Lady Renegades (Rebel Belle #3)(33)

All in all, it was a pretty enough place, but something felt . . . off to me.

“Who lives here?” I asked, and Blythe shrugged.

“Saylor Stark.”

She was out of the car then, already heading for the front door while Bee and I sat there in silence for a second. And then I was throwing open the driver’s side door, catching Blythe’s arm just as she started up the front walk. “Hold up,” I said, keeping my voice low. “What the heck does that mean? Saylor is dead.”

Blythe threw off my hand with an impatient huff. “Duh. She doesn’t live here now. This is just where she grew up. And now it’s where her brother lives.”

I looked up at the house. “This is where the spell is?”

Tilting her own head back, Blythe followed my gaze, but I got the sense she was looking at something specific rather than just taking in the house as a whole. “Did you think we were going to the Great Spell Outlet Mall or something?”

Bee was behind us now and she made a disbelieving sound. “Why would Saylor have left a spell you could sense?”

The corners of Blythe’s mouth turned down, her dimples appearing. “Okay, maybe she didn’t technically leave it for me, but for the Mage who came after her.”

“Which is Ryan,” I reminded her, and now it was Blythe’s turn to make a disbelieving sound.

“I told you. That boy is fine as hell, don’t get me wrong.” She glanced over at Bee. “Good on you for that, by the way.” Her eyes slid to me. “And you, too, I guess.” Shaking her head, she added, “Man, you guys really did want to make everything a thousand times more complicated than it had to be, didn’t you?”

“Point, Blythe,” I said through gritted teeth, and she shrugged, hair bouncing.

“Point is, when it comes to Saylor’s actual heir in terms of magic, that’s me. She left a spell in this house and sent out a signal for another Mage to come find it. Did Pretty Boy sense anything like this?”

It felt disloyal to shake my head, but if Ryan had ever sensed anything like this, he sure hadn’t mentioned it to me. And he clearly hadn’t said anything to Bee, either, because she shook her head, too.

Satisfied, Blythe gave a little nod and turned back to the door.

“If you knew there was something here,” I asked, just as she raised her hand to ring the doorbell, “why not go after it before? Why wait until now?”

Blythe threw a look at me over her shoulder. “I didn’t pick up on it before. Saylor must have set it up so it could only be sensed if she were dead.”

That made sense. After Saylor died, Blythe had been held by the Ephors until Alexander died, too.

“And another thing,” she added, pressing the doorbell harder than necessary, “I wasn’t sure this was something I wanted to go after on my own. Better two half-ass Paladins than no Paladins at all.”

I would’ve had a retort to that, but I could hear footsteps from inside and a cheerful male voice calling, “Coming!”

My mouth was dry when the door opened and a man with thick silver hair stood there in khaki shorts and a button-down shirt. Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, he looked at the three of us standing there on his doorstep with a bland smile. “Morning, ladies,” he said, his voice as smooth and southern as Saylor’s had been.

“Good morning,” I said, feeling the need to take charge of this situation before Blythe could say anything. “We’re . . . we’re friends of Miss Saylor’s,” I started, and the man’s smile became something actually genuine.

“You don’t say!” And then he leaned out, looking past us to the car in the driveway. “Is she with you?”

He didn’t know.

The knowledge sat so heavily in my stomach I thought I might throw up. When Saylor died, we’d done the best we could covering it up for the rest of Pine Grove, but it had never occurred to me that there were other people waiting to hear from her, wondering what had happened to her.

What was wrong with me that I hadn’t thought of that?

“Unfortunately no,” Blythe said, “but she’d asked us to stop by and say hello.”

Saylor’s brother nodded, clearly disappointed, and then surprised me further by saying, “She said people might be coming by one of these days.”

He stepped back, sweeping one arm. “Why don’t y’all come on in and let’s have a chat.”





Chapter 18


THE INSIDE of the house was . . . interesting.

If this had been Saylor’s childhood home, it was pretty clear her brother had been living here for a while, because the entire decor was straight-up Southern Male Left Alone Too Long. Lots of paintings of ducks, lots of plaid furniture, and way more taxidermied heads than I ever wanted to see.

Bob—that was Saylor’s brother’s name—led us into a living room that sat under the baleful gaze of a giant buck’s head over the fireplace, and once we all had some tea, he sat and faced the three of us. “You girls know Saylor, huh?”

He said it casually, but I saw the look in his eyes. It was hope, and it broke my heart.

I couldn’t do any kind of mind control or anything, but in that moment, I had never wished harder for a power like that because all I could think was, Blythe, you tiny crazy person, if you tell him his sister is dead like this, I am going to kill you right in front of that painting of Baby Jesus.