Rebel Belle

Chapter 24

“YOU SHOULD TRY the oolong,” Saylor told David as she unfolded her menu at Miss Annemarie’s. As I’d anticipated, the tearoom was nearly empty, with the exception of two women sitting by the front window, both of them easily in their eighties. Outside, the wind had picked up, and gray clouds moved swiftly across the sky. Miss Annemarie’s was situated in the town square, right next to the jewelry shop where The Aunts bought all my Christmas and birthday presents. In the middle of the square, there was a statue of one of the town founders, Adolphus Bridgeforth. David was glaring at Saylor over the top of his menu. “I hate oolong,” he told her. “It tastes like leaves.”

“It is leaves,” I noted, opening my napkin over my lap.

“Touché,” he muttered, a faint smile hovering on his lips.

Saylor was watching David, and the look on her face wasn’t quite sadness and it wasn’t exactly longing, but it was some mixture of the two. Then she folded up her menu, slid the corner of it under her saucer, and folded her hands on the table, fingers clenched.

Her diamonds winked in the light from the tiny lamp in the center of the table, and now her expression was as placid as all the china cats dotting the restaurant. Seriously, Miss Annemarie could give Saylor a run for her money in the glass knickknacks department. “Well,” she said at last. “I assume the two of you had a reason for bringing me to Miss Annemarie’s.”

I squirmed a little bit in my rose-patterned damask chair. I’d made my chart and I thought I had a good idea of what I wanted to tell Saylor, but there was no escaping the fact that David and I had kind of screwed up today. Even though I knew Saylor wasn’t the person I’d thought she was, old habits die hard, and I hated the thought of disappointing her.

Maybe David picked up on that, because he leaned over the table, and in a very low voice, said, “Something happened today.”

Saylor didn’t move, but her eyes flicked to my hand. We’d stopped on our way back into town to get bandages and antibiotic cream for my cut, and the majority of my palm was swathed in gauze. “I can see that.”

As quietly and quickly as he could, David told Saylor about Blythe, pausing only when Miss Annemarie tottered over to take our orders. When he was done, Saylor sat very still, her face totally blank. But her hand was clutching her fork so hard, I was afraid she might actually bend the metal. “And the two of you decided to tackle this by yourselves why exactly?” she asked, voice syrupy sweet, eyes blazing.

I took a sip of ice water, stalling for time, but David already had an answer. “Because I don’t trust you,” he said. “Her,” David added, gesturing to me with a teaspoon, “I trust.”

Miss Annemarie reemerged with our food—chicken salad for me and Saylor, a club sandwich for David. As she set it down on the table, Miss Annemarie smiled at me. “How are your aunts, Harper?”

“Fine, thank you,” I said, hoping that would be enough. I loved the old ladies in my town, but dear God, they could talk. And Miss Annemarie didn’t show any signs of quitting. “And your parents?”

“Also fine, thank you, Miss Annemarie.”

The old woman sighed and shook her head, chins wobbling. “They’ve been so strong after your sister passed. Such a tragedy.”

I forced a tight smile. “They have, yes.”

“I’m keeping y’all on my prayer list,” she murmured, patting me on the shoulder before shuffling back to the kitchen. Now the two women by the window were looking over at us, squinting like they were trying to recognize me. Yes, I wanted to say, I am Leigh-Anne Price’s sister. Yes, that Leigh-Anne, the Homecoming Queen who wrapped her car around a tree when she was totally smashed.

“You okay?” David asked in a low voice.

Clearing my throat, I speared a mayo-coated grape with my fork. “Yup. Now, back to what we were saying about Blythe. She told David that they didn’t want to kill him anymore; now they want to do a spell on him. Apparently it’s the same one—”

I didn’t get to finish. Saylor’s hand was shaking so badly she nearly dropped her tiny cup of oolong.

She put it back in the saucer amid a clatter of china. “Alaric’s ritual.”

“That’s the one,” David said around a mouthful of club sandwich. “But Blythe said it only went so badly with Alaric because he wasn’t a Mage. She thinks if she tried it—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, David Stark,” Saylor snapped. Outside, the wind blew harder, rattling the big window, and all three of us jumped. “Didn’t you hear what I said the other night? That ritual drove Alaric mad. It resulted in the deaths of hundreds. It turned him into a monster.”

Saylor laid her hands flat on the table, and I could see they were trembling slightly. “No matter what this girl said, it’s the ritual itself that’s dangerous. Alaric had to be put down like a dog. And you said this Blythe girl was . . . what was the term you used, David?”

He swallowed before answering, “Super psycho bitch batshit.”

Saylor’s upper lip curled. “Ah, yes. Charming. And only seventeen, right?”

When we both nodded, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “The temporal shifts, the vanishing spell . . . those are things Mages just don’t do. They’re too dangerous, too risky, too . . . big. And she’s using them all over the damn place. What must they be thinking, using someone so young to attempt something so insane? And why?”

I shook my head. “She claimed she could do it better than Alaric, and that David and the Ephors could work together afterward. Apparently surviving this ritual is the test David has to face the night of Cotillion.”

“Which I’m still in favor of just skipping altogether,” David said, dumping three packets of sugar into his cup.

Saylor stirred her tea with more force than was probably necessary. “I told you, there is no skipping it. This event is preset. Destined.”

David and I both groaned a little at that word, but I had to admit, it made sense. “Think of it this way,” I told David, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “At least we know when it’ll happen. We have a set date to prepare for.”

If the way David glowered at his tea was any indication, he wasn’t exactly buying that, but he gave a little shrug. “Okay.”

I shot a look over at the old ladies by the window, but they were deeply involved in their crème brûlée and not paying any attention to us. “Miss Saylor, could you get back to that part about putting Alaric down like a dog?” I glanced over at David. He wasn’t looking at me, but was tracing little patterns on the tablecloth with his fork. “You said almost all of his Paladins died protecting him. So who killed Alaric?”

Saylor was quiet for so long that I didn’t think she was going to answer. And then, finally, “The other two Paladins.”

David’s fork stopped moving on the table, snagging on the gingham. “How? If their ‘sacred duty’ is to protect—”

“Alaric was a danger to himself in that state.” Saylor reached out, her hand hovering over David’s for a moment before she pulled it back. “Which meant the inherent contradiction in that overrode the Paladins’ instinct to keep him safe.”

Lowering her head, Saylor pinched the bridge of her nose. “If we were at my house, I’d be able to show you. I have books, illustrations, things you’ll need to see.”

Giving up the pretense of eating—my mouth was too dry, my stomach too jumpy—I pushed my plate away. “Well, we’re not at your house. If I’m going to do this, I need to do it . . . my way.”

“There is no your—” Saylor said, but she broke off as the front door to the tearoom rattled open, bringing another puff of wind and the smell of rain. As her eyes widened, I heard a familiar voice say, “Jewel, honestly, no soup is worth going out on a day like this.”

My heart sank as I heard Aunt Jewel reply, “Oh, hush, it’s not even raining.”

“Yet,” Aunt May snapped.

Turning slowly in my chair, I took in my aunts, all huddling in the doorway of the restaurant. The three of them were all dressed in nearly identical black slacks, orthopedic shoes, and bright sweaters. Aunt Martha saw me first, her eyes widening in pleasure. “Oh, look, girls!” she trilled. “It’s Harper Jane!”

Smiling weakly, I raised my hand in a little wave as they started to bear down on me. As they did, the front door opened again, and there, right behind The Aunts, was my mom.