The Paladins (30 page)

“I see parts of the maze from my window. Woods are that way.” She points behind us. “Hills and grass over there,” she says, gesturing ahead. “But everything evaporates in fog at the borders. I don’t know what’s beyond them, maybe the real world.”

Hooves pound distantly on the path behind us. I’m a little surprised, but assume the bull will lose interest after a while. I pick up the pace, eager to put more distance between us and the tower.

Rose concerns me. What if she’s been here too long to release? She’s sweet, but sometimes her words come out forced and unnatural. Makes sense if she’s been isolated, and her knowing about the children’s book is a good sign.

“We’ll figure it out.” My smile is meant to reassure. “Cole’s been here before, and he’ll get us out.”

Her champagne-colored eyelashes flutter. “He’s really nice.”

I worried Cole might have unrealistic expectations concerning he and Rose, but her response is encouraging. “Yeah, he’s pretty great. He—”

“Tell me about Gideon.”

“Uh … ” I feel the crease pinch between my eyebrows before I check myself.
Chill out, Rae.
She’s talkative, friendly, outgoing. Things I’m not. It’s natural to want to know who’s risking their life for you.

Ferdinand bellows, and I startle like a jackrabbit.

Rose grabs my wrist and her feet materialize. “What’s wrong?”

Our new friend stands beneath a cluster of trees. His ridiculously large head swings from side to side. Another moo and his hand plunders the leafy branch above. He’s certainly excited about something.

“Apples!” I race to meet him. “Oh, you big, wonderful, hunk of bull, you.” I can’t remember the last time I ate anything. Literally. Ferdy pulls apple after apple off the limb. For every one he stuffs in his maw, another drops to the ground. “Rose, do you want one?” I ask, kneeling.

“No thanks. I don’t really eat much.”

Drat, I knew that. I feel like an insensitive jerk. “Sorry.”

“Oh, that’s okay, but shouldn’t we keep moving?”

“We will. Give us just a minute.” My attention is back on my apple. “Any worms, buddy?”

Frankly, the way he gobbles them, I don’t think Ferdy cares. The apple skin is dark red, almost too perfect. A picture of Snow White crops up, but the needs of my stomach override possible treachery. I turn the fruit over looking for holes or rot. As I twist, a furry gray caterpillar crawls toward me from the other side.

Spiny tuffs of white fur stick up all over his back like feathers. A quill brushes my finger. The sting is immediate and worse than an oven burn.

I drop the fruit with a curse, then pop my finger into my mouth.

Pain and anger speed my breathing. I toe the ground near the fallen caterpillar, intending to bury the evil thing. Instead, I miss and my boot scratches a line six inches in the dirt. The soil unzips, exposing a small hole that devours the bug and seals shut again.

Whoa, what just happened?

The caterpillar is gone. Swallowed by the earth in seconds, and apparently, I made that happen. I glance at my boots, then the ground. Holy freaking crap. My chest rises, both with awe and some healthy caution. Seems I’ve discovered yet another skill that I’ll have to explore later.

“What’s the matter, now?” asks Rose. Her whine drags out, tone increasingly petulant.

Defensive, I respond with, “Nothing.” Her eyebrows rise, and I hold out my swollen finger as if that explains. “See? A worm stung me.” Since her mouth twists into an impatient frown, I see no reason to elaborate on the whole bug-eating-soil episode.

Ferdy bumps my hand with his muzzle. I think he’s worried, and it’s sweet—slimy, but sweet.

“Gross.” Rose wrinkles her nose.

I don’t know if she means the insect or Ferdy’s dripping nose. Both qualify. Ferdinand holds another apple in his meaty hand, and shoves it at me with a grunt. Finding it pest free, I sink my teeth into the juicy flesh. My eyes close as tangy flavor explodes in my mouth.

More fruit disappears into Ferdy’s gullet, juice dripping from his chin. We crunch away like two happy cows chewing cud. It isn’t pretty. And I couldn’t care less.

“What are you doing? Shouldn’t we go?” Rose’s tone grows more demanding.

“We are going. Chill
out!”
When she bites her lip, I instantly regret snapping. How long would I wait after being stuck in that tower? Her impatient glances might be fear Pan’s following, and I feel like a jerk again. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m tired and stressed, and when I’m hungry, I get cranky. In the South, we call that ‘hangry.’ Get it? Hungry plus angry is … ” I smile. She doesn’t. “No? Forget it. ” So much for lightening the mood. “Let me just … yeah.”

I pull my outer shirt off and sink to my knees. Scooping fallen apples, I wrap as many as will fit inside the dirty fabric and tie the ends together.”

“Raven?”

Rose gazes down at me with icy blue eyes. Something about her strikes a familiar chord, but I don’t know what it would be.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. You’ve risked so much. Forgive me?”

“Sure. No problem.” I lift my bundle. “I’m taking these for the guys in case they’re hungry. See? We’re going. It’s all good.”

Ferdy growls as though he disagrees before stuffing his cheeks with more apples.

Sorry, boy.

As we walk along, the bull-man’s hooves beat the dry ground in hollow thuds.

Rose glances over her shoulder. “Looks like you’ve picked up a stray.”

“Does, doesn’t it?” A quiet smile breaks free. If Ferdy wants to tag along, that’s more than okay with me.

Two hours of hiking and three apples later, I’m feeling better physically, but there’s still no sign of Gideon and Cole. A purple dragonfly zips from cattail to thistle, keeping us company. I prefer the bull and bug’s company to that of the incessant chatterbox next to me.

First Rose pumps me for information on the guys. Lonely or not, questions like are you and Gideon dating, is he a good kisser, and what’s your bra size are none of her damn business. When she finally notices I’m not up for the role of
Gossip Girl
, she pouts. Unfortunately, she isn’t quiet long before bringing up shopping, make-up, travel, and what model car I drive. I want to ask if she’s seen the TV show
Keeping up with the Kardashians
, because that’s who she sounds like.

She smiles and touches my arm a lot. In part, I think, because she’s friendly. But also because her feet appear on human contact and that must be nice—to feel normal again. I’ve never been the touchy-feely type with my girlfriends, but I haven’t been kept in a stone closet, either. I don’t mind if it makes her happy. As Rose talks, I interject a word here and there so she thinks I’m listening, but I’m not; at least, not completely. She’s got the energy level (and attention span) of a squirrel, and it’s exhausting.

The landscape changes again, as it does so often here. The soil turns spongy, foliage drips with moisture. Tree varieties grow taller and more tropical. Towering palms with wispy fronds sway in the warm breeze. Flat bush leaves fan out in yellows and reds. A toucan or parrot or something else very un-South-Carolina-like calls its mate.

Despite the strangeness, our surroundings seem peaceful enough. Ferdy sends no impressions of impending doom. Still, around every bend in the road, I’m waiting for Pan to show up. It’s too quiet. An ominous presence builds until I feel like goat-bait from
Jurassic Park
. I saw that movie too young and couldn’t sleep for a week.

“Raven?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re not listening, are you? I asked if something’s wrong.” Her gaze darts around. “And what’s
Jurassic Park
?”

Did I say that out loud? “Sorry. It’s just not like Pan to let me walk off with his prisoner and do nothing. He’s got a bet to win, so I—”

“A bet? What sort of bet?” She sounds pissed off, and I don’t blame her.

“If we make our way back out of the labyrinth together, Pan agreed to let us go. If not, we’re stuck here as co-inmates.”

She blinks. “That’s it? That’s your whole plan?”

“We’ll get out.”

Her laugh explodes harsh and cynical. “You’ll never beat him.”

I’m about to ask why she’s so sure, and there he is. Ahead where the trail widens to a clearing, Pan astride the back of a triceratops.

Seriously.

Ferdy snorts. His hoof scrapes the ground.

“Speak of the devil,” Rose says.

“You can say that again, sister.” My fingers tighten on the metal bed rail in my hand.

“Ladies, how delightful to see you again.”

The dinosaur pulls at the bit in her mouth. I say
her
because the animal’s hide is lavender. I shiver, remembering my earlier comment about goat-bait and wonder if she’s carnivorous. No way is this a coincidence. “What are you, some sort of clairvoyant?”

He smiles. “Ah, now that would be a trick. No, unfortunately I simply have excellent hearing.”

He’s listening?
That’s it! When I think back, some of the nightmares I experienced closely followed fears I’d expressed out loud. Desiree confessed to creating the same type of frightening visions to scare me away from Gideon. I’m guessing she learned from Pan—before her release and subsequent drowning, that is.

“So, you spy on us.”

“Well, duh. You’re a rather dull bulb today, aren’t you?”

“Eavesdropping is so pedestrian, Pan. I’m shocked you’d stoop to something so unimaginative.”

He rubs his stomach. “I’m not bothered by it. In fact, I’ve eaten quite well since your arrival.”

I get his whole, horror show act now, and it’s disgusting. He listens, makes his victim’s worst fears a reality, then feeds off the suffering. It’s true he said as much in the asylum, but I wasn’t exactly coherent and wrote it off as part of my nightmare. My mind crushes him with a giant hammer. If I say that out loud, will it happen? Probably doesn’t apply to his own pain. “Handy.”

“Oh, indeed. You’d be surprised what nonsense people utter when they’re under the influence. Now, where are you headed? To find your friends, perhaps? I thought I’d tag along.”

Heavy footfalls inch closer until Ferdy’s sticky breaths steam my shoulder. Bulls aren’t known for staying cool under pressure, so I’m as surprised by his self-control as I am by the fact that he clearly stands with me and not Pan, whom I assume is his master.

Pan teleports off his dino-steed, and stands ten feet from me, ridiculous in his white tuxedo with gold trim and tails. On his head is a long, powdered wig straight out of the 1800’s, a stuffed partridge nestled into the curls on one side. He looks more like a Mozart wannabe than sadistic ruler.

A dull ache starts in the back of my skull. To think this creep might eat my headache sends a shudder through me.

The dinosaur keeps her position up the path, though she tosses her head. We could use an ally. “Nice girl?” I say, reaching out with my mind.

“Uh, uh, uh. None of that,” Pan says, wagging a finger as though I’m a naughty child. I make note of his three inch nails painted purple to match his ride. “You’ve already bewitched my Minotaur.” He nods toward Ferdy. “The beast’s job, Ms. Weathersby, was to skewer you with his rather impressive horns.” He exhales in a dramatic sigh. “You’ve become most inconvenient.” His smile is hard as flint, madness evident in his wild, red-rimmed eyes. I jump when he snaps his fingers. A small flame sparks and goes out in a puff of smoke.

Behind him, a ten-foot tall rabbit stands in place of the dinosaur. And it’s pink.

The animals, his teleporting, the fire … it’s obvious. “You control all four elements?”

“Imbecile. Of course! You single wielders are potent, but no match for me … ” His fingers snap again. “I’ve been at it much longer, you said so yourself.”

There’s no time to react as willow trees erupt from the earth. Long branches snake around my limbs. We’re established frenemies, and the willows ignore my request for help. The bed rail’s torn from my hand. I cry out as metal slices the fleshy part of my palm.

Ferdy roars as several trees work to secure two thousand pounds of severely pissed-off bull. He’s strong and doesn’t know the word quit. Branches snap and break as he thrashes, but eventually, like a rat wound in a snake’s coils, the willows win.

“Leave us alone!”
Ooh, good one, Rae
. If you’re scolding your brother for interrupting a tea party.

Ferdy shakes with rage. His lowing echoes through the jungle.

Pan pantomimes a wide yawn before stepping forward. “Shall we go,
Rosamond?
”

I don’t like how he says her name. I don’t like any of this, but I can’t stop him.

She doesn’t resist as he tenderly wraps her waist. Or complain when he bends his head to whisper. Maybe she’s used to this treatment, or believes it’s useless to fight. Something feels wrong, though I can’t say what. Poor Rose. Of course it’s wrong. Everything’s wrong!

He leads her toward the ginormous bunny that hasn’t moved an inch.

With a swish of his hand, Pan evokes a twelve-foot wide hole in the ground. Grass, mulch, and dirt swirl together, creating a spinning vortex in the earth as smoothly as your grandmother mixes cake batter in her favorite bowl.