Rebel Belle

Chapter 9

FOR ONE horrifying second, I thought he was going to kiss me. I wasn’t really sure how I’d react if he did. I mean, I knew that if he kissed me, it would be a kiss of the “I am so glad I am not dead that I would kiss a flesh-eating zombie were it sitting in this car beside me” variety more than the sexy “I only write mean articles about you because I am secretly in love with you” type.

But it was only a hug. And if I maybe spent a second or two thinking that he actually smelled really nice, or that he was much more solid than he appeared, so what? I was traumatized by all the car chasing/nearly dying.

Luckily, it didn’t last long, but when I pulled back, I noticed that my heart was pounding and there was this weird fluttering sensation.

Butterflies.

No, I thought to myself. Near-death flutters of anxiety. That’s all.

Then I noticed that David was staring out the shattered windshield, looking as weirded out as I felt.

Oh my God, what was wrong with me? I could barely muster up the enthusiasm to make out with my own super hot boyfriend, and I was . . . oh dear God, was I blushing? Ugh.

Ugh ugh ugh.

Yup, the car chase had clearly addled my brain.

I was about to say something mean to David, you know, to restore equilibrium, when his eyes got big and he blurted out, “Bad guys in the pool!”

Huh? Was that like thinking of baseball when—OH! Right!

I pushed open my door and leapt out into my yard, taking deep breaths, hoping the cool air and sight of people drowning in my pool might get my hormones or whatever back under control.

I had knocked over Mom’s birdbath. It lay in three big pieces right under David’s bumper. And then, of course, there was the giant hole in our fence. But those were really the least of my problems. This biggest issue was the black Cadillac currently sinking into my pool.

No sound came from the car, and there didn’t appear to be any activity inside, so I guessed the impact had knocked out the driver and any passengers he or she might have had.

David was standing next to me, watching the car as the aqua water bubbled and churned around it. “So are we, um, are we gonna let them drown?”

I was glad he said that. We.

I had killed Dr. DuPont, and I didn’t feel bad about that. I couldn’t. He had been seconds from killing me when I jammed that shoe into his neck. But whoever was in that black car . . . well, I didn’t know what they’d wanted. My gut told me they had been bad guys, but that still didn’t make me feel great about letting them drown in my pool.

I was also more than a little worried about explaining this whole thing. All evidence of my fight with Dr. DuPont had mysteriously vanished, but I wasn’t sure how whoever had worked that particular mojo could cover this up. I expected our neighbors to start congregating in the street any minute now, like they did when the power went out.

David gave a huge sigh and ran his hands over his hair. “Well, this is weird. And awful.”

“Yup.” My skirt had gotten twisted around my hips somewhere in all of this, and I started straightening it. Anything to avoid looking at the pool.

“Who are you?” David asked me for the second time that day. “International assassin? Ninja? Vampire slayer, maybe?”

I lifted my head. “No, I’m a—”

There was a slight popping sound from the pool, and David and I both turned our attention back to the water.

Which was now empty.

And with one loud crack, the hole in my fence was suddenly gone. I didn’t even have to look behind me to know that the screech of metal was David’s car repairing itself. In just a few seconds, all evidence of the insane car chase, the crash, all of it, was gone. Then the only sound in my backyard was the singing of birds and the rustling of the leaves.

“That really happened,” David said softly. “All that shit, it . . . disappeared, right? I didn’t hallucinate that?”

My adrenaline seemed to vanish as completely as the Cadillac, and it was all I could do not to collapse in a heap on the grass. It was one thing to see the aftereffects of stuff disappearing. It was another to see an entire car—with people inside—poof out of existence.

“Yeah,” I replied. “That happened.”

“Do you know why?”

When I turned to him, David was still staring at the pool, the fingers of his right hand pressed against his temple again.

“No. But . . . David, something seriously weird is going on.”

The hand at his temple moved up to tug on his hair as David made a sound that was part sob, part laugh. “You think? Jesus, Harper. You . . . you flipped Ryan Bradshaw like a pancake. You drove a car like Jason Bourne. And then this . . .” He waved his hand at the water. “I don’t . . . I mean . . .” His words trailed off and he sank down into a crouch, eyes still fixed on the pool.

Walking over to him, I pulled at the shoulder of his jacket. “Okay, I get that it’s weird, and while I totally respect the need for a PTSD moment, we really need to talk.”

His eyes moved up to my face, still kind of unfocused. “About what? Why bad guys are chasing you, and why freaking magic is apparently real?”

“I actually think the bad guys might be chasing you, but yeah.”

David staggered backward, and sat down heavily on the grass. As he did, he nearly overturned Mom’s statue of two little girls reading on a bench, but I was able to grab it before it fell.

His sleeves, too short as usual, fell back from his thin wrists as he rested his elbows on his knees, hands tugging at his hair. “Hold up, what? You think those guys were after me? Why?”

“I don’t know. Do you know why?” I towered over David, my shadow falling on his body.

Dazed, David shook his head. “I can’t—”

And then I saw it. Something flickered across his face and he flinched.

“You do know,” I said, yanking him to his feet. “David, what is it?”

He swallowed heavily. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

At that moment, I really hated that my superpowers prevented me from shaking the crap out of him. I settled for balling my fist up in the front of his shirt and pulling him down to meet my eyes. “David, look around you. This? This is crazy-sauce. And if you know anything that could help me figure out why I’m suddenly Wonder Woman, I need to know it right. Effing. Now.”

I actually said the word that time, and David’s eyes went so wide I wondered if that had shocked him more than the disappearing Cadillac.

But he never got a chance to answer me.

“Yoo-hoo!” a voice called out from the other side of my fence, and David and I both went still.

“Is that?” I hissed.

“My Aunt Saylor.” He gulped.

The back gate swung open, and suddenly Saylor Stark was standing there, a pair of Chanel sunglasses pushed down her nose as she took in the sight of me, shaking and sweaty, clutching the front of her nephew’s T-shirt.

“Oh my,” she said, and two syllables had never contained so much dismay. “What exactly is going on here?”

David and I practically leapt apart as Saylor moved into the yard, her high heels sinking slightly. The late afternoon sunlight flashed on her silver hair as well as the silver and turquoise jewelry around her neck. Other than a slight grass stain on the hem of her beige trousers, she looked as immaculate as ever.

“I was over at Anne Beckwith’s, and I thought I saw your car tearing down the street, David James Stark,” she said, pushing her sunglasses back into place with one finger. “But I told myself, ‘Of course not, Saylor. David would never drive so irresponsibly. Besides, he’s meant to be in school right now.’”

She turned her head to me. “As are you, correct, Miss Price?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said feebly. “I . . . I felt sick, and David offered to drive me home.”

I couldn’t see her eyes behind her dark glasses, but I had a feeling they were very cold. “Really?” she said. “How odd. Because right after I had the thought that David would never, ever drive his car in such a manner, I noticed that he was not the one behind the wheel.”

Oh God. Of all the people to see me doing my Dale Earnhardt, Jr., impression, it had to be Saylor Stark.

“She asked to drive it,” David said, speaking up for the first time. He still seemed a little out of it, and his voice wasn’t as strong as normal, but he was still good at thinking on his feet. “She’d never driven one like it before, so she, uh, wanted to.”

As one, the three of us looked over at David’s pathetic Dodge. Even without its fender and back door mangled, it didn’t exactly scream, “DRIVE ME.”

Maybe David wasn’t that great at thinking on his feet. And why did he even own a car like that, anyway? Saylor surely could’ve afforded something nicer. It was probably a point of pride with him, like his weird thrift shop wardrobe.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Saylor,” he continued. “I shouldn’t have ditched school, but Harper, uh, was sick. And you’re always going on about good citizenship.”

I tried not to let surprise show on my face. That was actually a pretty good save. Certainly better than “chicks really want to get behind the wheel of my Stratus.” And the fact that he’d been able to do it after nearly getting killed and dealing with what appeared to be magic was impressive.

“Good citizenship doesn’t have to come at the cost of your own morals, David,” Saylor snapped. “You know better than to skip class, and I am very disappointed in you. And of course, we haven’t even gotten into the completely reckless way you two were driving. I think you and I will be having a long talk when I get done with Cotillion practice this afternoon, young man.”

Saylor’s gaze swung back to me. “Speaking of, Miss Price, if you’re feeling so ill, maybe you’d better sit today’s rehearsal out.”

“But we’re supposed to practice the prayer today,” I said, blinking. “I’m leading the prayer.”

Her smile was brittle. “I’m sure Miss Franklin will do a fine job filling in. And maybe by Wednesday’s practice, you’ll be feeling more yourself.”

Sick for real now, I could only nod. Behind my parents, Saylor Stark was the last person in the world I wanted to disappoint. And there was no mistaking that tone. Not only had she caught me skipping class, I was skipping class with her nephew, whom I had clearly sucked into my downward spiral. If she knew that I’d also made him an accessory to what might have been murder . . .

And that’s when it hit me. David was Saylor’s nephew. He had lived with her his whole life. If people wanted to kill him, surely Saylor would know why. But how exactly did you go about asking something like that? Hi, Miss Saylor, are y’all by any chance in the witness protection program? Or hiding from wizards? She wouldn’t just take the prayer away from me after that. She’d kick me out of the entire Cotillion. Maybe even out of the entire town.

As she dusted imaginary dirt from her slacks, I watched Saylor, trying to see if there was any sign that she knew why David and I had been speeding down the street. But between the huge sunglasses and Saylor’s Perfect Southern Lady ability to repress any and all emotions, I couldn’t tell.

David, shaking off his daze, moved toward his aunt. “Let Harper do the stupid prayer,” he said, sounding a bit more like himself. “This isn’t her fault.”

Saylor’s head shot up. “First of all, you will not call the Cotillion prayer ‘stupid.’ Secondly, you should be at school right now, not drag racing down Ivy Lane. Thirdly, I have told you that you need to be more careful. And going a hundred miles an hour in a car that is on its last legs is hardly careful. What if you’d had another one of your headaches?”

David scowled at her. “My headaches are no big deal,” he said, but Saylor held up her hand.

“We are not having this argument in Miss Price’s backyard. You’re coming with me.”

He flung one long arm out toward his Stratus. “My car—”

“You can pick it up in the morning. Harper, I’m sure your parents won’t mind if David leaves his vehicle here.”

The way she said it left no doubt that refusing was not an option. “It’s fine,” I said. “And honestly, it’s still another few hours until practice, and I’m sure if I took a quick nap and had a sandwich, I’d be fine, too.” I ended with a little laugh, as if by sheer force of will, I could make her see the funny side to all of this.

That smile again, the one that felt like a threat. “I’ll see you on Wednesday, Harper,” she said, and I could practically hear a gavel go down. I’d been found guilty of Unladylike Behavior, Nephew Endangerment, and, if the look she shot my boots was any indication, Improper Footwear.

And if she ever found out about Ryan . . . oh God, Ryan. I had to call him. I had to explain. “Say good-bye to Harper, David,” Saylor trilled as she began making her way toward David’s car, moving on the balls of her feet to keep her heels from sinking again.

David’s eyes met mine, and I could tell the shock was definitely wearing off. He was getting that same predatory look he’d had at the Homecoming Dance. “Tomorrow. You and me. We need to talk,” he said in a low voice.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Duh. But . . . I need to smooth things over with Ryan before I’m seen having sneaky conversations with you. So let me find you tomorrow, okay?”

“Pretty sure ninjas and magic and dead guys trump your boyfriend’s insecurity,” he hissed, leaning in closer.

“And pretty sure you now know I could kick your behind, so why don’t you let me handle this?” I whispered back. That wasn’t true, of course. If David hadn’t been rattled, he would’ve remembered this morning, when I hadn’t even been able to slap him. But at least I got a little satisfaction out of seeing him go pale.

“Fine,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Thank you,” I huffed back.

“David!” Saylor called again, and this time, there was a definite edge to her trill.

“Tomorrow,” he said again, pointing at me.

“Tomorrow,” I agreed.