by Julie Reece
“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.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Gideon
The back of my skull bumps a hard surface, pinpointing the exact location of blunt trauma. I picture my gray matter swelling, cerebral plates pushing maximum capacity until my brain explodes in a fine, pink mist. Poohft.
How does a person go from zombie apocalypse, to seduction, to the world’s worst hangover? I can’t remember, but pain drills my head so incessantly, I hardly care. My tongue is thick and gummy, lips dry as ash. I’d kill for a drink of water.
My eyelids crack open. The scene blurs and refocuses. While the space is dim, light shines from an opening at the other end of what appears to be a small cave. I shift but can’t move more than an inch or two. My ankles are tied, wrists bound behind my back. My fingers extend against cold, damp stone.
I fist and release my hands to get the blood pumping. No telling what’s happened to Raven by now, I have to get to her.
A foul odor attacks my sinuses. I’ve never snorted dead rat rolled into a dirty diaper, dipped in pus and sardines. If I had, I imagine it would smell like this.
Embers glow from a small stone pit in the center of a dirt floor. Lumps of things stuffed in burlap sacks sit in odd groupings here and there. One jiggles and rolls over, but whatever lurks within stays hidden. I shudder, wondering if it’s causing the stench.
Propped next to me on the same stone bench is Cole. Bound, listless, and out cold.
Fantastic.
I let my eyelids slide shut. Where are you, Rae?
Injured, lost, afraid and hiding somewhere in the woods?
She has to be okay. Every curve of her face is etched in my brain. Her smile when I’m teasing, the flash of her eyes when I’ve pissed her off. God, I miss the girl. The memory of her satin lips pressing my cheek threatens my sanity. I’m torturing myself, but can’t stop the flashbacks. Her voice is forever burned into my mind as though she were here. Right now. I feel her hands in my hair, quickening heartbeats, soft breaths in my ear.
If Pan hurts her, I’ll—
You’ll what?
My eyes snap open. Anger kindles in my chest, and I strain against my bonds, but it’s no use. Nothing. I can do nothing.
You let her go, remember?
For her own good.
And look where that got her.
I tell myself to shut the hell up. To help Raven, first Cole and I have to get free.
He snorts and smacks his lips but doesn’t wake.
Yeah.
I’m stuck here with Wonder-Wind Boy, while Raven is God knows where. The Void is a hellhole, nothing but mind games and death traps. What if she’s facing the same trials we are? Did some mythical Greek god try and seduce her; abduct her to a cave like this one? Suddenly, I’m shaking with rage. I’ll kill him.
Cole’s head slides against the wall and comes to rest on my shoulder. A healthy string of drool glistens on his chin, and he’s snoring like a blender full of nails.
I shrug. “Get off!” Shouting actually hurts less than I feared. My head begins to clear. The ache lessens, if slightly. Still, I lower my voice. “Wake up, Wynter.”
Cole’s head flops forward. A groan escapes from under his greasy, dark hair.
A breeze sends the stink of ammonia wafting from a corner. No sooner do I mumble about this being the perfect spot for a colony of blood-sucking bats, and a cloud of sharp black wings swoop from the ceiling. Their high-pitched keening deafening as they dive.
My heart jolts, pulse goes supersonic as my spine presses the wall, but there’s nowhere to go. Wheeling in unison, the animals head straight for us, consuming Cole and me within their black hive of terror.
Cole wakes, hollering like a deranged Tarzan. Bound and immobile, we’re unable to shield ourselves from the onslaught.
Needle-like claws slash my arms and face. A bat lands on my chest; his nose shrivels exposing small, white teeth. I buck and squirm, but the devil digs in. Using its wings like hands, the bat crawls commando-style over my torso.
I’m not usually one for hysteria, but I’m petrified he’ll head for my junk. Instead, the little bloodsucker hones in on the hole in my shirt. His snout roots at the blood-stained fabric until my wound is exposed.
There’s a nibble, then a sting as his needle-like fangs embed themselves in my flesh. My stomach lurches with my revulsion as the animal feeds on me.
In my panic, I call to the embers in the pit. Fire responds with a golf ball-sized cinder levitating two feet up. Keeping my focus on the widest part of the rodent drinking my blood, fire blasts the target. One screech and the animal darts away leaving the scent of singed fur in its wake.
Blue flame burns the ropes at my wrists and ankles. I feel no pain. It’s a heady feeling, willing fire to do my bidding. Too bad I can’t enjoy the moment.
White smoke billows up, adding to the chaos. A cough rips from my chest. I’m choking when a breeze clears a path around me. Cole.
I’m done with this cave. Whoever tied us up will be back, and we’re wasting time. Rage burns like the fire I’m controlling. I fight like a madman against the ropes, aiding the flame until the fibers break loose.
A garbled scream sends my already racing pulse toward the checkered flag.
Through the flurry of dusky wings, I spy a bat hanging from Cole’s mouth. How he caught one with his teeth I’ll never know, but like a dog with a sock, Wynter shakes his head before slinging the limp creature to the floor in a heap.
He gets full props. Bat biting is some badass shit, and must send a message, because the rest of the bat cloud retreats to the cavern’s roof.
Cole’s eyes are round, red rimmed, and shining. We’re both blowing like marooned fish. “What the hell?” he pants, shaking the hair from his eyes.
I wish I knew.
Three silhouettes, backlit from the morning sun, enter the cave. Curvy figures hint these are the girls from the meadow.
“Sirens,” Cole whispers.
I search my memory, but can’t recall much about sirens—other than I thought they drowned fishermen at sea. I angle toward Cole, keeping my voice low. “They don’t have fins.”
“Those are mermaids, mate.”
So, I’m not versed in fairy tale trivia. I risk a quick glance at the whispering shadows.
“Can you get loose?” Cole asks.
“Shh.” I keep my wrists and ankles knit together, feigning restraints for our jailors. No sense tipping our hand.
“Hush, sisters, they’re awake.”
Damn.
We’ve barely recovered normal breathing from the bat horde, making my desire to fend off another love-trance right up there with root canal. I’m not confused about who my heart belongs to, but our bondage suggests the girls have something more sinister in mind than forced make-out sessions.
Somewhere in the twenty-foot walk between us and them, a metamorphosis occurs in our captors. Several inches of height disappear and their spines bend. Breasts swell and sag, waists thicken and bulge. Deep lines mar their youthful skin, while three heads of luxurious hair fade and tangle, as if someone rinsed a bright dye job from cheap gray mops.
I’m equal parts disgust and fascination
as their long fingers curl to knotted talons at their sides. Eyes blend and sink into one empty, dark hole in the center of each forehead.
“Who has the eye?” one croaks. Faint traces of blond hair distinguish her from her sisters.
“I have it … here in my pocket.” The brunette fishes in her tattered coat and produces a single, naked eyeball. She holds the slimy orb in the air like a trophy.
“Give it here,” says the blond. She swipes blindly for her prize and misses.
“No,” the redhead answers. “My turn, it is.” Grabbing the eye from her sister, she twists it into place in the middle of her face. A milky secretion drips from the socket to her lip, and I smother a gag.
“Who are you?” Cole demands of the three crones before us.
“Can you not guess?” the redhead answers. Her once ruby lips have deepened to an ugly purple, much like two fat worms. “T’was you that called us forth. Woke the Weird Sisters, you did.”
Who is this chick, Yoda?
“Me?” Cole answers. “You’re mad. I did no such … oh, wait.”
“Wait?” I ask. Wait for what? My anger redirects to the idiot beside me. If he did call these creepy old hags, I’ll break his little French face. “What’s going on?”
“Weird sisters, weird sisters … ” Cole chants, and I think he’s finally lost it. “You’re the Grey Witches.”
“Careful, sister,” says the blond. “He’s not as stupid as he looks.”
“Hey!”
The redhead nods, smacking her bloated lips.
Revulsion slithers across the membrane of recent memories. I lean aside. “You kissed that, Wynters?”
Cole shifts against his bonds. “So did you.”
I glance from blond to brunette. He’s right. My soul withers a little.
The brunette feels her way around her sister to the forefront. “Enough of this, I’m hungry.”
“Yessss,” the blond answers. “Let’s eat the plump one.”