Rebel Belle (24 page)

I stumbled over the hem of my dress, and tripped, smacking my head painfully against the low sink. Stars exploded in my vision, and I heard the door slam behind me. Other than a thin crack of light around the doorframe, it was totally black, and only Miss Annemarie’s heavy breathing told me she was right behind me. I heard the whisper of something swinging at me and flopped onto my back, kicking out blindly.

There was a clink of metal and a soft grunt of pain, and then the bathroom light blazed on. Miss Annemarie stood over me, searching the floor for the knife she’d dropped. “Dear me,” she said softly in the same tone of voice she used when she spilled tea.

She glanced over at me, her eyes cloudy. “Have to kill Harper Price,” she said, almost conversationally. And then, spotting the knife wedged behind the toilet, “Ah!”

Her girth made it hard for her to bend down, and I crouched there against the far wall, watching her struggle. All my Paladin instincts were urging me to rush forward, pin her to the floor, and snap her neck. But . . . this was Miss Annemarie. She wasn’t a Paladin, she was just an old lady. An old lady who wanted to kill me, but still.

I got up slowly, sliding up along the wall, but as soon as I was on my feet, she reared back up, one meaty fist swinging for my head. I dodged it easily, grasping her hand in mine. “Miss Annemarie!” I said again, and it was like she couldn’t even hear me. The look on her face was dazed, dreamy. She looked like . . . she looked like Mom had this evening.

Mind control. A shudder ran through me. So that’s how Blythe was going to get rid of me. By sending the last person I’d expect to—

And then I looked closer at the pink stain over her upper lip. Punch. She’d been drinking Aunt Jewel’s punch.
As had nearly everyone downstairs.
Oh my God.
Blythe had gotten her job at the university by making a mass mind control potion, slipped into their potluck lunch. She’d done the same thing here, only with my Aunt Jewel’s punch, and suddenly that part of Ryan’s vision made perfect sense.
It also meant I was perfectly effed.
Armies of cater waiter assassins I’d been prepared for. Some hired thugs, sure. But people I knew and loved, all turned against me? I couldn’t kill those people. I couldn’t even
hurt
those people.
Miss Annemarie jerked her head toward mine, trying to headbutt me, but I’d perfected that move. I ducked, and then reaching out with my right hand, tried the thing Saylor had taught me. I pressed right above Miss Annemarie’s carotid artery, and she dropped like a stone.
I did my best to haul her inert body out of the way, and flung the door open. There was no murmur of voices downstairs now, no violins. Everything seemed deathly quiet, and when I eased out of the bathroom and peeked over the landing, I saw everyone just  .  .  . standing there. Arms at their sides, abandoned punch cups on the floor. What I didn’t see were any white dresses.
I checked my watch. Of course! While I was fighting Miss Annemarie in the bathroom, the other girls had probably gone upstairs. And they wouldn’t have had any of the punch since red juice plus white dress equals disaster.
Moving as silently as I could, I crept down the hall to the bedroom where we’d been told to assemble. The door was closed, but when I opened it, I was greeted by a sea of white dresses. “Harper!” Amanda and Abigail cried, and I waved my hand.
“Shhh!” The girls all stared at me, but everyone went quiet. “Look, there’s been a little delay,” I said, trying to keep my voice low. “First of all, has anyone in here had the punch?”
“Do we look stupid?” Mary Beth asked, narrowing her eyes. Her cheeks were nearly as red as her hair. “You and Miss Saylor both practically threatened to kill us if we touched the stuff.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, I pointed at them. “Wait here.”
Dashing down the hall, I ran to the bedroom where I’d left David. He was putting on his jacket when I opened the door. “Am I late?” he asked when he saw me standing there.
Without answering, I grabbed his hand, tugging him out of the room.
When I got back to the girls’ room, I practically threw him inside. “All of you stay in here until I come back,” I instructed. “Don’t let anyone in, and don’t let anyone out.”
“Harper,” Bee said, moving forward, but I stopped her with a hand.
“Not now, Bee.”
“But—”
“Seriously!” I snapped. “I’ll be . . . I’ll be right back.”
Something flickered across her face, but I shut the door before I could put a name to it. I had way more important problems now. Namely that I didn’t know what to do next. I had to keep Blythe from David, but that meant I had to find Blythe. She was obviously here, but where? Should I just stand guard over this door, or should I make my way downstairs, fight it out?
And then the choice was made for me. There was the pounding of feet on the stairs, and suddenly, people were swarming the landing, all headed for me. The knife Saylor had given me rested cold against my thigh, but the first person to leap at me was my Aunt May, and I couldn’t even think about using it.
Aunt May, my sweet Aunt May who taught me how to knit, who bought me a piece of candy every time we went to the store, jabbed a cocktail fork at my eye. I ducked, my back still against the door, and then Mrs. Green, the children’s librarian, reached down and tried to tug at my ankle. I shook her off, but even as I did, someone else was grabbing my hair, and another hand closed on my wrist, and I was fighting and kicking, but there were so many of them, and they had me backed up against the door.
“Harper!” I heard someone cry from inside the room. I thought it was Bee, but I couldn’t be sure. More hands were on me now, and someone had a pie server nearly at my throat.
I shoved it away, trying to close my fingers around that spot that had worked on Miss Annemarie. I had to get to Saylor. I had to find Blythe. I had to get out of this before I was killed with some elaborate cutlery.
“Bee!” I shouted through the door, Dr. Greenbaum’s nose crunching under my elbow. “Is the door locked?”
“Yes!” came her muffled reply. “But Harper—”
I would have to hope it held. One thing I knew for sure was that Blythe wasn’t upstairs. I’d been in all the rooms, and she wasn’t in the crush of people surrounding me. Taking a deep breath and muttering, “I’m really sorry about this,” I pushed both arms out as hard as I could, fists clenched.
The three people nearest to me fell back, stumbling into the people behind them. I heard someone cry out as they tumbled down the stairs, and I prayed with everything in me that it wasn’t one of my aunts. I let every Paladin instinct I had take over as I pushed the crowd back, back, further down the stairs. There were lots of them, but not a one had my powers. I tried not to look at faces as I whirled and kicked, as I flipped people over my shoulder, as I spun and knocked people off of their feet.
Finally, a clear path opened up and I sprinted down the stairs. I heard footsteps behind me, but I didn’t turn around. “Saylor!” I screamed. “SAYLOR!”
I ran through Magnolia House. Somewhere in the fight, my dress had gotten ripped, and I nearly tripped over the hem again as I pushed my way into the kitchen.
Saylor was there, up against the counter. Brandon lay at her feet, and there was a rolling pin in one of her hands. The other lay across her abdomen.
“That young man attacked me,” she said, her face the color of oatmeal.
“It’s the punch,” I told her, locking the door behind me. “She put a mind control potion in the punch, and . . . Saylor, I can’t kill people I know. People who don’t even know what they’re doing.”
She grimaced, disappointed in me, I thought. But then she drew her hand back and I saw that it was slicked with blood. For the first time, I saw the knife at Brandon’s side. “He got in a good blow before I hit him,” she said, her tone surprisingly light for someone discussing being stabbed.
“Saylor—” I said, stepping forward, but she shook me off.
“It’s nothing. I have a potion that can heal this right up. David. Is he all right?”
“For now,” I said as the kitchen door rattled and shook. “I locked him in with the girls. They didn’t drink the punch.”
Saylor’s mouth wobbled. “One valuable piece of advice, it turns out.”
“Can you reverse this?” I asked.
The thumps on the kitchen door were getting louder, but Saylor shook her head. “As long as Blythe is here, they’re under her control.”
Sighing, I ran a shaking hand over my face. “But where is Blythe? I didn’t see her anywhere in the crowd and—”
Pain ricocheted through me, so strong that I felt like I had been stabbed. I bent over, panting, my vision shaking.
No, not my vision. The house. The entire house rumbled and quaked, little bits of plaster falling from the ceiling. “David!” I gasped.
Saylor moved forward, clutching my dress. Her hand left streaks of blood down the skirt. “You said he’s with the girls? All of them?”
I nodded, closing my eyes. I could see the sea of dresses in front of me, see David’s bewildered face as I’d slammed the door.
“Yes,” I said. “All twelve of them.”
“Harper.” Saylor’s eyes were huge with pain and fear, her skin paper white. “There were only eleven other girls.”

This time, I didn’t look or think. I let my fists and feet fly almost independently as I fought my way back up the stairs. These weren’t people I knew, these were things standing between me and my duty. The only time I hesitated was when Aunt Jewel came at me with the punch ladle. It killed me to do it, but one quick elbow thrust to her temple sent her sliding harmlessly to the floor. Stepping over her prone form, I swore to myself that I’d go visit Aunt Jewel every single day when this was all over, and make her as many cakes as she could ever want.

The house shook as I moved toward the bedroom. I heard a distant crash, and realized it was the chandelier in the main hall falling to the ground. Light was pouring out from underneath the bedroom door, golden and searing, and all I could hear was the pounding of my heart and the constant repetition of
Too late, too late
.

Throwing my shoulder against the door, I forced it open, and immediately threw my hands up to shade my eyes.
David stood stock still in the middle of the room, bathed in light, glowing with it. It poured from his fingers, filled his eyes, spilled out of his open mouth. The other girls were all huddled together against the far wall, heads down, while Blythe, clad in a white dress, a blond wig crooked on top of her head, stood on the bed. Her eyes were closed, nose still a little swollen from our fight, and she held both hands open at her sides. Words in a language I’d never heard fell from her lips and seemed to fill the room. Both windows shattered, and I heard high, thin screams.
I launched myself at Blythe, knocking her back on the bed. She gave a grunt as the air rushed out of her lungs, and started to shake. At first, I thought she was crying, but as I rose up on my knees, straddling her waist, I realized she was laughing.
“It’s too late!” she yelled as the house continued to shake and sway. “Look at him! He’s beautiful!”
David was still standing there, still covered bright light. He didn’t look beautiful. He looked beautiful in his stupid sweaters and dumb glasses and unfortunate pants. Now he looked terrifying and unnatural and . . . not human.
As I watched, he lifted one glowing hand toward the girls against the wall. I saw Bee lift her face, saw her wide, horrified eyes.
“No!” I heard myself shout, and then a bolt of light flew from David’s fingers, crashing over all of the girls.
The light was blinding, and my blood was churning, and Blythe was still laughing, laughing, laughing in my ear.
Someone grabbed me from behind, yanking me off of Blythe. Even as I struggled, all I could think was,
I failed
. All that training, all that trying, and I’d locked David in with Blythe. I’d let her turn him into a weapon. And my friends. Abigail, Amanda, even Mary Beth. And Bee. Oh, God, Bee. My attacker had me turned away from the wall, and I was glad for it in a way. I didn’t want to see what that bolt of power had done to them.
I reached back, trying to dig my fingers into eyes, but clawed empty air. And then suddenly, there was a thump and I was landing on the ground, hard.
Whirling around, I saw that it had been Headmaster Dunn holding me, and standing over him, hands on her hips, was Bee.
I said her name, confused and relieved. She was okay? But I’d seen David blast her with that lightning thing, seen waves of power crash over her and all of the girls.
Mrs. Catesby, my old Sunday school teacher, ran into the room, wielding the ladle Aunt Jewel had dropped. I braced myself, but then Blythe grinned and said, “Show her what you’ve got, girls.”
Twisting my head to look at Blythe, confused, I almost missed seeing Mary Beth’s hand shoot out and grab the ladle. With a neat flip, she used the handle to catch Mrs. Catesby’s ankles and the bowl to knock her out. Grinning at her handiwork, Mary Beth brandished the ladle at me. “
Hard Fists
!” she cried, and I could only shake my head.
Two more people, women I recognized from Junior League, raced in. Abigail and Amanda, working together, clotheslined them before spinning and using the inertia of the women’s bodies to push them back out of the room.
“Oh my God, we are
ninjas
!” Amanda squealed. “How did that happen?”
They weren’t ninjas. They were Paladins. All of them. David had made them Paladins.
David!
As my fellow debutantes kicked the ass of every person who walked through the door, I looked back to the middle of the room. David was on his knees now, no longer surrounded by light. But when he lifted his face to me, his eyes were still bright gold, like coins behind his glasses.
“David?” I asked, kneeling down with him.
He blinked, and the light faded for a moment before growing bright again. “Pres?” he murmured, and I flung my arms around his neck.
“Oh, you’re still you,” I breathed. “You’re still in there.”
“I-I think so,” he said. “But—what did I do to them?”
We looked over to where Amanda and Abigail were wrestling with their escorts, and Mary Beth was using her ladle to great effect on the owner of the Dixie Bean.
“You made them Paladins,” Blythe said from the bed.
I had almost forgotten about her. She sat in the middle, legs crossed, hands clasped under her chin, grinning like a little kid. “I told you the ritual would work,” she said. “You made Paladins, just like Alaric! And this is merely a handful of girls. If you had focused harder and if I hadn’t been interrupted”—she glared at me—“you could’ve made this entire town an army. The whole state, if we tried hard enough.”
Breathing hard, David stared at her. His eyes were still filled with light, the effect disturbing. “Why would I want that?”
Giggling, Blythe shook her head. “Oh, if you knew what was coming, you wouldn’t ask a question like that.”
I stood up, reaching under my dress for the knife strapped to my thigh. I was officially over Blythe. Whipping out the blade, I made my way to the bed, but I only got about three steps when a vise-like grip closed around my wrist.
I glanced back, stunned. “Bee?”
She blinked at me. “I . . . I can’t let you hurt her. I don’t know why, but I can’t.”
Mary Beth was at my other side, her fingers tight on my arm. “Me, either. If you try to kill her . . .” She didn’t finish, but her hands squeezed tighter. Even Amanda and Abigail were standing by the door, eyes wary.
Delighted, Blythe clapped her hands. “Even better! See, Paladins can’t harm their creator. And since I had a hand in turning David into a personal Paladin factory, that makes me a creator!”
“Bee,” I pleaded. “Override it or something. I can’t let her go.”
Everything in Bee’s face was anguished. “I really want to, Harper, but I
can’t
. Now please put the knife away or I’m going to have to hurt you, and I really don’t want to.” Tears pooled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. “Except I
do
want to. What the heck is going on?”
“It’s going to be okay,” I told her. “This is what I am. This is what I haven’t been telling you, but now you know! And now you’re one, too, and we can train together. But let me take care of—”
I didn’t finish the words before Bee wrenched my arm, throwing me off balance. With a well-placed kick to my chest, she sent me tumbling back against the bed. “Oh, God!” she cried. “Harper, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s all right,” I told her, even as I wheezed for breath. “We can fix this.”
Blythe got off the bed, her dressed bunched up in her hands. “Oh, this is nothing that needs fixing. This is perfect.” Her sweet little face practically glowed with excitement. “All these Paladins, and my very own Oracle. Now.” Holding out one tiny gloved hand, she crooked a finger at David. “Come along.”
His eyes still blazing, David struggled to his feet. “No.” The words sounded like they were being forced through broken glass, but he got it out. And then, again, stronger. “
No
.” Blythe fisted her hands on her hips. “Now isn’t the time for stubbornness. I said—”
A thin bolt of golden light shot out from David’s finger, striking Blythe in the middle of her forehead. Shrieking, she stumbled back, landing on the little settee at the end of the bed. “I am not yours to control, Mage,” David said in a voice that didn’t sound anything like his own.
Blythe slowly rose, staring at David with a mixture of shock and wonder. “Oh,” she breathed. “This is . . . unexpected.” David’s hand shot out again, and Blythe winced as another bolt of light took her in the chest. “Very unexpected,” she said through gritted teeth.
Moving away from the settee, Blythe stepped behind Bee. “Well, if I can’t have an Oracle, at least I’ll have a Paladin.”
Before I could think, she had an arm around Bee’s waist. Blythe was so tiny, she barely came up to Bee’s shoulder blades. Sticking her head out from behind Bee, Blythe winked at me.
“I think I like this one best,” she said and then, almost instantly, they both vanished.