
You’d think I’d be happy. Didn’t I just win the lottery of impromptu dates? Getting attacked by beautiful, mostly naked girls is every guy’s dream, right?
Right?

Back in the real world, sure, but not in the labyrinth. I’m not an unattractive guy, and I get my share of appreciative “looks” from the ladies, but even I have to admit, this is suspicious.

As the redhead slides her blood red nails through my hair, I’m one hundred percent sure there’s nothing I can do to stop her.

“Come here, baby. Give us a kiss.” She puckers those pillowy lips and plants one on me.

Sparks zing up my spine igniting my brainstem.
Is my hair on fire?

For a moment, I forget where I am. And that I came here to rescue a sweet and innocent girl from the horrors of this place. My name slips from memory. Where I came from, who I was, and who I’m trying to be. Pleasure in the form of color explodes against the backdrop of my brain. A mysterious tune plays, washing me in soothing sound, like waves caressing the shoreline.

Then a tiny sliver of reason separates my mind from the euphoria my body wants more of.

I seize my moment of clarity and call Gideon who’s standing not six feet away. A voluptuous blond whispers in one ear, while the sexy brunette on the other side toys with the neckline of his shirt. He’s got the stupidest grin I’ve ever seen smeared on his idiot face. I swear he looks like a hound getting his belly scratched.

I shouldn’t judge. I’m pretty sure my expression is equally knobbed.

“Psst … Oi, Gideon!” I feel my grin widen, as though I’ve inhaled too much gas at the dentist’s office. My glee devolves into a fit of chuckling. “I think it’s a trap.”

He tears himself from the lips of the blond inhaling him, and answers. “Heh. You think?” His guffaw thunders across the meadow.

“Listen.” The gravity of the situation isn’t lost on me, yet I can’t stop giggling as the redhead nuzzles my ear. I want to fight, get angry, but her spell is too strong. Escape seems impossible, but if I’m going down, there’s something I have to do first. “Gideon.”

He lifts his head. The sun reflects off his golden hair making him appear like damn Apollo himself. I mean to frown, but I smile. I want to scream, except I laugh. “I think you’re great. Brilliant.”
What the hell?
So not what I meant to say, nor do I care to sound like a twelve-year-old girl. If I could punch myself in the face right now, I’d be only too happy to oblige.

“You’re all right, Cole.” Gideon staggers, and the blond catches him. “At least you try and help people. You were right about Raven. She deserves better than me. Take her. It’s what I want.” The brunette silences him with her ruby mouth.

“But I don’t waaanna be with Raven anymore,” I whine.

I don’t? Where did that come from? She’s all I’ve wanted since I left The Void. Now I’m not so sure. Maybe it’s the spell, but the need to explain myself takes priority over anything else. “Gideon, can you hear me?”

His head lifts, though his lids are mere slits. His smile is a runny egg sliding from his face.

“I’m sorry for dragging you here, for risking Raven’s life and yours. I’m sorry for burning your face all those years ago at school … ” Another giggle rips from me as the redhead stuffs her hand up my shirt.

The other two girls continue mauling my friend, kissing and fawning all over him. I feel sick, yet I laugh until my sides ache. Did I get through to him? I need his forgiveness, but nothing I say sobers the idiotic grin on his mug.

“Gideon?”

“I know.” He stumbles, laughing again. “Water under the bridge—and I’m sorry too, Wynter.”

He’s
sorry? Emotions running full throttle, I can’t stop the words from tumbling out. “You’re the best friend anybody could ever have.” And there it is. I said it. More like slurred it, but the words were audible. Can someone please shoot me now?

“No, just no,” he mutters. Hope spikes at the nasty edge in his tone. For a moment, he sounds like the old, embittered Gideon I know and count on. He shrugs the brunette off, but her arms lasso his neck, drawing him back. He trips, face plunging into her ample cleavage. All hope dies as his head lifts and the simpleton smile is back in place. “We’re done for.” Tears stream from his eyes, he laughs so hard. “I … I can’t.”

Can’t what?

The blond pulls at his earlobe with her teeth. Gideon shrieks. Peels of insane laughter roll off of him. “Get free,” he says. Wrapping his hands around the blond’s neck, his fingers flex and tighten on her throat. “I’ll try and … ”

The brunette shuts him up again, but not with a kiss. She hammers him with a dead tree branch, and Gideon topples like a felled oak.

“Poor old sod.” I shake my head and smile.
What a shame. A terrible end for such a lovely, sensitive guy
. I watch his still body lying in the grass—right before orange fireworks explode behind my eyelids and it all goes dark.