Lady Renegades (Rebel Belle #3)(29)

But then she opened her eyes. They were brown like Bee’s, but a shade darker, so dark that I could hardly separate the pupil from the iris. Weird as it sounds, I’d almost expected her eyes to glow when she looked at me. Maybe that’s because sitting so still and kind of pained, she’d reminded me of how David looked when he had visions.

“And the dreams?” she asked.

Startled, I raised my eyebrows. “Dreams?”

Nodding, Blythe shook out her hair. “You and Bee are having them, right? Vague things, but definitely his?”

Just last night, I’d had another one, that same weird mix of blood on a yellow dress, my voice echoing around me.

I didn’t give Blythe an answer, but she went on like I had. “The closer we get, the stronger they’ll become, so be sure you tell me whenever you have one.”

“So we could’ve tracked him without you?” I said, crossing my arms. “By following our dreams?”

Blythe shrugged. “It’s not exactly as precise as the magic I can do tracking him, but I guess so.”

Rolling my eyes, I looked up at the ceiling. “Things that might have been helpful to know before now,” I muttered, and Blythe sighed.

“Tell me about him,” she said, surprising me, and I sat up a little straighter.

“About David?” I blinked, trying to think of what I could say to her. How did I even describe David? For a second, I thought about telling her the Oracle stuff. You know, unclear visions, glowing eyes, the headaches that would make him wince in pain. But I knew that’s not what she wanted. Blythe wanted to talk about David the person.

That felt easier and harder all at once.

“He’s . . . smart,” I said at last. “And funny, but in a vaguely obnoxious way. He has the worst taste in clothes known to man—he’s never met a plaid he didn’t like and subsequently abuse.”

That made Blythe smile a little bit. “I seem to remember that from when the two of you came to the college.”

“Oh, you mean the day you tried to kill us?” I said, scooping up a bag of chips from the little pile of gas station food we’d picked up earlier.

Blythe’s smile faded immediately, replaced with a scowl. “Always bringing that up.”

“It’s a weird thing of mine, remembering times people tried to stab me,” I admitted, leaning back against the dresser. It seemed a safer bet than sitting on the other bed or the couch. I was really regretting not bringing along some Febreze, let me tell you what.

“So what’s in North Mississippi?” I asked, changing the subject as I opened the chips. They were slightly stale, and I felt like they might have been in that Chevron since the Reagan administration, but I was hungry, and salt and vinegar can cover a lot of flaws.

“It’s where Saylor was from,” Blythe said, still sitting on the bed in that weird yoga position, her legs folded, eyes closed.

Startled, I nearly dropped the bag of chips. “What?”

Blythe opened one eye, squinting at me. “She had to come from somewhere, you know. It’s not like she just appeared, being David’s Mage and stuff.”

“I know that,” I snapped in reply, but the truth was, I hadn’t thought much about where Saylor had come from. I knew she’d kidnapped David when he was a baby, saving him from the Ephors who wanted to kill him, but I’d never wondered about who had made Saylor a Mage in the first place. Like Paladins, Mages passed down their powers, which meant there had been someone who had passed his or her powers to Saylor. Blythe had willingly taken those powers on, but had Saylor been like me? Wrong place, wrong time, suddenly all magicked up?

And why had I never asked her?

“Don’t look like that,” Blythe said on a big sigh, stretching out her legs. “It’s not like you and Saylor had a lot of bonding time before she was killed.”

“Thanks to you,” I couldn’t help but point out. Blythe’s mind control potion was responsible for turning Bee’s dim bulb of a boyfriend, Brandon, into a killer. I hadn’t forgotten that, either, and from the way the corners of her mouth turned down a little bit, I’m guessing Blythe hadn’t.

“Collateral damage,” she said, and I crumpled the bag of chips in my hand.

“Really?” I said, my voice nearly cracking with anger. “That’s all you have to say about that?”

Now Blythe opened both eyes, staring at me. Her face was so innocent and sweet, but those eyes were old. They always had been.

“Would it do any good for me to say that I was sorry? That I was caught up in doing what I thought was the right thing, and that I couldn’t let myself think about the people who got hurt? Would that make you suddenly trust me?”

I didn’t have an answer for that. Or at least not one I wanted to say out loud. The truth was, this whole thing was so confusing that it would’ve been nice to trust Blythe. To put the past behind us and try to understand why she’d done what she had.

Instead, I threw the now-crushed chips into the trash can and picked up the ice bucket, needing to be anywhere that wasn’t this room with this girl right now.

“If Bee gets back, tell her I went to get ice,” I said, without looking at Blythe, but before I got to the door, she slid off the bed, coming to stand between me and escape.

“We’re more alike than you want to admit, Harper,” she said, reaching out to poke me in the sternum. I swatted her hand away but didn’t try to push past her.