The Paladins (7 page)

She’s not the one encased in roots the width of my arm. I am. The smooth bark doesn’t chafe, but the vines hold me closer than a botanical MRI machine. Panic dries my mouth. My muscles go rigid in a fit of claustrophobia, and I wonder if I’ll have a heart attack and die right here and now.

“Mags,” I whisper. “Help me.” One minute, I’m having crazy dreams about my mother going all “Poison Ivy” on me, the next my nightmare morphs into reality.

Edgar yowls from my bedside. He paws at a leaf before touching the leather pad of his nose to mine. His whiskers tickle, but I can’t move my arm to scratch his ear like I normally would. He sits and cries again.

“I know, honey,” Maggie says, soothing my unhappy cat.

“Um, little help?”

“Right, sorry.” Tentatively, Maggie reaches out and strokes her fingers down the foliage attached to my shoulder. “I’m open to suggestions.”

I wish I had one. “I had a nightmare, about my mother and a tree.”

“And did this tree try and eat you?” The question sounds sarcastic, but the look on my friend’s face is deadly serious. Her fingers curl around the nearest vine. She tugs, but it won’t budge.

“Not exactly. It was trying to help, I think.”

“Well, think again.” She digs her hands between me and the sturdy roots, puts her foot on the mattress, and yanks. Noisy grunts underline the effort she’s expending, but the plants won’t move. A head toss sends her platinum bob swinging. “Seriously … ” She pants. “They’re like freaking iron.” Her voice hardens, losing some of the fear I heard earlier. Her eyes narrow. I know that look of stubborn determination. Without warning, she scrambles over top of me and the pile of roots.

Air rushes from my chest as I’m squeezed under her hands and knees. “What are you … doing?” I groan. “What do you see?”

“The vines. This is so weird …”

Which part?

“Okay, let’s think this through. The vines obviously grew in through the window overnight, but I never heard a sound.” As if to emphasize her thought process, she climbs down and faces me from a few feet away. “When I stand back and look at you from a distance, the vines are like a jail.” Her head tilts. One hand rubs her jaw. “Actually, it looks like you’re stuck inside a giant ribcage, eaten by a huge plant skeleton—”

“Mags!” I shudder. “So not helping.”

“I have more, eco-burrito?”

“You used to be a nice person.”

“You used to have a sense of humor.” She stops and frowns. “Sorry. I’m sorry! You know this crap stresses me out. Okay, we have to get you out before my parents get home. Mom will freak out and spray you with weed killer, or call the fire department.”

“No she won’t. We’ll explain it.” The idea sounds ridiculous, even to me.

“Have you met my mom?” Maggie’s head snap clears the hair from her eyes. “Remember the time she told our neighbors she was growing Chlamydia under the mailbox. Chlamydia, Rae. Not the
Clematis
actually potted in the container. Everyone thinks our front lawn has a venereal disease.”

“Okay, you may have a small point there.” Initial panic subsiding, I still want out of jail. “Just help me, please.”

She chews her thumbnail, and then says, “I could text Dane that we have an emergency, but he doesn’t check his phone much at work.” She squats to make eye contact. “Hey …
should
I call the fire department?”

Confined by the ivy, my headshake is a complete fail. “We can’t have this on the six o’clock news, Mags.”

“Right. You’re right.” Maggie swipes a pair of sweatpants from the floor and pulls them on under her thin nightie. “My dad has an ax in the shed. That’s what firemen use anyway. It’ll have to do since we sold our ‘Jaws of Life’ bolt cutters in the last garage sale.”

“Ha. Ha.” She’s just trying to keep things light, but my heart sinks. I don’t know how my friend thinks she’ll hack me out without chopping me to pieces, and oddly, that’s not even my main concern. I called the plants my jail, but a cage shields too, right? Protects, provides safety.

Hurting the vines feels like a betrayal. It’s stupid and illogical, but it’s also strangely true. Withering leaves, roots hacked and dying, it all makes me queasy, and I find myself wishing I could save them.

Maggie leans over, hands clutching her knees. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, funny.” I glare at her through the leaves, but she’s already jogging out the door. “You should do stand-up!” I yell, hoping she’ll hear down the hall.

The longer Maggie takes getting the ax, the more uncomfortable I am with the plants’ impending doom. No matter how irrational, I can’t stand the thought of their destruction. A total reversal considering the claustrophobia I felt minutes ago. What’s wrong with me?

My head pounds with quick and sudden pain. Nausea worsens. The ground shudders and floorboards creak. Bed legs scoot and stutter with the mini-quake. I should be terrified, yet I’m suffering more for the plants that will soon die.

Then suddenly, like a snake waking from a long sleep, the vines begin uncoiling from around my body. Edgar hisses. I hear the thud as he jumps to the floor. Claws scratching as he scurries away. Starting with the thinnest ends, the roots loosen, leaves retract. Inch by inch, the vines unwind from my limbs. Released from my bonds, I arch to see the plants scuttle over the sill, retreating out the open window.

“What. The. Hell?”

I turn as Maggie drops the ax. The metal head hits the floor with a clang. “Rae … ?”

“Shh, I know.” Fearing any distraction will stop the migrating foliage from vacating our room, I plead with my eyes for her to keep still.

Leaves brush noisily against glass panes with the vines’ exodus, the sound lessening as the stragglers slide out and away. Once they’re gone, I roll to my knees and poke my head out of the window. Maggie joins me on the bed, and, side by side, we watch the last of the roots burrow into the ground of her parents’ yard. The soil isn’t disturbed. There are no holes, tunnels, or furrows to prove that what we just witnessed was real.

HO-LY CRAP
.

“Raven?” Awe, fear, and disbelief leak though her tone, heightening the same feelings in me.

I stare at the dirt that swallowed the roots and feel a little like
Jack and the Beanstalk
, but in reverse. “They left when I told them to.”

“What?”

“At least, I think they did. When you went for the ax, I felt sorry for them. I wished they would leave so they didn’t have to die. And then they just … went.”

Maggie pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. Her exhale’s long and dramatic before meeting my gaze. “You felt sorry for the killer weeds?” I nod. “Honey, did you call the plants here in the first place? Lord help me, what am I even saying?”

“I was dreaming about plants, so I guess it’s possible.” Somehow, I’m now convinced the invading plants meant me no harm. In my dream, the connection between us let me know they were there for my protection—but from what? I’m thinking like a crazy person. Plants aren’t dogs. They don’t come and go on command. Or spring to life, cage humans, and then slink away again.

“You could have been killed. Strangled. Why would you bring them here? Or better yet,
how
?”

“I don’t know.” We’re both quiet, and then I add, “It’s happening again, isn’t it? The magic. Or I’m finally completely insane.”

“This wasn’t a nightmare, Rae. I saw it, too. If you’re crazy, I’m right there with ya.”

We stare out the window until my neck stiffens and my thighs go numb. Nothing happens. The roots don’t return. No giant Venus flytrap comes calling. “I think I’ll head over to Gideon’s and hang out.” I need to see him, feel his arms around me. Hear his smooth southern voice telling me we are going to be okay, and that we can have a life that is normal. If normal exists. “He’ll be back this afternoon.”

Her red hair stripe swishes with her nod. “Excellent notion, Rae, but I’m going, too.”

I wasn’t going to argue. No one stops Maggie once she’s on a roll.

“If you think I’m going to sit here all day waiting for a
Little Shop of Horrors
rerun, you really are out of your mind.”

Gideon

Another glance at my watch confirms Dane and Mags have been gone fifteen minutes. The same amount of time Raven’s been staring out the dining room window. Not that I’m complaining. While she watches the oaks in the garden, I get to study her. After a while, though, I miss the sound of her voice.

“Rae?”

No answer. Not even a blink. She’s growing more preoccupied, and I’m pretty sure she’s hiding something.

The hypocrisy isn’t lost on me, because I still haven’t told her about the Maddox Industries takeover and resulting financial ruin. Nor did I mention that I caught an earlier flight home to meet with Jenny and my butler Jamis. My staff accepted the bad news with their typical stoic dignity. Regular fixtures in the Maddox household, the pair assured me they would stay on indefinitely, even if I couldn’t pay them a dime. While Jenny cleared her throat and hurriedly left the room, Jamis—very uncharacteristically, I might add—seemed anxious to speak to me. We’d barely begun when Raven and Maggie surprised us at the front door and we had to postpone.

For now, Raven continues watching the yard. I follow the angular lines of her face and throat. Track her long, graceful fingers to their talented ends. I was supposed to have all the answers … take care of
her
. I can’t pretend that New York didn’t happen, much as I try. If I ignore the wall rising between us, brick by brick, fear and doubt will divide us. The thought of losing her hurts like a kick in the teeth.

I have to tell her, and I will. Tomorrow.

My lungs slowly fill. Even breathing seems more difficult with all the stress I’m under, and these daily headaches don’t help. I need time to sort everything out. Maybe Rae needs the same to work through whatever’s bothering her.

“Where are you today, woman?”

Did I mention patience is not my best quality?

She shifts to face me. Her black hair dips over one shoulder. I drop my pen to the yellow legal pad below me on the mahogany table. She smiles. I fake one in return, eyes narrowing playfully with an unapologetic grin. A challenge for her to deny me what I need.

Her gaze drops. She blushes with no idea how the pretty color affects my heart rate. When she looks up, I crook my finger, urging her closer. I’m sick to death of thinking, and plotting, and planning my way out of the next disaster. Holding her makes me forget.

Gray eyes flash. She meets my gaze with a slow, tantalizing smile. As though a bolt of lightning hits my chest, a feeling of wanting pumps from my heart, electrifying my veins.

“We’re working,” she says. “You promised to behave.”

I chuckle at that. “Does
behave
sound like a promise I’d make? You asked. I said nothing.” I jerk my chin toward the window. “Besides, you’re not working. You’re daydreaming.”

She glances to the trees and back. “No, I just … took a break.”

“Mm-hm. You realize you’ve already completed the designs for Raedoxx’s spring line, pre-orders are off the charts. Leave your new ideas for the fall.” She glances at the sketchpad on her knee, and my conscience pokes an accusing finger. The poor girl designs for a company with no financial backing, but we’re not talking about that. Not yet. “Stop for a while. Be with me.” I stand and lean over the table, fingers stretching toward her in a predatory manner.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you of all people.” Her expression turns indignant, but her tone is playful. “The great and powerful Gideon Maddox, workaholic tycoon.”

Was.
Was a workaholic. The words cut, but it’s not her fault. She can’t know how her appraisal has changed.

Her gaze slides to the open books on my dining table. “Dane and Mags will be back from the kitchen any minute.”

“No, they won’t.”

I’m right and she knows it. They’re off somewhere making out. It doesn’t take this long to grab a snack from Jenny. If she thought we wanted anything at all, she’d have been in here ten minutes ago with enough food to feed an army.

Slow and easy, I make my way to Raven’s side of the table, as if she’s a bird that’s easily startled. “See what you’ve done to me? I’m actually the victim here. One woman cuts Samson’s hair and saps his strength, another seduces Mark Antony, or launches a thousand ships and starts a war … now, there’s you.”

The sound of her laugh warms me. “You stuck me in the evil woman category? How nice.”

My smile feels crooked. “You’re not evil.” I lean in, gripping the armrests on either side of her chair and trapping her between my arms. “Not entirely.”

“You think
I’m
trouble?” Her laugh is nervous and unsure this time. Good to know I still have that effect on her.

“Oh, I know you are.” I reach for her wrist, my fingers skimming her flesh. The feeling is incredible, like satin under my palm. Gently, I lift her to a stand. When my arms encircle her waist, her little shiver fans the embers inside me, sending my pulse into overdrive. “I think you enjoy torturing me, just a little.” Our proximity affects the room’s temperature. Or mine.