Rachel Hawkins: Rebel Belle

Sighing, I ran a shaking hand over my face. “But where is Blythe? I didn’t see her anywhere in the crowd and—”

Pain ricocheted through me, so strong that I felt like I had been stabbed. I bent over, panting, my vision shaking.

No, not my vision. The house. The entire house rumbled and quaked, little bits of plaster falling from the ceiling. “David!” I gasped.

Saylor moved forward, clutching my dress. Her hand left streaks of blood down the skirt. “You said he’s with the girls? All of them?”

I nodded, closing my eyes. I could see the sea of dresses in front of me, see David’s bewildered face as I’d slammed the door.

“Yes,” I said. “All seven of them.”

“Harper.” Saylor’s eyes were huge with pain and fear, her skin paper white. “There were only six other girls.”

THIS TIME, I didn’t look or think. I let my fists and feet fly almost independently as I fought my way back up the stairs. These weren’t people I knew, these were things standing between me and my duty. The only time I hesitated was when Aunt Jewel came at me with the punch ladle. It killed me to do it, but one quick elbow thrust to her temple sent her sliding harmlessly to the floor. Stepping over her prone form, I swore to myself that I’d go visit Aunt Jewel every single day when this was all over, and make her as many cakes as she could ever want.

The house shook as I moved toward the bedroom. I heard a distant crash, and realized it was the chandelier in the main hall falling to the ground. Light was pouring out from underneath the bedroom door, golden and searing, and all I could hear was the pounding of my heart and the constant repetition of Too late, too late .

Throwing my shoulder against the door, I forced it open, and immediately threw my hands up to shade my eyes.

David stood stock-still in the middle of the room, bathed in light, glowing with it. It poured from his fingers, filled his eyes, spilled out of his open mouth. The other girls were all huddled together against the far wall, heads down, while Blythe, clad in a white dress, a blond wig crooked on top of her head, stood on the bed. Her eyes were closed, nose still a little swollen from our fight, and she held both hands open at her sides. Words in a language I’d never heard fell from her lips and seemed to fill the room. Both windows shattered, and I heard high, thin screams.

I launched myself at Blythe, knocking her back on the bed. She gave a grunt as the air rushed out of her lungs, and started to shake. At first, I thought she was crying, but as I rose up on my knees, straddling her waist, I realized she was laughing.

“It’s too late!” she yelled as the house continued to shake and sway. “Look at him! He’s beautiful!”

David was still standing there, still covered bright light. He didn’t look beautiful. He looked beautiful in his stupid sweaters and dumb glasses and unfortunate pants. Now he looked terrifying and unnatural and . . . not human.

As I watched, he lifted one glowing hand toward the girls against the wall. I saw Bee lift her face, saw her wide, horrified eyes.

“No!” I heard myself shout, and then a bolt of light flew from David’s fingers, crashing over all of the girls.

The light was blinding, and my blood was churning, and Blythe was still laughing, laughing, laughing in my ear.

Someone grabbed me from behind, yanking me off Blythe. Even as I struggled, all I could think was, I failed . All that training, all that trying, and I’d locked David in with Blythe. I’d let her turn him into a weapon. And my friends. Abigail, Amanda, even Mary Beth. And Bee. Oh God, Bee. My attacker had me turned away from the wall, and I was glad for it in a way. I didn’t want to see what that bolt of power had done to them.

I reached back, trying to dig my fingers into eyes, but clawed empty air. And then suddenly, there was a thump and I was landing on the ground, hard.

Whirling around, I saw that it had been Headmaster Dunn holding me, and standing over him, hands on her hips, was Bee.

I said her name, confused and relieved. She was okay? But I’d seen David blast her with that lightning thing, seen waves of power crash over her and all of the girls.

Mrs. Catesby, my old Sunday school teacher, ran into the room, wielding the ladle Aunt Jewel had dropped. I braced myself, but then Blythe grinned and said, “Show her what you’ve got, girls.”

Twisting my head to look at Blythe, confused, I almost missed seeing Mary Beth’s hand shoot out and grab the ladle. With a neat flip, she used the hook at the end of the handle to catch Mrs. Catesby’s ankles and the ladle’s bowl at the other end to knock her out. Grinning at her handiwork, Mary Beth brandished the long silver spoon at me. “ Hard Fists !” she cried, and I could only shake my head.

Two more people, women I recognized from Junior League, raced in. Abigail and Amanda, working together, clotheslined them before spinning and using the inertia of the women’s bodies to push them back out of the room.

“Oh my God, we are ninjas !” Amanda squealed. “How did that happen?”

They weren’t ninjas. They were Paladins. All of them. David had made them Paladins.

David!

As my fellow debutantes kicked the ass of every person who walked through the door, I looked back to the middle of the room. David was on his knees now, no longer surrounded by light. But when he lifted his face to me, his eyes were still bright gold, like coins, behind his glasses.

“David?” I asked, kneeling down with him.

He blinked, and the light faded for a moment before growing bright again. “Pres?” he murmured, and I flung my arms around his neck.

“Oh, you’re still you,” I breathed. “You’re still in there.”

“I-I think so,” he said. “But—what did I do to them?”

We looked over to where Amanda and Abigail were wrestling with their escorts, and Mary Beth was using her ladle to great effect on the owner of the Dixie Bean.

“You made them Paladins,” Blythe said from the bed.

I had almost forgotten about her. She sat in the middle, legs crossed, hands clasped under her chin, grinning like a little kid. “I told you the ritual would work,” she said. “You made Paladins, just like Alaric! And this is merely a handful of girls. If you had focused harder and if I hadn’t been interrupted”—she glared at me—“you could’ve made this entire town an army. The whole state, if we tried hard enough.”

Breathing hard, David stared at her. His eyes were still filled with light, the effect disturbing. “Why would I want that?”

Giggling, Blythe shook her head. “Oh, if you knew what was coming, you wouldn’t ask a question like that.”

I stood up, reaching under my dress for the knife strapped to my thigh. I was officially over Blythe. Whipping out the blade, I made my way to the bed, but I only got about three steps when a vise-like grip closed around my wrist.

I glanced back, stunned. “Bee?”

She blinked at me. “I . . . I can’t let you hurt her. I don’t know why, but I can’t.”

Mary Beth was at my other side, her fingers tight on my arm. “Me, either. If you try to kill her . . .” She didn’t finish, but her hands squeezed tighter. Even Amanda and Abigail were standing by the door, eyes wary.

Delighted, Blythe clapped her hands. “Even better! See, Paladins can’t harm their creator. And since I had a hand in turning David into a personal Paladin factory, that makes me a creator!”

“Bee,” I pleaded. “Override it or something. I can’t let her go.”

Everything in Bee’s face was anguished. “I really want to, Harper, but I can’t . Now please put the knife away or I’m going to have to hurt you, and I really don’t want to.” Tears pooled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. “Except I do want to. What the heck is going on?”