The Paladins (9 page)

“Everyone died but me,” I continue.

Raven’s shudder is visible. I want to hold her, but it’s Gideon who captures her hand. His gaze lifts. “Who’s left in The Void, Cole? We released everyone with a coffin.”

I’m still watching their fingers thread together—it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins, and I force my gaze away. “That’s just it. She wasn’t with us. I’ve never seen her before, and the curse bound us all to either The Void’s labyrinth or the Maddox property as far as I knew.” That’s not entirely true. Only Desiree, Gideon’s deranged stepmother, dared to cross the boundary into the human world. Though she’s dead now, too.

“Let me get this straight.” Maggie’s bob swings across her cheek, more tassel than hair. “A girl shows up in your dreams and you want us to … what exactly?”

Isn’t it obvious?
“Get her out. Help her the way you helped me.”

“Impossible,” Gideon says.

My eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I’m sorry for her.” He glances to Raven. “I really am, but it’s too dangerous. Even if we wanted to, the salts are gone, and—”

“Make more,” I say. “Your father left you the recipe in the armoire.” There’s little I don’t know about the mansion. After all, I spent years haunting this place.

“It’s not that simple. How much do you know about her, Cole? She might incinerate upon release, and we don’t have her coffin, or her body. You said yourself she isn’t on the grounds anywhere, so where is she? Freeing you was a lucky guess, do you understand? A one in a million chance.”

Raven taps her chin, eyes glittering with what might be a dozen unanswered questions. “We need more information.”

“No!” Dane and Gideon echo.

“Hey.” Maggie leans across the rug and pokes my knee. “If you live in France, why do you have an English accent?”

“Pardon?” What my accent and family origins have to do with rescuing Rosamond from The Void, I have no clue, but I answer just the same. “I was born in England. My family moved when I was eleven.”

“Brothers and sisters?”

“Only child.”

“Parents?”

“Away on a business tour.” I lob my answers back as though we’re matched at Wimbledon.

“Girlfriend?”

“No!” My face heats at my explosive response, but I can’t believe little Ms. Nosey Parker is asking me about my love life right now. What’s worse is admitting what a loser I am in front of the girl I most want to impress.

I hate Maggie!
Or at least, the pitying look she wears while inspecting my face. Then, as if my silence suddenly explains everything, she stands. “All right, then. We can’t just leave Rosamond in there, can we?”
I love Maggie!
I want to applaud as she exits her seat and steps to Dane’s chair. “No one should be alone like that,” she says, settling in his lap.

I guess she means Rosamond, but she’s looking at me.

Solitude is a common theme among the people in this room. In my mind’s eye, the lonely, silver girl from The Void rematerializes. I can see her mournful eyes, her thin, pale shoulders as she turns toward me. The air is dank. Her prison smells like water and peat. Nothing but cold, damp stone and broken dreams.

Thoughts of her forever cursed make me ill all over again. “Someone has to help her.” I stand and face Gideon.

“No,” he says. “I won’t risk … ” His gaze cuts to Raven. “No.”

“For once, listen to me.”

He lifts his head, expression unyielding as ever.

“What I did to you was wrong. I deserved the punishment your father gave me, but I’m not the guy I was, and neither are you. There’s more to The Void than you know. Darkness lives there, monsters more lethal than Desiree, crueler than our fathers. I can’t damn anyone to that hell. If you truly understood, neither would you.”

He pauses, taps the gold coin on his desktop. “I will provide supplies and whatever information I can to help you get started, but no more than that.” The words fall hard, resounding like a judge’s gavel. Final. Resolute. He eases back into his seat. Raven’s lips part as if she’ll say something but doesn’t. “Come here, Rae.” Silent as her cat, she slides off the desk and into his lap.

They murmur together. Does she argue or agree? His arms wrap her like two bands of iron, and I don’t blame him a bit. Maddox isn’t stupid. He knows the risk involved in helping me. And if he had a clue what I’m really asking for, he’d throw me out and lock his woman safely away.

Which brings me to my next confusing question: why put the girl I care about most in danger for one I don’t even know? Yet, God forgive me, I would. Rosamond and I are connected by experience and something deeper. I’ve been where she is, been
her
.

Cole
…

My fists tighten. Hang on, Rose. I’m coming for you.

When I first arrived in South Carolina, I hailed a cab and came straight away to the mansion. I assumed Gideon would banish my arse to the nearest hotel. Instead, he asked if I’d be comfortable staying here. In his home. What the what?

Since that time, I’d been shown to an immaculately clean guest room and taken a hot shower. The jeans I wore on the plane are clean, but I changed into a comfortable, faded blue T-shirt. The plump and ever-friendly Jenny brought a tray to my room, stuffing me with chicken salad sandwiches, coleslaw, brownies, and enough lemonade to drown a man. Meanwhile, Jamis delivered three cardboard boxes filled with leather-bound journals, old ledgers, and dog-eared letters for me to sort through.

The considerations probably came from Rae. Even so, I’m shocked Maddox agreed. Of course, it’s fairly impossible to say no to Raven.

Books and paperwork lay sprawled all over the king-sized bed where I sit. The records Raven found in the Maddox’s attic last year document decades of Artisan activity. Gideon’s long and distinguished lineage of county judges handed out harsh sentences like sweets. The answer to Rose’s freedom must be in here somewhere. My newfound goal makes me feel more alive, more hopeful than I’ve been in months.

The enthusiasm I have delving into the ancient texts surprises even me. I’ve made rescuing a girl I don’t know from a turret I’ve never seen my top priority.

Words, names, and dates blur against cream pages as I scan the lists in the journals. My finger hunts for the name Rosamond, or Bryer, and while I find neither, I don’t stop looking. With all we’ve been through, and all that may still be asked of us in order to free someone else; I have to believe in a good outcome.

Outside my window, a squirrel and bird argue territorial rights for the tree limb they occupy. My annoyance builds, but a sudden gust of wind sends them both packing.

Hours later, words jumble as I read the same sentence a third time. The excitement I felt at the beginning of my task wanes with the fading sun. Shadows gather like restless spirits in the darkening corners of the room.

My headache returns to punish the base of my skull, while my eyes are dry and strained with prolonged concentration. Walls spin and smudge as I’m caught up in the coming vision. The heavy oak door of the guest room melds with the bureau, absorbing the ceiling and the floor until my room is gone and replaced with one of damp stone that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Hey, Rosamond.”

Cole? Oh, you’re here!
Her voice is high and breathy. Her eyes shine as she clasps her little hands together.

Guilt stabs me in the throat. I understand about loneliness, but I don’t control how often I visit her. “Rose, how did—” My mouth stops working, and my face burns. Up to now, I’ve kept her nickname to myself, but her delighted smile suggests she doesn’t mind a bit.

“Yes, Cole?”

I swallow and start again. “Do you … bring me here, to The Void?” I almost use the word summon, but catch it in time.

“No. But I can sense when you’re close.” Her gaze drops. “Just as well. If I could wish you here, I might abuse the privilege and keep you with me.”

Keep me?
I cough into my fist to hide my shock.

An epic fail because her hand shoots up. “Hey, I’m kidding! It was a joke.” A sigh. “I’m not very good at this, am I?”

“Good at what?”

“Flirting.” Waves of platinum hair ripple over her pale shoulders with her head shake. “I would never, ever, force you to stay. I wouldn’t know how even if I wanted to. And I
don’t
want to. Not for real.”

“It’s all right,” I say, trying to erase the awkward moment.

“Do you want to sit down for a while? We could talk.” She floats over to a tiny end table and gestures to the only chair. “I have a chess board, but I’m pretty bad.” She laughs. “Whoops, I guess I shouldn’t admit that before we start, should I?”

Her chatter is nervous and endearing. She tries so hard. Too hard. So, I don’t mention my loathing for the game. Or how my father insisted that I learn, and not just play but excel, compete on a team, as he had. “Let’s talk.”

“Okay, yes, good.” Rose wanders to the bed and, settling against the backboard, faces the empty chair like she expects me to sit there.

Instead, I take a seat across from her at the other end of the bed. The straw mattress gives under my elbows as I lie back. I stretch my legs out, boot heels scuffing the flagstone flooring as I cross my ankles.

A lengthy pause electrifies the space between us. I wonder who she is, how she came to be here, and about the spell she’s casting over me.

Rose leans forward, delicate hands clasped in her lap. A blink hides her silver eyes for a moment before recapturing my gaze. “Touch me, Cole.”

“What?” Shite. My voice actually cracks. I panic imagining the supremely uncool sweat rings that are surely spreading under my arms. I’m looking for a rock to crawl under when she lifts a hand to mine. On contact, her weight presses the blankets beneath her body. Her legs and small white feet materialize.

Gravity. Of course, she touched me to feel like her old self again. I swallow my bruised pride and squeeze her hand.

Her smile is shy and unsure. “Thank you, Cole. I know I’m asking a lot, but if there is a way in for you, there must be a way out for us.

Us?

“I appreciate everything you’re doing. Maybe if you—”

The room jolts and pivots as sudden and violent as a carnival ride. Like before, the walls run together. I can just make out her blond hair flashing in my peripheral vision every so often as the whirling room brings her image round again.

Soon, Cole
…
I know you’ll find a way.

Oxygen expands my lungs to bursting and then exits in a rush as the walls condense around me. My body is torn from the room. I’m blown through the window, away from her world, and back into mine.

Raven

Gideon’s arms slide around my waist as I stand at the kitchen sink with my snack. I’m trying to work up the courage to tell him what happened in my room this morning. All day I’ve avoided delivering the news that may derail our careful plans for fall semester.

Warm breath lingers on the back of my head sending delicious chills though my body. His fingers gently brush the skin on my stomach beneath my blouse, and I fight the urge to turn and leap into his arms. The guy emits more dangerous energy than a leaky power plant. Still, I hold back.

I was the one who wanted to go slowly. Like, first gear slow. Maybe just idle. Call me old fashioned, but I always dreamed that my first time sleeping with a guy would be with my husband on our honeymoon. I still want that, and him, but I just turned eighteen.

The muscles under his golden skin ripple as they tighten around me. How does he make me feel safe and nervous at the same time? His nose parts the hair above my ear. Steady breaths, finally drive me to place my cookie on the counter and face him. My hands slide around his neck, fingers playing with the silky curls at his nape. I love the spicy scent of black licorice that’s distinctly his.

He lowers his head, nose rubbing mine before he lets his lips drift over my mouth. Whisper soft, his hesitant touch is an excruciating tease. Always, there’s curiosity and the promise of more to come.

My fingers untangle at his neck and drop to the bulge in his biceps. I can’t help enjoying the way they bunch when he holds me. My legs lose strength, knees weaken. There’s every possibility the boy will kiss me into unconsciousness. Can that happen? He must know because he holds me so close I hardly have the air to speak.