The Paladins (32 page)

My head hangs back, and I study the sky. Faintly orange, the sun will make her appearance soon. In a few hours, we’ll face Pan. I feel the truth of it, but whether we’ll win or lose, I can’t say. Our plan, scratched in the dirt, is shaky at best.

I sneak a glance at Rae, watch the sky, her face again. The flush of her cheek is more complex than the colors painting daylight, her eyes more mysterious than the fading stars. “I’d like to talk to you, if that’s all right.”

She picks up a leaf, following the yellow veins with her fingertip. “I figured it was something like that … confession, amends?” The edge in her voice is razor sharp. “It’s not necessary, Gideon. We’re cool.”

This is every bit as bad as I imagined, but I gird my loins and head into the lion’s den. “I have no right to ask, but I want to tell you something, if you’ll hear me out.” My lie stands between us, deep as an oceanic trench. I feel my racing heartbeats all the way up my neck. “Remember my last trip to New York?”

She doesn’t answer. I can’t read her and wish she’d look up, but she studies the leaf instead.

“I met with the board, and they explained changes happening at Maddox. Do you know what a hostile takeover is?”

Raven flips the leaf over.

“That’s okay,” I go on, nerves sparking when she won’t answer. “It doesn’t matter. The bottom line is … that I don’t have one anymore.”

Her brow knits, clearly confused, but she still won’t look at me.

“Bottom line … you know, as in profit and loss reports, get it?”

Crickets.

“Sorry, lame joke.” Oh God.
Shut up, fool!
Before I die of abject humiliation, I blurt the rest. “Raven, they took Maddox Industries away from me. I don’t own it anymore.”

I get my wish when she finally meets my gaze, the hurt inside her eyes is my crucible to bear. It takes every ounce of strength I possess not to turn away, but I don’t. I owe her this.

“How can they do that?”

“I became a convenient scapegoat to cover theft and mismanagement issues. I’m the sacrifice. Everything I had belongs to them now.” Somehow, her trembling lip affects the wound in my chest. I break our gaze, but it doesn’t ease the pain. “I can’t fund your career or support you financially.” When I pluck a weed from the ground, Raven winces. “I’m sorry.
Damn it,
I forgot.” I offer her the broken plant. “I never meant to hurt you, and that’s all I seem to do.”

She quietly lifts the dying blade from my palm.

“They can’t touch your tuition.” Emotion thickens my voice as I mention her future. “At least you’ll have that.” When I shift, my wound stretches, and I duck my head, hiding the pain from her.

Raven tosses her head. “You must be furious.”

“Hm. I was.”

“Not anymore?”

“No.” My fingers catch in my snarled hair, and I yank them free. “I’ll survive.” I find her eyes. “So will you. You’ll be fine, better than fine. Raven, you should … ” I stop myself, disgusted how ingrained the urge to control everything is inside me. I came to set things right. I’m done convincing and coercing. Ordering people around like some delusional tyrant. I rub my jeans with my hands just to give them something to do. “Things I thought were important, and that I was sure I couldn’t live without, have actually come to mean the least. Does that make any sense?”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “It does.”

“I’m sorry I lied. You deserved better, and one day I hope you can forgive me. It’s no excuse, but when I lost everything, I panicked. I wanted to be fair to you and didn’t know what else to do.” My stomach churns with guilt and regret. I could use one of Dane’s right hooks about now.

“It’s okay. I think I understand.”

Okay
—she understands why I broke up with her, or
okay
—just stop talking and leave me the hell alone? “Thank you for that.”

She whips her hair back, brushes her hands together. “Wait, thank you for what? What is it exactly you want me to do with this information, Gideon?”

“I don’t know if you remember, but last year we were in my study and we were arguing.”

“Which time?”

“Point taken.” I swallow around the nonexistent lump in my throat and find it won’t move. “I’d screwed up again. You were leaving, and I stopped you, and I said, ‘I’m new at this and not very good … ’” I motion between us with a finger. “At the time, I meant relationships, but now I know it’s more than that. I’m not very good at being
good
. Not like you are.”

She looks me dead in the eye. “And I said, ‘I’m not good either. Only God is good enough to judge,’ remember?”

“I do.”

She’d said it first when we talked about the Artisans’ brand of vigilante justice, pointing out the difference between making informed decisions and
being
“judgmental.”

My hands lift in surrender, and I give her a sad smile, if such a thing exists. “All right, you are not good. What should I say instead? That you are kind and unselfish, talented and brave? Can I tell you that I love the sound of your laugh, and the way you stand on one foot when you brush your teeth? And last year, whenever you wore your messy, morning hair into my kitchen, the sight made me want to throw you over my shoulder and take you back upstairs.”

Her cheeks, bronzed by the climbing sun, steals the air from my lungs. My grin comes easier as more adjectives scroll through my head to describe her. But she’s best at managing monsters: an alcoholic stepdad, a ghost who became a friend, the Minotaur of the labyrinth—and then there’s me.

Rae drops her leaf, then chooses another from the pile at her feet. “You know, when people meet, they bring their pasts with them. Every choice and situation lived becomes part of who we are.” When I smile, her lips curve up. “You like that? My tenth grade guidance teacher shared that little nugget of wisdom.”

“Very wise,” I answer.

“I thought so.” Her expression turns serious. “My point is not every moment is going to be a great or happy one. And that’s okay. I can handle hard times if I love someone and commit to them. The thing is they have to be committed, too.”

“You think I’m not committed to you?” My words are more statement than question.

“I think you mean what you say when you say it, until you say something else. And then you mean that.”

Her words cut, but no more than I deserve. Another swallow of pride, and I answer. “You’re right. Not about my feelings for you, but the rest. Raven, by the time I was eighteen, I thought I was invincible, that I could outsmart, or outmaneuver anyone. Last year, you said you needed time; that you weren’t ready to be in a relationship. I never imagined that was true for me, too. I bullied you into being with me, because you’re what
I
wanted. I’d already rejected my Artisan heritage, and part of my identity. Then I lost the money. I didn’t know who I was apart from the monster, the … machine my father built me to be. I wouldn’t bend, so I broke, never once imagining that I could start over or be anyone else. Until now.”

Rae stabs the dirt with the heel of her boot. “I never cared about the money, Gideon, only you. When you met me, I was sleeping in a storeroom.” Her head dips. A tear slips down her cheek and guts me as it falls to the ground. “I get it, now. The fairytale only works if the prince lifts the kitchen maid out of poverty, but not the other way around. You never gave me the chance to … ” She tosses her head like she’s clearing an unpleasant thought.

“You’re right. I just couldn’t see it before.”

“Just tell me what you want.”

You. Us. Everything.

I lean forward, cup her cheeks with both palms, gently forcing her gaze up. She doesn’t stop me, though her eyes fill to capacity. “I’m sorry. I was a jackass, and I’ll spend the rest of my life earning your trust back if you’ll let me. I want there to be an
us
, Raven. When I broke your heart, I shattered mine.” My hands fall away. “As far as what you should do … I’m not giving any more ultimatums. No advice, or deals, or pressure. Drive your Beetle forever. Choose your friends, where you’ll live, follow your own passions.”

Just let me be a part of it.

“I wish I’d done that from the start.” My voice is too low. I’ve never been so nervous, but I’m going to get this said. “I have nothing left to offer except the future we could build together if
you
want that, too. I wasn’t ready, but I’m ready now. I love you, woman. Hear that, if you can’t hear anything else. I’ve never stopped loving you, and I never
will. Take your time if you want to think it over, as much as you need. I will always be here.”

In my mind, she throws her arms around me, kisses me, and everything’s forgiven. But in a world of fantasy and make believe, her silence is what’s real. I told her to take all the time she needed, and I meant it. So though her continued quiet stomps the hope I have left, I force a smile. And leave her to her thoughts.

Raven

For the second time, I skim along tree limbs as easily as any California-bred surfer girl—minus the tan and cool lingo.

Cole and Gideon don’t fare as well with the whole tree-surfing thing. In fact, they aren’t surfing at all. Without the gift of Earth element to supply a bond with the forest, the trees do their best passing my friends from limb to limb at my request.

When I suggested we travel by tree, the guys looked at me like I was crazy. I knew we could get to the tower faster this way, but I wasn’t sure it would work. Gideon’s body flops like a ragdoll being fought over by a group of girls at recess. Poor Cole actually shrieked when the first tree lifted him. I shouldn’t have laughed, but he’s hilarious in an unfunny sort of way. Perfectly safe, but this is new to them, just like it was to me. I would be more patient if I wasn’t so keyed up.

Today, we’re calling Pan out. Nerves chew at the lining of my empty stomach, turning it rancid. Our confrontation will decide Rose’s fate as well as our own.

And then there’s Gideon, the loss of his company, our break-up, and very unsure future. While I’m grateful he told me the truth, I’m not sure what to do about it. My head and heart fought this battle once before, and both lost.

I shove the thoughts to a hidden drawer deep in my mind. Today, I need focus. Tomorrow hardly matters if we don’t escape The Void.

Species of tree change from steamy jungle to east coast woodland. Thick leaves filter sunlight, speckling the ground in light and shadow. I leap from pine to cherry tree, maple to cypress, the sensation as thrilling as the first time. I’m fearless in my jumps and swan dives, fully confident in the forest’s willingness to support me.

Unfortunately, Ferdy refused the trees, and the vibe I got from the woods said the feeling was mutual. The bull ran beneath us for a time, but we move fast and he soon fell behind. I’m sad, but it’s for the best. A Minotaur appears part man, but his mind is closer to an animal’s. Pan used an innocent creature for evil, and that pisses me off.

I can’t take him home. People would freak. The government would take him away, and the science community would probably pin him to a corkboard like some rare butterfly on display. A shudder riffles through me at the thought of him caged in a lab, afraid and alone. He should be munching apples and finding himself a she-cow somewhere.

The tower spire soars above the treetops signaling our destination. My tummy muscles tighten. Adrenaline spikes.

Hang on, Rose.

I send a message to the trees to slow our pace. Another peek at the tower—another stomach twinge. Instinct tells me I’ll need all the energy I can get for this battle, yet I hesitate. The forest is strong, and vibrant, and lush. Asking them to share their power is weirdly like asking to borrow your best friend’s expensive French perfume for a date. She’s glad to share, but you don’t want to impose or take too much.

I suck oxygen deep into my lungs as a sudden burst of strength fills me. The woods must have sensed my thoughts and answered without me even having to ask.

Thank you. Thank you, friends.
Brimming with fresh power, I ask the trees to lower us to the ground.

“Never again,” Cole groans from the branch above me.

Our feet hit the earth at pretty much the same time. Gideon staggers, but catches himself. His expression’s tense and winded, but Cole is positively green.

Guilt pings me. I should have gone slower. “We can rest if you need to, Cole.”

He has the strength to look offended, but doesn’t argue as he collapses under the shade of a nearby sycamore.

Gideon winks at me. “Wynter, you hungry? I have a protein bar in my pocket. Peanut butter and chocolate. Although, it’s warm and kind of runny … ”

Cole doubles over and vomits into the grass.

“That was really mean.” I punch Gideon’s arm, but he’s laughing.

“To be clear … ” Cole drags his sleeve across his mouth, “ … I hate the both of you.”

“Don’t let a little motion sickness come between us.”

“Sod off.” Cole holds his stomach and balls up on the ground.

“Now that just hurts. You Brits are so fickle. One day, you’re swearing secret admiration beside a Grecian temple, the next, it’s all over.”