Lady Renegades (5 page)

W
E'D DONE
these kinds of rituals before, and they had almost always ended in total disaster. The last time we'd tried one, David had had a major Oracle freak-out that included his eyes going golden and his powers opening up cracks in the ground at the local golf course. So, yeah, we didn't have the best track record with this kind of thing, but that wasn't going to stop us this time.

Although we had learned to go farther out of town now.

We'd waited until night—this seemed like the kind of thing that worked best by moonlight—and picked a weed-choked field not too far past the city limits, and we'd picked it for a good reason. This is where the last Ephor, Alexander, had chosen to have his “headquarters,” a fancy house that, it turned out, he'd created solely with magic. The house had vanished when his powers failed, and Alexander died not too far from the spot where we all stood now. I'm not going to lie, being back here gave me a major case of the heebie-jeebies; but to my way of thinking, it made sense to attempt hard-core magic in a place where there had once been a lot of . . . well, hard-core magic. Bee and Ryan
were both less than certain about all of it if the looks they kept trading were anything to go by.

I choked back irritation at that. Okay, maybe I didn't always have the greatest plans, but what was the harm in trying to stack the deck a little? Still, my eyes kept drifting to that spot where I'd watched Alexander's eyes go blank, and I had to work hard not to shiver even in the sticky heat of the night. Also, I couldn't shake the feeling that all of this was a little . . . desperate. Like Aunt Jewel had said: Most girls have to be talked out of texting an ex, and here I was using freaking
magic
to summon back a dude who had, for all intents and purposes, dumped me.

I thrust my shoulders back and took a deep breath. “So,” I said, holding the page I'd torn out of the book, “we all have items of David's, right?”

Ryan lifted the journal he'd taken from David's desk, while Bee waggled the pen. I took the jump drive out of my pocket, and we each threw our item onto the ground in front of us. In the distance I could hear a car go by, and overhead the moon was bright.

“All right, now we all need to picture David in our minds, as clearly as we can.”

Sighing, Ryan closed his eyes and shifted his weight. “I'm all for finding the guy,” he said, lifting one foot to scratch the opposite ankle with his toe, “if that's what you really want, Harper, but I have to admit, standing in a field on a moonlit night picturing his face feels kinda weird.”

Bee gave a little snort of laughter that she tried to cover with her hand, and I frowned at both of them. “Y'all. Focus.”

When the three of us linked hands, I could feel the vague thrum of magic surging through us. It wasn't strong, the way it was when we did it with David, but it was still
there,
and I took some comfort in that. So my powers were fading, or kind of on the fritz. At least they weren't gone.

But if your powers are fading,
some evil voice in the back of my mind whispered,
why are Bee's and Ryan's just as strong as ever?

That wasn't something I wanted to think about too hard, so I lowered my head, trying to ignore the dull ache still at the base of my scalp from where that girl had pulled my hair.

David. I was focusing on David. I called him up in my mind as best as I could, trying not to remember how he'd looked those last few days—his skin grayish, his cheekbones too prominent, his eyes haunted—but how he used to look, back when we first fell into this thing.

That David grinned at me in my mind's eye, his blond hair sticking up in weird little tufts, his eyes blue behind his glasses. I thought of the freckles across the bridge of his nose, and the way he would lift just one corner of his mouth in a smile. I thought of the way he called me Pres, and how his hands would flex on my waist when we kissed.

I thought of the night we'd gone out to the golf course to try to help David have a vision.

Or, more accurately, I thought of what had happened after, when we'd gone back to David's house.

Thank goodness it was dark because I'm pretty sure my face flamed red at that memory. And thank goodness Bee and Ryan
couldn't read my mind during this little hand-holding sesh because, man, would
that
have been awkward.

Well, more awkward than it already was, doing a spell to literally force him to come back to me.

I don't know what I was expecting to happen. For the three of us to suddenly get some picture of where David was? Like a hologram in those stupid sci-fi movies he liked? Or that we'd just suddenly
know
where he was, the way I knew how to get to Ryan's house or how to maneuver my way to Bee's locker?

But in the end, we just stood in that hot field, grass tickling our calves, our palms sweaty against one another's, and there was no sign of David, no sudden realization of where he'd been hiding or what he was doing.

Why he was making Paladins.

Frustrated, I dropped Bee's and Ryan's hands, wiping my palms on the back of my shorts. “Anything?” I asked, wondering if they'd felt something different. Maybe it was just
me
who couldn't find David. But they both shook their heads, too, Ryan toeing at the dirt, Bee worrying the end of her braid in her fingertips.

“We could try something else?” I wasn't exactly crazy about the idea of staying in this field. I was pretty sure I'd heard something scuttle through the tall grass on the side of the bare spot where we stood, but I wasn't ready to give up. “That was just one ritual; maybe there are other things?”

I really wanted there to be, trust, but it had taken us over an hour just to find this one, and having dragged them out to the
middle of a field for no apparent reason, I felt more than a little silly. Plus all the adrenaline was finally wearing off, and I was suddenly really exhausted. All I wanted was to go home, get a shower, and collapse into bed, maybe try to forget this entire night had ever happened.

But I didn't have that luxury. I might not be nearly as connected to David as I had been, but that didn't mean I could just leave him. And not only for him, but for everyone else

Sighing, I turned to head back to the car, wondering why I'd ever thought this was going to work. There had been a time when I'd prided myself on being the most competent girl in the room, the one who always knew what to do. But the deeper I got into all this Paladin stuff, the more I seemed to be screwing it up. Maybe whoever that crazy new Paladin girl had been, she was . . . better than me.

It was an unsettling thought, as was the idea that that girl was still out there.

My head full and my heart heavy, I trudged through the tall grass, Bee and Ryan following behind. We were nearly to the edge of the field when Ryan made a weird noise, almost like something had surprised him.

I whirled around. He was standing still, one hand pressed to his chest, the heel of his palm rubbing over his heart.

“What?” I asked. “Did you see something or feel something or—”

He held up his free hand, still frowning. “No. Or . . . kind of. I don't know. It was like something just . . . thumped me, but inside.” He tapped his chest again.

We all stood still in the field, chins slightly lifted like we'd be able to sniff something on the wind. Which was stupid, of course, but there did seem to be a feeling in the air, a vague electric sizzle that had the hairs on my arms lifting.

Or maybe I was just hoping too hard that this had worked.

After a moment, Ryan rubbed his chest again and shook his head, his hair falling nearly over his eyes. “It's gone now. Whatever it was.”

I nodded, my throat suddenly tight. “That's that, then,” I said, but even as I turned to go, I wasn't sure I believed it.

But what I
did
believe is that if we couldn't summon David to us, we were going to have to find him.

I just had no idea
how.

T
HE COUNTRY
CLUB
was crowded that Sunday, which was always the case on afternoons after church. It seemed like the whole town would come out, which wasn't exactly a surprise since the Sunday buffet was pretty legendary. After last night's trauma, I could have used at least an entire plate of mac and cheese (considered a “vegetable” here in Alabama, of course, kind of the way little pear halves filled with mayo were occasionally referred to as a “salad”), and I moved through the line, happily filling my plate. I'd need another hour of training to work it off, but some things are worth the effort.

Next to me, Bee reached for the big spoon dipped into a tray of steaming green beans. “I had some seriously weird dreams last night,” she confessed, ducking her head low enough so that I was the only one who could hear her.

I glanced behind us. My parents were sitting at a big round table with my aunts, and Bee's family was sitting at the next table over. Ryan sat with them, which was a little weird—there had been so many Sundays when Ryan sat at our table—but no one was really looking over at me and Bee.

Moving down the line, I picked up some tongs, poking around in the giant bread basket for a cornbread muffin. “You and me both,” I admitted.

In fact, I felt like I'd hardly slept, and when I'd come down for church this morning, Mom had looked at my face with a concerned frown that told me all the concealer I'd applied hadn't totally erased the effect of the night before.

I hadn't seen David in any of my dreams, but I'd definitely felt like he was close by in them. It had been the weirdest feeling, and even now, remembering, I shivered a little.

Bee looked down at me, holding her plate with both hands. “This is going to sound nuts, but I felt like . . . like maybe I was dreaming the same things he was?”

It didn't sound nuts at all. In fact, that's exactly what I'd been wondering every time I'd woken up from another dream full of smoke and blood and a feeling of panic lodged sharp as a thorn in my chest. But if they were David's dreams, did that mean they were really visions? And if they
were
visions, what of?

Of course, seeing how scary those visions were, I wasn't sure that was a question I wanted answered.

“I get that,” I said, looking up at Bee. “So maybe the spell worked a little? It didn't help us find him, but it”—I opened and closed my free hand, trying to think of the word I wanted to use—“connected us to him or something.”

“I thought you already were connected to him,” Bee said, and I gave an uneasy shrug.

“I am, but maybe this strengthened the bond. Or maybe we just had David on the brain, and it's manifesting itself in our dreams.”

Now it was Bee's turn to shrug, and she turned away from the buffet. “Maybe,” she said. “But in any case, they're not dreams I want to have.”

“Me, neither,” I said, trailing behind her as we made our way to our tables. Our friends Abi and Amanda were sitting near the window with their parents, both of them in mint-green sundresses, Amanda's hair in a low ponytail, Abi's loose around her face, which was the only way I could tell them apart from this far away. I would've thought they'd have outgrown dressing the same around, oh, second grade or so, but I think their parents liked the matchy-matchy thing. I wiggled my fingers from under my plate at them, and they waved back.

I also saw Bee's mom and dad, and saw the way they glanced from me to Ryan, sitting at Bee's mom's left. I gave Ryan a smile I hoped conveyed the right amount of “Totally fine with this, Bee's parents!” I knew my own parents thought the switch from Ryan dating me to Ryan dating Bee was kind of awkward, and no matter how much I tried to tell them we were all totally fine with it, I didn't think they bought it. Mom's smile was definitely a little tight when I put my plate down, and as I took my seat, she leaned closer to murmur, “Everything okay?”

“I'm fine,” I told her, laying my napkin in my lap. “Ryan and Bee are actually way more suited for each other than Ryan and I were. Look how she hasn't even complained about his elbows being on the table!”

Mom shot me a wry look, one hand going to the delicate strand of pearls around her neck. “So you keep saying, and I have to admit, you really do seem . . . okay with everything.”

“Of course she is,” Aunt May said from the other side of the table, not even bothering to lower her voice. “Our Harper isn't one for crying over spilled milk.”

My aunts ate with us after church every Sunday, and today, they were all in different shades of green. Aunt May and Aunt Martha were twins, but their sister, my aunt Jewel, was almost identical to them, all three sporting silvery perms and glasses they liked to wear around their necks fastened to sparkly chains. They were pretty much my favorite people, and Aunt Jewel was especially high on my list after Friday night. It's not many people who will help talk you out of getting arrested. As I met her eye over the linen-covered table, she gave me a little wink and I smiled back. It was funny how much better you could feel just sharing a secret with a person who loved you.

Across the table, Dad smiled at me, giving a little lift of his chin that I think was supposed to signal, “Buck up, little soldier,” or something similarly Dad-ish. I wasn't sure if he thought I was upset about Ryan and Bee, or if I was just making a particularly tragic face, but in either case, I appreciated it, and smiled back.

“How is work at the pool hall, Harper Jane?” my aunt May asked, and Aunt Martha jabbed her with an elbow.

“She's not working at a pool hall, May, honestly. She works at the
pool.
”

Aunt May gave a little shrug as if there weren't much difference between the two, and I caught Aunt Jewel's eye.

“It's fine,” I said to Aunt May. “Not as exciting as I thought it would be, but at least I'm getting fresh air and plenty of time to read.”

Aunt Martha pointed at me with her fork. “Just be sure you keep your hair up. Don't want to end up like Dot Jenkins.”

I had no idea who Dot Jenkins was, but Aunt Martha was clearly going to tell me something awful that had befallen the unfortunate Dot. The Aunts collected horrible stories the way some old ladies collected ceramic angels.

“It was 1956,” Aunt Martha continued, confirming my suspicion. “Swimming at the pool we used to have here at the club. Caught her hair in a drain, and that was that.”

“It was 1955,” Aunt May said, and Aunt Jewel rolled her eyes, pushing a chunk of sweet potato around her plate.

“It was 19–Both of You Are Ridiculous,” she said. “Dot Jenkins did not drown in the country club pool. She hit her head on a dock at Lake Prater and drowned
there.
”

As The Aunts squabbled over just what tragic drowning had befallen Dot Jenkins, I turned my attention back to my plate, still thinking about the past couple of days, and how close I had come to being one of those stories. Heck, that was just the last in a long line of Terrible Deaths I Almost Experienced. Stabbed to death in the school bathroom, stabbed in a college office, stabbed at Cotillion . . .

Frowning, I wondered why all the bad guys I faced were so stabby. I'd definitely need to make sure my training was more focused on anti-stabby things if I—

I was suddenly aware of someone standing over my shoulder, and I nearly turned in my seat to see who it was. The Aunts were still arguing, but my dad was glancing up with polite inquiry on his face.

And then I felt it. Whoever it was behind me, they were
radiating
power.

It all happened in the space of a few heartbeats. A hand touched my shoulder, and magic flared under my skin. What kind of magic, I had no idea, but I didn't give myself time to think. Instead, I covered the hand with mine, and as I did, shot to my feet, my other hand coming across my body to grab an arm, foot hooking under ankles to bring the person down hard. I had enough time to see dark eyes go wide as the person fell, hitting the table on the way down, rattling dishes and glasses. Next to me, I heard Mom gasp and cry, “
Harper!
” I lifted my head to meet a sea of shocked faces. My mom's closest friend in the Junior League, Mrs. Andrews, had gone pale, and one of the partners at Dad's law firm, Mr. Montgomery, was mouthing what seemed to be a couple of variations of the F-word. But I couldn't have stopped myself for anything. All I could think of was that feeling of helplessness lying on the floor of the changing room Friday night.

This time, my powers didn't falter even for a second. They pulsed through my veins, strong as ever, and I might have been smiling in kind of a creepy way.

But that smile fell off my face immediately when I realized who was on the country club floor under my foot, wearing a smile of her own.

Blythe.