Miss Mayhem (Rebel Belle #2)(8)
“Then you’re Fred,” he told Ryan. “And Pres here”—he bumped me with an elbow—“is for sure Daphne.”
“For sure,” Ryan agreed, and I rolled my eyes at both of them.
“Okay, if y’all are done being boys, can we please go in and see what the heck is going on here?”
We walked inside. The house smelled nice, like furniture polish and expensive candles, with a hint of something warm and spicy underneath. Tea, maybe. And it certainly didn’t look like a lair of evil. Overhead, a chandelier sparkled, and the wooden stairs gleamed. There were vases of fresh flowers on long, narrow tables, and pretty artwork dotted the walls. It looked like the inside of a lot of these old houses: The outside might be all vintage and historical, but there was clearly some twenty-first-century interior decorating going on.
“Maybe we died?” David suggested. “And ended up in Harper’s version of heaven?”
“Well, the Ephors have good taste, even if they are evil.” I turned in a small circle on one of the lush rugs, glancing up. The house was quiet, but people had to be here.
Bee might be here.
I’d gotten so used to my Paladin senses kicking in when they needed to that it was weird to feel so . . . blank. I couldn’t get a read on anything, and not for the first time, I wondered if there was some kind of magic blocking my powers. “If they’re evil, why are we here?” Ryan asked, and I had to admit it was a good question. We’d spent last semester trying to hide David from the Ephors, and now we were walking into their . . . house? Headquarters? For a meeting? Still, that didn’t keep me from scanning the room for objects that could be used as weapons. There were several pretty hefty candlesticks on the mantel over the enormous fireplace. Those would work.
I turned to ask David more about his vision, but he was studying one of the paintings on the wall. “Whoa,” he murmured softly, and I followed his gaze.
“Whoa,” I echoed.
The painting depicted a girl in a flowing white gown, her body floating in midair, her eyes bright and golden. On either side of her stood a man, one in armor, the other in a white robe, and kneeling all around the three of them were shadowy figures, their hands outstretched toward the girl. The paint seemed to glow, and I fought the urge to run my fingers over the canvas.
“The Oracle Speaks,” a voice said from behind us, and David, Ryan, and I jumped, then whirled around.
A man was standing there, but I had no idea where he’d come from. I hadn’t heard his footsteps approach or a door open. He was maybe forty or so, and handsome in the same old-world, expensive way the house was. Blond hair, high cheekbones, really nice suit. Like the house, power seemed to radiate from him, and I rubbed my hands up and down my arms.
But his smile was perfectly pleasant as he gestured toward the painting. “That’s what this particular work of art is called. Felt appropriate to hang here.”
“You’re an Ephor,” David said quietly, his hands clenching into fists at his side, and the man gave a slight bow.
“I am. My name is Alexander. And you are the Oracle and, I take it, you are his intrepid Paladin and Mage,” he said, nodding to me and Ryan. There was a slight lilt to his words, an accent I couldn’t quite place. “So good of you to come.”
He was acting like he’d invited us here, like we were expected, and I wasn’t sure why, but that gave me all of the creeps. Still, although I waited for my Paladin senses to kick in and tell me this guy was bad news, there was nothing. Magic, sure, a hint of power, yes, but none of the chest-tightening, muscle-tensing sickness I felt when David was in danger.
The Ephors had always been the greatest threat to David, so why wasn’t I in attack mode? It suddenly occurred to me that they might be doing something to override my Paladin powers. Could they do that? After all, they’d somehow managed to break through the wards so that David could have an all-consuming vision. For probably the thousandth time, I wished Saylor were here to tell me what was going on.
“I’m so pleased to have you here,” Alexander said, still smiling that bland smile, one hand extended toward a dim hallway off to the side. “Now, if you’ll come with me—”
I was about to interject that we were staying right where we were, but before I could, David stepped forward, looked at Alexander, and said, “You people took a girl last year. Bee Franklin. I want you to tell me where she is.”
Chapter 4
“WHAT? IS BEE HERE? Did you see her?” Behind David, I saw my own surprise reflected on Ryan’s face.
With a sigh, David turned to me, ruffling his hand over his hair. “No. Or not exactly, but she’s . . . close, or . . .” He opened and closed his free hand like he was trying to pull the words out of the air. “Something. I can feel it.”
Sensing people’s presence wasn’t exactly part of David’s bag, and I’d certainly never heard him talk about anything like this before. Was he able to sense Bee because he’d juiced her up with Paladin powers before Blythe had taken her?
But David looked back at Alexander, and the Ephor took a deep breath, his brow wrinkling slightly. “All in good time, I assure you,” he said at last, and then swept his hand toward the hall again. “First, we need to talk about what occurred this evening.”
“The frat thing or David’s vision?” I asked, and Alexander’s green eyes flicked to me. His expression was blank, but I could still feel magic or power or whatever it was oozing from him, and I made myself hold his gaze.