Lady Renegades (Rebel Belle #3)(32)

Bee had missed out on everything last night, and I got the sense she felt a little guilty about it. Or maybe she was just being a good best friend, automatically taking my side.

Blythe sat up in the backseat, looking at us over the rims of her sunglasses in a move that reminded me uncomfortably of David. He’d looked at me like that more times than I could count.

“Did you miss the ‘super mega nutbar’ part?” she asked Bee. “He thinks she wants to kill him because of that. The nutbar—”

“Yeah, I heard,” Bee said, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “But there’s no confirmation, since we didn’t get to ask Shelley what she knew.”

“Mmm,” Blythe said, nodding. “Sure, I’ll own that. But I could have done worse. I mean, what if I had helped him escape wards that were set in place to keep him safe? Now that, that would be something to feel bad about.”

“Okay, enough,” I said, feeling kind of like a kindergarten teacher. “Playing the blame game is probably not the best use of our time right now.”

I could feel Bee’s gaze on the side of my face but kept my eyes on the road. Look, I had forgiven her for everything that had happened with David—or at least I was really trying to—but that didn’t mean it was something I wanted to talk about, especially not with Blythe in the car.

But Blythe never met an uncomfortable moment she didn’t want to exploit. “Maybe if you’d been around last night, you could have gotten your own answers from Shelley,” she said to Bee. “But since you were too busy talking to your boyfriend, I guess we’ll never know.”

“Enough!” I snapped again, my hands tightening on the wheel of the car. At the GPS’s instruction—we were finally approaching the address Blythe had given me before we’d started our road trip—we’d exited the interstate for a little town called Ideal, and I was navigating the downtown area. It reminded me of Pine Grove, and even though we’d only been gone a couple of days, I was feeling a little homesick.

Bee’s voice was lower as she said, “I hate that I couldn’t help last night.”

“It’s fine,” I told her.

“And even if you could have,” Blythe piped up, “your powers are just as unreliable as Harper’s right now. There’s no telling if you would’ve been any use or not.”

Bee nodded, and I raised my eyes to the rearview mirror. “Shouldn’t they be getting better now?” I asked, turning up the air conditioner just a smidgen. “If our powers were fading because we were far from David, the reverse should be true, right? Closer we get, stronger we feel?”

Blythe shrugged, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. “No idea. That’s Paladin stuff.”

I looked over at Bee, noticing that she looked a little pale, and that there were soft violet shadows under her eyes. “Dreams?” I asked in a low voice, and she startled a little.

“Yeah,” she said at last, crossing her arms tight over her chest. “The same one I was having before we left yesterday. With the—”

“Yellow dress and the blood,” I finished up, nodding. I’d woken up from my own nightmare this morning, my breath coming in short bursts, my heart racing. The dream wasn’t exactly any clearer—I still wasn’t sure what was happening in it, only that there was blood and this strange, echoing effect to the voices I’d heard, saying words I couldn’t quite make out—but it had felt . . . stronger. More vivid.

From the backseat, Blythe leaned forward. “You both had the dreams? Remember the part where I said to tell me that?”

I frowned, passing a white car on my right, the needle ticking just over the speed limit. “We’re telling you now,” I said, and Blythe blew out a frustrated breath.

“Okay, fine. Well, the good news is, if the dreams are getting stronger, we’re on the right track.”

Bee twisted in her seat to look at Blythe, tucking her hair behind her ears as she did. “So you can’t sense David, just the magic we need to fix him.”

Adjusting her sunglasses, Blythe stared straight ahead. “I can kind of sense him,” she clarified, “but it’s not precise. Like how your dreams getting stronger is a clue but not an exact science. I can track the spell, though. It takes all three of us working together to find him, like a . . . triangulation, I guess.”

Snorting, Bee turned back around. “Whatever.”

I didn’t want another argument, so I changed the subject.

“So we’re here now because of Saylor, right?” I said to Blythe.

She made a little humming sound of agreement. “Yup. She left something here—a spell. It’s sending out a signal, so it must be important.”

“A signal,” Bee repeated, and Blythe nodded.

“Only detectable to Mages. Well, to this Mage, at least. We’re close, right?” she asked me.

I looked down. My phone rested in the center console, the map app pulled up, and according to that, we were only about a mile from a house at 562 Deer Path Lane.

Sitting up, Blythe leaned between me and Bee, peering through the windshield as we drove down a quiet residential street with big oak trees that created a median down its center. The houses looked older than the ones on my block back in Pine Grove. There were lots of low brick ranchers, the occasional two-story A-frame breaking through. It was one of these that sat at 562, a solid-looking house painted a pale yellow with olive-green shutters. A newish-looking pickup truck sat in the driveway, and a birdbath in the front yard, the stone streaked with green moss.