by Julie Reece
He looks down to the hand covering his side.
I tear a strip of fabric from my shirt, and tie my hair in a messy bun behind my head. He can’t fight if he’s bleeding, and we need him, but the ex touching his naked torso seems out of line. Or is it?
Remembering what the plants did for me in the lake, I give an order. “I’ll need you to strip.”
“What?” both boys ask at once.
“Just the shirt, Gideon. You’re obviously hurt.” One golden eyebrow climbs higher but he makes no move to comply. “Well, come on,” I say. “Take it off.” The frustration lacing my tone is aimed at me. I’m worried about him and afraid what I’m planning won’t work.
“You heard her, Maddox.” Cole readjusts his position on the forest floor to watch.
“Well, yes ma’am!” Gideon grins like a wolf, but a wince steals the smile as he shrugs out of his clothing. From this angle, I can’t see his injury. What I can see affects my already erratic pulse: toned body, broad shoulders, and the sharp cut of his abs made even more pronounced with weight loss. Everything about his movements suggests power.
I mentally slap myself. Stop drooling, woman, you’ve got a job to do. You can help him, just be professional. My fluttering nerves tangle when he faces me.
Cole whistles long and low. “Bloody hell, Maddox, you should have said something.”
A puncture dents his right side making a black hole. Puffy, red circles form around it like Saturn’s rings. We should have dealt with this sooner. Was he favoring that side of his body? Was I too angry with him to notice?
I take a calming breath. “It’s okay. He’s okay,” I say, praying it’s true. Ten steps and I drop to my knees at his waist. He shivers, skin pebbling under my searching fingertips. Definitely infected.
My chin tips up to find he’s watching. “Lie down, okay? I want to try something with you.”
“Now? In front of the children?”
My mouth goes numb.
“Who am I to argue? I mean, if you want me this badly … ” He lies flat on his back. Arms outstretched as if I’m supposed to climb into his embrace. “Come here, baby.”
Cole snorts. “Control yourself, will you, Rae? I’ve got unfinished business. A pretty girl to rescue, and if successful, some snogging of my own planned.”
Gideon drops his arms, while my skin heats hotter than a summer sidewalk. I make a show of rolling my eyes so they don’t think they’re getting to me.
The injury looks serious. He could die from blood poisoning if I screw this up. “Be still, do you hear? Don’t move at all.”
“Why haven’t we tried this before? I like you in the dominant role.”
“Shut it, Maddox,” I say, hating how breathy my voice sounds.
Something in my face must convince him, because his eyes soften.
A gentle breeze kicks up, warm and steady, and I silently thank Cole for his consideration. Gideon threads his fingers behind his head, but his gaze follows me. His breathing slows. We’re ready.
My lids slide closed. I reach out to the surrounding forest with my mind. There’s no water in sight, but I ask for healing anyway.
Thoughts pulse back and forth in steady rhythm between me and the local plant life. It’s as though the woods and I share a heart, two chambers each, pumping energy over and under and through our joined consciousness. My spirit soars as I sense them responding.
“Hey, Raven,” Gideon says, his tone careful.
My eyelids rise to view patches of leafy green herbs creeping over the ground to join those already surrounding us. When I lower my hand, a bunch of clover-like plants waddle onto my palm. Their roots tickle, and it dawns on me that’s how they move, roots as feet. “It’s all right. They’re here to help.”
Open. Open. The idea takes shape and grows inside my mind. Gideon tenses as the little plants scuttle across his torso. The scent of thyme fills my nose along with others I don’t recognize. I count seconds in heartbeats. Open …
Open what? I don’t see … Oh God. Open the wound?
How? With what? I have nothing sterile, no knife, nothing sharp at all. Wait … “Cole, can you help me?” I unbuckle my belt from my waist and pull it free. Once Cole is settled across from me, I lay the belt over my thighs. “This will hurt, but he can’t move, understand?”
Cole scoots until he can clamp both hands over Gideon’s shoulders. “You’ll be right as rain, mate.”
His smile is tight. “It’s all good.”
My hand finds his, and our fingers lace. “Try and hold still. I’ll do the best I can.”
He winks, and that simple gesture of trust closes my throat.
I release his hand. “Here we go.” Thankful I used an oversized buckle when designing my belt, I take hold of the big silver frame and bend it back exposing the long metal prong.
The end is blunt and won’t cut easily. My mind questions the earth again, but all I hear is, open.
The hole between Gideon’s ribs might have been made by a bullet, it looks so deep. The skin is red and swollen with a yellow film covering the surface.
I place the prong at one end of the puncture and apply even pressure as though slicing with a knife. My hands shake as metal severs flesh. When his skin resists, I press harder. Gideon flinches as blood and pus run from the sore. Breath streams through his nostrils. I want to tell him that I’m sorry, and I only want to help, but he already knows.
Repeating the process on the other side of the wound, I create a three-inch incision. Sweat breaks out on my forehead. There’s a crunch as Gideon grits his teeth. He’s shaking, and a quick glance shows his lids squeezing shut. When he rolls his shoulders, Cole grips harder.
I sit back, finally finished with my gruesome task. The plants, which sat dormant during the “operation,” march along Gideon’s waist. Ridding themselves of soil encrusted roots and stems, the soft leaves twist together, vegetation darkening as tiny fibers release the medicinal oils inside. Their efforts create a pungent mash that seeps into the widened lesion. One layer burrows into the tissue while another forms a crust on top.
My head shakes in wonder. Right now, I don’t care that I don’t understand. I’m only grateful the earth made this sacrifice to aid the person I love most in the world.
We wait ten minutes, twenty. I’m not sure what happens next. Once covered in lake weed, I felt instant relief, but my scratches were nothing to his injury.
The sunshine grows warm and heavy on our skin. Cole stretches out a few feet away and drifts to sleep. Best thing for him.
Not a muscle twitches on Gideon’s face. I lean in, hoping he’s resting too, when his lids fly up. He bucks, releasing a noise between a cough and grunt. The green poultice molded to his skin boils and pops off releasing a stink worse than sulfur. I hope the plants have done their work, because whatever mash is left inside oozes from the wound and slides down his side.
We have no bandages, nothing to keep dirt out, yet I get an overwhelming sense we’re to seal the hole. And there’s only one way I know of.
“How you feeling?” I ask.
Gideon rests the back of his hand on his forehead. “Strange. Much better.”
I release the breath in my lungs. “Good.”
“No, I mean that was incredible. I can’t describe the feeling.” His gaze roams my face. “Thank you isn’t nearly enough. You are the most amazing person I’ve ever known.”
“I’m glad it helped, but it wasn’t me. Anyway, you may want to hold off on the gratitude.”
“Oh yeah, why’s that?”
I can’t bear to meet his gaze, so I take his hand. “I’m sorry. The plants say we have to close it.” His brow creases. “You know, with your firepower? Can you, uh … ” My tongue bumps my teeth. “Ssssssss”
His “Oh” is less than enthusiastic. He eases onto his elbows before rising to his knees.
A snap of his fingers brings a flame to life. Fire dances fast and hot on
the end of his finger. No hesitation, no warning. He sends the orange stream into his side, cauterizing the tissue. A long, drawn out curse leaves his lips, and it’s over.
A wisp of steam rises from the burn. On instinct, I lean over and blow across the red, blistered flesh. “Damn, girl.” He shivers, and I back off. Our eyes lock and hold with some invisible, tension-coiled spring. “The things you do to me.”
Cole yawns and sits up. “What’d I miss?” His sleepy gaze drops to Gideon’s ribs. Once healed, the scar will remain an ugly insult to his otherwise perfect skin. “You all right, mate? Because you look bloody awful.”
There’s a soft snort. “Thanks.” Lifting his T-shirt off the ground, Gideon gives it a quick shake. I’m encouraged and surprised how easily he moves, as if there’s no pain at all.
A hint of smoke lingers in the air. Cole rubs his palm over a darkening jaw. “Can you travel?”
“Soon.”
The corner of Cole’s mouth twitches. “Then put your shirt on, sweetheart, so we can blow that portal all to hell. Shouldn’t keep a lady waiting”
The tower isn’t visible from the path we follow. After ten minutes at a comfortable jog, we reach the cobblestone courtyard, and the reason becomes clear. The tower no longer sits upright at the center of the garden path, nor does it lie on its side as it did when Pan conjured the structure for his escape with Rose. Instead, a twenty-foot wide crater gapes at us where the pylon once stood. Row upon row of white stone disappears into the earth forming a deep well.
Pan inverted the tower.
Nothing should surprise me anymore, but his power is staggering.
Cole races to the edge of the hole and peers down. His chest heaves as he glances back, desperation reflected in his wild eyes. “It’s dark, but the stairs are still there. Torches lit on the walls, as well, but everything’s upside down.” The wind picks up with a definite bite. Temperature change is a sure sign of Cole’s agitation.
“We’re expected,” Gideon says.
“No way ’round it, mate.” Without waiting, Cole picks his way down the first few steps.
I follow but am abruptly halted.
Gideon holds my wrist, his eyes reaching for the deepest places in my soul. “I love you. I hope you can believe that. No matter what, I love you.”
My hand curls into his. Our fingers squeeze and let go.
A single beat of time passes and we’re moving again, racing after our impatient friend. Gideon’s hands torch, shedding light in the gloom. Cole’s head bobs several feet ahead as he scurries down the steep staircase. “Hold up,” I say, to no avail.
Massive roots have broken through the earth and mortar between the damp stones. They burrow between the steps in persistent snarls making our path uneven and slippery. Willow. I know without a doubt that Pan has requisitioned the one tree deaf to my influence. Terrific.
Water trickles down the walls, echoing in the cavernous spaces below. My feet slip. Off balance, my hand juts out to brace my fall, only the stone is slick and gooey. A giant eye protrudes from the wall, watching us. The lid blinks against my palm. I yelp and jerk away, elbowing Gideon’s injured ribcage.
He grunts as all his air is expulsed.
“Oh!” I point to explain my actions, but the eye is gone. Nothing but a broken mirror hangs askew from a rusty nail. “Sorry. I thought … sorry.”
I’m rewarded for hurting him when his lips brush my ear. “S’okay.”
I fend off dueling emotions and descend the remaining steps.
At the bottom, more torches cast muted light on a circular enclosure. The sound of sluicing water grows louder, maybe from a nearby stream or well. Rusted, metal grates meant for ventilation now act as drains, marking the circumference every few feet.
Lumber, once joined to make roof joists and rafters, lies in ruins creating a floor of broken beams and rubble. Near the center of the crumbling room, a space is clear of debris, and within that small circle, Cole holds Rose in his arms.
I blink back the burn in my eyes at the sight of them together. Gideon’s fingers press my shoulder, and I understand his message. “Better go, everybody.”
Rose lifts her head. “Raven?” She squeals and holds out a hand. “Oooh, come here!”
Cole’s positively beaming, so I take a minute we don’t have to climb over heavy oak beams with Gideon close behind.
Rose grabs my hand, and with more strength than I thought her capable, topples me for a hug. Her neck stretches over my shoulder, and I realize she’s trying for a better glimpse of our companion. I lean back as her expression twists into a funny smile. “Gideon … ”
“Yes, I’m happy to meet you, but right now, we must go.”
“Wait, just another moment, please. I have something to say.” Rose stands. Cole’s arm looped around her slim waist keeps her feet on the ground. She takes Gideon’s hand, drawing him to her side opposite Cole, while I’m edged out. “Well, here we are—together again.”
Again?
“My boys.” Her voice takes on an odd inflection, deeper and more mature as she pulls them in tighter.
Wait, what?
“Isn’t this sweet? I’m told revenge usually is, and best served cold.”
Chains clink. A cacophony of machinery starts clacking around us—pulleys whir, gears click. Somewhere beyond our sight, a door slides shut with a terrific bang.
“Run!” I can’t hear my shouts above the noise. As the flooring cracks and upends, Cole and I hit an invisible shield and fall on our butts, while Gideon and Rose stumble forward.
Droplets run down the wall’s clear sides. Water rises at our feet, and I scrabble to a stand to avoid complete soaking.
One inch, two, three—liquid covers our boots. Cole bangs the glass with his fists but the barrier won’t break. We hurl ourselves against the walls and find there are four to our cage.
And Gideon’s on the other side.
The water is freezing, the air close and thin. I cough and suck an unsatisfying breath, wondering if I’m having a panic attack.
Gideon faces us. Rain falls from nowhere soaking him through, but thank God he’s escaped our fate. He snaps his fingers repeatedly, getting nothing but wet sparks. He bolts forward, fists pressed against the glass. Veins bulge in his neck as he yells, “I can’t get a fire going. Can you force the glass out with air pressure?”
Cole’s already shaking his head. “Not enough oxygen.”
Now I know why my head hurts.
Laughter filters through the chamber, as familiar as a recurring nightmare, though it isn’t Pan’s. Chill whispers brush my skin. The same corrosive breath a late frost employs to kill the last blooms.
“Desiree?” Cole asks, speaking the name on my lips.
Desiree drowned in the millpond last year behind Maddox mansion. But it’s not Desiree who’s laughing, it’s Rose.
“What have you done?” Gideon shouts. Willow roots explode from the ground sending rocks and debris flying. Thrashing does no good as the trees hobble him like an animal. “It’s impossible.” Wet hair clings to his face. Thinner branches climb his shoulders and neck. Both his hands clutch the vine at his throat. His eyes blaze, but he can’t defend himself.
“Is it?” Rose asks, hands clasping. “Is it, indeed?” Her silvery image shimmers on the far side of the room. A neon-blue glow surrounds her body as laser-like threads cut her apart. Limbs disjoint and dislocate, reorganizing themselves into someone else altogether. Rosamond is gone. But no …
She never was.
This is Desiree. The other a lie built on the back of a damaged boy who only wanted to matter.
“How could you do that to Cole?”
“Yes, I’m sorry about that.” Desiree pauses, thoughtfully studying the water at my knees. “In fairness, you were all warned. You left me no choice.”
“But, you died … ” I sound like an idiot. Obviously, she didn’t, as she’s standing right here making ou
r lives miserable again.
“Mm, seems I can’t drown.” Her smile spreads like a disease. “But you can.” With a flip of her hand, a single wave in the tank pushes me down and holds me under. Just as quickly, the watery grip releases, and I break the surface, sputtering and coughing.
The night the Artisan curse was broken, the spell transferred power to four people, not three. Desiree died so quickly afterward, we never made the connection. But the fourth element is water, and Desiree clearly its wielder.
Squatting in the icy pool, Cole’s hands disappear under the dark liquid. He frantically slides them along the glass, searching the perimeter. After a moment, he stands and wades toward Gideon who’s still held beyond the barrier. “It’s completely sealed off,” Cole says. “There’s nothing we can do. Get out if you can.”
Gideon’s headshake is violent. “I’m not leaving.”
“No one’s going anywhere,” Desiree says, crossing her arms. “Though, I do enjoy a good drama if you’d like to try.”
The guys argue as if no one spoke. When persuasion fails, they swear and hurl insults. Tears cloud my eyes. I don’t know when or how it happened, but they’re friends.
“It’s suicide.” Cole’s frustration is evident in his glare. “You’re a sandwich short of a picnic, you know that, Maddox?” He turns his back. “I’m done, then. Piss off.”
As the water rises, something in my chest shrinks. I think it’s faith.
Gideon works a hand free and presses his palm to the barrier.
I fit my smaller hand inside his. Go, I mouth.
“The hell.” His eyes narrow. I know that look.
“Please, please do this for me.”
“Oh, enough already.” Desiree lifts her chin. “It’s time, Pan!”
Rain ceases outside the cage. A quake under our feet sends vibrations rippling through the water. The passage we came down cracks along the top, and sunlight cuts the gloom in sharp angles. Stone breaks apart as the tower splits into two even halves. Once the halves fall away, the exposed staircase bumps along the earth like the spine of a gutted whale left to rot.
Desiree hesitates near Cole. “Sorry, lover. You’re just not my type.” She frees a long root attached to Gideon’s bonds, wraps it several times around her arm, and drags him from the ruined tower.