Rebel Belle (18 page)

That weekend, I finally had a date with Ryan. Between training with Saylor, preparing for Cotillion (both the normal and the supernatural parts of it), and keeping up with all my regular stuff, I hadn’t exactly been a model girlfriend. Hence tonight’s date, which included a movie of his choosing and, since his parents were at their lake house for the weekend, some alone time at Ryan’s place. I actually couldn’t remember the last time we’d . . . been alone, and I told myself it was anticipation making my hands tremble as I brushed my teeth that evening, not nerves.

When I came downstairs, Mom and Dad were both sacked out on the couch, watching some true crime TV show. “Hey,” I said, pausing in the doorway.

Dad’s arm was around Mom’s shoulder and both of them had their feet propped up on the coffee table. Even their ankles were crossed the same. “Hay is for horses, Harper Jane!” Dad called out, and I rolled my eyes, but smiled.

Mom looked over her shoulder at me. “You look pretty. Where are you off to?”
Preening a little, I smoothed my fitted sweater over my stomach. “Date night with Ryan. I’ll be back by midnight.”
There was a splash of light across the pale blue of the wall as Ryan’s car pulled into the driveway, and I was already turning to meet him at the door when Mom said, “Ten.”
I paused, sure I’d misunderstood her. “Ten what?”
“Ten is when you need to be home. The movie starts at what? Seven? That’s plenty of time to get back.”
Dad kept his eyes on the TV, but his fingers were drumming on Mom’s shoulders. “Um . . . seriously?” My purse was on the end table nearest the couch, and I twisted to grab it.
Mom’s eyes met mine, and I could swear there were hollows under hers, new wrinkles in the corners. “Yes, seriously. Ten o’clock, Harper.”
Outside, Ryan’s door thumped shut, and I could hear his steady tread coming up the front steps. “It’s always been midnight,” I insisted, hating how petulant I sounded, but . . . I had plans for tonight. Boyfriend maintenance plans. And I hadn’t had to be in that early since middle school.
The doorbell rang then, and I cast a quick look toward the front door. “Mom, my curfew has always—”
“I don’t care what we’ve always done,” Mom snapped, her voice slightly shrill. “I’m your mother, and tonight, I want you back in this house by ten. Is that clear?”
Ryan had better manners than to press the doorbell again, but I could practically feel him out there waiting for me. Too bad he wasn’t the only one I clearly needed to spend more time with. Knowing that snottiness wouldn’t get me anywhere, I nodded. “Okay,” I said, doing my best to seem okay. “See y’all at ten.”
Mom sagged back onto the couch, relief obvious on her face. Dad, too, seemed to relax a bit, lifting his hand in a wave. “Be safe, kiddo.”
I brooded the entire way to the theater. Pine Grove only had one, and it only showed two movies at a time. I’d let Ryan pick tonight—I almost always chose what we saw—and of course, he’d gone with the action film. I’d rolled my eyes, pretending to be exasperated, but really, I wanted to see it, too. I had plenty of moves in my Paladin arsenal, but it wouldn’t hurt to add a few more.
We already had our tickets and had stepped into the lobby when I told Ryan about Mom’s new curfew. Frowning, he shoved his hands in his back pockets. “Whoa. Okay. I just . . . I kind of wish you’d told me that before we’d come here.”
The lobby reeked of burnt popcorn and spilled Coke, and it seemed even more crowded than usual for a Saturday night. The place was always full—when you only have one movie theater in your town, that happens—but tonight it was packed, and I suddenly felt a little claustrophobic. “Why?” I asked Ryan as someone bumped into me from behind.
Rolling his shoulders, Ryan stepped a little closer to me. “Because if I’d known I was only going to have a few hours with you, there are a lot of other things I’d rather be doing than watching a movie.”
Maybe it was that unexpected bout of nervousness I’d felt about that very thing earlier. Maybe I was still irritated with my mom and looking for someone to take it out on. Or maybe I was honestly a little pissed off at Ryan. “So, what, if you’d known you’d have to choose between a date and fooling around, you would’ve chosen the latter?”
“Whoa, Harper,” Ryan lowered his voice and looked around us. Only a few yards away, our old Sunday school teacher, Mrs. Catesby, was buying a box of Junior Mints, and I should have been horrified at the thought that she might have overheard me, but I wasn’t. Not even a little bit.
Ryan, on the other hand, was. “Keep your voice down. And that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that I’ve hardly been alone with you since when? Before Homecoming?”
“I’ve been busy,” I insisted, and Ryan rolled his eyes at me.
“Yeah, I know. With school and Cotillion and whatever other stupid shit is more important than your boyfriend.”
I could not believe this was happening. I was fighting with my boyfriend in public. Across the way, I could see Abigail and Amanda, huddled near the ladies’ room. They saw me, too, and as they lifted their hands in greeting, Mary Beth emerged from the bathroom. Her eyes landed on Ryan first, and there was no mistaking the . . . it wasn’t even lust, it was honest to God
love,
or at least a very deep case of like.
“Don’t call the stuff I do stupid,” I told him, this time pitching my voice near a whisper. I tried to keep my face blank so the other girls wouldn’t be able to tell we were fighting, but they were already heading this way.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan blew out on a long breath. “But, God, Harper, sometimes I feel like your whole life is a checklist, and I am way down at the bottom. And, you know, every once in awhile, you throw me a bone to keep me happy.”
I flinched at that, hard. Not only because it was insulting, but because it was way too close to the truth. “You’re not at the bottom,” I said, and then Abigail, Amanda, and Mary Beth were there, and I was frantically blinking back tears and faking a huge smile.
“Hi, girls!” I said with forced brightness.
“Hey, Harper,” Mary Beth replied, but her eyes were on Ryan. “Are you guys . . . okay?”
“We’re fine,” Ryan and I said in unison, too quickly. Abigail and Amanda exchanged a look, and I stepped closer to Ryan, slipping my arm through his. His forearm was like a rock under my fingers, and I could still feel the tension humming through him. Even though he was smiling at the girls, I knew they could sense it, too.
There was an awkward silence before Abigail said, “Is Ryan trying to drag you to that stupid
Hard Fists
movie?”
“Grooooosssss,” Amanda drawled. “I hate stuff like that. Ryan, be a good boyfriend and take your girlfriend to
The Promise
. Y’all can sit with us.”
“Mandy,” her twin said, elbowing her in the side. “They probably want to sit alone at the movies.”
Mary Beth swallowed, and her shoes must have been really fascinating for all the attention she was paying to them.
“Oh, please,” Amanda said, delicately picking out a piece of popcorn and tossing it in her mouth. “Like Ryan and Harper are the make-out-in-the-theater type. That would be like  .  .  .” She screwed up her elfin face. “My parents doing that or something. No offense, guys.”
I waved her off, but under my other hand, I could swear Ryan got even tenser. More people were coming in the door now, and as I moved closer to Ryan to avoid the crush, he stepped the tiniest bit away. Ignoring that as best as I could, I held onto his sleeve tighter. “Actually, I want to see
Hard Fists
.”
Amanda and Abigail both snorted in disbelief, but Mary Beth’s lips lifted in a little smile. “It does look kind of badass,” she offered, and Amanda and Abigail swung identical frowns at her.
“Ugh, no, it does not, Mary Beth. All that violence and blood and . . . bleh.” Amanda shuddered.
“Maybe you need a Y chromosome to properly appreciate the amazingness of
Hard Fists
, Amanda,” Ryan said. Then he nodded at Mary Beth. “Or maybe you just need to be a cool chick like MB here.”
MB
? Since when did Ryan have a nickname for Mary Beth? It wasn’t like anyone else called her that.
Mary Beth’s face flushed, and while I thought pink was supposed to look terrible on redheads, she actually looked really pretty with a little color in her cheeks. And there was a softness in Ryan’s grin as he looked down at her that I recognized. He used to smile at me like that.
For once, the pain in my chest had nothing to do with David or danger or magic. This was straight up teenage angst, and it
hurt.
I mean, fine, if he suddenly liked Mary Beth, whatever, but did he have to do it in front of Amanda and Abigail?
Wait a second. Whatever? My boyfriend was smiling at a blushing girl, and I was embarrassed because my friends were watching?
Standing there in the theater, with what felt like my entire town hemming me in, I let that thought sink in. I wasn’t hurt that Ryan might have a thing for someone else. I was scared of what that might make other people think about
me
.
That was . . . effed up.
Suddenly, the lobby was too hot and the smell of popcorn was making me slightly nauseous, and all I wanted to do was go home. What would happen if I turned around and walked out? Would Ryan come after me, or would he shrug and go watch the “badass”
Hard Fists
with MB? And why didn’t that thought make me want to tear MB’s pretty auburn hair right out of her head?
“Harper?” Abigail asked, laying a hand on my arm. “Are you okay?”
I hadn’t realized I was staring at the floor, my eyes tracing the golden concentric circles stamped on the grubby navy carpet. Lifting my head, I did my best to smile, but from the look on Abi’s face, I wasn’t pulling it off. “Yeah,” I said, “It’s just hot in here.”
“It is,” Abigail agreed. “I mean, look at Mary Beth, she’s practically a tomato.”
Mary Beth’s cheeks
were
more red than pink now, and Amanda tried to disguise a giggle as a cough.
Tired of this, tired of them, I tugged on Ryan’s sleeve. “In that case, we better go ahead and get into the theater before we all boil to death out here.”
I took a step forward and as I did, I looked up into the crush of people waiting to get their sodas and Gummy Bears. I could recognize nearly every face, either from school or church. And then Matt Sheehan, a senior at the Grove, stepped aside, and I found myself staring into a very familiar—and very crazy—pair of brown eyes.
Blythe.

I froze, my hand still on Ryan’s sleeve. My heart was somewhere south of my knees, sweat immediately prickling my brow. The crowd shifted, a group of preteen girls sliding in front of Blythe. When they moved on, she was gone.

Rising up on tiptoes, I frantically searched the lobby, looking for some trace of her. “Who are you looking for?” Ryan asked, lifting his head to glance around, too.

“Did you see a girl?” I said, still scanning the mass of bodies moving through the theater.
“I . . . see lots of girls,” Ryan replied, bemused.
“No, a specific girl. A tiny one with brown hair and dimples.”
“Lauren Roberts?” Abi asked, naming a girl in our math class.
“No,” I told her, twisting to look behind me. “But like her. About that height, same hair. Like Lauren Roberts with a major case of crazy eyes.”
She could be
anywhere.
She was short enough to pass through the crowd unseen, and damn it,
I
wasn’t tall enough to see over all these people.
“Does this chick owe you money or something?” Ryan joked, finally sounding like himself again. But I was too panicked to be happy about that.
The glass doors opened, and as they did, I spotted a few people leaving the theater. I caught the briefest glimpse of a long brown ponytail, and then the door swung shut. It might have been Blythe, but I couldn’t be sure.
Whirling on Ryan, I grabbed his arm again. “I’ll be right back. Go on into the theater and I’ll find you in a few minutes.”
“Whoa.” Ryan flipped his hand, fingers encircling my wrist. “Where are you—”
I tugged out of his grasp, forgetting about my super-strength, so instead of taking my arm back gently, I more or less wrenched it from him.
Surprise, hurt, and more than a little bit of anger all warred on his face, but I didn’t have time to worry about that right now. Blythe was here, and I had to find her before she found me.
“I’ll be right back,” I said again, then dashed out the front doors of the theater before Ryan had the chance to say anything else.
The November night was cold and clear, and my breath puffed out in front of me as I stood on the sidewalk, looking left, then right. The theater took up one whole side of the square; the other three sides were taken up with little boutiques, Miss Annemarie’s, the jewelry store, and Pine Grove’s sad attempt at a coffee shop, the Dixie Bean. Other than the theater, the rest of the square was relatively deserted, since most of the shops closed around five. Miss Annemarie’s and the Dixie Bean were probably the only things open, but there was no one on the sidewalks, and no sign of the little group that had just left the theater.
I jogged across the street, heading for the center of the square. The statue of Adolphus Bridgeforth, one of the founders of Pine Grove, glowered down at me. The Pine Grove Betterment Society, led by Saylor, had raised the money for it about five years back. I knew that if I looked closely, I’d see wards etched into the stone base. Saylor had been very thorough where David’s protection was concerned.
Next to him, the little fountain splashed away merrily, the night wind blowing a few stray droplets on me. Every nerve in my body felt tense and coiled, the hair on the back of my neck standing up.
You’re a Paladin
, I reminded myself.
You have all kinds of kickass abilities and she doesn’t.
But then I remembered how easily she’d gotten the jump on me before.
To Adolphus’s right, there was a little flower garden surrounded by a tiny white picket fence. A bronze plaque on the fence said that the garden had been planted by the Pine Grove Betterment Society just last year. Sure enough, as I got closer, I could see tiny golden wards on all the fence posts.
Giving another quick glance around to make sure no one was looking, I reached down and, easy as picking a flower, plucked a stake from the fence. The hole glared at me accusingly, and I slipped the pointed piece of wood behind me as I backed away from the center of the square. I hated vandalism more than anything, but I needed a weapon. Besides, Saylor had put that fence up, so when you thought about it, the fence was practically mine.
In a way.
Keeping the stake low at my side, I headed back toward the theater. There was a parking lot behind it. Maybe that was where Blythe had gone. As I hurried in that direction, a tiny voice in my head kept up a running commentary.
So if you find her, you’re simply going to stab her to death with a piece of wood in the parking lot? And hope no one sees? Because tiny girls getting staked behind the Royale Cinema seems like something people would notice.
But if I got rid of—no,
killed
, I needed to say killed—Blythe now, all of this ended. No Cotillion showdown, no chance of my whole town being wiped out, no chance of David dying. This was my chance.
Or it would have been, if she had been in the parking lot.
There were a few people straggling in, but both of the movies had already started, so the parking lot was more or less empty. Still, I kept my stake hidden at my side as I walked the rows of cars, ducking down to look under them, even peering in the windows.
No Blythe.
When I got to the last car on the row, I sighed, nearly letting the fence post drop from my hand. This was stupid. It probably hadn’t even been her. Maybe the stress of the past few weeks was finally catching up with me, and I was going crazy
in addition
to becoming a Paladin.
I should go back into the theater, find Ryan, and figure out some way to salvage this evening. The fence post clattered to the ground, and I turned back to the theater.
And suddenly I heard the sound of running feet. As I whipped around, I could have sworn I saw brown hair disappearing around the corner, back toward the square.
Dropping to my knees, I scrambled for the fence post. Not caring who saw me dashing through downtown Pine Grove wielding a damn stake, I took off after her. My boots clicked hard on the pavement, and I could hear the wind and my own blood rushing in my ears.
Was there a flash of movement over by Miss Annemarie’s? I ran in that direction.
But just as I reached the tea room, the door swung open. I didn’t even have time to register that someone was coming out of that door before plowing directly into him.
Something warm splashed all over me, and for one horrifying, dizzying moment, I thought I’d plunged my stake into an innocent person’s heart. But no, I’d managed to lower it at the last second, and I could hear the wood clatter harmlessly to the pavement. As for the hot liquid currently seeping into my cashmere sweater, from the smell, it was the crab bisque that my Aunt May was so fond of.
My breath was sawing in and out of my lungs, burning with the sharp night air, as I stumbled back from . . . David.
Bisque was dripping from the front of his tweed jacket, the crushed plastic container still clutched against his chest. He looked down at himself and then back at me. “Pres? Is this some kind of Paladin thing? Was the soup poisoned or something?”
I didn’t answer; I was too busy looking for Blythe, but there was no sign of her. She was gone.
Dropping my hands to my knees, I bent forward, taking deep breaths, trying to slow the slamming of my heart.
“I thought you had a date tonight,” David said, and I don’t know why that’s the thing that did it. The tears that had pricked my eyes earlier suddenly came back full force, and to my absolute horror, I burst into tears.
“Whoa, whoa, Harper,” David said, the plastic container tumbling to the sidewalk. He gripped my arms, holding me slightly away from him and ducking his head to look into my face. “What happened?”
“I was on a date, but Ryan and I got in a fight, and he likes Mary Beth
—MB
—I think, but it’s like I don’t even
c-care
, which makes me a-a horrible person, and then I saw Blythe, or I thought I did, and I vandalized a
fence
, and now we smell bad, and that s-s-soup wasn’t poisoned, I just ran into you, and—”
I didn’t get any further before David carefully wrapped his arms around me. He held me like I was a bomb he was afraid was seconds from going off, keeping our bodies as far apart as he could while still technically hugging me.
“It’s okay,” he said, patting my back once. He apparently decided that was a good move because he did it a few more times. And the weird thing was, it
was
kind of a good move. I lowered my forehead to his tweed-covered shoulder and let myself be patted until my tears slowed to a trickle. A few weeks ago, if you had told me that being held in David Stark’s arms was one of the nicest things I’d ever feel, I wouldn’t have laughed at you. I would’ve been too busy choking on my own horror. But leaning against him, crying into his stupid tweed, I thought I could maybe stay there forever. It was such a relief to be able to sob and have someone know all the reasons why. Once I was calmer, I lifted my head to find David watching me with an expression I’d never seen before. Before I had time to figure it out, he turned behind him and opened the tea room door. “Well, I’m going to need another order of soup to go, so why don’t we go inside and have a cup of tea. Tea fixes stuff, right?”
I looked back across the square at the theater. Ryan was in there, waiting for me. Or sitting next to Mary Beth and not worrying about me at all. Besides, I smelled like crab.
So giving one last glance to the theater, I nodded and followed David inside.