Rebel Belle (Rebel Belle #1)

Rebel Belle (Rebel Belle #1) Page 32

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 tea room 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.

Chapter 25

Mom looked toward The Aunts and, finding them, saw me. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Harper?” she said, walking toward the table. Compared to the aunts in their party-colored sweaters, Mom looked a little wan in her silky cream blouse and tan slacks. Her hair, a few shades lighter than mine, was mussed from the wind.

“Mom!” I said, trying my best not to sound guilty. “Hillary, you didn’t tell us Harper would be here, too,” Aunt May said. Mom shook her head. “I . . . didn’t know she would be. You did say you were going out with Bee today, didn’t you, Harper?”

It wasn’t really a question; Mom knew exactly what I’d said. Still, I wondered why she looked so befuddled. I mean, she’d caught me having lunch in Miss Annemarie’s Tea Room with Saylor and David. It wasn’t like she’d found me smoking crack in an alley.

“Plans fell through,” I told her, wrinkling my nose like “What can you do?” “But then I ran into Miss Saylor, and she asked me out to lunch with her and David.”

Next to me, David lifted his hand in greeting, and Saylor picked up her tea cup, taking a swallow. Only seconds ago, she’d been rattled and freaked out. Now she looked like she always did: cool, collected, Queen of Pine Grove.

“It was so sweet of Harper to join us,” she said. “Boys never really appreciate this place.”

No one under seventy-five really appreciated Miss Annemarie’s, but Mom nodded. Still, that crease between her brows didn’t ease.

“Why don’t we pull a table over?” Aunt Jewel asked, tugging at the hem of her purple sweater. “I’m sure Annemarie won’t mind, and then we can all have lunch together.”

“No!” I said, way more sharply than I should have. The crease between Mom’s brows deepened, and even Aunt Jewel seemed surprised.

“We’re about to finish up here,” Saylor covered smoothly. I saw The Aunts and Mom drop their gazes to our nearly full plates. “And Harper, didn’t you say you were meeting Miss Franklin after lunch?”

“I did,” I said, nodding. “So . . . I wouldn’t want Miss Annemarie to go to the trouble of bringing a table when we’re about to leave.”

Mom was intent as she watched me. It reminded me of when I was little and she was checking me to see if I was sick. I half expected her to lay a hand on my forehead. “All righty then,” said Aunt Jewel, clapping her hands together. “Y’all finish your lunch, and we’ll go grab a table. Your Aunt May is absolutely perishing for Annemarie’s crab bisque, else we’d be eating at Golden Corral like we usually do on Saturdays.”

Cursing Aunt May’s sudden highbrow craving, I got up and gave each of them a quick hug. “I’ll stop by later this week,” I promised, breathing in The Aunts’ familiar scent of Youth Dew, hairspray, and smoke.

When I got to Mom, she hugged me back, but concern was still stamped all over her face. “Harper, are you sure you’re—” She gasped then, grabbing my hand and lifting it to her face. “What on earth happened to you?”

Gently as I could, I took my hand back, fighting the urge to hide it behind my back. “I broke a glass this morning. Stupid. But it’s fine! The bandage makes it look worse than it is.”

I think Mom would have asked more questions if Aunt Jewel hadn’t leaned over and taken my hand, inspecting it over her glasses. “Did you put peroxide on it?”

The Aunts would pour peroxide over a severed leg; it was their cure-all.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sniffing, Aunt Jewel gave me my hand back. “Well, then you’ll be right as rain. Now come on, let’s get a table before May dies of soup deprivation.”

They steered Mom toward a table in the corner, and I sat back down, taking a deep breath. Once I was sure my family was out of earshot, I leaned into Saylor. “That’s why we have to do things my way. I have a family here. Friends. A life. I have to keep those things. I have to make it through this as—as normally and inconspicuously as possible.”