Lady Renegades

by Rachel Hawkins

  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.

  Chapter 8

  THE 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!”

  M
om 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.

  Chapter 9

  “HOLY CRAP,” I breathed, my fingers still locked around Blythe’s delicate wrist. “You.”

  She had one hand free, which she used to wiggle her fingers at me in a little wave. “Harper.”

  I was breathing hard, but as the adrenaline faded, the realization that I had just handed a girl her lunch in front of a third of Pine Grove suddenly began to dawn.

  Then Aunt Jewel, bless her heart, stood up and said, “Ooh, is this the girl teaching your self-defense course, Harper Jane?”

  She said it so loudly that I was pretty sure people in the next town over had heard her, so it wasn’t exactly the most subtle of saves.

  But it was effective, especially when Bee came over and said, “Wow, when you said the final exam could happen anywhere, I didn’t think you meant the country club!”

  She gave a bright laugh that was as high as it was fake, but I could feel some of the tension drain out of the room, especially when I finally took my foot off Blythe’s chest and offered a hand to help pull her up.

  Shooting to her feet, Blythe just smiled again and, for whatever reason, decided to play along. “And you passed!” she said before rubbing at her chest with the tips of her fingers and grimacing slightly. “With flying, really painful colors!”

  At my side, Mom still had her palm flat against her pearls, her gaze shooting between me and Blythe. Dad was also on his feet, hands deep in his pockets, watching up over the tops of his new bifocals.

  “What self-defense class, Harper?”

  My head was spinning, wondering both what Blythe was doing here—and if her being here had anything to do with what had happened at the pool on Friday night—and with making sure I sold this to my parents as quickly as possible.

  “Just an extra little thing I picked up for the summer,” I said, waving it away like it wasn’t a big deal. “You know, getting ready for college and all that. Girl has to be able to defend herself.”

  Considering the fact that at least half the women in this room were probably concealing pistols in their pocketbooks, I didn’t think anyone would argue with that. Sure enough, people started digging back into their prime rib and potatoes.

  My own family was still a little nonplussed, but Aunt Jewel sat down and started eating, which went a long way with Aunt May and Aunt Martha. They took their lead from Jewel and today was no exception. After a brief pause, they gave identical shrugs and tucked back into their food.

  My parents were a little less willing to let this go.

  “Self-defense is important,” Mom said, looking at Blythe, who, in her bright yellow dress and high ponytail, certainly didn’t look all that threatening. She kind of looked like a brunette Easter Barbie, to tell the truth. But this girl had tried to cut me with a letter opener, performed terrifying magic on David, and kidnapped my best friend, all to help the Ephors either super-charge David or kill him.

  I didn’t underestimate her.

  “But there is a time and place for displays like that,” Mom continued, “and Sunday afternoon at the country club is not one of them, young ladies.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, knowing that the easiest way to get out of this was to seem as abashed as possible, no matter how much my heart was racing. What the heck was Blythe doing here?

  “I apologize, too,” Blythe said, flash
ing my parents a bright smile. “But being prepared in any location really is one of the tenets of our, um, organization.”

  She looked back at me. “Can we go outside and talk for a minute?” Blythe asked before flicking her eyes at my parents again. “About the, um, self-defense class?”

  Looking back to my parents, I put on my most contrite expression. “May I be excused?”

  Mom and Dad glanced at each other, Dad rocking back on his heels, but after a beat, Mom nodded, and said, “Fine. But don’t be too long.”

  Ryan and Bee were already standing up next to their table, and I jerked my chin at them.

  As quickly as I could, I ushered the three of them, Bee, Blythe, and Ryan, out of the dining room and down the long hall leading to the front doors. Posture is 80 percent of projecting an air of self-confidence, so I made sure my shoulders were back, chin lifted slightly as we walked outside. The country club was surrounded by thick flowering bushes, their scent almost overpowering in the July heat, and I led our little group around the side of the building and down a sloping sidewalk, close to the tennis courts where the bushes were highest so that we’d be out of sight for the most part.

  As soon we’d stopped, I whirled on Blythe and dropped any pretense of civility. “What are you doing here?”

  “You summoned me,” Blythe said immediately, looking around at all of us, her big brown eyes wide. “With, like, a fairly powerful spell. I felt it the second you did it. Threw my stuff in the car and headed this way. Of course, I wasn’t positive who was summoning me, but once I hit the state line, I had a pretty good idea it was you.”

  “Trust me,” I said, still rubbing my sore elbow. I’d whacked it fairly hard on the table throwing Blythe to the ground. “No one around here did anything of the sort. The absolute last thing—”

  And then I thought of the three of us in that field with David’s things, the thump Ryan had felt in his chest. The spell had been a mix of Greek and English with the word “summoning,” in there, and . . .