Lady Renegades (9 page)

Paladin.

No, that wasn't her name; it's what she was.

The money tumbled from his hands, bills falling to the
grubby carpet, change clattering against the desk. He was on his knees, and the pain in his head was a hurricane.

Yellow dress. Blood. Green eyes. Green eyes filled with tears, and a word booming around loud as thunder.

Choose.

The girl behind the desk was next to him now, crouching down. She smelled like strawberries, and her hair brushed his shoulder. It was brown hair, not black, but he could still swear it was that other girl next to him. The one whose name had slipped through his fingers like sand.

The last time the light poured out of him, he'd said he was sorry. He'd felt sorry.

He didn't feel sorry now.

I
WONDERED HOW
long it would take Blythe to notice that I wasn't driving toward the address she'd given me. I had banked on her not being all that familiar with this area—we had no idea where she was from, but Blythe was a Yankee name if I'd ever heard one—so I figured it would take a while.

As it turned out, we were nearly to my destination before Blythe suddenly twisted in her seat and said, “Wait, why aren't we on the interstate yet?”

“Because we're not getting on the interstate,” I answered calmly, signaling to turn right onto a long four-lane highway bracketed with palm trees. We were farther south now, which meant the landscape was slowly sliding into beachy territory, white sand appearing between clumps of dark green grass.

Blythe turned to face me, frowning. “What's going on?”

“A mutiny,” Bee said cheerfully from the backseat, and I gave an unapologetic shrug. “What she said.”

I was willing to concede that Blythe had something we needed, namely a bunch of magic Ryan didn't know, plus what appeared to be a genuine desire to fix this mess with a specific
spell. But that didn't mean that I was giving her total control of this mission, no matter what she might think. We could follow her plan when the time came, but for now, there was a stop
I
wanted to make.

We passed a big wooden “Welcome to Piedmont” sign, and Blythe settled back in her seat with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. “We're going to see the girl who attacked you,” she said, and I nodded.

“The night she went after me, she was totally set to kill me until she
wasn't.
I know from experience that Paladin fights don't work like that. You fight—”

“Until you're dead,” Blythe finished. “Yeah, I'm familiar with all that.”

Ignoring her snotty tone, I turned into the wide parking lot of a strip mall. There was one just like it in every town in Alabama, seemed like, and I could see that was true of Mississippi, too. A nail salon, a Chinese buffet, one of those places where you trade your car title for cash . . .

The store I was looking for was on the very end of the row, a knockoff card and gift boutique with lots of brightly colored quilted bags prominently displayed in the window.

According to the research I'd done (by which I mean I used Google for about twenty minutes), this was where Annie Jameson worked. It had been a real find, discovering her job, tucked into a little article about her when she'd been the Piedmont High Star Student Athlete. Rocking a 4.0 GPA and captaining her volleyball team, Annie also worked afternoons at her family's boutique, according to the paper. I had no idea if she'd be there
today, of course, but I figured it was easier to try to talk to her at her work than going to her house.

You should always plan the approach that will bring you the most success. I read that in an ACT prep book, but it seemed applicable here, too.

“So what are we going to do?” Blythe asked as we got out of the car. “Just walk up there, be like, ‘Hi, my crazy ex-boyfriend gave you superpowers, and I'd like to ask you some questions about that'?”

The sun was beating down, and I could feel sweat popping out on my forehead, but I shrugged. “More or less, yeah.”

Shaking her head, Blythe slammed the car door way harder than was necessary. “And you didn't tell me about this why?”

“Oh, I don't know,” I said, adjusting my purse on my shoulder. “Maybe because you haven't exactly been forthcoming, yourself?”

Blythe started to say something to that, but I cut her off with a raised hand. “No. I need you, but you need me, too, or you wouldn't have come to me in the first place. So we'll work together, but if you're going to work your agenda, I'm going to work mine, too.”

A muscle in Blythe's jaw twitched, and her lips clamped tight together, but after a moment, she shrugged, sliding her sunglasses down her nose. “Fair enough.”

That settled, I turned to start walking to the store, Bee right beside me. “What
are
you going to say to her?” she asked, her voice pitched low. “Is she even going to know who you are?”

“I don't know,” I replied, answering both questions.

The paper had mentioned her being confused, having only
vague memories of what had happened, so for all I knew, she was going to stare at us blankly and this entire detour would be pointless.

I wasn't sure what bugged me more, the idea of not getting answers from her or the thought of how smug Blythe would be if it didn't work out.

And sure enough, from behind me, Blythe piped up, “She's probably not even here. She was just in the
hospital.
”

That was true and a good point. I had no reason to assume that Annie would be at the store today, but that Star Student Athlete piece made me think that Annie might be a kindred spirit in overachieving . . . and if it were
me
 . . . Yeah, I'd be back at my parents' boutique, trying to get back to normal as quickly as possible.

Pushing open the door to the boutique, I put on my brightest smile and prepared to do my best Polite Southern Girl to whoever might be behind the counter, whether it was Annie Jameson or not.

But it turned out my gamble was right on because, sure enough, Annie stood right inside the door. She wasn't behind the counter, but was instead next to a display of pretty, brightly colored glass bottles.

She turned to us, a smile already in place, and then I got a definitive answer as to whether or not she remembered me.

Barely missing a beat, Annie grabbed the nearest glass bottle and chucked it at my head.

I ducked fast and dimly heard the glass explode somewhere behind me, but Annie was already running, and so was I. She
headed around the counter, and without thinking, I placed one hand on it, vaulting over easily and catching her arm just as she tried to slam the door to the stockroom.

We fell to the floor hard, and I tried my best to keep a firm grip without hurting her. Whatever Paladin powers she'd had that night at the pool, I could sense that they were gone now. Even though I wanted answers, I wasn't about to go all Paladin on someone who couldn't fight back.

“I'm sorry!” she was saying—nearly sobbing it, actually. “It wasn't my fault, I didn't mean to—”

I'd managed to get her pinned underneath me, being careful not to sit on her or hold her arms too hard. “Annie,” I said, trying to make her listen, but her big blue eyes were wild, rolling from side to side, clearly looking for someone to help her.

“I'm not here to hurt you,” I said, and she looked up at me, brow wrinkled.

“I . . . I tried to kill you,” she said, and I eased my grip on her arms just the littlest bit.

“I know this is hard to believe, but I'm not here for revenge or anything,” I answered, trying to keep my voice calm. But it was all too easy to remember that this girl had come really close to killing me. To hurting Bee.

I could swear my scalp still stung from where she'd grabbed my hair, and I gritted my teeth, reminding myself yet again not to hold her too hard.

“I just have a few questions, and I'd really like them answered,” I said, and from behind me, Blythe suggested, “We could tie her up?”

Annie started to struggle again at that, and I shot Blythe a glare. “Not. Helpful.”

Turning back to Annie, I lifted one hand from her arm, holding my palm out flat. “If I let you up, do you promise not to freak out?”

Annie's blue eyes shot to Blythe again, but after a second, she nodded, and I slowly eased back.

“My mom went to get lunch,” Annie said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand as she sat up. “She'll be back really soon.”

“And we'll be gone before that,” I promised her. “I just need to know about what happened the other night.”

What had happened, turned out, was something like I'd thought. David had come in the shop, seeming confused and lost. He'd been wearing sunglasses, Annie told us, but he took those off, and then . . .

“Light,” she said now, leaning against the wall of the storage room. “Like, this golden, overwhelming light, and after that . . .” Trailing off, she shook her head. “It's all kind of fuzzy. I remember seeing your face in my mind.” She nodded at me. “And suddenly, I knew all these words. Paladin, Oracle . . . I knew all these
things
 . . .” Her gaze got a little hazy, and she lifted one hand to her mouth, chewing at her fingernails. “It was the weirdest thing. One minute, I was here, everything the same as it's always been. The next, it's like I was on this quest, and nothing made sense but everything made sense?”

I thought of how I'd felt that first night, fighting Dr. DuPont in the bathroom. It had been like that. Like I'd just been plucked
out of one life, and dropped into another, but somehow knew exactly what to do.

So I nodded and Annie continued. “I remember getting in my car. I have these flashes of fighting with you, of feeling like I
had
to fight you.”

None of that was surprising, so I just filed it all away to process later. David had made her and he'd sent her after me on purpose. It's not like I hadn't thought that was probably the case, but there was a huge difference between suspecting something and knowing it flat out.

“But you stopped,” I said to her, crossing my arms over my chest. “That's not usually the deal.”

“He made me stop,” she said simply, and my heart thudded hard in my chest.

“What?”

Sighing, Annie straightened up from the wall. “It was like I heard his voice in my head, and he was screaming at me to stop.”

Her eyes met mine. “The Oracle,” she clarified. “Or . . . I don't know, it sounds weird—”

“Everything sounds weird with this,” Bee reminded her. She was standing near the door, occasionally casting one eye back toward the shop, but no one had come in yet. Of course, when I glanced at the clock, I realized we'd been here less than fifteen minutes.

Annie gave a little laugh and took a deep breath. “True,” she acknowledged with a nod. “Okay, in that case . . . the Oracle sent me after you.” She looked at me again, her eyes meeting mine. “The Oracle wanted me to kill you.”

I swallowed hard. “Right.”

“But the person he is—whoever he is
besides
that whole Oracle part? That's the voice I heard in my head, I think. It's like . . . it's like he's two people, I think. The Oracle who wants to kill you, and the regular guy who wants you to be okay.”

It was small comfort, really, but it was
something.
It meant that David was still in there, was still fighting the Oracle half of himself.

Blowing out a long breath, I nodded. “Thank you, Annie,” I said, “Really. Only a few hard feelings about you trying to scalp me.”

We'd gotten the answers we came for, and I could hear the beep of the alarm system as someone—Annie's mom, no doubt—opened the back door, calling out, “Annie?”

Blythe and Bee were already heading out into the main part of the boutique, and I turned to follow them, but before I could, Annie caught my arm.

Turning back, I raised my eyebrows and she added, “Part of him loves you.” She tightened her grip. “But trust me—the part that wants you dead is stronger.”

O
NCE UPON
A TIME,
I had been SGA president and head cheerleader. I'd been a Homecoming Queen and a beauty contestant.

Safe to say, I hadn't expected to spend
any
night in a no-tell motel in Mississippi, yet that was exactly where I found myself.

“Oh God, Harper, no,” Bee said from the passenger seat, but Blythe leaned forward, squinting at the neon sign. “This'll do,” she said, and I looked at Bee with an apologetic shrug.

“It's cheap,” I reminded her as I applied a fresh layer of rose balm to my lips. “And just for one night. Plus if anyone is looking for us, who would look here?”

Bee grimaced, ducking her head to look through the windshield at the long rectangle of aqua-and-cream brick stretching out in front of us. “It's actually a relief to think that no one would ever look for us here,” she admitted, and I cracked a smile.

“Our reputations are safe,” I said, and Bee rolled her eyes, but opened her door.

We'd headed north after our stop in Piedmont, and all of us were tired and lost in our own thoughts. I think Blythe was still put out that I hadn't told her about going to Piedmont in the first
place, and I kept mulling over what Annie had told me. It may be good to know part of David was still there, but I believed her about the Oracle part being stronger.

Believed her, and had no idea what to do about it.

The sun was already beginning to set as we opened the door labeled “of ice.” The girl behind the desk was about our age, with mousy brown hair that hung just past her collarbone. She was reading a romance novel with “Billionaire” in the title, one that Mrs. Morrison back at Hensley Manor would no doubt approve of.

Ryan's magical balm had worked with my parents, but then we'd used magic on them before.

Affecting the most mature expression I could manage, I leaned nonchalantly on the counter. “We need a room?”

The girl—her name tag read “Shelley” in white letters—didn't even look up from her book. “Fifty dollars for a double,” she said in a bored voice, and when I pulled my wallet out of my bag, she fished out a form, sliding it over to me.

I signed the piece of paper that promised I wasn't going to trash the place, and as I did, I could feel the weight of Shelley's gaze on me. I lifted my head, meeting her eyes, but as soon as I did, she ducked her gaze back down to her book, one finger twirling her hair.

It couldn't have been clearer that Shelley was totally bored, and I told myself I was just being paranoid. If another Paladin chick was going to come after me, she wouldn't be here waiting. We'd picked this place on impulse, so how could anyone know where we'd be?

They could if they could see the future, moron,
a not-very-nice part of my brain whispered.

I swallowed hard before reminding myself about positive thinking again. Even if David was conjuring up Paladins, he had called Annie off, right? Shelley handed me a key card—I was honestly surprised a place this trapped in 1993 had key cards—and pointed to her right. “One thirty-two is on the end,” she said, “but not, like, the
end.
”

“Awesome, thanks!” I said, probably way too brightly.

Blythe and Bee had hung back during this little exchange, and while Bee was texting, Blythe was watching Shelley with the same suspicion I'd felt.

I didn't like it.

Not that Blythe was suspicious, but that we might have something in common.

“We're on the end,” I told them. “‘But not, like, the end.'”

“The hell does that mean?” Blythe asked, shifting her bag to her other arm.

“Guess we'll find out.”

The three of us made our way down the cracked sidewalk outside the building. Off to my left, the sun was a blazing orange ball, just about to set. We'd been driving for what felt like forever, and I was very, very glad that this day was ending.

I was also very glad a shower was in my future.

Room 132 was indeed at the end but not, like, the end, and I saw exactly what Shelley had meant. The rooms at the
end
end were blocked off with yellow tape.

Fabulous.

I slid the key into the door, and swung it open.

“Oh, good,” I said as we stood in the doorway. “I'd been afraid the room would be really depressing.”

At my side, Bee gave a little snort of laughter. Or maybe that was her trying to cover a sob. I felt a little sobby myself looking at that room.

Two double beds took up most of the room; both were covered in bedspreads the same bright aqua as the bricks outside. I'd never thought of aqua as being a particularly offensive color before, but looking at those bedspreads, I knew that next school year I was totally banning anything even approaching that shade from any school dance decorations. I'd never be able to look at it again without wanting to slit my own throat.

Moving into the room, I looked for a place to set my bag where it wouldn't possibly pick up some kind of insect. I settled for the battered desk, and Bee did the same.

Blythe apparently had no such issues with the room, though, because she cheerfully tossed her bag on one of the beds and flopped into a seated position, pulling her legs up under her.

I wasn't sure if she was doing yoga or just recharging her evil.

Bee blinked twice and then said, “I'm . . . gonna go call Ryan.”

Retrieving her cell phone from her pocket, she stepped outside, leaving me with Blythe. I waited until I heard Bee's footsteps recede, then gingerly made my way over to the other bed. I needed to call my parents and Aunt Jewel, but I didn't want to do that with Blythe in the room, and for some reason, I didn't want to leave her by herself.

I know that sounds stupid, but there was no telling what
Blythe might get up to her on her own. So for now, I would just stay here and . . . watch her.

You know, in a non-creepy way.

She sat still on the middle of the bed, her legs folded, hands resting on her knees. She was taking deep breaths through her nose, and I didn't want to disturb her but I also wanted to know what the heck she was doing.

“So are you resting, or . . .”

“Why don't you go grab a shower?” Blythe suggested, not answering my question.

“Omigod, I don't smell, do I?” I picked at the collar of my T-shirt, giving a discreet sniff inside. I'd been using all the deodorant, so I was pretty sure I was Powder Fresh, but a day in a car during a southern summer can defeat the best of us.

From her spot on the bed, Blythe smiled. “No, I just want you to leave me alone so I can try to sense the Oracle.”

I felt a glimmer of relief. “Can you feel him now?”

There was a little wrinkle between her brows, but Blythe still didn't open her eyes. “No. Or I can, but it's . . . faint.” I watched her take another deep breath, then another, and the frown deepened. “It's like another heartbeat inside my chest,” she said, “but a really soft, fluttery one. I can only feel it when I sit still.”

“I feel that, too,” I said, picking at the strap of my sandal. “Not all the time, but sometimes. Like, I get this feeling that he's almost in the next room or something, but . . .” Trailing off, I rolled my eyes at myself. This was not the time to have some kind of slumber party moment with Crazy Blythe.

But then she opened her eyes. They were brown like Bee's, but a shade darker, so dark that I could hardly separate the pupil from the iris. Weird as it sounds, I'd almost expected her eyes to glow when she looked at me. Maybe that's because sitting so still and kind of pained, she'd reminded me of how David looked when he had visions.

“And the dreams?” she asked.

Startled, I raised my eyebrows. “Dreams?”

Nodding, Blythe shook out her hair. “You and Bee are having them, right? Vague things, but definitely his?”

Just last night, I'd had another one, that same weird mix of blood on a yellow dress, my voice echoing around me.

I didn't give Blythe an answer, but she went on like I had. “The closer we get, the stronger they'll become, so be sure you tell me whenever you have one.”

“So we could've tracked him without you?” I said, crossing my arms. “By following our dreams?”

Blythe shrugged. “It's not exactly as precise as the magic I can do tracking him, but I guess so.”

Rolling my eyes, I looked up at the ceiling. “Things that might have been helpful to know before now,” I muttered, and Blythe sighed.

“Tell me about him,” she said, surprising me, and I sat up a little straighter.

“About David?” I blinked, trying to think of what I could say to her. How did I even describe David? For a second, I thought about telling her the Oracle stuff. You know, unclear visions,
glowing eyes, the headaches that would make him wince in pain. But I knew that's not what she wanted. Blythe wanted to talk about David the person.

That felt easier and harder all at once.

“He's . . . smart,” I said at last. “And funny, but in a vaguely obnoxious way. He has the worst taste in clothes known to man—he's never met a plaid he didn't like and subsequently abuse.”

That made Blythe smile a little bit. “I seem to remember that from when the two of you came to the college.”

“Oh, you mean the day you tried to kill us?” I said, scooping up a bag of chips from the little pile of gas station food we'd picked up earlier.

Blythe's smile faded immediately, replaced with a scowl. “Always bringing that up.”

“It's a weird thing of mine, remembering times people tried to stab me,” I admitted, leaning back against the dresser. It seemed a safer bet than sitting on the other bed or the couch. I was really regretting not bringing along some Febreze, let me tell you what.

“So what's in North Mississippi?” I asked, changing the subject as I opened the chips. They were slightly stale, and I felt like they might have been in that Chevron since the Reagan administration, but I was hungry, and salt and vinegar can cover a lot of flaws.

“It's where Saylor was from,” Blythe said, still sitting on the bed in that weird yoga position, her legs folded, eyes closed.

Startled, I nearly dropped the bag of chips. “What?”

Blythe opened one eye, squinting at me. “She had to come from somewhere, you know. It's not like she just appeared, being David's Mage and stuff.”

“I know that,” I snapped in reply, but the truth was, I hadn't thought much about where Saylor had come from. I knew she'd kidnapped David when he was a baby, saving him from the Ephors who wanted to kill him, but I'd never wondered about who had made Saylor a Mage in the first place. Like Paladins, Mages passed down their powers, which meant there had been someone who had passed his or her powers to Saylor. Blythe had willingly taken those powers on, but had Saylor been like me? Wrong place, wrong time, suddenly all magicked up?

And why had I never asked her?

“Don't look like that,” Blythe said on a big sigh, stretching out her legs. “It's not like you and Saylor had a lot of bonding time before she was killed.”

“Thanks to you,” I couldn't help but point out. Blythe's mind control potion was responsible for turning Bee's dim bulb of a boyfriend, Brandon, into a killer. I hadn't forgotten that, either, and from the way the corners of her mouth turned down a little bit, I'm guessing Blythe hadn't.

“Collateral damage,” she said, and I crumpled the bag of chips in my hand.

“Really?” I said, my voice nearly cracking with anger. “That's all you have to say about that?”

Now Blythe opened both eyes, staring at me. Her face was so innocent and sweet, but those eyes were old. They always had been.

“Would it do any good for me to say that I was sorry? That I was caught up in doing what I thought was the right thing, and that I couldn't let myself think about the people who got hurt? Would that make you suddenly trust me?”

I didn't have an answer for that. Or at least not one I wanted to say out loud. The truth was, this whole thing was so confusing that it would've been
nice
to trust Blythe. To put the past behind us and try to understand why she'd done what she had.

Instead, I threw the now-crushed chips into the trash can and picked up the ice bucket, needing to be anywhere that wasn't this room with this girl right now.

“If Bee gets back, tell her I went to get ice,” I said, without looking at Blythe, but before I got to the door, she slid off the bed, coming to stand between me and escape.

“We're more alike than you want to admit, Harper,” she said, reaching out to poke me in the sternum. I swatted her hand away but didn't try to push past her.

“I am sorry, for whatever it's worth,” she said, and I felt my heart pounding in my ears, remembering Saylor lying on the floor of Magnolia House, her blood slick on the tile of the kitchen. Blythe might not have wielded the knife, but Saylor's death was still on her hands.